Catherine Gourlay

A Celebration of the life of Catherine Gourlay

November 21st, 1904 – December 22nd, 2006
Wilson’s Funeral Home, Cornwall
December 28th, 2006 at 11:00am

Gourlay, Catherine Margaret( Fraser), 102, of Cornwall, formally of Williamstown, died Friday, Dec. 22, 2006 at Glen-Stor-Dun Lodge in Cornwall.

Catherine was born Nov. 21, 1904 in Williamstown where she attended school in the 4th concession and the Maple Leaf School. She attended high School in Williamstown. Following completion of high school she lived at home until moving to Montreal where she worked for Sun Life Insurance. She lived in Montreal until 1931 when she married Hugh Gourlay.

Following their marriage, Catherine and Hugh moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan where they lived until 1935. In 1935 they moved to Hamilton, Ontario and then to Dundas. They remained in Dundas until 1939 when they moved to Edmonton, Alberta. The family lived in Edmonton until 1955, at which time Hugh, Catherine and their younger son, Gord moved to Toronto. Catherine worked for Canadian Facts in Toronto from 1955 until her retirement in 1970.

Following her retirement, Catherine and Hugh moved to Williamstown into a new home designed by their son, Gord, who was an architect. This was their first and only experience at owning a home. Catherine had a true “green thumb” and it was no time until the yard and flowers were a real showpiece, one she was very proud of. As she aged and became unable to care for her flowers, the condition of her yard was a real concern to her.

Catherine had many talents. In addition to being an excellent cook and seamstress, she was an accomplished artist. She was very active in the community, particularly in Edmonton and Williamstown. She established a Green Thumb Club in Williamstown for gardeners as well as a reading group. She worked for several years at the N’orWester Museum in Williamston.

In 1997 Catherine sold her home in Williamstown and moved to Cornwall. She has been living at Glen-Stor-Dun Lodge since 2001. Survivors include her brother, D.A.Fraser of Cornwall; her sister, Eileen Kirker of South Lancaster;, her son Hugh Gourlay and his wife Janyce of Palm Harbor, Florida; her daughter-in–law, Sharon Gourlay of Toronto; five grandchildren, five great grand children and one great great grandchild and many nieces and nephews. She was predeceased by her husband, Hugh and her son, Gordon.
Rev. Andrea’s Reflection:

I got to know Mrs Gourlay in the latter years of her, during a time when her memories were of the distant past, or the current moment; or since I always told her I was from Williamstown, stories centered in Williamstown.

~’Williamstown is such a wonderful place. I’d move back there if I could’ she would say, and she would ask, ‘Do you like living in Williamstown?’ Of course, there’s only one right answer to that question!

She told me that her mother had died when she was born, and that her step-mother was a wonderful woman.

She told me about growing up in Williamstown, particularly attending high school, traveling into the village on Sunday nights, boarding during the week, and going home again on Fridays.

I didn’t hear details about her earlier school years, of having milk packed in her lunch box every day, and concealing this apparently embarrassing fact by not drinking her milk at lunch, but on her way home, so that neither her friends nor her mother were any the wiser.

I did hear about her father-in-law, John Gourlay, being a minister, but I forgot some of the details about that until speaking with Hugh and Jan. It was nice being with Kit, because if I forgot things, she didn’t mind either, or she would tell me the stories again.

One story she told several times, was of a time when her husband Hugh was going to give a speech, and on the way to the gathering he still didn’t know what he was going to say, creating a degree of anxiety to Kit, who was accompanying him. She reported, however, that it was the best speech he ever gave.

She also spoke about her garden at her home in Williamstown, and the man who stopped by to tell her she had the nicest garden in the village. She didn’t tell me, though, that she established the ‘Green Thumb club’ in Williamstown.

I didn’t hear about

- all the joys of becoming a mother, a grand-mother, a great-grand-mother, and a great-great grand-mother

- the sadness of losing her husband, her son, Gordon, and other family and friends over the years.

- all those moves – to the States, out west, and Toronto, or the car that broke down on that move from Edmonton to Toronto, with her china in the trunk

- the hard work in earning an income and caring for her family after her husband, Hugh, had a stroke in his late 40s, or the challenges of having some rather strange borders in her home, renting the spare room.

