For many years we have urged all members of the Church to consider leaving a gift in their wills to their local parishes or a diocesan ministry. It’s difficult to measure our progress. Certainly, many parishes receive gifts from time to time from the estates of their parishioners, though I believe most receive very little when compared to health-related charities or schools. It is not a common practice for Anglicans to think of their church as a recipient of end-of-life giving.

Encouragement Sunday would reverse that practice.

What if we made a special effort to promote estate-giving on one dedicated Sunday each year? That way, all our effort and conversation might coalesce at the same time. The date can be promoted, discussed and preached about. It’s the one day each year when parishes focus on how each of us can provide for future ministry in the Church.

Personally, I think Encouragement Sunday should be held on the first Sunday after Remembrance Day. This way we can honour the past on one Sunday and then look to the future on the next one. That is what gifts of encouragement are all about – funding the ministry, mission and capital needs of the Church that will come after us. It’s a day to be hopeful and good stewards, ensuring that future generations can find a home in the Church.

But why “Encouragement Sunday” and not just “Legacy Sunday”? Because the notion of encouragement is rooted in scripture. Acts 4:36-37 provides what is considered to be the first example of a planned gift in scripture. Though Joseph, later named Barnabas, didn’t leave a gift in his will, so to speak, he did make a gift from his estate – selling a parcel of land and giving the proceeds to the apostles for the ministry of the early Church.

Barnabas means “son of encouragement.” Each one of us can be a child of encouragement by making a provision from our estate to serve the temporal needs of the Church now and in the future.

Gifts of encouragement have the potential to be transformational. Suppose we recommended that all Anglicans consider leaving a tithe – another concept rooted in scripture – to the Church in their estates. This leaves plenty of opportunity to make provisions for family members and other charities. At a time of huge wealth transfer with the passing of the “Greatest Generation” (those born before the baby boom), the Church needs to avoid being an afterthought in people’s gift planning.

In his book The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell persuasively argues that the tipping point is “that magic moment when an idea, trend or social behaviour crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads like wildfire.” It only takes a little – often just 15 per cent – to result in a significant change. What if 15 per cent of our parishes decided to embrace the idea of Encouragement Sunday in 2020?

The practice could be very simple: develop a brochure and hand it out to everyone at church, preach about gift planning from the pulpit, and then have someone during announcements bear witness to the gift they have made. It doesn’t need to be any more than this (although you might want to inform the envelope secretary or stewardship committee that you’ve made such a provision in your estate plans). The key is doing something.

I bet if we could identify 30 parishes in the Diocese of Toronto to commit to Encouragement Sunday in 2020, it would become normative by 2022. My guess is that if 30 parishes agreed to make Nov. 15, 2020 a focus on gift planning, it would take off. The event would be newsworthy, and people would share stories of hope, joy and encouragement.

Ready to commit? As you contemplate something new for 2020, are you ready to make a gift of encouragement and celebrate that gift on Encouragement Sunday? If your parish is interested in taking a step forward by participating in Encouragement Sunday, let me know at pmisiaszek@toronto.anglican.ca. Let’s create a tipping point of our own.

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I was born and raised in Havana, Cuba. I have been working with children and youth for over 15 years. My initial involvement in children and youth ministry happened at my local church, Cathedral Episcopal de la Santisima Trinidad in Havana. In that context, I was privileged to serve as a Sunday School teacher to children and youth between the ages of seven and 14. I immigrated to Canada in 2006 and served as a volunteer Sunday School teacher’s assistant at Erin Mills Baptist Church for a couple of years. I became the youth minister at St. Peter, Erindale in 2013. Since then, I have been responsible for all things youth-related for those between the ages of 11 to 18.

As a child, I attended Sunday School, and it was there that I learned about Jesus, God’s love, the Bible and prayer. When I was about 13 years old, I remembered asking God why he was not answering my prayers (as the situation at home was extremely difficult) and telling him that I was going to stop coming to church. And so I did. Interestingly, at the time, my mom started attending church regularly. I returned to my childhood church at the age of 17. It was there that my mom introduced me to Eusebio, my lovely husband. Back then, seeing the way he lived out his faith on a daily basis inspired me to do the same, and still does to this day.

