benedictus benedicat

Another great weekend.

I suddenly discovered this weekend another reason why episcopal ministry can be so rewarding.  It has been my privilege to attend a number of ceremonies celebrating the anniversary of different parishes in the diocese.  This past weekend, I was able to attend the 110^th anniversary of St Stephen’s, Vankoughnet, and the 125^th anniversary of Christ Church, Ilfracombe.  I have greatly enjoyed meeting the faithful parishioners who have roots in this part of Ontario that go back to the earliest years of the diocese.  I have also been inspired by the stories of Christian dedication and missionary zeal that brought these communities into being, and the work of the present parish incumbents whose service is both creative and devoted.  But do you know what I find the most thrilling part of my visits?  It is identifying and expounding upon the reasons why the church was established to begin with.  It seems as though every set of readings from the lectionary takes us to an essential feature of the Good News and, thus, to the impetus for the church’s expansion. 

In the case of St Stephen’s, Vankoughnet, we looked at the story of the Church’s first martyr.  I confess that it has been an emotional week with the lost of my friend and mentor, John Stott, and I had a bit of a hard time getting through the vision of Stephen’s vision of Jesus and the Bible’s simple statement that Stephen, at his stoning, ‘fell asleep’ (for after all, the difference between those who ‘die’ and those who ‘sleep’ is that those who sleep will awake; Acts 7.59, KJV).  But the passage reminded us that the Church would not exist today were it not for those whose faithful witness had required the sacrifice of their very lives.

 

Similarly, in our lectionary reading for this past Sunday, we meditated on the story of Jesus’ feeding of the multitudes.  One of the reasons this incident occurs in every one of the four Gospels is because it treats a universal human theme: hunger.  It is a theme that is particularly relevant in light of the famine in the horn of Africa.  But it is also a reminder that the Church exists because only Jesus can satisfy the deepest hungers of the human heart.  The story bids us to bring both our appetites and our meagre resources to him (Mt 14.18).

 

The weekend also furnished Fawna and me with the opportunity to visit a church we had never seen before: St Mary’s, Aspdin, which features a magnificent rood screen, a richly carved partition separating the nave from the choir.  Ever since the advent of the liturgical style where the priest faces the people during the Eucharist, congregations have experienced awkwardness about this bit of architecture which makes worshippers feel more remote from the Eucharistic action in the sanctuary.  But this medieval relic is actually meant to serve a devotional purpose.  The word ‘rood’ is taken from the Old English and means ‘cross’ (you can see the cross at its summit), and the screen reminds us that we can approach the altar of God’s grace only because of the crucifixion of God’s Son.

Our weekend also included a visit to St John’s, Ravenscliffe, where exciting things are happening on the church council as they work at their mission to the community (note to Jay Koyle: you must check these folks out).  And then, finally, we spent a day-and-a-half with the Youth Synod gathered at Camp Manitou.  Although I haven’t been in my episcopal position long, it has been long enough to note significant growth on the part of some of the synod members and leaders.  The activities included a ‘bear pit’ where the youth get to ask the bishop embarrassing and difficult questions.  I come away discouraged that I did not answer their questions very well (particularly around the vexing questions of sexual ethics), but I was encouraged by their answers to the question I posed to them: ‘Why are you a Christian?’  The deeply sincere, and sometimes emotional answers spanned the range of those who had struggled with the truth of Scripture’s witness to Christ to those who had experienced God’s grace and love in the support of other Christians at camp.  We return from our sojourn exhausted, but full of gratitude for the work of God’s Spirit in his Church.

A Final Tribute to John Stott (1921-2011)

‘The time of my departure has come.  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.  From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.’ (II Tim. 4.4b-8) 

Yesterday the world lost an obedient servant of Christ.  John Stott, evangelist and author, pastor and statesman, died peacefully in a retirement home south of London, surrounded by loved ones and listening to Handel’s Messiah and a reading of II Timothy.  He had become quite infirm, having worn out his body through a rigorous and ascetic habit of life that included daily devotions at 5 a.m. and a punishing schedule of teaching, preaching, writing and international travel.  Having lost much of his sight and mobility over the last couple of years, in the last few months he was plagued by pain and spoke of ‘the imprisonment’ of his condition.  Now he has been liberated, having been saved for his Lord’s heavenly kingdom (II Tim. 4.18).