- her first flight in 1958 in a ‘prop-job’ – with engine failure? on a journey to go and see her first grand-child in Seattle.

- the courage it took to learn to drive a car in Toronto at the age of 55, when Gordon had gone to Edinborough, or the joys and challenges of traveling on trips to Ann Arbor, Michigan and Vermont with Hugh Sr., to visit Hugh Jr & Jan.

- Christmases spent with family in Toronto, or winters spent in Florida after her husband, Hugh’s death

- all the activities at the local seniors’ centre in Florida, a centre to which Kit place her first phone call upon arrival, or the return trips, carrying 70lbs of Florida grapefruit, which she must have thoroughly enjoyed, even if her friend, Edith Major, only ate her grapefruit out of love for Kit.

- I didn’t hear about her trips to exotic places like Nova Scotia, Scotland, Spain, & Morocco.

But I did meet a spunky woman who was a joy to be with, and who had a wonderful outlook on life.

I would like to hear what she has to say about her ‘new home’ in the next life. I wonder if it measures up with Williamstown. If wonder if she will have had as many people to greet her in heaven as she had at her 100th birthday party. I’m sure she would at least say, “This is a nice place.”

I wonder what wisdom she might share with us from the next life. But, then again, maybe she shared that wisdom in this life

- to approach life with a positive outlook

- to work hard, when necessary, without complaint

- to accept love and joy and delight in what is good

- to live through the hard times

- to share one’s talents

- to love and invest in one’s family and community

- to take each day and year as it comes, although not many of us expect to live to 102!

Kit has now returned to that great source of all life, that oneness of being that we can only dream about in this life. Kit has now made her way home.

Charlie Kinloch

A Celebration of the life of Charlie Kinloch
29 August 1945 - 14 September 2004

Eulogy by Natalie & Blaine Kinloch

Based on Dad’s great words of wisdom, you begin every speech with laughter and therefore I want to share with you some of Dad’s most bizarre habits:

* A teabag must be used a minimum of 4 times or else your wasting;
* A cookie can only be half eaten because it will make you fat;
* All hot foods will taste fine if boiled in water for a minimum of 1 hour;
* Gardening is a skill for everyone, regardless if you kill most plants and if your thumb is purple instead of green.

Charles Kinloch, son of George and Grace, beloved husband to Cathy, dearly-loved father of Alex, Blaine and Charlie, brother to Henry, much-loved father-in-law to myself and friends and this community, is a great man.

There are so many family and friends gathered here today to celebrate Charlie’s life and it clearly reflects his passion for living life to the fullest and his endless love of people. Charlie would want each of you to know that you have given him tremendous strength, love and support through all the years.

Born and raised in this village, Charlie has become somewhat of an institution to this community and church. George and Grace shared with the boys their love of this Church. Generations of Kinloch’s have sat in these very pews and Charlie’s extensive contribution to this church was done as a tribute to his ancestors and parents as much as a reflection of his faith. Ministers at this church have been very close friends of Charlie’s through the years. In the last seven years a young minister, Andrea, has graced this community and Charlie with her gifts of laughter, friendship and support. This family will forever be grateful for Andrea’s time, prayers and friendship that extend far beyond these walls.

God has given Charlie a gift of a brother to antagonize to no end. The Kinloch brothers, the Hawk and Chickie, are a legend in these parts. George and Grace had their hands full trying to keep Henry and Charlie out of trouble.

Henry fondly remembers …….

In 1967, Charlie embarked on a centennial project of finding someone special. And what a find! Cathy with her bright smile, heart of gold and love of life was a quick match for Charlie on and off the dance floor. Once Charlie’s mom’s inspection complete, Cathy became the perfect choice as a wife for Charlie. This church became a part of them and in it they raised their family. Few of us can remember when we could determine where one of these individuals begins and the other one ends. It is and will always be Charlie and Cathy, Cathy and Charlie.

Ocean into the sea…

You didn’t have to know Dad very long to benefit from his laughter. His ability to bring humor to any situation although not always shared by those closest to him. Mom will never forget on one of the first dates at A&W where Dad, a professional car roller, believed the conditions to be ideal to perform a 360o or 720o we’ll never know. Mom didn’t know what she should do other than hold on for dear life when Dad released the wheel and buried his head on Mom’s lap to protect himself. He always told us he didn’t understand why she held on to the door instead of adopting the crash position.

