posted on February 1, 2012 in For the Record

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The young woman followed the guide’s hand to where a passage from Psalm 132 was mounted high on the wall. She read it, then dissolved into tears, knees buckling as she dropped to the floor.
We were in Elmina Castle, built by the Portuguese between 1482 – 86 to defend their slice of the Africa Gold Coast. They used it as a trading post, first mostly for the gold. Soon, however, local tribes began bringing captured enemies whom they sold to the Portuguese as slaves for Brazil and the Caribbean.
In 1637, Elmina (“the mine”) was captured by the Dutch, as they extended their global power. At Elmina, they used the same chapel as the Portuguese had, whitewashing the Roman Catholic paint and gilt in favour of Calvinistic black and white—and a passage from the psalter in Dutch:
For the Lord has chosen Zion;
He has desired it for His habitation: 
‘This is my resting – place for ever;
here I will reside, for I have desired it.’
The room beneath this chapel resting – place in Elmina is where the female slaves were packed; stacked vertically so tightly together like cordwood on end that if they slept at all, it was standing up. With little water and no food, many starved to death or suffocated—a few “losses” apparently just the cost of doing business for their captors.
Eventually, 30,000 slaves a year were being forced through Elmina’s Door of No Return for the wretched journey to the New World. In all, between 11 and 15 million slaves arrived alive. How many more millions died is simply unknown.
For the young Dutch woman trying to absorb all this history, the feeling of guilt at the inhumanity of her forbears was just too much.
At least she felt guilt and knew her fortune owed much to the past misfortune of others. Perhaps our glowing pride blinds us to our own dark moments in history.
How often have I heard about how Canada welcomed black Loyalists after the American Revolution in 1776 and how different this liberal attitude was from the racist policies of the U.S. that became entrenched in the ensuing decades?
Many free blacks did come to Canada; so did many slaves of white Loyalists. In all, about 3,000 black Loyalists ended up in Nova Scotia in the early 1780s, their names recorded in the Book of Negroes, recently made famous by Lawrence Hill’s novel of the same name.
Promised the earth (literally), few if any of these refugees received their land grant. After a decade of racial tension and broken promises, in 1792, exactly 220 years to the day that I am writing this, on Jan. 15, almost 1,200 men, women and children sailed for Sierra Leone where they founded Freetown, now that country’s capital.
But black history in Canada is not just about slavery. I remember as a child driving through Africville on the northern tip of the Halifax peninsula.
What I recall most of all were the vibrantly coloured houses.
Africville is one of Canada’s dark events. Denied proper civic services such as water and sewer, the community was expropriated and bulldozed in the 1960s to allow industrial expansion in Halifax and to provide the ramps for the second bridge to Dartmouth.
Crammed into a terrible housing project and deprived of their church—the anchor of the village—the community descended into violence, drugs and crime.
Only now is it beginning to pull itself out of a mire not of its own making, while the citizens of Halifax and Dartmouth have prospered.
The history of Africans, free and slave, in North America cannot be reduced to a month each year, but perhaps it is a way of reminding us of events our otherwise selective memory would prefer to forget.
Presbyterians have an extraordinary opportunity to learn more of the past and connect with modern Africa through the Presbyterian Church of Ghana’s relationship with the Ghanaian congregations in Toronto and Montreal. Recently, the Presbyterian Church of Nigeria established a mission in Toronto which provides another connection.
We may not all be as overwhelmed as the young woman in Elmina, but we could use a little more learning and a lot more humility when it comes to our complicated past.

posted on January 1, 2012 in For the Record

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When I was in college, there were two things you were not allowed to discuss at a formal meal before dessert: politics and religion.
Well, OK, there were actually four things. A chivalry predating the co – ed institution also said you could not speak about a woman who was not present. And you couldn’t talk about the pictures on the walls. I never did figure that one out. (And I won’t go into the method of public shaming for violators ….)
In Canadian society, religion and politics are also the two things you don’t discuss at a party, at least not unless it’s election time, and even then. And religion? Never.
What made me think of this were several articles in Britain’s The Economist.
The magazine ran a column about the role of the church leaders in British society. It’s a piece that should resonate with Canadian Christians.
The column argued that while church leaders are not reticent about attacking government policy, they tend to shy away from discussing God, at least in public. The column noted that when Margaret Thatcher was criticized for putting economic efficiency ahead of welfare, she replied that church is not about “social reforms and benefits” but about spiritual redemption and God.
Pierre Trudeau had a similar view. His mantra was that “God and religion have nothing to do with public and political life.” And he defended that by asking the princes of the church how many votes they could deliver.
Game, set and match.
In Canada, it seems as if church leaders have never quite gotten over that, and discuss neither God nor politics in public. Oh, there have been a few United Church moderators who launched an occasional broadside, but when the church has been in the media, too often it’s been about sexual – moral issues, and too often the church’s own.
Morals are not mostly about sex. Morals are about how we behave with our neighbours in the broadest sense.
The Bible has relatively little to say about sex but a great deal to say about our common political life. It has a lot to say about economic disparity. It has a lot to say about injustice. It has a lot to say about creation and our role in it.
Which brings me to the other articles in The Economist that pricked my interest. Not exactly known for its left – of – centre stance, the paper has exposed the federal government’s crime bill for the sham that it is. (As have most Canadian print media.)
But it also notes that there has been little public outcry, indicating that Canadians appear to have been duped into thinking that their country is insecure. Or, as the justice minister said: the government “does not use statistics as an excuse not to get tough on criminals.”
Translated: we don’t let facts get in the way of retribution.
Not to mention the hugely increased costs that could go towards education and improving the wellbeing of our poorest citizens.
Did I mention Attawapiskat?
And the church’s voice? Any correction? Any challenge?

Or what about the oil sands?
I’m not suggesting the church should mount a wholesale opposition to their development, but their potential value to the economy cannot be the only factor in the equation. And, once again, it is in a pro – free – market publication that Canada is shamed internationally for abandoning Kyoto on a pretext.
Don’t church leaders have anything to say?
Or do they realize that their old, overbuilt, inefficient buildings that cost as much to heat as the ministries they undertake would expose them as hypocrites?
If Christians are serious about their faith, and if they want others to take their faith seriously, then reading our cover story might be a start. It is full of challenges.
We need to speak up about our God of love and faith and how He demands that we build a society based on principles of justice, fairness, income redistribution and generosity.
We need to shake ourselves and stop being shy about commenting on our common life or our faith. They are inextricably linked.
It’s time to change our old ways. And it’s time to speak up.
Many blessings this new year,