Although three biographies have already been written about him, it will take many years to take the true measure of John’s impact in the world.  In 2005 Time magazine identified him as one of the world’s 100 most influential people, and his more than fifty books have been read by millions around the globe.  But the sheer range of people who are now feeling compelled to write testimonials and reflections about him is evidence that his influence was beyond what any of us can imagine.  Here we have a tribute from Billy Graham, while there we have a touching story of an individual who came to faith through his preaching.  Here is an account of John Stott taking a lead in high level ecumenical conversations, while there is the remembrance of the time he swam Arctic waters in an effort to help recover a drowned lad.  All afternoon I have been receiving telephone calls from friends wishing to express their sorrow and share their memories, and this too is one of his legacies in my life: he has drawn me into a network of relationships with people who, like me, have been challenged and inspired by him.

I have my own personal remembrances of John, of course, having served closely with him as his Study Assistant nearly thirty years ago.  My favourite picture of him is this one I took when we were on a bird watching holiday together in Portugal.  We had a few moments before our flight left Faro, so, not wanting to miss an opportunity of spotting one more specie, we struck out for the airport perimeter.  The grey flannel trousers and blue jacket, the posture and the intensity, the hushed ‘Look there!’ at a beautiful avian display, this is a memory of John that I shall never forget.

I have often been asked what is the most significant thing I learned from John when I was with him.  As I have moved through various stages in my Christian development, I have found my answer to this question changing.  Where once I tried to emulate his self-discipline and homiletic style, today I remember his loyalty, integrity and humility.  There was a moment in 1984 when he took issue with the Bishop of Durham, David Jenkins, over provocative statements the bishop had made about Jesus’ resurrection.  It is a mark of his respect and charity that John did not rush into print with a rebuttal, but rather sought a personal audience with Bishop Jenkins to make sure that he understood the bishop’s position and to give the bishop a chance to respond to his own concerns.  John’s sense of fairness and the fact that he did not savour argument, did, on occasion, put him at a disadvantage.  In a public debate with Bishop Spong he came off badly when Bishop Spong departed from the rules and left John unprepared to answer.  John rued the event, but not because he had been treated so poorly.  He was concerned that the audience had not been furnished with a sufficient defence of the truth as he saw it.

The last time I saw John was a year ago in January.  Our conversation was wide ranging.  He asked after Fawna and the girls.  He wanted to know what I was reading and writing about.  He asked about the diocese and various mutual friends.  He asked what I thought about N.T. Wright’s doctrine of justification (I don’t think he was fully persuaded that Tom Wright’s take on the atonement was sufficiently substitutionary!).  And he talked wistfully about the state of evangelicalism in Britain and North America.  The fragmentation and internal disputes were discouraging to him.  But his faith was strong, and, with a twinkle in the eye, he said that he was looking forward to ‘that day’.  Then he asked me to pray for him. 

In his commentary on II Timothy John wrote:

As the leaders of the former generation die, it is all the more urgent for those of the next generation to step forward bravely to take their place.  Timothy’s heart must have been profoundly moved by this exhortation from Paul the old warrior who had led him to Christ.  [. . .]  We cannot rest for ever on the leadership of the preceding generation.  The day comes when we must step into their shoes and ourselves take the lead.  That day had come for Timothy.  It comes to us all in time.

In my mind, John’s passing marks the end of an era when there were giants in our land.  I have long wondered where these leaders are that can fill his shoes, and I continue to pray that God would raise up people of John Stott’s calibre once again in the Church.  But I must also reckon with the fact that these shoes lie empty before me, unworthy as I am even to try them on.  And so I plead for grace and mercy to take the fight, the race and the faith forward in the name of Jesus.

John often said that at his funeral he wished to have Charles Wesley’s, ‘Jesus! the Name high over all’ sung.  As the hymn ends, so ended the earthly life of John Robert Walmsley Stott,

Happy, if with my latest breath
I may but gasp His Name,
Preach Him to all and cry in death,
“Behold, behold the Lamb!”

