Now that we’re here there’s no going back, so it’s worth looking at the sorts of interactions and relationships we’re creating through our online presence. It’s great that there are so many more people who can see us, but what is the potential for evangelism? How do we invite people to engage with us? And how can we move from engagement to relationship: from online to in-person once we can gather again?

Also, we like to count things. We use quantitative measures such as average Sunday attendance (ASA) and average weekly attendance (AWA) to track congregational sustainability and growth. It’s no surprise that there are lively questions about how to count our virtual interactions.

I want to begin by saying unequivocally: virtual liturgies count. Online interactions are real and can be very meaningful. We are reaching people and showing our presence and response in this time of anxiety. We are touching lives. The question is how we understand the nature of these encounters given the different media being used.

Online worship methods

There are basically three different methods being used for online worship: streaming a pre-recorded liturgy; live streaming; and using a video conference platform such as Zoom.

Streaming a pre-recorded liturgy is most like a performance. We can record lots of “takes” to get it just right so that people can see us at our best. Liturgy legitimately has an element of performance, and some very popular churches are highly performative, as are many Protestant traditions. I remember going back to the Presbyterian church of my childhood and youth after I had been attending an Anglican church for a few years and being very surprised by how little there was for the congregation to say.

Pre-recording allows us to make the best impression possible. The investment in the interaction is primarily ours. The audience has the privacy to come and go, linger a bit or engage, have it on in the foreground or background as they choose. This is window-shopping evangelism. The gift is in the potential for a very large number of people to come into contact with the video as they scroll through Facebook. It is a ministry of witness and presence that shows how we worship, who we worship, how we pray and who we pray for. This is a significant and new opportunity for evangelism that is bearing fruit as we see the number of views being recorded on our Facebook pages or YouTube channels.

However, any counting we do is, on the surface, going to be widely inaccurate. Some people will give us a fly-by “like,” some will linger, some will watch the entire liturgy. We can collect the number of likes and, more significantly, we can count the of the number of people who leave comments. Most significant is how often the video is shared. By sharing a video on their own Facebook page, someone has chosen to align themselves with this liturgy. Sharing it with their network of friends is a form of virtual evangelism saying, in effect, “this is meaningful to me and I want you to see it too.”

If we delve a little deeper, Facebook and YouTube will show us the average watch time and audience retention for each video, so we can see real data about how people are engaging with our worship. Churches that post pre-recorded liturgies can also use the Premiere functions on Facebook or YouTube to mimic a live experience, inviting people to tune in and watch at the same time, and unlock more data.

Live streaming introduces spontaneity and the potential for imperfection. Again, worship is essentially performance. The audience may be onlookers, or they may engage; they can stay or come and go. They may stumble upon our worship as they scroll through their newsfeed. But with live streaming, sometimes microphones don’t work properly, you can hear the cleric’s children in the background, things can and do go wrong. This risk adds an element of intimacy that invites the onlookers into the experience. Watching, we feel empathy, humour and frustration, and this engages us. It feels more personal.

Churches that live stream on Facebook usually allow live comments and reactions as people tune in to watch. This invites people to feel like they’ve become part of a group who are having a shared experience. They move from being an onlooker to being part of a virtual community – if only for a short time. Through the comments, people can offer their prayers and share the Peace in real time during the liturgy. Other pages and individuals can also host Watch Parties, inviting their friends or followers to join them in the live viewing experience.

This is like window shopping evangelism where the door is open and there are ways that you are invited to enter. You can step in just a little bit by making a comment, or you can come right in by joining the party or, in this case, the virtual congregation.

Similar to pre-recorded streaming, any counting we do is going to be inaccurate, but we can count “peak live viewers” – the number of people who actually tuned in live – and audience retention, and be more confident of people’s engagement in worship. So, along with the views, shares and number of people commenting, it’s worth counting and keeping track of these numbers.

Zoom or another video conferencing platform is a way of keeping in touch with the congregation and tending the community. This is a walled-garden approach. People need to have the link to enter and, once in, can interact with each other; they can see each other, hear each other and, through the chat, write notes to each other.

In a Zoom liturgy, people are treated as participants. Engagement is supported with a downloadable bulletin attached with the link. You’re invited to say the responses and sing the hymns. During worship, the chat function can be used to share prayers and the Peace, or the mics can be turned on. After worship ends, churches will often have a virtual coffee hour and check in with each other. The officiant can speak directly to the group, sharing community news and facilitating interactions.