posted on December 1, 2011 in For the Record

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A book cataloguing a decade of international medical – scientific achievement and a magazine article challenging the tenets of the Occupy Wall Street protest are not the most likely places one expects to read about compassion.
But at the end of a Maclean’s essay analyzing various economic factors freely tossed about in stories about Occupy protests, Andrew Coyne observes that “while there is little we can do about inequality at the top, there’s quite a lot we can do about inequality at the bottom, mostly by giving poor people more money.”
I don’t think that was meant simplistically: Coyne cites a National Council of Welfare report that says it would have cost about $12 billion in 2007 to lift every Canadian out of poverty—about what the country would raise by adding two points back on the HST.
“Alas, that calls upon us to show compassion, rather than resentment; to give, rather than to take,” he writes.
Alas, that observation is all too true.
Perhaps it was because I had just finished reading Charles Fensham’s wonderful article on p. 25 about missional spirituality. Our calling as Christians to in turn call others to share with them the message of God’s love is based on God’s persistent, loving and compassionate calling of humanity to be what God intends us to be in creation.
Compassion has two aspects for humans and especially for Christians. The one part, compassion towards those who lack the necessities of life, we address tolerably well: we—you—give generously to many charitable causes, including the church’s many outreach projects, whether Presbyterian World Service and Development, Toronto’s Evangel Hall or Winnipeg Inner City Missions.
As members of wider society, though, I wonder if we can do more to make our voice heard when our politicians are less than compassionate in treatment of the homeless in our cities or propose harsher retributive measures for criminals?
The other aspect of compassion has more directly to do with the content of our faith. Jesus warned the church of his day that they were squandering God’s generous gift of faith; guarding the laws to such an extent that the compassionate, prophetic words of God had become like buried treasure.
I wonder if we sometimes bury God’s loving call to the world under the weight of 500 – year – old confessions and politics?
That is a question that Dorcas Gordon addresses in this month’s Theology 101 series on Christ alone. As she observes, the church needs courage to rethink some of its formularies. It will not be easy. In fact, she says it may be painful. But it clearly wasn’t easy in Jesus’ time either.
To the faith leaders of his day, Jesus was a dangerous renegade. He alleged that both the Sadducees and Pharisees were misguided and the Samaritans got off track, too. But their errors didn’t mean they were irredeemable; Nicodemus was a Pharisee, and a Samaritan models God’s compassion in a parable.
Even the Canaanites, polytheistic neighbours of Israel, were not outside the scope of Jesus’ ministry, as the story of the healing of the Canaanite woman’s daughter in Matthew and Mark reveals.
Translate those faith groups into contemporary language and Jesus might be talking about Anglicans, Presbyterians and Romans Catholics, and it might be the story of the Good Muslim or the Good Hindu.
Interestingly, startlingly and sadly, no faith groups appear in the recently published book The Grandest Challenge. Two physicians, Abdallah Daar and Peter Singer, recount a decade of working to bring the finest scientific researchers to work on some of the most important and challenging problems facing the world’s poorest people. In many of those parts of the world, churches have a major presence, yet they appear not to have been involved in finding solutions.
Let’s hope that was oversight on all sides. And let this be a call for Christians and other faith groups to find out what they can do to extend God’s compassion in a concrete way.
A compassionate God sent His son to be with us so we would know of God’s deep love for us. May you experience that love in your lives this Christmas and all year round.
All of us at the Record wish you a holy and happy Christmas.

posted on November 1, 2011 in For the Record

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I recently travelled to Stratford, Ont., to see Jesus Christ Superstar for the first time in my life. The rock musical hit the stage in 1971, the same year as Godspell. Between them, they seriously rocked the church world.
I think I was perhaps 11 or 12 when the ripple effect created some waves in the small Nova Scotia town where I was living.
A troupe wanted to stage one of these shows in town. Several classmates were very keen. A number of them had recently “found religion” in a new and very lively church.
Many church stalwarts in town were not so keen, however. Although I really knew nothing about the proposed production, I defended the anti – show position.
Looking back some 40 years later, it struck me how often Christians end up in this defensive posture: a Sunday school understanding of faith railing in ignorance against a perceived evil.
Why does this happen?
Most pointedly, why do we settle for a Sunday school level of understanding of a belief as complex and subtle as Christianity? Those of us who are parents would be appalled if our children left school with such a primitive education. Shoddy, we’d call it.
But when it comes to faith, we are content to accept an elementary grasp of the principles and become upset when others challenge our immature perceptions and prejudices.
In nearly 15 years as a religion editor, I have seen dozens of letters angrily denouncing a published opinion that the writer had learned was wrong in Sunday school. Didn’t these PhDs ever go to Sunday school?
“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.”
So wrote Paul in his first letter to the fledgling church in Corinth, an ancient Greek city about 80 km southwest of Athens.
The context of his observation is as important as the quotation. Paul is gently correcting a church community that had already begun to fissure over leaders (Peter, Paul, Apollos, Jesus) and the ranking of spiritual gifts.
Paul notes that all gifts are needed in the community for the common good and that the leaders all have a common goal: “We are God’s servants, working together.”
His point is that what are perceived as divisions on the ground fit together when you take a higher, more thoughtful view. Faith and its working out in the world has always been complex.
It is even more complex for 21st – century Christians who have accumulated two millennia of culture and prejudice between us and Jesus’ time. And our only stories about his life remain those coloured by the various communities who passed them on.
Partly as a result of this, Christians are still divided over which books exactly are authoritative for the faith. This is the subject of James Thomson’s Theology 101 article this month.
Theology 101, now in its third year, is one of the ways we hope will help people develop a deeper understanding of their faith. We are creating more website resources too and will be telling you about them as they are posted.
One of the most interesting ways to begin a deeper exploration of scripture is actually to try to sweep aside the accumulated clutter of our culture and imagine what it might have been like in Roman – occupied Palestine at the time Jesus was born.
It is this aspect of Jesus Christ Superstar that I find most compelling. It imagines how Jesus and his teachings might have been perceived first – hand by his friends—and himself.
Christmas will soon be upon us. We will sing about Mary and Joseph and shepherds. But what was it really like for them? How much—or little—did they grasp about who this baby would grow up to be?
“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully…”
Until then, perhaps the least we can do is polish that mirror and reflect a little more deeply on our faith and ourselves.

posted on October 1, 2011 in For the Record

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Do you ever think of yourself as an angel? Me neither. And my family, much as they love me, wouldn’t let such a perception last long if I did!
But seriously; the truth is that we are all called to be angels.
In Greek, the medium and the message are the same word. Aggelos is the word for both message and messenger. And it is from euaggelos, good news, that we derive evangelism and evangelical.
Since we are all called to proclaim the Good News, we are all, in a profound sense, called to be angels. Or called to be evangelical, if you like.
And since the primary purpose of this magazine is essentially storytelling about our faith (conveying messages about the Good News), it can be quite properly called an evangelical magazine.
Evangelism is the focus of our cover story this month, too. One of the challenges for most of us is that we’re private about personal matters; faith being one of them.
Self – described extroverts are usually readily forthcoming talking about their faith. But not everyone can do that. And it has a downside in that such an approach can sometimes feel coercive.
Can introverted Christians also be evangelical?
The answer is not only yes; it’s that we should all be evangelicals. That doesn’t mean we all have to be the same.
One of the virtues of the Natural Church Development program many PCC congregations are using is that it helps people untie their tongue so that they can be evangelical.
Learning to be evangelical is knowing your own faith story and becoming confident enough to share it when the opportunity arises.
That’s little – e evangelism. But it’s important. In fact, it’s most of what the articles in this issue’s cover story address. Being evangelical doesn’t mean you have to stride the stage or declaim from the pulpit.
Nor does it mean you have to convert people. Leave that to God.
What it does mean is that when someone sees how you live and asks you what motivates you, you feel as confident in sharing your faith experience as you would in explaining why you chose the career you did.
You don’t need to have had a conversion experience like Saul/Paul, either. You don’t need to see evil lurking around every corner. (And, no, you don’t need to be angelic!)
Jesus doesn’t suggest we’ll be judged by any of these things, not even by which doctrines we believe. What he does say clearly is that God is love, and judgment will be based on whether we consistently extended our love (God’s gift to us) towards others as God has extended it to us.
Read the so – called Last Judgment passage in Matthew 25. Visit the prisoner, clothe the needy, feed the hungry, etc. In other words, love God and love your neighbour and yourself as beloved children of God.
Interestingly, this judgment story is closely followed by the story of Jesus being extravagantly anointed by the anonymous woman.
Matthew’s juxtaposition seems apt: God’s love for us is utterly extravagant. All we are asked to do is love extravagantly in turn.
If we do that, surely it isn’t really too difficult to explain if people ask us what motivates us. And that turns us into evangelists or evangelicals. Maybe even angels!
May I draw your attention to the Record’s annual appeal that begins this month. If you’ve donated before, you’ll receive a letter from me under separate cover. If you haven’t donated, you’ll find all the information in the envelope that came with this magazine.
This year, we are seeking your support for a fund for developing young Christian journalists both in Canada and overseas where the denomination is involved in mission and development work so that they can share their Good News stories with you and others.
I hope you will be able to support this appeal generously. Thank you!