Congratulations to St Christopher's, McGregor Bay, celebrating 60 years

From the ‘Minutes of Meetings of St Christopher’s Church McGregor Bay’

July 4, 1951

[. . .]

         The Rt Rev. Bishop William Lockridge Wright of the Diocese of Algoma and assisting clergy conducted the service and seventy-nine (79) interested ladies and gentlemen attended.

         His Lordship named the church: ‘It is to be called St Christopher’s Church – the patron saint of travellers’ – and stated ‘while the church was being sponsored by the Church of England it would be non-denominational and permission would be granted the Church of Rome to hold services if so desired, providing these services do not conflict with those of the established church.’

[. . .]

August 5, 1951

[. . .] 

         Mr Bull explained the purpose of this meeting and expressed disappointment at the lack of response to the letters sent out.

         Father Stump conveyed the greetings of the Bishop of Algoma and reminded those present that Church started worship with twelve (12) men, and expressed his happiness at the number attending the meeting, and asked us to have faith in the future of the church.

[. . .]

At this particular service, sixty years later, the attendance was 132!

A Compressed Travel Diary

The summer season is here, which means more time on the asphalt (or what is left of it, especially in front of Bishophurst).  29 May involved a wonderful service in Blind River where a son was baptised before his father was confirmed.  This was followed by three days in Sudbury for the Annual Meeting of the Anglican Church Women.  Fawna and I enjoyed the fun and fellowship, as well as meeting Marion Saunders, National Anglican Church Women Past President.   
I especially appreciated Cindy Derrenbacker’s thoughtful Bible studies.  In her discussion of the sojourning of Sarai (Genesis 12), she described her journey to ‘a land fertile with the promises of God, but barren’.  What a great way of describing the sphere of our mission in the world.

This past weekend we had a ‘delightful’ time in Thunder Bay.  I put the word in quotes because my long-suffering wife has told me that the adjective is becoming overused.  I genuinely am delighted to be in the various churches I visit – this past weekend it included confirmations at St Michael & All Angels and St Stephen’s (pictured here).  But it is hard not to lapse into formulaic introductions.  I will need to work at that.  In the meantime, we greatly enjoyed (how’s that?) a deanery dinner at a fabulous restaurant.  Every parish in the deanery was represented among the fifty or so gathered there, and we experienced a strong sense of fellowship in the group.  Providing an excuse to hold such functions is a part of episcopal ministry I could get used to!

This coming weekend we are in the Diocese of Ontario for the consecration of Michael Oulton.  We are looking forward to reconnecting with old friends at the service in Kingston.

Live, from the 45th Synod of the Diocese of Algoma

Hi!  I am in the middle of a session on Dynamic Communications.  One of our facilitators, David Macdonald, has just plugged my blog.  Those of you who are new, welcome!

Here is a picture of David doing his thing!

We are fortunate to have such gifted individuals using their interests and expertise in the service of Christ's mission in our diocese.

Benedictus benedicat!

A weekend in Thunder Bay

Fawna and I have just returned from a good weekend in Thunder Bay.  On Friday evening we were pleased to attend the annual fundraising banquet for the Mission to Seafarers.  Then, on Saturday morning, I shared breakfast fellowship with the doughty band of men at St Thomas' Church known as The Brotherhood of St Andrew.  This ministry 'for the spread of Christ's Kingdom among men and boys' was new to me, and it was encouraging to hear how these men had borne testimony to their faith during the course of the past week.

The better part of Saturday was spent with members of the Thunder Bay Deanery where I was given the opportunity to do a bit of teaching on the background to the canon of the New Testament.  The news this past week of a purported archaeological find hailed as 'the major discovery of Christian history' gave me a great intro, as it illustrates both the abiding interest people have in the origins of the Christian faith, as well as the public's readiness to believe some of the most sensational claims.