Compared with streaming on Facebook or YouTube, the reach to the public is limited. The focus is on engaging with the liturgy, fostering personal interactions and nurturing relationships within the congregation while it can’t meet in person. Zoom links can be shared on parish social media feeds, but people will need to follow the link to enter the service. Counting is therefore easier but not entirely accurate. You can count the number of log-ons, but you won’t get an exact count since there are couples and families participating from a single device. This being said, it’s the closest we can get to ASA and AWA counts.

Unexpectedly, parishes offering Zoom services are finding that participation in daily prayer is high – much higher that they would expect from in-person gatherings. These prayer services are providing structure to people’s days – something to look forward to and be part of every weekday. This is a particularly important ministry for people who are struggling with isolation and are at risk with mental health issues.

Even though there is a doorway to these Zoom gatherings, evangelism is happening through people inviting their friends. Like the invitation to a Watch Party, inviting a friend to a Zoom worship service is clearly easier than making the invitation to in-person worship in our churches. Through our virtual worship, gossiping the gospel is flowering.

Expanding and enhancing the experience

Our goal should be to use these media to offer window shopping, an open door, and an invitation to stay a while and engage in the experience of worshipping God as part of a community – even at a distance. No single virtual tool will do all of this, and no cleric can do all three (planning and leading just one is a lot of work), but each offers a piece.

The opportunity is to develop whichever media you’re using so that it leads from onlooking to engaging, interaction to relationship. Here are some suggestions to enhance the experiences so that people are invited to linger and participate in the spiritual experiences we’re offering.

• Have a host who is not the officiant when live streaming or Zooming. When live streaming, the host can watch the comments and respond to prayer requests in real time. With Zoom, a host can monitor the participants, make sure that video cameras and microphones are turned off and on at appropriate times and, if necessary, block intrusive participation. They can share their screen and sound to display pictures and play music.
• Keep it short. Sunday morning liturgies should be 30 minutes at the maximum unless you are offering a fully professional video with multiple officiants and live music. Even five minutes of focused prayer each weekday can be a very attractive offering for people to look forward to.
• Include other voices in the reading and prayers. With Zoom, it’s easy to include people from their homes.
• Choose inviting settings for daily offices or prayer services. Record in more relaxed, casual or personal settings, such as your home or outdoors.
• Add a brief thought for the day. Reflect briefly on the gospel – five minutes or less – connecting to our experience of living through this pandemic.
• Link a bulletin to the posting or invitation. Include information about your church and highlight the ministries of outreach and pastoral care.
• Expect people to join in the prayers and sing the hymns.
• Introduce yourself and your parish. Add some personality; give people an impression of you and the church you’re representing. At either the beginning or end of the liturgy, greet the onlookers and wish them well. Let people know of your church’s website and highlight an outreach or community service of your parish or the diocese.
• Invite financial support. Let people know how they can contribute to the ministry and mission of the church. Don’t be shy! We’re hearing stories of people asking how they can contribute after watching an online service.

Finally, keep track of your stories and your counts. These experiences are worth keeping. Virtual church and the use of online media for evangelism, worship and community-building are with us to stay. It seems obvious that now we’ve entered this new environment – and are seeing how many people are being touched by our churches’ presence and witness – we must continue. Let’s learn as much as we can and share what we’re learning.

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These words will be read in most churches in the diocese on Sunday, May 31, the fiftieth day after Easter, what some people call the birthday of the Church but is more commonly known as Pentecost. More than anything, it is the day that the disciples learned that everything in their lives had changed once again as they took on a new role: apostle. That day did many things, but I am not sure it presented to them the option of going back into the upper room.

Taking on this role meant evolving beyond that of being a student under the guiding eye of their rabbi. It meant emerging from the upper room, stepping into the town square and going out into a world they would change forever.

It would be far too simplistic to equate the experience of our parishes and today’s Church to that day. However, as some people start seeing a gently flattened curve and hopeful statistics, their silent wondering is clear: when will we be allowed to start gathering in our places of worship once again, and, just as importantly, who will we be on that day?

We all know we must wait for guidance from our pastoral leadership, which is listening for the advice of the medical community to safely see what our new normal will be. But it doesn’t change the fact that many are still wondering.