Charlie shared with his sons his wonderful smile, and laughter as well as his love of vehicles and may I also say his aggressive driving skills. Martintown residents have endless stories of the Kinloch boys and their driving abilities.

Beyond the GM and occasional Volkswagens (sorry Alex!) which are a great love to Alex, Blaine and Charlie. Alex and little Charlie shared with their Dad their love of tools. To this day, I have not seen the great carpentry talent that Charlie held even when blind but Alex assures me that you must always have the right tool for the job regardless of expense.

Blaine and Alex also inherited Charlie’s talking abilities. Have you ever tried to hurry past or interrupt one of these lengthy discussions?

Alex shares his Dad’s ability with numbers and Charlie has always been very proud of his chosen profession. I’m not sure if it was because of his love of vehicles or the chance to visit the dealership regularly and perhaps get a really good discount.

Blaine carries on his Dad’s incredible will to help others. You can be assured that when there is a need in this community, Blaine will be there to lend a hand.

Charlie has been blessed with his Dad’s talent at fixing things in a timely manner. It’s not that they don’t fix them; you just have to accept their own special schedules.

Charlie, you have done a fine job with these boys and I have no doubt that in these three, your legacy will be proudly carried on.

No one has been as proud as Dad to see the tradition of the Kinloch farm being carried on by the __th generations. From his contribution to the land from the time he was a child to the beautiful condition of the land today, Kinhaven is a part of Dad. The farm means the world to this family and rest assured Dad it’s in great hands.

Dad’s love for dogs and more recently a cat have meant a steady stream of pets have benefited from his love. His dogs have been his lifeline and past pals.

Dogs have also been a scapegoat for a little nasty habit of Dad’s of inflicting minor damage on non-living objects. I’ll always remember asking Dad if he knew how the dent got in my truck. His response was that our lab “Groaner” ran into it and he’s a pretty big dog. We’ll never know how the lawnmower ended up with a similar dent.

Obie, his best pal and Seeing Eye dog never left Dad’s side. Sure they had their disagreements when they each wanted to go in different directions however Dad quickly learnt that Obie could be trusted when Obie decided to let Dad lead the way and he ended up face first into a parking meter. All the strong headedness aside, Obie to this day can do no wrong in Dad’s eyes.

My memories of Charlie are a little more recent than most of you. I met Charlie 10 years ago and was welcomed with open arms by this great man. He was quick to warn me of his eldest son’s habits and I was honored at his support and love in Alex’s choice for a wife. Charlie and I have shared many trips to Ottawa together and the strength and pure will of this man have been an inspiration to me. I will cherish our time spent together and terribly miss his near choking bear hugs but most of all I promise to make sure that his spirit is passed on through the generations.

Charlie, you have joined Obie your best pal in heaven and we trust that he will lead you well as he always has.

We love you Dad.

Goodbye my love, my dad, my brother, my friend.

Ethel Jean Leitch

A Celebration of the life of Ethel Jean Leitch
March 25th, 1917 – February 11th, 2005

The Eulogy given by Ken Leitch and David MacDougall at her funeral on February 15, 2005, at St. Andrew’s United Church, Martintown.

Ken:

We’re here today … to honor Ethel Grant Leitch, a woman who was many things to many people. For Bill and Stuart, Ethel was a grandmother. For Claudette, a mother–in-law. A great grandmother for C.J. and Kirsten. A sister to Alex. A sister-in-law to Malcolm. To hundreds of others at Cornwall General Hospital, she was a compassionate nurse. And of course, a friend to those gathered today.

Now, where do the two of us fit in?

In the Leitch family, there were two brothers, Ross and Murdie, and two sisters, Maye and Jean. Uncle Ross married Aunt Ethel and they had one son, Malcolm. David MacDougall is Jean’s only son, and I’m Ken, Murdie’s only son. The three of us, Malcolm, David and I were all born within a year of each other. Dave and I are both honored to have the opportunity to pay tribute to Aunt Ethel.

Dave:

It is nice to be back in St. Andrews. The last time I was up here at the front I was probably a young teenager participating in a Sunday school service.