posted on September 1, 2011 in For the Record

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Speaking at the recently held National Presbyterian Women’s Gathering, Rev. Paulette Brown referenced five biblical women, whose father had died: “The legacy of these women [in Numbers 27:1 - 8] is a relentless attitude, a daring spirit to enter the most unlikely places, to confront the most sacred legislation that bound the community, to find their voices and use their voices for the sake of change.”
These women weren’t content with the status quo; they dared to speak, and in return, God ordered Moses to change a law in support of women like them.
How’s that for inspiring?
I left the Women’s Gathering on that May long weekend wondering if that spirit had entered into the Presbyterian Church. The event, a joint venture of the Women’s Missionary Society and the Atlantic Mission Society, not only sparked excitement, it emboldened and inspired women to find their voice, to be confident and courageous in their faith and in their womanhood, and to rely on each other for that courage.
But, behind the excitement are some sobering realities: Both societies are struggling to maintain their membership and their budgets.
In 1987, the AMS took “a bold step in opening up membership to men in recognition that mission work is the work of the whole church,” according to president, Jennifer Whitfield. They changed their name to the Atlantic Mission Society, and today have executive members who are men. Still, they only have 811 full members in 89 auxiliaries—and these numbers drop just about every year.
The WMS’s story is the same. Created in 1914 (thanks to an amalgamation of three women’s groups each created in or around 1864), they were almost 48,000 – strong.
Of course, this was at a time when church attendance was the norm, and women had few options for real church involvement. Fair enough. But by the year 2000, membership dropped to just over 7,200, and today, it sits at less than 4,500. With a loss of 2,700 people in just over 10 years, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that in another 10, membership will be next to nil.
Both organizations are trying to figure out a way forward. President Joan Smith said the WMS began a visioning process in 2006. From that, they’ve created a Justice Committee hoping that the new focus will interest new women. Wonderful. But I’d like to see something more bold than that.
What about a national women’s organization that meets the vast and varied needs of women in the church, instead of only focusing on mission?
“The next generation is very interested in supporting the work of mission—just not under the same organizational structure,” said Whitfield. “We can do mission as individuals, auxiliaries and as a Society, which gives us a tremendous power. We need to step outside the boxes and see what this brings to each auxiliary and to our Society.”
Yes, out – of – the – box thinking is important. But, may I suggest looking back to the past?
Presbyterian women came together more than 100 years ago to have a voice in their church—a church that otherwise kept them silent. I wonder: If the WMS and AMS got together, found a common voice among their members, and led a renewed passion and vigour not only in their societies, but throughout the church; perhaps real change would come, and they would inspire other women to join them in their quest.
The passion is there. The desire for something more exists. We felt it at the Women’s Gathering.
The women of this church have a voice. They should use it. Together. For it is a terrible thing to waste.

posted on June 1, 2011 in For the Record

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If you’ve been following some of the theological articles in the Record over the past several years, you’ll have noticed that Christianity seems to be reforming into two overarching worldviews.
One worldview frames life’s big questions—the ones referred to in our cover story—from the perspective of what one ought to do: what is the right action in any given circumstance.
This group tends to be concerned with morals. Its members see the world and the choices we face in sharp contrast: more right and wrong than contextual. Requiring people to take a stand on issues. Perhaps we can even venture to say they are more generally anxious about life and worried that people will be misled by wrong – headed teaching.
The second overarching approach focuses on discerning how to be good, making community and relationships paramount. Instead of seeking proper decisions in a book—even a holy book—practical decisions will emerge. Scripture is read more thematically, in a sweeping style, and the historical context of a particular passage is of crucial importance in interpretation.
If we step back and review the letters to the editor in this magazine over the same period, we generally find the debates in the church and religion framed in terms of conservative and liberal.
Each side thinks the other is at best misguided, perhaps even profoundly wrong and misinterprets scripture. There tends to be a fair bit of each side yelling at the other.
But what if we could lay these distinctions aside? What if we are able to agree that the other side is not wrong, but is merely looking at the world through a completely different set of lenses and bringing a completely different set of concerns?
I once worked at a publication where all my colleagues were anxious to get their work done early, to make a decision about a story or page layout and that would be it. No changes.
I, on the other hand, was always tinkering with stories and layouts. I had at best a modest respect for the deadline until I absolutely had to make a final decision.
My colleagues thought I was being mean in undoing their good work and in creating avoidable stress for them at deadline. I saw them as uncooperative. Eventually, we brought in a mediator who helped us see that no one was being mean or uncooperative, but that we were bringing different values to the same problem.
Once we recognized our different styles, we were able to work out our differences harmoniously.
Is it possible, I wonder, if we could do the same thing in the faith arena? Instead of demonizing the other side, we might agree that everyone is trying to conform to God’s will, just in different ways, and so with different outcomes.
Take the gospels themselves as an example. One might characterize the synoptic writers (Matthew, Mark and Luke) as being more generally concerned with Jesus the man; the Messiah who will lead his people like the prophets of old into a new age. The emphasis is on the Man – God.
John, on the other hand, is concerned more about presenting Jesus as divine: the God – Man. “And the Word was made flesh ….”
Both are true, but profoundly different. So too are these two overarching worldviews that are concerned with thinking about our faith. They are both firmly grounded in scripture, but see faith’s role in our lives in profoundly different ways. The practical concern about morals is grounded in the question: What is the right thing to do? The other perspective asks: What is it good to be?
If there is any truth to this argument, perhaps it can also lead to a more amicable discussion, one that honours where the other side is coming from, not as opposed to one’s own position, but rather as looking at faith and life from just a very different perspective.

posted on May 1, 2011 in For the Record

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One of my favourite newspaper cartoons was about a Nova Scotia judge who had been making sexist comments to female lawyers and clients based on a fundamentalist reading of the Bible. It featured a little cherub bonking the judge with his gavel on the noggin and whispering in his ear: “It’s God … she wants a word with you.”

posted on April 1, 2011 in For the Record

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Sexual abuse is grim; sexual abuse in the church is even grimmer, because the church sets high moral standards for its adherents and especially its clergy.