A real highlight for us was the centenary celebration of the founding of St George's Church.  The festivities brought out more than 150, and we heard some very humourous, and some very touching stories from parishioners and former rectors Canon John Jordan, Henk Willems and Earl Burke. 

The parish has its roots in a service held on 25 January 1911, in the home of a Mr and Mrs J. Edwards.  The service was conducted by the Rev. Mr C.W. Hedley.  The Rev. Mr Hedley appears to have been a kind of missionary cleric, keen on establishing churches in Port Arthur.  Five years earlier, he had employed a similar church planting strategy in the establishment of St Michael and All Angels.  Hedley held weekly services in people’s private homes when the average attendance was seventeen.  By October, a decision had been made to build a Mission Hall, and in January 1912, the Church of St George the Martyr was borne.  Hedley went on to become Chaplain of the 58th Battalion serving in France. Upon his return to Canada after the war, Canon Hedley founded the Church of the Transfiguration, Toronto (which began meeting in a tent), and a Scout troop.  He retired in 1936 and tragically died of smoke inhalation while fighting a bush fire near a cottage where a he was staying in 1938.  Meanwhile, St George’s continued to grow.  By 1957, the parish was self-supporting and simultaneously contributed $3,000 (that’s $24,000 in 2011 dollars) to the Archbishop Wright Church Extension Fund.

Yesterday morning, it was my privilege to confirm five keen and well-prepared candidates at St George's.  It is my prayer that the creative dedication and self-sacrifice that founded the parish will enable them to meet the challenges of the next 100 years.

Our visit then concluded with another confirmation service yesterday evening at St Thomas' Church.  It was a pleasure to interact with the four young confirmands there, and to get to know Doug and Lesley McClure, St Thomas' new Assistant.  We return to the Sault exhausted, but full of gratitude.

Thorneloe entering the Golden Years

Thorneloe marked the 50th anniversary of their provincial charter as a university yesterday at the Sudbury City Hall.  The atrium was full of dignitaries (pictured at right are Thorneloe Chancellor Barbara Bolton, President Robert Derrenbacker, and Laurentian University President, Dominic Giroux), media and well-wishers.  The proceedings were emceed by media personality, Dan Lessard, and featured brief addresses by Deputy Mayor Ron Dupuis, President Derrenbacker, yours truly, and faculty member Dr Bruce Ward.  The formal part of the gathering was concluded with a poem written and performed by Sudbury's Poet Laureate, Dr Roger Nash, a former faculty member and long-time Thorneloe friend.

Here is my modest contribution to the celebration:

On behalf of the Anglican Diocese of Algoma, I want to offer my congratulations to Thorneloe University, and in particular, to its Staff, Faculty and Board, on reaching this important milestone.  A founding partner in the Laurentian University federation, Thorneloe has grown from extremely modest beginnings to the interdisciplinary centre of teaching, learning and research in the humanities, the arts and theology that it is today.  It existence is due to the vision, sacrifice and industry of a group of Church and community leaders committed to bringing post-secondary education to this part of Northern Ontario.  Its success is due to the succeeding generations of talented and devoted supporters, teachers and administrators who refused to surrender to academic and economic challenges threatening its survival.  Here I want to pay particular credit to three significant benefactors who helped to shape the College, but who passed away during my tenure as President: Barney Cook; Frank Peake; and Betty Freelandt.  I am also confident that, under its present conscientious and entrepreneurial leadership, the institution will continue to fulfil its mandate as a centre of excellence in the liberal arts.

The ancient Greek philosopher, Socrates, said, ‘Anexetastos bios abiôtos’, ‘the unexamined life is not worth living.’  Higher education in the humanities, arts and theology is, in fact, central to our healthy future as a human community.  These areas of learning are not elective.  They are not simply outlets for the artistic temperament or opportunities for aesthetic enjoyment or personal enrichment.  Rather, they lead us along paths of self discovery, where we examine, debate and frame the values and world views that give our world meaning.  This is why we must resist the pragmatic forces that focus on the material utility of education.  Science and technology can teach us how to build weapons systems and hospitals, but they cannot answer the question of which is better.