This time of separation has not been easy, but it has also been a time of amazing discovery. Most of my colleagues comment that they have never been busier in ministry. Parishes across our diocese and in many faith expressions have taken a crash course in online worship, live streaming, and Zoom-everything.

As we have worked diligently to stay at home, supporting the work of essential services by not adding to their workload, the innovation and evolution that has taken place in the lives of Anglicans here and elsewhere has seen the reward of a renewed level of connectedness.

In all that wondering, and as the yearning towards a new normal continues, my mind has settled on questions revolving around many things:

• Since we don’t know how much longer the present restrictions on gatherings are going to continue, is it premature to dream about what we will do when…?
• In all the innovation and evolution, have we entertained the thought that God might be asking us to slow down a bit – that right now, instead of being busier, this may be calling us into a time of reflection?
• As we effectively reach out to people in our communities, both near and far, are we effectively reaching those who are not connected to the internet?
• Will we be able to kickstart our own communities back into ministry, or will this time of separation hasten the decline so many speak of?

I wish there was a simpler way to navigate through this time, but we are in that overused catch phrase, “uncharted territory,” and it is challenging. However, just as we all work to navigate our way through these waters, I can’t help but believe we are being called into a wonderful time, similar to that of the day of Pentecost.

While our time is different than theirs, as we wait for that longed-for all-clear when our doors are permitted to open once again, we will have a choice to make. Will we bring with us all those innovations and ideas that have inspired renewed connectedness, along with more traditional ways of connecting? And will we take the challenge to find the time and space to slow down and not be so connected?

When that day comes, I have no doubt there will be a great sigh of relief and a tremendous Hallelujah from all corners of our diocese and beyond as we continue as the people of God.

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These somewhat cynical lyrics came to mind as I trudged upstairs and into my office to gather with members of my parish for a weekly service – gather, that is, pandemic-style: each of us home alone, gazing into the screen before us.

Like many, I’ve gotten more or less used to a shrunken life in the COVID-19 era. Isolation is never easy but being cut off from one’s brothers and sisters in faith is, I find, hardest of all. What was once my favourite day of the week – Sunday – is now the toughest. Not being able to worship inperson together makes the harsh isolation of the pandemic even more searing, like salt being rubbed into a wound.

We’re all in this together, I told myself resignedly as I turned on my computer for our Zoom gathering. I reminded myself that thousands of other Christians are also worshipping in this way.

My spirits lifted somewhat as the faces of other parishioners came into view on my screen. Then our gospel reading worked its magic:

“When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you’… A week later his disciples were again in the house… Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’” (John 20:24-29)

Locked away. Living in fear. Yet Jesus is present.

In this anxious time of “house arrest,” the words of this familiar passage resonated with me as they never had before. As we reflected on this scripture, I realized that numerous other Christians have experienced fear and uncertainty as well. And by pointing out the marks of his crucifixion to Thomas, Jesus reminds us that he too has suffered — and in fact has suffered much more than us. But suffering is not the most powerful thing about Easter. Nor is fear and anxiety. They can’t defeat the power of resurrection.

As we reflected on this passage and what it means for us, I gazed upon the iconic painting of Jesus in my office by well-known Christian artist Michael O’Brien. As I gazed into Jesus’ eyes, he spoke to me in a new way – reaching past my fear and anxiety and into my soul. I wasn’t just looking at a lovely painting: I was connecting with Jesus in a new, deeper way – just as members of our parish connected with each other during our service in a new way. At first, our online dialogue moved in fits and starts, liked a stalled car’s engine coming to life. But gradually more of us felt comfortable enough to speak and offer our ideas.

One of us noted that if we just sit in fear, it paralyzes us. That led us to think about what we could do to help some of those in our community who were hardest hit by the pandemic. They include homeless people who are housed in a large recreation centre so they can be safely far enough apart from each other. Yet this arrangement has also meant that they have little to do to pass the time. One parishioner suggested we investigate whether computer tablets and iPads might be donated to our homeless neighbours so they could stay in touch with the world beyond the recreation centre’s walls. Others chimed in to discuss this proposal further.