This makes reporting stories about sexual misconduct inherently grim and challenging.

All this is compounded when a child is involved and multiplied again when it involves a parent. What to do then when a story emerges about a minister disciplined over his daughter’s complaint that he sexually abused her over a 14-year period beginning when she was two?

What to do when there is no trial, but only the results and recommendation of the initial investigation? When the accused submits to the ordinary jurisdiction of presbytery, with no trial and no direct evidence called or challenged?

Such is the background of the sad news story in this issue concerning Rev. Bruce Cossar and his daughter, Anne Vautour.

Twenty years ago, Ms. Vautour began recalling instances of childhood abuse by her father. These recollections have been shown to be accurate in circumstantial detail and Ms. Vautour is said to exhibit traits consistent with abused women in the therapy she has undergone.

Her father says he has no recollection of any such events.

Of course none of this proves or disproves anything.

Until the 1980s, allegations of abuse in the church were practically unheard of. Around that time, however, stories of abuse by a number of Roman Catholic clergy in Newfoundland began to emerge. They were followed by the tales of horrific abuse at the Mount Cashel orphanage that gripped the country.

Shortly after Mount Cashel, in the early 1990s, Canadian churches began to develop protocols for
dealing with allegations of abuse. The Presbyterian Church’s policy dates from 1993.

The case outlined in this issue has clearly tested the church’s system for dealing with such allegations. With no corroborating evidence, the investigating committee spent about 18 months interviewing both the principal parties involved, their family and friends.

Their report also indicates that they spent a great deal of time reading about the subject.

Quite reasonably, decisions of this kind are based on the preponderance of evidence, also known as the balance of probabilities. Reasonably, because an employer or a professional certification association needs to be able to set and enforce a standard for employment or professional standing.

The civil burden of proof, on the balance of probabilities, was famously described by the English judge Lord Denning in 1947 as “more probable than not.” That does not mean that it is a simple test of odds, however.

In an important case in 2008, Justice Rothstein, writing a decision for the Supreme Court of Canada, said: “… [E]vidence must always be sufficiently clear, convincing and cogent to satisfy the balance of probabilities test.”

And that is where reporting this particular story runs into another difficulty. Presbytery was only presented with indirect evidence (the confidential report of the investigating commission) and the court was held in camera. (The Record has a copy of the report.) As the only media covering this case, we find ourselves in a difficult position.

On the one hand, part of our job is to help the administration and courts of the church to be as transparent as possible to the wider church. This is one of the fundamental responsibilities of journalism in our society and why a free press is constitutionally protected; transparency assists in accountability.

On the other hand, whichever side one believes is true in this situation, the story exposes a minister and his family to the court of public opinion based on a decision which might well fail the test of natural justice were it reviewed by an appeal to a civil court.

It appears that will not happen. Mr. Cossar told the Record’s reporter that he thought it pointless to go the church trial route. His daughter said much the same thing in her letter to presbytery two years ago explaining why she hadn’t pursued criminal charges against her father, saying she lacked faith in the system and the necessary emotional strength.

All of which makes a grim story even more tragic.

posted on March 1, 2011 in For the Record

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My German classics professor, trying to explain to us how a verb in Greek could have two apparently opposite meanings, put it ever so succinctly: “‘Ja,’ it means go and it means come. It’s the same thing!”

It wasn’t obvious at the time, but I gradually learned that opposites often have a common linguistic root.

I raise this as an introduction to the word “member,” the root of the word membership, which is a common thread throughout this issue.

Member comes from the Sanskrit for flesh. Its root meaning is more strongly conveyed by the word membrane. At a glance, they appear to be opposites: Membrane is a whole covering; member is just part of a whole, an individual.

Common root. Whole and part. But member has an inherent sense of the whole that the individual is part of.

Which brings us to the question of church membership explored in this month’s cover story on page 31 by Will Ingram and Matthew Ruttan. It’s a question that has come before General Assemblies. But assemblies are legislative sessions and free-ranging discussions are difficult in that setting.

We hope that raising the matter in the Record might provoke an interesting and informed discussion about what membership in the church might look like in the future.

Part of the discussion is bound to involve questions about what, if anything, a person has to subscribe to become a member of the church. To traditionalists this may seem an odd remark: membership necessarily involves agreeing to the fundamentals of the organization.

In the postmodern world, however, what even constitutes fundamentals is up for questioning. Two of the church’s academic thinkers, Joe McLelland and John Vissers, take this up in the latest installment of our Theology 101 series.

Postmodern philosopher McLelland takes a slightly different approach than theologian Vissers, but it is not about agreeing with John as opposed to Joe, or vice versa.

In fact, I would encourage those who find themselves inclined more to one author than the other after reading both to take a day or two and then re-read the author they are less inclined to.

Because it’s only by wrestling with the difficult points made by someone who sees the world a little differently, that any of us is challenged and grows.

So what does it mean to be a member of the Presbyterian Church in Canada? Even more fundamentally, what does it mean to be a Christian?

This may seem obvious to those who have lived within the church community most or all of their lives, but it is a deep and perplexing question for many others today.

Whether we like it or even believe it, we live in a postmodern age in Canada. In simple terms, postmodernism is a way of describing current attitudes that question institutions and their underlying certainties.

This fundamental questioning about whether truth has any objectivity or universality is one of the reasons people no longer go to church.

But it is emphatically not – as too often suggested – a turning away from God. Far from it. Most Canadians still believe in God. The questions are what do they believe about God, whom do they trust to talk about God with, and where can they encounter God? Increasingly, the answer for the latter two questions has been: “not in church.”

Instead of creating more or different membership rules, perhaps we should focus on creating conditions where people can encounter God – creating those “thin spaces” that St. Columba identified on Iona, (see p. 23).

Because while God is not completely obscure – He has shown us His face and more in the person of Jesus – at least in our earthly life, bounded by time and space, much about the divine life and purpose does remain hidden, a mystery.

It is only in the next life that we are promised that we shall see God “face to face.”

So perhaps that is what it really means to be a member of the church; it is to recognize that although we are individuals, we are all united by the divine membrane of love.

posted on February 1, 2011 in For the Record

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Okay, so you’re wondering just what Presbyterian church I visited that prompted the headline, The Church of R&R. Rest and relaxation? In a Presbyterian congregation??

Now, I suppose there’s a good argument to be made for church having such a component (after all, the Sabbath is a day of rest …), but it’s not what I had in mind. Rather, I was thinking of the Reformed and Reforming church.

It recently occurred to me that there is no major denomination called the Reforming Church. The broad group of churches the Presbyterian Church in Canada belongs to is the World Communion of Reformed Churches, not Reforming Churches.

Why is this, I wonder? Because the (admittedly unofficial) motto of this communion is: “The church reformed and always being reformed according to God’s word.” The common shorthand is: The church, reformed and reforming.

The point, I think, is that the church is always being changed as the Spirit continues to reveal the truth of God’s love. This is Jesus’ promise to his disciples, a promise that we have inherited.