The best part of my ministry work is sharing the Gospel and spending time with the youth. Whether we are reading the Bible, praying together, playing board games, running the Coffee Hour, preparing to lead a worship service, having a family potluck dinner or getting footage for the youth group promo video, I see all of these as fantastic opportunities to encourage the youth in their spiritual growth as they become the person God intended them to be.

I believe the work that children and youth ministers do is extremely valuable. We are coming into contact with children and youth at a time in their lives where they are making sense of the world around them, who they are and who God is to them. This work it exciting and comes with great responsibility. Due to all its responsibilities and the many hats I wear – minister, friend, event planner, mentor, trainer, etc. – sometimes the work feels overwhelming. It can also feel isolating and lonely at times. Over the years, I have found that having a solid ministry plan, practicing self-care, as well as sharing experiences, success stories and resources with the other ministers can contribute to reducing my sense of feeling overwhelmed and isolated.

I am extremely excited about new intergenerational ministry initiative we have at St. Peter’s. The initiative started last year when the Rev. Maria Nightingale, our associate priest and chaplain to seniors, and I got together to discuss what we could do to facilitate relationship-building and faith-sharing among the seniors and youths in our parish. The first event to formally bring the seniors and youths together happened in March 2018. The focus of the event was to teach both groups how to write a mini spiritual autobiography, so they felt more comfortable to speak about their faith. The event was a success! Building on the success of this event, we launched Cooking with the Bible. Cooking with the Bible gives seniors and youth a chance to bond with one another as they cook, eat, laugh, pray, worship, learn about Christian spiritual practices and the types of food people ate during biblical times. So far, lentil soup, bread, honey and hummus seemed to be the favourites. We have yet to cook locusts, but we have not had any request for them!

I’m also thrilled about being part of York Credit Valley’s Area Council. I am also the co-chair of our area’s Children and Youth Ministry Taskforce. As the co-chair, I get to leverage my skills, knowledge and talents to contribute to the work of the Area Council in empowering children and youth ministers to teach, and model how to be followers of Jesus Christ in today’s world.

(Five years from now), I hope to continue to work in youth ministry, as this is one of my passions. Being a millennial, I am also aware of the need for young adult ministry. Lately, I have been discerning if this an area of ministry that God wants me to become involved in. Other than that, the possibilities are limitless, so regardless of what I end up doing, I hope it will allow me faithfully serve God.

One of my favourite passages from scripture is the gospel passage found in Matthew 6:25-34. I used to read this passage every night during my first year in Canada. Every time I read it, I felt that it had been written just for me. I also felt less anxious about being on my own in a foreign country (which had a language I did not speak), having no money, no family or friends. Looking back, I could see God’s love for me. In time, I met really caring people and Canada became my home. Nowadays, whenever I read this passage, I still feel a sense of comfort and tranquility. I am certain that no matter wherever I go and whatever circumstances I might encounter, God is always with me.

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One day, one of our clients asked me, “Do you know how to prune a hedge?” I said, “Of course I know how to prune a hedge. I’ve pruned lots of hedges.” He showed me the hedge at the side of his house. It started at the boulevard and went right up next to the house’s foundation. It was about yea high, and it was woolly; it had not been trimmed in a long time. He said, “I’d like it to be straight. A straight line and rounded edges. Can you do that?” “Absolutely,” I said. So he went inside, and I brought out my clippers.

Now, the thing you need to know is that the property had a gentle slope from the foundation down to the road. I started at the road, thinking a straight line and not taking into account the soft slope. As I began to cut, it was leafy and green at first, and then it got a little thicker, and then it was downright lumber by the time I got to the foundation. I didn’t want to stop because I was persistent, and I thought it would all kind of work out. Then the owner came out.

Now, you need to know that he was a parishioner in our parish, and he was also a high school principal. He sidled up next to me very quietly, and he didn’t say a word because I knew exactly what he was thinking: What have you done to my hedge? But he didn’t say it, and he didn’t say, “I thought you knew what you were doing,” and “Now what are you going to do to repair it?” Instead, there was a long silence, and he finally said, “Do you think it’ll come back?”