I left our service with a greater sense of the peace that Jesus talks about – and with a deeper appreciation that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, including pandemics, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

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1. Reading. Yes, that’s right. Somehow after another day of Zooming, all I have energy for is to plop myself in front of yet another Netflix series. And so I want to finish Miriam Toews’ novel and begin to attack the backlog on my bedside table.
2. Getting up early on a Thursday morning. Although I’m the furthest thing there is from being a morning person, one of the weekly routines I look forward to is the 7:15 a.m. mass followed by breakfast (one boiled egg and two and a half pieces of toast) with a faithful band of parishioners, presided over by 98-year-old Professor Blissett, our chief butterer of toast.
3. Celebrating the liturgy with (more than four other) living, breathing humans. I want to hear the sounds, see the faces and shake the hands.
4. Commending my dear colleague Father Robert McCord to God’s care with a glorious requiem. Robert died suddenly in March and we are waiting for the time when we can fulfill his wish for a high mass with all the liturgical trimmings.
5. Visiting a library. “Medicine for the Soul,” said the inscription above the earliest library we know of, from the 1200s BCE. My soul needs some of this medicine.
6. Getting “just because” exercise. My commute from home to church is roughly ten paces. I’m looking forward to the time when going to meetings and running errands and going to my weekly duplicate bridge game gets me on my feet or on my bike.
7. Hugging my mom. (And she will tell you I’m not the huggiest person in the world. And she is correct. But still!)
8. Having lunch with some dear friends. I realize I have taken for granted the simple act of making a lunch date and catching up over a meal. This is a time for fasting from the way in which human beings form and sustain family, friendships and community – with food and drink. (Yes, “Do this,” said Jesus. And so we shall. And in person!)
9. Sailing. My real “happy place” is a summer property that has been in my family for almost a century. There I sail and read and play board games, and Mary Lou and I and my folks get to re-connect with our two adult daughters. I’m hoping (perhaps against hope – we will see) to get there in August and just “be.”
10. Discovering what God has been up to in the Church and in my life. I don’t for a moment subscribe to the theology that God has inflicted this pandemic upon the world to teach us something. But I do subscribe to the theology that, through this extraordinary time, God is doing something new. In the Church we are seeing creativity, courage, resilience and lots of curiosity from outside our walls. In my own life, this has been a time of creativity in writing, practicing the organ (something I haven’t done for a few years) and composing music. Things I simply wouldn’t have “got around to” if all of a sudden everything predictable had not been turned on its head.

I have been very fortunate through this pandemic – much more fortunate than most. I have the security of continued employment, comfortable shelter, plenty of food and company and support, and ministry I love. This pandemic has not been the “stay at home and read books” moment I had imagined. But I am thankful, from my admittedly comfortable perch, to be able to reflect on what really is important. Yes, absence does make my heart grow fonder.

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We all know how easy it is to give thanks in good circumstances. When things are going well and life seems to be unfolding as it should, it’s easy to feel grateful from the bottom of our hearts. But for most of us, life is not like that right now. The COVID-19 virus continues to wreak havoc on our world, disrupting our best-laid plans. People are sick, afraid and lonely; our churches are shut; jobs have evaporated; many of us are trying to be full-time school teachers while also working from home; we are told to stay away from each other. This is not how life should be!

So how, in the midst of this pandemic, can we give thanks to God? How can we cultivate a spirit of gratitude when everything seems so bleak? I can only offer an approach that has worked for me. I borrowed the idea from a woman I once knew in one of the parishes I served. She kept a “gratitude pad” on her nightstand. Every night before bed she would grab a pen and jot down four or five things for which she was grateful that day. I have recently taken on that practice as a way of staying thankful in difficult circumstances. Here are a few of the things on my gratitude pad from the past several weeks:

1. 7:30 p.m. Pots & Pans Movement. I love hearing the sound of clanging pots and pans each night, as people on our street step out onto their porches to honour frontline workers and healthcare staff. Some churches are also ringing their church bells at 7:30 each night to join in. This cacophony is double gratitude for me: I am reminded to be grateful for the frontline workers, and also those who show gratitude to them! Give thanks for sacrifice. Give thanks for appreciation.
2. The Anglican Outreach Support Network. Since the beginning of this pandemic, frontline outreach workers in Anglican ministries have gathered regularly in a network of mutual support and resourcesharing. Those within this network are leading the effort to continue ministering to the most vulnerable among us, including the homeless, the marginally housed, the hungry and the socially isolated. I give thanks for their deep commitment to those who are falling further through the cracks during this pandemic. Give thanks for compassion.
3. Virtual Worship. For most of us, worship was transformed in an instant. One week we were in our buildings. The next we were shut out. As heart-wrenching as that has been, I am so thankful for the resiliency of communities who responded to this challenge by offering worship services by live stream, Zoom, conference call and pre-recorded video. Now, we can all visit any number of churches each week and hear some great music as well as a variety of homilies. Give thanks for creativity.
4. Jubilee! In March, our Diocesan Council made the courageous decision to proclaim a Jubilee. For two months, no parish in our Diocese has needed to pay clergy costs or the monthly allotment. It was our hope that this relief would give parishes some breathing room as they adjusted to a very different reality and created new stewardship opportunities in response to the pandemic. Give thanks for generosity.
5. The Risen Jesus. This pandemic has taken many things away from us, but it has not taken away our proclamation of the One who sets us free and gives us life. We celebrate that the tomb is empty! Now nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ: “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present nor things to come…” (Romans 8:38) Nor can this pandemic. We are a new creation, bound with God forever. Give thanks for resurrection and new life.

May the God of the Holy Spirit, who came upon the Church on the Day of Pentecost, fill us with a renewed sense of gratitude for our life together. And may we give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for us in Christ Jesus.

The post Notes from a gratitude pad appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

The Open Hours Program and the People Presence Volunteers work together to keep the church sanctuary open six days a week for all the different kinds of people who come through Trinity Square, which is close to Yonge-Dundas Square and the Eaton Centre. We create a uniquely welcoming and relaxing space in a part of the city that is only getting busier and more closed off. We also partner with the monthly Homeless Memorial, which remembers the growing number of people who have died un-housed in the city. At the start of this year, we recorded the 1,000th name.

During this time of COVID-19, food and other survival supplies are always at the top of my mind. Crisis situations like this not only reveal current inequalities and failures in our social imagination, but also dangerously exacerbates them. We have seen a quadrupling of the number of people who we serve daily, and an intensifying of need. While there is always some small hope on the horizon, people have lost most of the systems they depended on for food and all the indoor spaces where they could sit down out of the elements. Like every other Canadian, they are scared, but they have nowhere safe to retreat to. Our second focus is connecting our wider communities with ways that they can make a meaningful difference. Watching these social injustices unfold, even from isolation, is extremely difficult. For many of our older volunteers, the people who I am serving are their friends and family. Staying connected, supporting one another, and advocating to all levels of government has become even more crucial at this time.

The best and worst part of working right now have to be the same thing, which is being an essential worker during COVID-19. I’ve changed my daily commute so that I don’t have to actually touch anything besides my subway seat. That said, staying home and watching the growing need from afar would be equally stressful. I’m extremely grateful for the way that the team at Holy Trinity has come together to support each other, making sure each of us feels valued, and providing us with the tools to remain as safe as possible.

Originally from the (United) States, I needed a change after university and decided to hike the southern half of the Appalachian trail and then move north for a few years. Starting out only knowing my roommate, I quickly found a community in Toronto to call home, and now can’t imagine living anywhere else. While my father worked as a coordinator in a similar program while I was growing up, I never imagined following in his footsteps.

Graduating with a BA in graphic design, I really enjoyed working in that industry for a number of years, both as a freelancer and in-house. Growing climate anxiety started to leave me more dissatisfied with my chosen occupation and I decided to transition to something less carbon intensive. Dovetailing with my discernment process, I sought out more opportunities in the drop-in related sector and eventually found myself at Holy Trinity.

When I moved north to Toronto, I was definitely in a place of spiritual questioning. Very religious, my family had moved around a lot and attended many different Christian churches, but I wasn’t sure if Christianity had anything more to offer me going forward. When I decided to attend St. Stephen in-the-Fields here in Toronto, it was only because a friend had recommended it and I was wondering if the more Anglo-Catholic tradition was what I needed. The physicality of the smells, bells, bowing and liturgical calendar had always intrigued me – a potential bridge between the more cerebral ways I had known God before and the physicality of the day to day. This insight proved largely correct and, combined with the high level of preaching and teaching I was receiving, I decided to start attending church regularly for the first time of my own volition.