The problem, if I can put it this way, with simply using the word reformed, is that it gives the impression that nothing needs to change, or worse, that nothing should change.

But if we believe in the power of the Spirit leading us into all truth, we have to be open to change. That change can be new, such as getting rid of the old belief in slavery or it can be a restoration of the old, such as the Protestant church getting rid of the relative novelty of indulgences in the 15th century.

All this rests on what we call theology, the study of God.

Theology is often seen (often rightly but regrettably) as the preserve of professors and seminarians. I’ve heard more than one seminarian say they have no intention of teaching theology because it doesn’t have any relevance.

As former Record editor John Congram notes, with his usual perceptiveness, in an interview in this issue, the concern is right. “My sense is that younger people are less interested in the question, ‘Is it true?’ than they are in the question, ‘Is it relevant?’”

But, as our Theology 101 writers also wisely note in this issue, sidelining theological discussion is misguided.

“Theology is absolutely essential for Christians,” points out Prof. Pamela McCarroll. “As human creatures with the gift of thought and language, it is our particular calling to offer the gift of our thought and language to our faith.”

In other words, theology is dynamic. It’s not about endlessly repeating dusty doctrines, but discovering how to explain the dynamic relevance of the divine in the world.

And nowhere is that dynamism more evident than at St. Andrew’s, Sutton. A small congregation, they offer a huge ministry of outreach in their community, presenting the face of a caring Jesus to those in need.

Or, as Laurence DeWolfe says in this month’s Progressive Lectionary: “The Incarnation … reveals how God chooses to work in this world. God’s holiness doesn’t mean distance from us and our world.”

Our hope at the Record is that you, our readers, will engage with what you read about the dynamic and always reforming church that constantly emerges in our stories. You can write us or post your comments on our website. Your engagement is all part of the Spirit-led re-forming of all of us as we grow in the love of Christ.

Or, as John Congram puts it: “We may wish that it was otherwise but all of our relatives in the church, including some who disagree with us and others we don’t like, must be in on the process of discerning God’s will for our lives.”

Reformed and reforming.

*****

Finally, I want to draw your attention to our pages for the youngest of our readers. Called to Wonder is now 10 years old! And Erin and Jennifer want to know what ideas you’d like them to discuss in the future.We’re also planning to expand this ministry online, so please share your ideas with them.

Called to Wonder is proof that theology can be fun – and relevant!

posted on January 1, 2011 in For the Record

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One of the two questions I’m most often asked at social gatherings when I tell people what I do, is what kind of stories do we publish in the Record.

I tell them, Everything: from politics to social issues and cultural criticism — book and movie reviews — to disaster relief and community development overseas to, well, even the occasional sports-related story.

And, of course, the standard repertoire of theology, spirituality and the health of the church, from local congregations to national and international church structures.

And your letters. And your People and Places submissions. And artwork and photographs and, well, there’s not much we don’t publish. We even publish stories on where you can invest your money, if you think about it: the variety of opportunities in supporting church and church-related charities, for instance.

The second question I’m usually asked is what I think is the future of religion publishing in Canada. That’s much more difficult. And I wish I knew the answer. What I do know is that there is certainly still an interest in questions about religion, and there is certainly a role for religion in the political life — some call it the public square — of our country.

This was never so evident as the weekend before I wrote this editorial.

The Globe and Mail launched a series about the face of religion in Canada. The paper flanked its coverage with commentary from panelists of different faiths from across the country.

Three things struck me from the initial stories. First, a religion sociologist in Waterloo said the three things that attract people to church these days are “availability of parking, quality of preaching and children’s programs, in that order.”

There’s enough there to dissect and discuss that it would fill a whole year’s worth of the magazine and then some. So we’ll spread it out. But discuss it we will.

Secondly, one of the stories noted how immigrants are changing established denominations. The story observed that immigrants of most faiths are more conservative socially and theologically than Canadian-born practitioners, and noted the conservative influence of some of these groups in the Presbyterian Church.

Thirdly — and perhaps most concerning — is the continued increase in the declining relevance of religion to people under 60. Even among those over 60, a bare majority think of Christmas as primarily a religious holiday as opposed to a social one. (It was a dodgy question, but still.)

There are scores of stories here to be explored and the Record already has many lined up on these subjects. So I urge you not only to read the magazine but to share the stories with your friends and to engage with the writers.

Write us! Letters to the editor or comments at the end of stories online are a way in which you can participate in the discussion of these and other issues facing the church and society.

And to be sure, there is a need for the voice of religion in public discourse.

The parallel rise of secularism and fundamentalism in North America has tended to diminish the voice of reasoned faith in matters where religion has much to offer.

This is particularly so in the field of ethics, especially in medicine.

I have read several stories over the past year about questionable medical practices that Christian ethicists might have something helpful to add to the debate. So the Record will be bringing you some stories about contemporary ethical issues that we hope will engage you and society at large.

We already have an exciting year lined up and we look forward to you accompanying us on the journey.

The new year is always a good time to introduce changes and the Record is very happy to be presenting the magazine in a higher quality paper than we’ve been able to use before.

We hope that you find it a bit easier to read. It’s brighter but has a low gloss finish that minimizes glare. Like the newsprint we’ve been using for the past couple of years, it’s also ecologically friendly, with more than 90 per cent of its content made from reclaimed fibre.

Please let us know what you think. And have a very Happy New Year!

posted on December 1, 2010 in For the Record

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On my way back home from a recent business trip I picked up an airport novel for the long flight. I’ve long been a fan of spy thrillers and managed to find one set a couple of years ago in the Middle East.

A short way into the book I was intrigued to find a minor subplot involving a Muslim professor of religion in Iran. In a storyline otherwise driven by religious and political fanatics, this professor voices quiet doubt about the fundamentalists’ unrelentingly narrow and destructive certainty.

The professor has written a book, the fruit of lifelong study and reflection. Discussing the manuscript with his grandson, he notes that “all religions have problems.” Puzzled, the grandson asks: “What is the common problem?”

His grandfather replies, “The god that they worship is too small.”

Most contemporary novelists give religion a wide berth. The few that do incorporate faith in a plot rarely do so sympathetically. Yet just a few pages later in this novel, grandfather tells grandson that religion boils down to two things: “Love God” and “Be kind, compassionate, merciful to your fellow man.” Everything else, he says, is “just details.”

The tendency is for words to leap from our throat to argue the importance of those details. But is that a helpful response, I wonder? Is it not at least as important today to assess what different faiths have in common? And is this not especially true for Jews, Christians and Muslims, all of whom believe that there is but one God who speaks to all people in all times and places?

It’s interesting to look back 2,000-odd years to the religious marketplace of Jesus’ day. The Middle East under the Roman empire was a riot of voices of followers of different religions.

Canada’s religious landscape today is not dissimilar. Although we are still an overwhelmingly Christian population, all the world’s major religions are represented here in fairly significant numbers.

The professor of religion in the novel I read says that loving God and being compassionate towards others are the two key elements of faith. In fact, one flows from the other. If we love God, we cannot help but be compassionate towards others.

To some extent, the rituals and detailed beliefs of religions are expressed in formal worship. For Christians, this is primarily in Sunday worship. Our details are hardly under threat there and we can celebrate them with joy.