Vine and branches

Do you think it’ll come back? Every time I think of John 15, I think of that moment long ago in the summer between Grade 7 and 8, praying always that God is better at pruning than I am. “I am the vine and you are the branches. I am the vine and my Father is the vine grower, and he removes all branches that do not bear fruit. And the branches that bear fruit, he prunes so they bear more fruit. I’m the vine and you are the branches.” That moment in John 15 is uttered around a table at the Last Supper, a time to commemorate a moment of deliverance long ago of bringing slaves out of Egypt and bringing them back home to a land flowing with milk and honey. Jesus brings into their midst this beautiful, earthly image, just as Deuteronomy does. A land with barley and wheat and fig trees and pomegranates and vines. He describes this earthly metaphor as the way that God relates to the Son Jesus, and how we relate to the Son Jesus in us.

Pruning is both an art and a science. You really can’t prune with a machine; you have to do it by hand. The best way to prune is to get to know the vine, because the vine, each one, is actually individual and different, and each one needs to be tended over time – over years, in fact. The time that you prune during the year makes the difference about the growth and the nature of the fruit that is going to be grown. Vine growers spend at least four to five months every year pruning to provide the right kind of shade, the right kind of sunlight, in order that the fruit might bear goodness for humankind, for every creature under the heavens and, with the right kind of patience, the perfect Cab Sauvignon. It takes patience, and you have to do it by hand.

Most of the important matters in ministry, you and I do by hand: a hand of welcome at the front door; a hand of forgiveness in the liturgy; a hand of receiving Eucharist at the table; a hand of consolation when one is sorrowful. Hands folded over in prayer, hands clutching hymn books and prayer books in the hopes of being touched by God, hands folded and mimicking the one that we follow. The leper who came to him, imploring him, kneeling before him, saying, “You, if you will, you can heal me.” And Jesus touched and moved with compassion, reached out and touched him. “I do, and you are made whole.” Or Simon’s mother-in-law who is sick, and they tell him about her, and he takes her by the hand, and he raises her up and the fever leaves her, and she immediately begins to serve them. Or at sundown, all those who were sick and suffering with disease were brought to him and he laid hands on them and they were made whole.

Hands: healing, redemptive, forming, shaping, pruning every week, Sunday by Sunday and day by day, in parishes large and small in this diocese, from Mississauga to Collingwood, Orillia through the Kawarthas, from Peterborough down to Brighton and every point in between. Communities gather to be pruned Sunday by Sunday. While there are similarities among us as churches, every community is very different and unique, a one-of-a-kind. It takes time for every parish and community to be pruned by God and shaped by God over time, and it needs to be done by hand. Over the first 11 months of my episcopacy, I have been going from parish to parish – 40 altogether so far – and each time I step in the doors of a church community, each one is recognizable and yet so unique. And yet there’s only one way for me to get to know this diocese, and it’s by hand.

Like the moment at Trinity College School in Port Hope. It was the last chapel service of the year, and the chapel was filled with students – a whole student body along with all the faculty and staff – and the service was exuberant. At the end of the service, all the students left the chapel except for the graduating class of 2019. Then finally the 2019 class moved out, and there were two lines formed by all the students and faculty that wended their way from the chapel’s front door out into the middle of a field, where a sapling had been planted to honour the class of 2019. As that class started to wend its way there, you could hear the tears forming as a recognition of a passage in time in a place that had formed so many. We gathered around the sapling, and they waited for me to say a perfunctory prayer. That is not the occasion to say a perfunctory prayer. Instead, I invited them to come very close, to huddle in together. Then I invited the entire faculty and student body to huddle in behind them, to surround them, to reach out and touch their backs, and to pray together. For what seemed like an eternity, we just stood in silence and listened to creation around us, and the sobs of a graduating class, standing in front of a little sapling that was calling them to live their life in the way that God was intending. Then we prayed and left.

Opportunities to grow

“He removes in me all that does not bear fruit.” How we long for God to remove the deadwood in our souls. How we long for God to take away the bits in ourselves that get in the way, that always show up at the wrong time, that are always a nuisance, to keep us from growing. Or the part of us that grows a little too wild. How often we settle in ourselves to carry the burdens and sins of our lives, choosing to keep them close so that they might fuel our anger as a way of keeping us, rather than allowing God to just take them and burn them because they’re not needed anymore.