Always drawn to the issues of social justice, I had never heard of the position of deacon in the Anglican Church before a few years ago. It took at least another year of thinking about it before I decided to officially discern. The process brought plenty of hoops to jump through and fears of not being good enough, but it’s also taught me a lot about myself and pushed me in my spiritual development.

Becoming a deacon was hugely affirming and I would encourage everyone to become more familiar with the Community of Deacons. The office of deacon is still relatively unknown in many corners of the Church, which is a limitation on how people understand the mission of the Church, not to mention a concern that some may be missing out on their vocation. The Diocese of Toronto’s website includes a short synopsis of the process on the page “Diaconate Ministry,” with a more in-depth overview entitled “The Iona Report” available through the national church’s website.

Five years from now, I hope to be serving God and my neighbour. At this point in time, I have a hard time trying to figure out what the world will exactly look like in five years, but of that I can be sure.

I am similarly bad at picking favourite passages from scripture, but I often return to the book of Amos. One of the prophets of the First Testament, I am always struck by how pertinent and timely it feels even now.

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As he heads towards retirement at the end of November, Bishop Fenty, 68, has no regrets about the path he has followed from an early age. “I’m convinced that God called me to ordained ministry and I would do it all over again,” he says. “There is no other vocation I would choose than a priest of the Church and now a bishop. It’s something I enjoy getting up to do every single day, in its good moments and not so good moments.”

After attending Codrington College in Barbados, he was ordained a priest in 1975 and served in three parishes there, as well as being a chaplain to the University of the West Indies. From 1980-82, he attended Huron College in London, Ont., earning a Master of Divinity degree. He ministered in Barbados until 1992, then answered a call to be the rector of St. Lawrence, LaSalle in the Diocese of Montreal, moving there with his wife Angela and two young children.

He says he learned an important lesson during his early years in ministry, one that has stayed with him all his life. “I learned that it was important to listen to the other voices whom God has placed before us in sharing God’s mission, especially those of the laity,” he says. “I’m grateful that I was able to quickly learn that it’s not all about me – it’s about many others whom God has also called. That helped me to be a team player – to value and respect the gifts of others and to affirm and encourage the raising up of those gifts in ministry.”

In 1997, he became the incumbent of St. Joseph of Nazareth, Bramalea, in the Diocese of Toronto, serving there until 2003, when he became the Executive Assistant to the Bishop of Toronto and Archdeacon of York. He held that position until 2013, serving under Archbishop Terence Finlay and then Archbishop Colin Johnson.

During those years, he was involved in a number of important initiatives in the diocese. He was part of the planning group for the diocese’s annual Black heritage service, which celebrated its 25th anniversary this year. He was also a member of the committee that drafted the diocese’s guidelines for the blessing of same-sex couples.

In 2013, he was elected bishop at St. James Cathedral and has served as the area bishop of York-Simcoe since then. York-Simcoe is one of four episcopal areas in the diocese, comprising 47 parishes with 74 congregations.

He says being the area bishop of York-Simcoe has been a joy and a pleasure. “I’ve worked alongside wonderful clergy and lay people. I’ve really valued the leadership of our regional deans, our two liturgical officers, our area council, our youth coordinator and of course Jennipher Kean, my wonderful administrative assistant.”

Like many bishops, he says his Sunday visits to parishes have been the highlight of his ministry in York-Simcoe. “I’ve enjoyed the privilege every week to be in a parish with the clergy and people, doing what we do well, which is to worship an awesome God – to celebrate God’s unconditional love for us and for all of God’s creation.

“I am also proud of the manner in which a number of our parishes, who even with their challenges, are doing creative things to fulfil their ministries. That has been a real joy to watch and to see how dedicated and faithful our people are.

“My seven years have been wonderful and enriching,” he adds. “I give thanks to God for the clergy and people of York-Simcoe for the privilege of serving them. I will leave this ministry with fond memories.”

Throughout his ordained ministry, Bishop Fenty has worked for social justice. He recently co-chaired the national church’s Partners in Mission and Social Justice and Advocacy Committee. In that role, he worked with national church staff on global issues, supporting partners in mission across the Communion. He also led an antiracism workshop at a meeting of the Council of General Synod.