Compassion, on the other hand, is something that transcends those details in daily living. One of the consequences of the smaller world we live in is that the pain and suffering of other humans is brought to our doorstep on a daily basis.

We cannot have enough compassion for others.

As members of the dominant religion in this country, we should be joining hands with people of other faiths to help those around the world who through no fault of theirs go hungry and die early from disease and war.

In the meantime, the Presbyterian Church does join with other Christians around the world to carry out compassionate work through Presbyterian World Service and Development, and it deserves our generous financial support.

Compassion and the largeness of God are also the focus of this month’s cover story, Finding God. Prof. Pam McCarroll has compiled responses to a questionnaire sent around the church about how people experience God in their lives. The God revealed in the answers is not small but a large, generous God who only requires us, in the words of Micah to “To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with our God.”

We are approaching the season of the Incarnation, when God became small for us in order to point a way to the expansive greatness of the divine love. May you find a way to experience and celebrate God’s great love for you and your family. And may you be compassionate to others, sharing your riches with those who have none, just as God shares His riches with us.

All of us at the Record wish you a joyous and loving Christmas.

posted on November 1, 2010 in For the Record

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Rev. Wes Denyer speaks with Rev. John Crowdis at the Emmaus Conference in May

For the last three years, I’ve been on Assembly Council. I’ve had the opportunity to talk with people from across the country, and time and again I hear stories of small, elderly congregations — less than 50 people out on a Sunday. And I can’t help thinking, what’s going to happen to those hundreds of little churches over the next 20 years? There isn’t a new generation, or at least, not nearly enough of them, to step in and take the place of those faithful, elderly members.

I’m thinking, they’re not going to make it …

Now, nobody wants to see a congregation close down … we just hate to do that. People get upset. They’ve been worshipping there all their lives. Just let it go on for a little longer … Don’t be mean to them …

And I understand that, but, I need to tell you, sometimes I wonder what an alien species would think if they came and observed the tribe we call, Presbyterians. If they tried to figure out the purpose of our group, I’m worried they might come to the conclusion that we’re “a society for the preservation of old buildings.”

I love the Presbyterian Church in Canada — its history and its traditions — but that’s not why Jesus went to the cross. I seem to remember Jesus looking at the magnificent Temple at the centre of Jerusalem and the Jewish religion, and he said to his disciples, “Do you see these great buildings? There will not be left here one stone upon another …”

And then, in the Gospel of Mark, “Jesus said, ‘You can’t put new wine into old wineskins.’”

And that’s the way it turned out for the followers of Jesus. They tried to stay within traditional Judaism — the synagogue, Temple worship — but the old structures wouldn’t … couldn’t accommodate … adapt, to the new ways of the disciples of Jesus. They were rejected or tossed out; the old wineskins couldn’t hold the new wine.

Now, am I going to tell you I’ve got the answers? No …

I have way more questions than I have answers, but I have this sense that the way we’re doing things now isn’t going to work that much longer.

Is it possible? The Holy Spirit is crying out for us to change course, and will we … can we change course before we run aground?

And while there’s still time, will we — our presbyteries and the Presbyterian Church — will we risk our very existence, the very life of this church of ours, this church I’ve loved and served all my life — will we put its very life in danger in order to be faithful to God?

And you see, here’s what I think: I don’t think we have a choice, because we’ve pledged our very souls to the one who said to us, “Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

Now, I don’t know if that’s a threat or a promise — maybe both, but for Jesus, it was the way he lived … it was the bottom line, “Risk it all to follow me … all of it …” — for him it was the only way.

posted on October 1, 2010 in For the Record

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Do you remember Joe “I am Canadian!!!”? Joe was the exuberant character in the Molson beer ad, untypically Canadian in his extroverted pride in our country. Several knock-offs, mostly satirical, have appeared since. But I’d like someone to create an exuberant and untypically Canadian Christian version.

It would go something like this.

Hey
I am not a Bible-thumper
or a hate-monger.
I don’t think the world
I live in is evil,
or that my wife should obey me,
I don’t believe Jesus came to bludgeon people about their failings or heal them like a showman,
And I don’t think Satan is hiding around every corner.
I believe Jesus came to
spread peace not hatred.
I believe other people are good and not simply sinners waiting
to be saved.
I believe humans are created in the image of a loving God, not corrupted and inherently wicked.
God is a God of overflowing
love that cannot be contained.
Grace is God’s gift freely offered to everyone — it is inherently cheap;
Fear is expensive and costs us
our souls, it fuels anger,
hatred and ignorance:
God weeps over our rejection
of His love, yearns to draw us close, searches us out in the
darkest recesses of our self-hatred, loathing and fear.
Jesus came not with a long list
of rules but a simple message
of hope and love.
The Spirit moves throughout
the world, across time and
in the midst of all people,
Seeking to embrace them
and to dry away their tears.
We are called to be Christ in
the world: to comfort the sad,
to care for the sick, to be family
to those with no friends.
My name is _____,
and I am Christian!!!

Now that won’t win a prize for poetry or advertising, but the recent scandal of the pastor threatening to burn Qur’ans left me feeling, not for the first time, that my identity as a Christian had been hijacked. It’s happened so many times over the past several years; Christianity is being defined by people on its fringes.

Interestingly, I had a discussio with the local imam about this on Sept. 11 — the day the Florida pastor planned to fan the flames of ignorance. The imam had been invited by my home church as a sign of solidarity in peacemaking and reconciliation.

In a wide-ranging discussion about our faiths in the contemporary world, the imam raised the point that moderate Muslims needed to speak up and condemn acts of terrorism planned or carried out in the name of Islam.

That is why he had accepted the invitation: he wanted to build bridges, to show that he was on the side of peace.

But in this case, it was actually I, as a member of the majority Christian community, who was feeling defensive about another Christian’s deplorable behaviour.

There is nothing new in this, of course. St. Paul also saw his faith hijacked, and he sharply challenged several early church communities for doing things in the name of the new way that were clearly far off track, whether claiming to follow various other leaders through baptism or through lawless behaviour.

Fortunately, many Christian leaders sent messages to would-be Qur’an burner, Mr. Jones, telling him that what he was doing was far from Christian. Unfortunately, we live in a day when mainstream media really don’t understand any religion. And they will also give time and space to bizarre positions on just about any subject under the guise of fairness.

Perhaps what is needed is a flood of letters to newspapers and comments to online media decrying this caricaturizing of our faith. One thing is for sure, the Terry Joneses of the world will always get their 15 minutes of fame.

If mainstream Christians want others to know the true message of our faith, they need to speak up. Otherwise, we shall all be marked as destructive, manipulative fanatics. The love of Christ deserves better.

posted on September 1, 2010 in For the Record

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The late DeCourcy Rayner edited the Presbyterian Record from 1958-1977. A minister and journalist, he was elected moderator of the General Assembly in his last year as editor.

His editorial direction revealed that Rayner was concerned about the relevance of Christianity during a time in which the turbulence from sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll was blowing the doors off the church.

In 1972, Godspell came to Toronto. It blew away the city with a cast and crew most of whose names today are in the who’s who of Hollywood film and television personalities.