How often in church communities and parishes we hang on for dear life to all the old things that, in fact, don’t give us life anymore. How often we have said to ourselves as parishes, “We tried that once. We don’t do that here. We can’t do that because that might upset so and so.” And so we just keep doing over and over the old things, hoping for different results. But God calls us to remove that deadwood that we don’t need anymore. As every parish in this diocese knows, when we tell the truth, there are parts of us that we need to let go of. So in Synod, take the time as communities to say, “What is it in us that we need to let go of so that God can make room for something new?”

“And the branches that bear fruit, God prunes so that they may bear more fruit.” Pruners know that it’s important only to clip the cane that is first-year growth and always to clip above, leaving at least two buds. Two by two. Two by two, they came into the ark. Two by two, Jesus sent them out into the mission field, and he gave them authority over all unclean spirits, and he commissioned them to take nothing with them except for a staff. No bag, no bread, no money – to take sandals and not two tunics, to go empty-handed so that you may offer and receive blessing. You can’t offer and receive blessing when your hands are holding deadwood. You cannot offer and receive blessing when you are too comfortable.

It is in that moment of being sent out into the community, beyond the safety of the four walls of our church community, that the vine has an opportunity to grow. It is in growing that the flower flourishes and the grapes and the fruit are formed. The fruit is not capped: it is given away with no strings attached. It is when we push ourselves out into the world that we meet our God and our maker. When we offer the fruit of who we are as community, ministry happens. The mission of God is always fueled by presence or, for the vine, sap. It’s well known that when you are pruning a vine, it’s important to cut the new cane, and the new cane needs to be connected to the previous year’s growth, and it needs to be connected to the previous year to that. You can count the growth all the way down to the soil, just like you can count the rings of life on a stump. As long as there’s a connection from one year to the next, the sap will actually grow evenly and push out new life to the buds.

In my first year of ministry, I have been to parishes that are celebrating significant moments in their lives – their 50th anniversary, their 100th, 150th, 175th, 200th. When you stand in the front foyer of most of those churches, you can see the history in black and white pictures of rectors and old colour images. Some of those pictures show that the church building was once in the middle of a field and now is in the middle of a bustling downtown core of a suburb, or in the City of Toronto, or beyond. The one thing that keeps parishes moving is knowing that that presence somehow continues to course its way through a church community. You do not live 175 years in a straight line. In fact, you meander – you twist and turn, and there are gnarls and blemishes. But as long as that presence continues to feed, there will be fruit that comes to life on the vine.

The heart of discipleship

It is the presence of God that fuels all that we do. The heart of discipleship, as we contemplate what that means for us as a diocese, is understanding what it means to abide. John uses the word “abide” 43 times in the gospel. It means to hold, to stand, to be expectant, to tarry with expectancy, to surround, to dwell. To dwell in the vine means to always live with a sense of expectancy that the God who delivers us does not act just in the past but comes to us from the future as we listen with expectancy.

It is like Cleopas and his wife on the day of the resurrection, who finally get to their front door and implore him, “Stay with us.” And when he is there, revealed, they say, “Were not our hearts burning within us?” Or as we hear from that first reading today in Isaiah, “I have called you by name, and you are mine. When you go through the rivers, I will go with you. When you go through the waters, they will not overwhelm you. When you walk through the fires, you will not be burned. When you walk through the flames, you will not be consumed. I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel.”

More often than not, we look backwards in time with a sense of expectancy instead of turning our faces to the future with courage. How often in our parishes we long for the good old days that always seem so much better than they are now. But when we long for yesterday, we back our way into the future, losing those moments of deliverance that God presents to us in the here and now. When we listen to those with all the statistics about the future of a church community, it is easy for us to wring our hands and to give up. Well, my friends, the Church has always been one generation from closing or taking off. That is the nature of Church. And that future depends on you, and it depends on me. And it takes courage for us to be able to imagine a new future. When the flames erupted through the roof of St. James, Roseneath on April the 9^th, did those flames consume the community? No. The community imagines a new future as they contemplate how God is calling them.