Aunt Ethel was a special person when I was growing up, as Malcolm and I spent a lot of time together and saw a lot of Aunt Ethel and Uncle Ross. Some of my memories of Aunt Ethel are from when I was quite young. She had a number of qualities – hard working, caring about others ahead of herself, and she always seemed to have a ready smile.

I remember that she was both a farm wife and a nurse. As a farm wife she and Uncle Ross worked as partners baling hay, doing chores and the like. She did the hard work as well as looking after the home. Often at the end of the day at the farm, she would undergo a transformation into a nurse, her second career. At this time in her life she didn’t drive and Uncle Ross would take her to and from work. They found time for a bit of sleep in there sometime.

I only remember her getting angry with Malcolm and once and we were absolutely speechless. Not sure what we did but she sat us in separate corners and didn’t talk to us for a while. That was about as bad as if ever got with Aunt Ethel.

I was introduced the bagpipes at Aunt Ethel’s I took lessons from Malcolm’s teacher and we ended up playing in the high school band together. She, as well as our other parents, spent a lot of time being to stoic Scot listening to us practice daily.

Aunt Ethel learned to drive a car only after Uncle Ross passed away. Prior to this her driving experience was limited to the tractor, safe in the fields of the family farm. She was very proud of this skill and spent a lot of time driving back and forth to my mother’s place in Cornwall. We used to chuckle a bit that she would never get a speeding ticket as we don’t think she got up to even near the speed limit. Being independent with the car was a true pleasure for her. In later years when she drove much less, Bill Leitch senior came to the rescue and was a very willing chauffeur, often driving Aunt Ethel to get groceries and to appointments.

Aunt Ethel looked after other people ahead of herself. Barb, Ken’s wife, last evening used the word “humble” to describe this quality. She would fetch tea, open doors, and even carrying luggage while younger, stronger people looked on. More than once I had to wrestle suitcases from her hands when she came to visit us. We teased her about this often. Brought it to head once when I took the bags out of the car and put them in front of her then started toward the house asking her to bring them along. She saw the humour.

Many of our fondest memories are around family gatherings. We spent many Christmases together. Aunt Ethel was a great cook and always stuffed us full of turkey. The problem was that my family then went on to an evening on the MacDougal side of the family and the traditional noon meal at the Leitch’s was enough food for a couple of days. Family gatherings evolved over the years and Aunt Ethel spent many an enjoyable Christmas with Claudette, Bill, Stuart and their families. The opportunity to spend time with her great grandchildren, C.J. and Kirsten was a highlight for her.

Ken:

For about 10 years, from 1984 to 1994, Maye, Jean, and Aunt Ethel had a whole other life in Florida. They spent about 3 ½ months every year in Panama City Beach, the home of the famous sugar sand where many Canadian snow birds escaped the winter. To the rest of the family, they weren’t known as the snow birds, but rather, the Golden Girls. In Florida, they met their friends who ranged from Alberta to Arkansas.

They usually had the end two units facing the ocean, and spent part of their time walking the beach, playing cards or hitting the early bird special at the local restaurants.

They were such regulars at the motel that they left clothes, dishes and other belongings from one year to the next, because like clockwork, when January arrived in Florida, so did the Golden Girls.

The owners of the motel, whom they referred to as, the “boys” because they were only about 50 years old, trusted them so much that when they took some time off, the girls were in charge.

As if they didn’t get enough of each other in the winter, the two sisters and their sister-in-law often spent time together in the summer at Maye’s home in Pointe-au-Basil on the shores of Georgian Bay.

It was about a 7 hour drive from Williamstown to Pointe-au-Basil, a little too far for the tractor, so Aunt Jean and Aunt Ethel usually got a ride up north with Malcolm, Bill Leitch Senior, or David. In Pointe- au-Basil once again, life revolved around meeting old friends, playing cards, boat rides, often on Tom and Marjorie’s pontoon boat, and preparation of meals. There weren’t any early bird specials in Pointe-au-Basil.

I must tell you about one of my experiences on the farm during haying season when I was 16. I was down to help out a bit, and although I thought of myself as being quite strong and fit, I had difficulty keeping up to Aunt Ethel as we unloaded the bales from the hay wagon and put them on the conveyor belt that led to the top of the barn. She did all this, went in
and prepared dinner, then headed off to do her shift at the hospital.

Your grandchildren and great grandchildren should be proud you carry some of Aunt Ethel genes.