In the Diocese of Toronto, he served on the planning committee for the annual Black heritage service for more than 20 years. He was a member of the Social Justice and Advocacy Committee and, until recently, a member of the Bishop’s Working Group on Intercultural Ministries, which seeks to turn the recommendations of the report Being Multicultural: Becoming Intercultural into concrete action.

He says the diocese has made significant strides over the years to welcome and embrace those who are not part of the dominant culture, but it still has a long way to go. “We need to guard against complacency or a belief that we have arrived,” he says. “Systemic racism is still very much present in the Church.”

A sign of hope has been the number of Black lay leaders who have held prominent positions in the Church in recent years at both the diocesan and area levels, he says. “We can look at that and recognize that progress is being made.” The diocese also plans to create a staff position to support the work of the Diversity Officer and the intercultural working group.

With his election to the episcopacy in 2013, Bishop Fenty became the first Black bishop in the Anglican Church of Canada. It was an historic occasion and his consecration at St. James Cathedral drew a huge crowd.

But he points out that, seven years later, he is still the only Black person to hold that office. “I think that’s something that speaks volumes about the Church across the country, which likes to claim how diverse it is. Toronto is one of the most diverse cities in North America, so we have to ask some questions around leadership in our Church. We also have to recognize that some hard work still needs to be done around sensitivity training and anti-racism and all of the other challenges that we have, so that those who are not part of the dominant culture may really feel welcomed and involved.”

Although he is closely associated with Black and minority issues, he is passionate about seeking social justice wherever it is needed. “It’s about justice around same-gender inclusion, ageism and economic equality. It’s about addressing all of the inequities and prejudices that exist in our communities and to some extent in the Church. If we are going to be true to what the prophet Micah says – ‘What does the Lord require of you, O mortal? To do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with our God’ – we can only do that if we are acting righteously, and that means walking in a right relationship with God and with others. It’s at the core of our baptismal call.”

He intends to continue lending his voice to social justice issues while in retirement, but first he plans to spend time with his family, including his grandchildren. “My family has always stood by me and been supportive, and that has been a wonderful joy,” he says.

After a period of rest and relaxation, he plans to make himself available to the College of Bishops and to fill in at parishes on Sundays if needed. He has a passion for supporting clergy who are struggling with their vocation and he would like to continue doing that. He is also looking forward to continuing his involvement with Black Anglicans of Canada, a new organization that advocates for and supports Black Anglicans in lay and clerical leadership positions.

As he looks back on his 45 years of ordained ministry, he is full of gratitude. “I’ve been really blessed to serve the Anglican Church in the way I have,” he says. “Ordained ministry is a privilege, not a right. We have the wonderful opportunity of pastoring and supporting in a way that few other occupations do. We walk alongside many people in their moments of joy and celebration but also in their moments of sadness and grief. And that is a privilege for anyone to have.”

Bishop Andrew Asbil, the Bishop of Toronto, says he has mixed feelings about Bishop Fenty retiring. “On the one hand, I feel sadness. I’m really going to miss him in the College of Bishop and his work in the diocese. He’s been such a faithful, tireless leader. He always brings a calming influence and a thoughtful approach to all issues. He has this wonderful way of slowing things down, containing anxiety and helping us in our discussions on whatever the matter may be.

“On the other, I feel deep gratitude and thanksgiving for his service. Forty-five years of ordained ministry is incredible. To work in the vineyard in all those different capacities is monumental. What he has seen and touched and encouraged in his ministry is breathtaking.”

He says Bishop Fenty has been a stellar bishop for York-Simcoe. “His ability to apply pastoral wisdom and care for parishes and ministries on the ground has been amazing. He does it with such constancy. He always makes himself available to clergy and lay leaders in his area.”

He says one of Bishop Fenty’s most important contributions to the Church, both in the diocese and in the rest of Canada, is his work in social justice and advocacy. “His perspective on justice and looking for those who are missing, those who have been left out, whether by systems or individuals, is one of his lasting legacies, and the compassion he has for the one who is left behind is a great contribution.”

Another legacy will be his preaching, says Bishop Asbil. “His passion for scripture and the Word and his ability to talk about hard things in the gospel light has been a real gift to us.”

He says plans are underway to celebrate Bishop Fenty’s ministry and the contributions that he and his family have made to the life of the Church. Those plans will be communicated as soon as they are finalized. Bishop Fenty will retire on Nov. 30, 2020.

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