In those moments when we wring our hands, how can we find the energy to find new models of working together in our communities so that vines may work and live side by each, amalgamating, merging, creating opportunities for clergy and lay leaders from parishes to always work side by each? Sometimes it means letting go of old grudges. I am told that in Port Hope there was a time when St. Mark’s and St. John’s would never cross the river to dawn the doors of each other’s parishes. And yet now, and for some time, they are celebrating the Eucharist on Wednesdays every week, and they gather to hear the Passover story on Easter Eve every year.

Repurposing our properties

This is our time for us to think imaginatively about how God is calling us to repurpose our properties and our ministries as we go forward as a diocese. This is not a time to be afraid. It is a time to have courage. Some years ago, when I was serving in a parish in Oakville, we had a large maple tree in our front yard. At a silent auction, I won the services of a parishioner who was an arborist. For the first 20 minutes or so on a Saturday morning, he taught me how you’re supposed to clip the branches on a tree, and how in fact you have to climb into the tree and clip out all the branches that grow inward or downward or at cross purposes or rub against each other. He only brought a pruning knife and a saw, and no ladder. After a few moments, he went up into the tree. He literally climbed the tree, and he just kept sawing and cutting, and twigs and branches would fall to the ground. The memory of that old hedge from long ago came to my mind, and I thought, “Are you gonna leave a little bit of the tree behind?” It’s a little like for me when I go get my hair cut and I say, “Please, Lord, leave just a little on top. Make it look better than it really is.”

After a couple of hours, I came back to see what he had done, and he invited me in, and there was a huge pile of branches. When I stepped under that canopy, there was an incredible spaciousness. In this Synod, we talk about making space. Our governance working group is bringing a different model of governance through our Synod Council, that we pray God creates a different kind of space that allows us to make decisions more effectively by creating committees on the ground, close to the ground, with a mixture of Synod members and those who have a particular expertise that we need. We have learned in our governance patterns in the past and in the present that there are many moments when we rub up against each other and we often work across purposes in trying to make an effective decision, and we don’t always get it right. I am looking forward to that conversation in this Synod, where we get to dream together, to say, “How will we make decisions most effectively for a changing circumstance in the Church?”

Space for diversity

In standing beneath a great canopy, we also create a space for diversity: diversity of language, diversity of culture, diversity of liturgical expression, diversity of biblical interpretation and theology – of rather than working at cross purposes and always rubbing up against each other, to determine that one way is better or not than the other, to create that space where branches are always moving outward and upward. From the table we hear the words, “Love one another as I have loved you. Love one another.” The summer of 2019 and General Synod will be remembered for many things, and one thing only. For many of us, that one thing only was that the change to the marriage canon did not happen, because it didn’t have enough votes in the House of Bishops. And no matter which part or side you stand on that question, there was deep upheaval and unrest for all. But for me, a deep hope emerging at General Synod at the same time was the Word to the Church, an apology from the bishops, and two little words that open a door: local option. Or as Isaiah might put it, “I am about to do a new thing. Do you not perceive it?”

A word to all our LGBTQ2S community members: you are home. This is your home. You are sisters, brothers and siblings in Christ, fully in this community. As we move towards Pentecost 2020, marriage is open in the same way that it is open for all couples in equal measure. If you are a cleric who believes God is calling you to marry same-sex partners, you will have that opportunity. It is given to you. And if you hold to that teaching of the traditional view of marriage, you may, and live that with integrity and teach it with integrity. It is now a time for us as community, living under a huge canopy, to create that space for diversity where all may love one another as Christ has loved us.

Responsible stewards

We hear in the first reading that the journey from exile home restores the whole of creation. “The rivers will flow in the desert, waters in the wild place, and the jackals and the ostriches will honour me.” As we make our way homeward as creation, we take creation with us. We learn from creation in the sorrow and the groaning, as we know that the temperatures of the earth are rising. In all that we do as a diocese, we are summoned to be responsible stewards and to do all in our power to transform our law, and to let go of that which creates no life, that is marking our own carbon footprints at home, in our parishes and in the work of the diocese.