These are just a few of the memories that Dave and I have.

Aunt Ethel has given something to all of us and we thank her for that. – but keep in mind that you enriched her life as well.

I’m sure she would want she would want me to thank you for what you gave to her and for being here today.

Aunt Ethel, you really are a Golden Girl.

Mildred Ada Victoria Fourney

A Celebration of the Life of Mildred Ada Victoria Fourney
May 23, 1924 - Oct 20, 2004

Eulogy by Ian Cumming

Mildred Ada Victoria Crites, originally from Ferrans Point, which is now under the water of the St Lawrence Seaway, was first introduced to this local community at a barn dance Jack Fourney held back on the fourth concession for his son Antoine and his new bride.

My father was at that barn dance and his uncle Gordon MacNaughton quietly confided to him that he hoped Mildred was a nice girl, “because Antoine was sure a nice boy.”

Not long after, Lyall MacLachlan was a small boy standing in his uncles store in Lancaster, where Sarah Hensen now has her restaurant, and Antoine and Mildred came down the stairs. They had just been up buying the farm on the third concession from his grandmother.

Antoine was a bean pole, Mildred a little slip of a woman and Lyall’s dad Donald, physically big man that he was, commented that he hoped such a small couple could make a go of it. They, over the years, did far more than that. The farm across the road was purchased, on retirement houses were built for themselves and two of their children. Mildred always handled the finances for the operation.

Milded was quick to find out that she had married into a clan where Jack, Lawrence and Antoine Fourney and their families not only farmed themselves, but were important cogs in keeping other people’s farms running as well.

They cut ice on the St Lawrence for farmers ice houses, their mechanical genius fixed and welded everybody’s machinery and vehicles, build a house or barn they could do that too. They never said no to their neighbours demands on their time and talents and they never, never charged enough. All were also totally honest in each and every deal.

Those of us who grew up on farms where Antoine and Lawrence were vital to the operation, have some sense of not only appreciation, but wonderment of the work Mildred did. I mean work. There was five children, a herd of dairy cows and countless farm chores without the ease of technology we have today.

There were many couples who wore themselves out just farming and raising children, but Antoine and Mildred combined that with driving a bulldozer for MacGregors, plus the on farm shop where Antione welded and his genius brain manufacturing and solving problems.

That shop was an exciting and almost magical place to a knee high boy. Your fathers large hand cupped around your head so you wouldn’t look at the welding flash. But you always managed to squirm and steal a sideways glance.

Always in the background there was Mildred, doing not only her own work, but that which we took Antoine from.

Now even as a knee high boy, not even in grade one, I knew from conversations between farmers and hired men that Antoine could never say no, but if Mildred was really busy and Antoine wasn’t around or down in the field, well you just didn’t try pushing your luck with Mildred in demanding Antoine come and fix your problem right now. There was never any words, there was just, as farmers called it, “that look” from Mildred.

The late Millard Grant told of driving in their farm yard one day, Antoine nowhere in sight, Mildred was splitting wood with the axe and he got that look over the top of her glasses. “I just put the truck in reverse and backed out,” said Grant.

With Mildred it was always the look that spoke volumes. The beaming smile she gave my little daughter Mei Le across the church aisle back in that corner several weeks ago. The look of concern a couple of years ago standing at my elbow scrapping plates at the church supper before I washed them. “You’ll be hungry, you go and eat with your family,” she said that night. Mildred, the 78 year old lady on her feet for hours, doing one of the hardest, dirtiest jobs of the evening and it was my stomach, my time with family that she was worried about.

The look of instant, quiet approval she gave on first meeting Allison which meant so much, being Dorothy was one of her dearest friends.

But there was also the look, which happened far more than once, back when I was young, late at night lurching around on the Bonnie Glen dance floor and Mildred would be sitting at the dance floor edge and there would be that quiet look over her glasses which just screamed, “Ian you’re being a damn fool.” But the thing I respected most about Mildred, she never, ever told my mother.

Now I’m sure all the MacCrimmon boys who grew up beside her got that look over her glasses many times and I hate to even guess how many times Wayne MacLachlan got it.

One cannot do a tribute to Mildred without talking about her, with Antoine, on that Bonnie Glen dance floor. How does one describe in words what so many of us felt inside when Sylvester would begin to sing and Antoine and Mildred would be first on the floor? Effortless unison would only be a cliché to describe what so many of us witnessed. It was beauty, perfection, a couple in love, it was dancing such as we had never witnessed before, or come to think of it, since.