I rejoice in the service that Thorneloe has offered both to the community and to the Church, and I wish them many more years of fruitful engagement in their pursuit of ‘the examined life that is worth living'.

 

Do cats go to heaven?

Well, we were sorry on Monday that we had to have our cat put down.  Camilla Parker Bowles was a  good cat, as far as that adjective can be applied to a cat.  She was delivered to our house as a stray in Prince Albert, and cheerfully endured moves to Sudbury and Sault Ste Marie, as far as that adverb can be applied to a cat.  Millie was 14, which Fawna tells me converts to 72 in the cat-to-human calculator.  My purpose here is not to eulogise her.  She was adored by my three girls, and brought lots of joy (and, as you can tell by her name, mirth) into our home.  And she will be missed.

But the painful experience of having a treasured pet put down raises many agonising questions.  Did we make the right decision?  Could we have done something to prevent her demise (we’re pretty sure we missed a vaccination there along the way)?  Were we good enough to her while she was alive?  And now that she is gone, is it right to imagine her in some sort of celestial bliss, gambolling on a grassy front yard with her companion, Sophie, our English Springer who went to wherever dogs go when they die?  And if it was humane to end poor Millie’s suffering by euthanasia, why is euthanasia wrong for human beings?

It must be said that one of death’s gifts is that it prompts such questioning.  Grief can make us raw, and lead us to sober reflection on matters ethical and eternal (as an aside, this is one of the reasons Lent is good for us).  In a culture which denies and sanitizes death we avoid thinking about the relativity of our values and ethical actions.  But in the face of death (think Africa here) we are inclined to ask why people would spend $400 million on Botox (as reported by one U.S. manufacturer) when that revenue would be enough to treat more than 4.5 million people with antiretroviral AIDS drugs.  And, of course, death begs answers to bigger questions – questions about the purpose of life and the destiny of creation.

Now, there is a longstanding theological debate about the differences between animals and humans.  While we all have a tendency to anthropomorphise, it is generally agreed that animals do not have a moral will.  They do not have a sense of the self as moral agent.  When the cat demurely leaves the company of those who love her to flirt wantonly with a stranger who has feline antipathies, it is not a sign of passive aggressiveness.  Even a dog who has negative associations with jumping on the sofa does not do so in the knowledge that it is ‘wrong’.  Human beings, by contrast, have a strong sense of the self as a moral entity.  And this is one of the most important reasons Christians have generally been opposed to euthanasia.  Human beings deserve the right to exercise their moral wills up until the moment that they die, for their relationship to others, as well as the Other, depends upon the disposition of their wills.

It is in part because of a lack of a moral will that theologians in the Thomistic tradition have taught that animals have no souls, and that therefore it would be inappropriate to imagine cats in heaven.  It is probably true that we should not sentimentalize heaven, for our sentimentalizations really amount to a domestication of realities that are far greater and more glorious than we can conceive.  On the other hand, is it reasonable to think that what God had created as a means of expressing joy and affection and playfulness and loyalty (okay, for dogs, at least) should not have some eternal remembrance? 

It must be admitted that there is not a lot of biblical teaching that can be used to settle this matter, but I have always been struck by the post-diluvian promise to Noah where God says: ‘I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you.’ (Gen 9.9f.)  In the psalms we also hear God say, ‘All the beasts of the forest are mine : and so are the cattle upon a thousand hills’ (50.10).  And in our lectionary we have recently read of God’s care for the created order: ‘Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.’ (Mt 6.26)  Would the objects of God’s own creation, covenant and care not abide in some fashion for eternity, if only as a testimony to his beneficence?  And if the reminder of what made it necessary for God to rescue humanity from its lost condition endures for eternity, as it does in the endless worship of ‘the Lamb who was slain’ (Rev 5.12), is it too presumptuous to expect that the vehicles of his grace might also somehow endure?

These questions clearly require more reflection.  In the meantime, we give thanks to God for the gift of his humble creatures who teach us more about love.

Holidays are over

I suppose Christmas was technically over on Thursday with the Feast of the Epiphany.  But it will feel really over today when our younger daughter, Ellen, returns to university and our lovely Bishophurst home assumes its ‘business casual’ attire. 