“I chose you. You did not choose me.” Those are the words that Jesus said to his disciples as parting words in this reading. “I chose you. You did not choose me.” For the last 11 months, I have been learning what it means to be a bishop. I have learned over those last 11 months that there’s a part of me that’s a little like that kid in Grade 7 and 8 who is learning. There are moments when I have made mistakes or been persistent, but you have been teaching me and forming me and helping me to learn what it means to be a pastor. It is our time as church leaders, lay and ordained, for us to make our mistakes and to take those risks for the sake of the gospel. As one of my mentors, George Black, once said, “You’re gonna make mistakes. Make them boldly and make them quickly and get on with it.” No truer words could be spoken. Rather than cowering with fear that we might get it wrong, take the risk and get it right.

This staff, for me, I hold with great thanksgiving. It was made from a branch of a cherry tree that was pruned on the property of St. Jude’s, Wexford. It was fashioned in the form of a staff for me by picking up that which was taken off, and to remind me of what it means to go boldly, empty-handed, carrying nothing but a staff. I am deeply grateful for your continued prayers as I learn what it means to be your bishop, and I have deep pride and a great grateful heart for the way that I have been called to do this awesome duty. I could not do this without my colleagues in the College – of Peter and Riscylla, of Kevin and Jenny, and of Mary Conliffe – who inspire and hold and pray this community of the Diocese of Toronto into the future. I am deeply grateful for every bishop here. I am also deeply grateful for Jenn Bolender-King, who keeps my schedule tidy and moving in a way that makes some sense. And I’m deeply grateful for my wife Mary, who has been standing by my side through this whole year and holding my hand and encouraging me to take bold steps.

May God keep us, bless us and hold us, and inspire us to be courageous for the sake of the gospel that courses through our very being. Amen.

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In Romans 13, the Apostle Paul begs us to “wake from our sleep.” We are in the International Decade for People of African Descent. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, working against racism in South Africa, said, “And you remember the rainbow in the Bible is the sign of peace. The rainbow is the sign of prosperity. We want peace, prosperity and justice and we can have it when all the people of God, the rainbow people of God, work together.” How can we, as an institution and as “the rainbow people of God,” work together to disrupt and dismantle racism? Our gospel speaks to issues of injustice and inequality in health and wealth, access and priority; how can we put into words and action the call to change the policies, structures and systems that oppress and hold each other down?

The deep and insidious colonial messages that shape our society need to be challenged, uprooted and addressed for the freedom of each and all. When Moses came into the Promised Land, there were people already living there. When the Europeans came to Turtle Island/North America, there were people already living here. There is a long pattern in the human story of imposing upon one another, dehumanizing and dispossessing in order to gain. One of the side effects of colonization is that it influences everybody in its reach – so all the people who came to Turtle Island as settlers or who were brought as slaves were adversely persuaded to be ashamed of their own cultures, languages and customs. How many second- and third-generation Canadians have lost their family heritage, which also needs to be personally researched and reclaimed? I encourage you in your personal discovery, as it adds richness and depth to your faith, your family, your community.

There are also glimpses of hope in our sacred stories, like in the stories of Ruth and her mother-in-law, and the Good Samaritan. Where are the glimpses of hope in our present stories, where the liberating message of Jesus infiltrates and indwells to expand the reign of God? Where is our Church in need of the good news of decolonization? Where can we participate with integrity, humility and respect?

Another place to unsettle ourselves is in the Final Report of Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which outlines 94 ways to systematically dismantle racism and inequity, and to reconstruct the fabric of our life together through child welfare, education, language and culture, health and justice. When we work together, bound by our strong faith in Jesus and our willingness to serve the radical gospel of inclusion, our story can be transformed. Reconciliation is a spiritual discipline, a way of life, a process in which we are constantly engaged, renewing, expanding. Our history is also about the future: what are we willing to do about it in 2020? How can we speak up, step outside ourselves to encounter others, disagree agreeably? How can we support one another to persist, continue on, stay in the fray?  Whose voice is missing – or to whom do we need to listen, that we might have ears to hear?

Also consider the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals, which aim to end poverty, promote deep and sustainable peace, and protect the planet. This is where we must connect with young people who are crying out for our attention. Their voices must be heard, and our policies and structures must reveal our responses to their insights and concerns. Our Church is not separate from our world – it is in the world. The young people who are not in our churches are still part of our parishes, our families and our communities in vital and powerful ways. How do we hold each other to account? How do we challenge our internal and unconscious assumptions about superiority and ageism? Where do we seek wisdom?