What made Godspell different from other musicals of course, was that it is a retelling of the Christian gospel (mostly Matthew, but with a significant contribution from Luke). (Godspell is an earlier version of the Anglo-Saxon for “good words.”)

The play may have helped put Toronto on the entertainment map, but not all Christians were amused; some protested outside the theatre. DeCourcy Rayner was not among them.

In a June 3, 1972, article in the Globe and Mail, Rayner told the writer: “I went prepared to be critical, but after the initial shock of seeing biblical characters portrayed as present-day clowns, I entered into the spirit of the production.

“It has a great meaning for the present generation. … I was favorably impressed, and hope that many young people see this production.”

I wonder if Rayner foresaw the emerging tension between the concern for relevance he applauded in Godspell and the perception of truth as static?

Before you reply that the nature of truth is that it never changes, let me explain. Truth means many things, depending on the context. In simple, everyday mathematics, one plus one equals two. That is a truth that cannot change.

The statement: “The sun will rise tomorrow,” posits a different kind of truth, based on scientific observation. But because that truth is grounded on empirical evidence — observation — it does not have the same certainty as a simple math formula.

Human observations could have missed something and the sun could explode tomorrow as a result. Unlikely, but philosophically possible.

And then there is the truth of faith. By definition, faith is something that cannot be argued from mathematical or philosophical premises. The medieval enterprise of faith seeking reason was an acknowledgement of this.

Philosophers sought to show that faith, while based on an initial suspension of knowledge, was perfectly reasonable and logical. And truths could be drawn from that faith.

Contemporary western philosophy and culture are not so convinced. Research has shown that what moves people now to adopt or practice Christianity is the degree to which they see it as relevant in their world and in their life.

How can faith inform their daily decisions and how can faith help explain their world? Whether Jesus Christ is divine is of less importance than whether his teachings are relevant.

This is quite different from those who seek a certainty from their faith and for whom the belief that Jesus Christ is divine is a necessary starting point.

But these differences need not be mutually exclusive. The early church did not require people to believe in Jesus’ divinity as a requirement to become Christian. There was a whole program to instruct seekers, as we call them today, in the faith.

Today it is more a matter of demonstration and persuasion than instruction. That is why Godspell struck a chord. In it, Jesus is approachable. He is both an Everyman and a beyond-Everyman character.

I think this is what DeCourcy Rayner saw in the play. Fortunately for us in the church today, DeCourcy’s legacy lives on. As you can read on pages 30 and 31, there is an annual prize given in his name by Armour Heights, Toronto.

This year’s winning essay addresses the tension between relevance and truth by concluding that both miss the mark somewhat.

Author Scott Flemming, a theology student at Knox, Toronto, says we shouldn’t be asking: “‘What should we be doing better?’ or ‘what should we know more about?’ but ‘what can we do to get as close to [Jesus] our lover as possible?’”

I think DeCourcy would like that.

posted on July 1, 2010 in For the Record

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There’s a great scene in the movie Invictus in which the newly elected South Africa president Nelson Mandela is justifying his policy of including the whites under whose racist policies he was imprisoned for 27 years. In his characteristic short, declarative sentences, he says:

Forgiveness liberates the soul.
It removes fear.
That is why it is such
a powerful weapon.

I watched this movie just a few days after the Truth and Reconciliation Commission began its work in Winnipeg. Canada’s commission is modeled on the South African TRC, which sought to heal the wounds of that country’s racist policies, including the bantustans that were apparently modeled on Canada’s native reserves.

What goes around certainly does come around. We can only hope that what comes around this time is better than what we sent around last time.

Too often, we still fail to be humble in our faith and culture. Our reflex is defensive.

Even those who most want to heal the wounds of the past flounder. In newspaper stories about the opening of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, various church leaders were quoted as saying they offered to pray for victims, that cash wasn’t the answer to native problems and that Brother So-and-so was upset that his good work in the schools will be swept aside by other stories.

We should assume that all these responses came from a good place. That does not make them any less naïve and misguided.

Who are we to assume the superior position that we can pray so effectively for victims? Who are we to tell them that cash isn’t the answer to their problems? (It’s the basis of all our litigation.) And who are we to be so quick to point out that good deeds were done in an evil system? Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s martyrdom did not expiate the collective sin of Germany in permitting the rise of Hitler and Nazism. At best, Christians might say that where sin abounds, so too does grace.

So what should we do? Perhaps just apologize and listen. That’s what happened at General Assembly during the presentation on the TRC. Moderator Herb Gale apologized again for the wrongs committed in Presbyterian-run schools. And commissioners listened to some stories.

One of those stories was told by Terry Paul, chief of the Membertou nation on whose traditional lands the assembly was meeting.

“It is here that our lives and souls are. The souls of our ancestors are buried here. It is believed by all of us through our elders that every shovelful you turn here in Atlantic Canada has the soul of our ancestors. I would also like to welcome the members of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission because we believe it’s an important part of the process of healing. It is the important part because we want to make sure the people in this country hear our voices. Hear what was done. Hear about the legacy that the residential schools left. For me, its very difficult to think about let alone talk about.

“It is very difficult to go back to that five-year-old that I left. That’s who we will be talking about. That’s who we will be talking to. Thousands and thousands of five-year-olds. But I know, and many of our people know, that it’s important to forgive. It’s important to forgive so you don’t stay being a victim. You need to forgive if you’re going to lift that heavy burden off your shoulders. We need to lift that burden of that five-year-old.

“I know for many years I blamed the church. I blamed the government. I blamed a religion, I blamed all the religions. In fact I even blamed God. But it’s not God. It’s not the religions. It’s not the churches that did this. It’s people. It’s people like you and I who had a different belief about us. People who believed we were less than they were, nothing more than animals. But here we are. Ready to forgive. And live. Side by side. And today, I can say to you, and I can say to the reconciliation committee, that I’m not only a survivor. I’m a witness to this horrible history. Thank you.”

Let us hope we can be forgiven.

posted on June 1, 2010 in For the Record

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In our house, one of the most wonderful moments each day is reading books at bedtime to our little girl. So many books and so many stories. But my wife and I are frequently asked to make up one last story after prayers are said and the lights turned out.

The imaginary central character of these tales has a made-up name, but the story has to more or less reflect the day’s events if we are to persuade the tired little listener to close her eyes in satisfaction.

Telling stories, and repeating them over and over is part of our common humanity across all cultures and across all ages. Before alphabets were invented, stories were just told.

In Hebrew scripture, the Song of Deborah in the book of Judges is a poem dating to the eighth century before Jesus’ birth that tells of an event that likely took place some 400 years earlier.

So the story must have been passed from one generation to another, until people developed writing and were able to record it. And still it had been told over and over…

It’s how we learn who we are. How the world is framed. What our roots are.

Even in our personal lives, stories are hugely important. Great wrongs and great triumphs are told and retold. Just think of all those family parties: Uncle Jack is telling that story for the 40th time and everyone knows the words! But it is a defining story for him and the family.

Stories are also important for dealing with hurts. They are so powerful that we often bury stories of terrible abuse because the pain of recalling them is too great.

But being able to tell those painful stories in a supportive setting is also recognized as crucial to healing the wounds. Sometimes the same story has to be told over and over in order for the victim to appropriate it properly — to put it in the context of an overall life and, while giving it its due, not letting the past dominate the future.