It has been a very nice, if busy, period.  The early part of the week before Christmas was spent in Sudbury.  We were there to attend a Christmas concert by Dr David Buley’s award-winning ensemble, Octatonic Decadence, in which our daughter, Clare, sings, and then to bring her to the Sault for the hols.  Titled ‘Comfort and Joy’, the group presented a wonderful programme, featuring pieces from the Renaissance to the present day.  What is more, they raised over $1,000 through a free-will offering for the Better Beginnings Better Futures Association, which assists low income families.

Back in the See city, it has become the custom for the Bishop to preach and celebrate on Christmas Eve, first at St John’s Church in Garden River, and then at the Cathedral.  Both are historic churches, predating the establishment of the diocese.  St John’s grew out of a mission in 1832 and is located in the heart of the Garden River First Nation.  Chief Shingwauk is buried underneath the church.  St Luke’s Cathedral was built in 1870, becoming a pro-cathedral in 1873, just a year after the diocese had been set up. 

The two services couldn’t have been more different.  The church on the reserve is a wooden structure, nestled in the trees.  The service was noisy and packed, and the Pine Family sisters led the singing on electric piano and guitar.  The Cathedral is a sophisticated red sandstone building and, as you might expect from a cathedral service, the ceremony was solemn and meditative, with the choir singing beautiful anthems and descants.  Where such contrast might have been dislocating, for me it served to highlight the contextual nature of the Good News, and how the story of the birth of the divine can resonate in a variety of cultures.

New Year’s Day Fawna and I hosted our annual Bishophurst Levee.  It was a great success, having attracted considerable media attention with an article in the Sault Star before the event, and a CTV report being aired the following day.  We think the attendance was up over last year, and were pleased at the number of people from the community who came who had never visited Bishophurst.  Entertaining two hundred people is easy – if you have the St Luke’s ACW doing all the work!

A blessed Epiphanytide to all.

A Churchmouse Pageant

Fawna and I received an invitation to attend a special theatrical presentation prepared by the Juniors and the Boys’ and Girls’ Auxiliary at St Luke’s Cathedral on Saturday.  We were treated to a very entertaining show, ’12 Days, 3 Kings, 1 Camel and the Gospel Truth’.  It was a creative and amusing concoction of Erin Hernden which wove together the carol, ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ and the figures of the Magi, all narrated by a camel (Erin).  The cast, ranging in ages from about 5 to 15, sang and danced and worked puppets.  The audience featured the predictable presence of parents with camcorders and little brothers and sisters who wished they could be a part of the show.  One little boy, who squirmed and pleaded with his mother throughout the play, later on insisted to Fawna that he had been part of the show!

Apart from the fact that the 14 cast members and stage crew of nine pulled off the ½ hour production (the dress rehearsal apparently took three hours!), I was very impressed by the educational value of this event.  Erin did a lot of research on the background of the Nativity story and the carol that formed the structure of the play, and both audience and cast were taught as well as entertained.  We should not underestimate the value of Christmas Pageants in this respect, for we live in an age when biblical illiteracy is growing at a great rate. 

Another age of widespread illiteracy was the Medieval period in Europe.  The Bible itself existed only in Latin, which common people could neither read nor understand.  But this did not deter the spread of the Gospel story.  It was told in picture (stained glass) and in drama.  Across Europe village members would hold festivals where they each took part in acting out a part of a biblical story.  The ‘mystery plays’, as they were called, finds a modern counterpart in the Passion Play hosted by the village of Oberammergau every decade in Germany.  The plays were often imaginative, humorous and magnificent.  But they succeeded in making people familiar with sacred history.  And they did one thing more.  By including the members of the village among the cast, the message was communicated that this sacred history was really their own holy story – that every human being has a part in the divine drama being played out in time and space.  It is a drama that will come to a terrifying, but ultimately glorious ending when Christ comes again to judge the living and the dead.

Those interested in reading the mystery cycles can now find them online at the Gutenburg Project.  Someday I would like to see a church take on the ‘Second Shepherd’s Play’ by the Wakefield Master.