Have courage. Ruth Bader Ginsberg says, “Real change, enduring change, happens one step at a time.” Take a step. Who would we be if we decided to love our neighbours for who they already are, as beloved of God? Who could our neighbours be if they were freed from our prejudice and expectations? Who are you being called to radically include? What is Jesus and the gospel calling us to in 2020?

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All these changes are occurring while the global temperature increase is only 1 degree C on average. The impacts expected from a 2-degree average rise include widespread drought, coastal flooding, species loss, and catastrophic human mortality from hunger, drought, heatwaves, and vector-borne diseases. Those most vulnerable to these impacts include people in poverty, Indigenous peoples, people with health conditions, the elderly, women and children. Limiting the global temperature rise to 1.5 degrees instead of 2 degrees would mean a significant reduction of these impacts, but last fall’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change report warned that “urgent and unprecedented changes” would need to be implemented before 2030 to keep the global average temperature rise to the Paris Accord target of 1.5 degrees C. The federal government’s current climate policies would not even achieve its Paris Accord commitment of a 30 per cent reduction of greenhouse gas emissions from 2005 levels by 2030.

Our Canadian economy and infrastructure are heavily dependent on the extraction and use of oil, gas and, to a lesser extent, coal. Transitioning to a lower-carbon economy is not a simple matter. For that very reason, however, it is crucial that all sectors of Canadian society, including governments, business and financial systems, as well as churches and other faith and community organizations, work together to address the challenge. Federal and provincial subsidies of the oil and gas industry add up to billions of dollars annually – money that could be invested in energy efficiency, renewable infrastructure, skills retraining for oil and gas sector workers, and climate change mitigation and adaptation for vulnerable Canadians.

This past July, General Synod passed Resolution C003, which, in addition to recognizing a global climate emergency, encourages all dioceses, parishes and members of the Anglican Church of Canada to make the Baptismal Covenant and fifth Mark of Mission a priority, while urging Anglicans to join with others to strengthen our voices on climate change.

In the same vein, this year’s Social Justice Vestry Motion invites parishes in our diocese to add their voices in advocating for federal policies that would meet Canada’s emissions targets and support a just transition to a low-carbon economy, while also taking the opportunity to consider ways to lower their own environmental footprint as a parish. A range of suggested options for action have been provided.  Some parishes in our diocese have already taken significant steps in this regard, pursuing energy-efficient retrofits of heating, lighting and insulation. Other possible actions include promoting public transportation options, limiting or eliminating single-use plastic products, planting trees and/or community gardens, and examining the environmental impact of one’s investments. (The Investing with a Mission resource from the Responsible Investment Task Force of the Anglican Church of Canada may provide helpful guidance in this regard.)

As Christians, we understand ourselves as entrusted with the needs of our neighbours and the care of God’s creation. This motion gives us the opportunity to consider how we can make personal and institutional changes, as well as how we can advocate for policies on a wider scale, to address the threat climate change poses to our earth, our neighbours, and ourselves.

For more information on the social justice vestry motion, visit the diocese’s website, www.toronto.anglican.ca.

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Dr. Willimon addressed two main questions: “How can Christians live out our calling in the present age that is full of skepticism and anxiety and have joy while doing so?” And, “How can clergy and the Church help and guide Christians to find their baptismal vocation?”

Over two talks, each followed by a time for questions from the audience, Dr. Willimon spoke with passion, humour and insight, using lots of anecdotes to illustrate his points. He spoke about North American culture and society, the Church, scripture, and our vocations as Christians. He challenged us not to think of the world as a place filled with skepticism and anxiety but that being Christians can cause skepticism and anxiety because we are called to be counter-cultural while living in the world.

He described vocation as the countercultural belief that your life is not your own – while you’re “doing your thing,” God owns your life and is giving you a role to play. And for us, he said, salvation is being given a job to do.

Whatever God chooses to do in the world, Dr. Willimon observed, He chooses not to do it alone. He will call us to do what He wants done, but we must recognize that our vocation is never a settled and finished thing. We can be called and re-called again and again. “We serve a living God, a God who is on the move. We cannot serve him if we cannot keep up with him.”