On June 15 in Winnipeg, Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission opens. Central to its mission will be listening to the stories of people who attended the Indian Residential Schools.

Enough of these stories have been told that we know there is going to be much pain involved. All of us need to feel this pain if we hope to understand this important and tragic part of our country’s history and how it has shaped the present.

Because it is not “their story.” It is “our story.” Ours whether we are native, tenth-generation British or French or newcomers. Because it is part of Canada’s story.

It is terribly important that we listen and not become defensive. So often one hears or reads comments that not all the teachers were bad or that not all the children were abused.

That is true. But it is to miss the point that the whole experiment was utterly flawed. It’s like saying that not all Germans or Italians in the war were bad. Of course not! But the fascist experiment was atrocious and we don’t cut off someone talking about the war’s horrors by noting that Hitler built good highways.

So we need to listen and listen attentively, sensitively and humbly. We need to listen as if we were in a room with Jesus sitting there listening to the stories as well. Or imagine him in our living rooms watching the commission’s work unfolding in the nightly news. Would we up and turn off the TV?

God is always with those who suffer. If we as a nation and we as a church want our story and the story of our native brothers and sisters to transform over time so that future generations tell a new story of when this great wound was healed, we need to be part of this story now.

As that old maxim puts it: God gave us one mouth and two ears. This is a time for the survivors to talk and for the rest of us to listen.

posted on May 1, 2010 in For the Record

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“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”

So said the Preacher.

It was all I could think of as I picked up the glossy real estate flyer that came in the mail the other day.

The homes, all in southern Ontario, started at around $15 million and were described with more ecstasy than a four-year-old discovering hidden chocolate Easter eggs. One was a “fabulous family compound!” Compound? For what??

The flyer set me wondering. What was its aim? After all, no one who can buy a multimillion-dollar home is waiting for a free flyer to detail their opportunities.

Four pages in, and the game revealed itself. It was a kind of bait and switch. Can’t afford $12 million, well, what about $1 million? Or perhaps $850,000? Makes you feel rich by extension. Kind of like rubbing shoulders with big money.

What kind of delusion are we buying into? It’s no use blaming the realtors. They advertise like this because it works. Because we buy into the myth they are creating. Meanwhile, practically every day, someone is noting that Canadian real estate is on a bubble — about 20 per cent overvalued.

And you don’t have to live in Vancouver or Toronto to get a feel for our collective obsession with wealth. Every newspaper, newsmagazine and nightly news is crammed with stories about the economy and how to become rich.

Take mortgages. Each day for the past two or three months produces yet another expert who looks into the crystal ball to tell you when rates are going up and whether you should lock in now or wait — as well as noting that too many Canadians are too highly leveraged as it is. The psychic in the strip mall is as good a prognosticator as the so-called experts, but she doesn’t sell newspapers, although at least she has a real crystal ball.

We are bewitched with money and wealth. Take our attitude towards pollution and urban sprawl. If someone thinks it’s going to cost us money in the short term (which it will), our elected representatives from the municipal to federal level safely conclude we won’t object that cleaning up the earth can wait for another generation.

We as a nation, and most of us as individuals, are wealthy. Yet none of it is our own doing. Health, education, infrastructure and opportunities are unbelievable here. To live in Canada is a gift. Ultimately, a gift from God.

Followers of Jesus know this. They say they believe they must not only thank God for their riches, but care for creation and return to God a token of their wealth as thanks and redistribute their wealth to ensure the poor are not neglected.

They say this. We say this. But do we do this?

God has been so generous to us. The only possible response is to be generous back to God (supporting the church) and to our neighbours in need, whether they be next door or halfway around the world.

Everything is from God and everything returns to God. It’s not for God’s sake but ours that we exercise stewardship. It reminds us to be humble about all our blessings, and it is through us that the divine love and care is extended to all God’s children.

Church members are facing some serious financial issues at both the national level and the local level. Too often too much of a congregation’s budget is going to heat and maintenance.

There is more than enough money within the Presbyterian Church to accomplish the broad mission of extending God’s love wherever we can. But it will require some rearranging of priorities.

First, individuals need to think seriously about proportional giving. That is, giving as a percentage of one’s income. Start somewhere — one, two, three percent, and keep building a little more each year.

Secondly, congregations who cannot reasonably support ministry because they are supporting old churches need to reassess their local mission. The church is not in the museum business. It’s about a living faith.

We need to make sure our stone buildings don’t become millstones of real estate vanity.

posted on April 1, 2010 in For the Record

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The question of identity is difficult to answer. Who am I? Is this a question of “I” who has been, who is and who will be? Jesus is the same, yesterday, today and forever but unlike Jesus I am not the same. I change constantly. When I say, “I am a Canadian,” what do I mean by it? Somebody once asked me, “If a Korean and a Canadian compete in the Olympics, who would you cheer for?” I have to decide one or the other. Is identity a matter of my decision? In that case, if I am a Canadian, then I am not a Korean and vice versa. For people like me who have always lived with a hyphenated identity, this is a dilemma. Often I hear people say, “Go back to your country.” If you are not going to live like my kind of Canadian, go back to your country. But I don’t have a country to go back to. This is my country. This is where I live. This is where my children were born.

While watching the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, my daughter cheered when a Korean figure skater came out. Not only was she cheering for the Korean skater but she was feeling nervous for her, too. Why? My daughter was born in Canada and she doesn’t even speak the Korean language. Is she a Korean? Not in a strict sense. She was born and raised here and she has Canadian citizenship. She will say she is a Canadian. Does she have to negate her “Koreanness” to be a Canadian? She does not feel that she has to. She sees no problem in having both and being both.

Being “in-between” has been my identity. This is something that I never thought of when growing up in Korea. I was a Korean living among other Koreans. I was comfortable with my mono identity. But now, I am in-between. I am not torn in-between. In-betweenness has become comfortable for me. That is who I am. Do I have to make a decision of “either or?” Can’t I be “both and?” Is it being greedy? Jesus was both man and God. His “in-between” identity was the identity of our Saviour. In Jesus, in-between identity became integrated identity. St. Paul talked about our new identity in Christ in a similar fashion: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28) In Christ, the dichotomy was overcome. What used to be mutually exclusive became inclusive. In Christ, the dividing wall has been broken down. Dividedness within us brings division in our relationship. Racism is not just a social problem but a spiritual one.

Identity is not something I decide or choose. Identity is not what other people give me. I am not bound and enslaved to my identity. No one can force me into one identity; no one can impose identity upon me. I am a minister but I am not just a minister. I am Asian but I am not just Asian. When I am around American Koreans, I become a Canadian. When I am around Canadian friends who have different ethnicity, I become Korean. Nominal identity cannot fix me into its name. Identity is not given to me but is being formed within me. Together we strengthen each other’s identity by challenging each other, supporting each other and struggling with each other. Han-Ca Presbytery is not an island. It is there to challenge each other, support each other and struggle with each other to enhance and enrich our identity. The traditions of the Highland Scots, Irish, Ghanaian, Chinese, Taiwanese or Korean, together form and build our identity. Trying to dominate each other is not the way to build identity. Just let them freely interact and work it out through struggles and debates, and see what comes out of it as a result.