Dr. Willimon said that Jesus is so often presented to us as the solution to all our problems – as consolation, solace, and comfort. But, he said, that is not what scripture tells us. “This is not a story about us looking for God, but about God looking for us, about our own little lives getting caught up in the world. Really, it’s about God calling us to give us assignments!”

He reminded the audience that vocation is not about what we want to do or even about us at all; it’s about God and what He wants. We are likely to be called to do things we don’t want to do or that we feel completely unqualified for. “This is not my idea of a good time,” Dr. Willimon said dryly as he told a story about something he felt called to do, but—too bad, that was the assignment.

Another truth about vocation, he said, is that you go out to do something “good” and you come back thinking, “I believe God did more for me than anyone else today.”

When he was asked about the role of the Church today as so many congregations are shrinking and some churches are fighting to stay open, he told a story about a church he knew that fought to stay open but had to close. Yet as one congregation was saying goodbye to their beloved church, another one was moving into the space to worship in a new way and they experienced the love and care that the former congregation had imbued the building with.

“The gospel is not a story you can tell to yourself,” he said. “Someone has to tell it to you. The good news has to be received from someone else.” He said the Christian faith is inherently communal, and so it forces us to work with all kinds of other people. The Church is “God’s unique means of salvation in the world and we are forced to work with anyone Jesus drags in the door.” There’s “no debate of the admissions committee,” about that, he said. We work with all the people who come. “There’s no way to get around the fact that salvation through Jesus Christ is a group experience. Jesus forces us to be with other disciples, to walk with them and to work with them.”

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“It was incredible,” said Alexandra McIntosh, one of the organizers and the youth ministry coordinator for York-Credit Valley. “The Spirit was there with us, for sure.”

The purpose of the day was to give youth leaders a deeper understanding of their faith, particularly prayer, baptism and the Eucharist. Youth often ask difficult questions, explains Ms. McIntosh, and their leaders want to be equipped to answer them.

The day began with worship music in Wycliffe’s chapel, followed by an hour-long talk by Bishop Jenny Andison on prayer. She spoke about the Lord’s Prayer and how to pray with the Bible. Her talk included both theological instruction and practical tips on how to pray with youth and talk to them about prayer.

“We asked the speakers to help deepen our theological understanding of these subjects, but also to equip us to teach youth about them,” says Ms. McIntosh.

After lunch, participants crossed the street to Trinity’s chapel, where Bishop Andrew Asbil gave a talk about baptism, particularly the Baptismal Covenant and the Prayer Book. Like Bishop Andison, he provided both theological instruction and practical tips.

The final part of the day was an instructed Eucharist, led by the Rev. Dr. Christopher Brittain, dean of divinity at Trinity. He gave participants an order of service that explained various parts of the liturgy. Then he led the service, pausing at key points to explain what was happening.

For many, it was an enlightening experience to learn about a service they had been participating in for years. For one youth leader who came from an evangelical denomination, it was the first time she had experienced an Anglican Eucharist.

The day not only provided theological instruction but also the opportunity for youth leaders to network and share experiences with each other – a rare occasion. “Youth ministers don’t get a chance to meet each other in the same way that clergy do,” says Ms. McIntosh. “Getting them together in the same room, sharing the same questions and struggles, they know they’re not alone. They feel empowered to do their work.”

The event was such a success that many left asking when the next one will be. Ms. McIntosh says another could be held in 2020, with the subject being how to teach youth about the Bible.

She describes the day as a “win” for youth ministry in the diocese. “It made us feel that we’re on the right track, that people want to come and learn and teach. We’re in a sweet spot right now and we need to build on the momentum.”

The diocese is slowly going through a “culture shift” that recognizes the importance of youth ministry and equipping youth leaders, she says. “The sense of renewal and momentum in youth ministry is palpable, and we all left that day feeling it. There’s a love for our young people and a love for Jesus in this diocese that we’re tapping into and exploring.”

She thanked all those who helped to organize the event, including Jillan Ruch of the Bishop’s Youth Ministry Committee, Bishop Andison, Bishop Asbil and Dean Brittain. “It was a really collaborative experience,” she says.

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