I forget the date or even who initiated it, but quite a few years ago, Dorothy and I, Rosann and Sheldon, Malcolm and Bonnie, and Alpin and Sharon MacGregor met for a number of nights in Antoine and Mildreds basement, to be taught the two step. I can’t remember them asking for any money, but I think they wanted to end the pain they were enduring Saturday night after Saturday night watching us trying to dance.

Decades earlier when back on their farm, Donald and Muriel MacLachlan were among the couples taught the finer points of dancing, since they were far better than us on the basics.

After the farm was sold in 1974 to Wiebe and Carolyn Meyer there came the well deserved trips in the motor home. Several times down south, some taken with Leslie and Norma, with the final destination at their daughter Sheila’s Also trips to the Maritimes with Sylvester and the Glengarry Highland dancers.

They both went to England with Dorothy to her home farm and along with her mother drove up to Scotland. I had never asked that if sometime during that trip, possibly at Edinburgh Castle with the skirl of pipes in the distance, whether Antoine took Mildred by the hand and danced. Now there is no one left to ask.

About 14 years ago in this pulpit Art Buckland paid tribute to Antoine with words I don’t think any of us have ever forgotten. He talked that day about Antoine with a ploughmans lunch sitting in a field and seeing what others couldn’t see. A mere insect, how it moved, what it did.

There were a number of times I sat beside him and his dear friend Gordon Ferguson when he had that ploughmans lunch, during the noon break from tile draining on my father’s farms. But it was Mildred who had made that lunch, the sandwiches and home made desert neatly packed, along with the apple. It was Mildred who washed his work clothes, who made sure all was in order in his world.

Perhaps modern society belittles that contribution and sacrifice for others. But those of us who grew up in Antoine and Mildred’s world learned to respect the ladies who in such selfless, countless acts, were the foundation of their families and our community.

I have come to realize over the years that a person dies, but who a person is never does. They live on in those who follow.

When Thelma can look at a pile, which to you is just a jumble of metal and says “I think it goes like this” and makes something out of it, that is Antoine. When Thelma comes once a week into your chaotic, painful household where the mother and wife has just died and not only establishes an order but in the end a peace and a semblance of understanding to three little children, that is Mildred.

When Eugene, only a hour or so after Mildred was taken for the last time from her home, is in your yard telling the Glen Gordon Professor how to fix the pulley on his manure spreader, that is Antoine, but also Mildred, carrying on and doing your work despite the pain.

When Eugene and Thelma’s son several years ago is called to the front of the high school auditorium to receive the top prize for innovation in shop, that is Antoine. And when another son is praised by a neighbour for his hard work, skill around cattle and reliability, that is Mildred.

Today when you watch a dance floor in Glengarry and the MacLachlan and Cumming girls swirl around having a ball, that is Mildred along with Antoine who years ago put on those records in her home and taught their parents and grandparents not only how to dance, but a love of the music.

You, her family, were so privileged to have a mother and grandmother such as this. We were honoured to have her as a neighbour and friend..

René Butler

A celebration of the life of Rene Butler

Anyone who knew Rene knew he was a man of few words.

Anyone who knew him well would know that he would like us to keep this as brief as possible.

And although he was a man of few words, those words were always wise, comforting and reassuring.

He was like an encyclopedia to his kids; whenever they needed an answer to something they just asked Dad or Grandpa.

He always helped those that needed it... animal, human.... or even insects and reptiles....

He would stop and save a turtle from certain death by taking it off the road... spiders were escorted outside....no stray kid or animal in our neighbourhood would go without a place to stay or a meal....

He thought it best that we leave the world a better place than when we found it...

Every community that he lived in was better for it as he devoted many hundreds of hours to community service, as a Boy Scout Leader, driving seniors and Children's Aid children to Drs. appts. As well as delivering Meals-on-Wheels to seniors in our area. He was a Chartered member of the Martintown Optimist Club and was instrumental in building the Martintown Library. He made as many as seven trips with a full van to the Williamstown Fair with tables and books for Onagh's Book Nook. He spent many hours building additional space at Onagh's to accommodate all her donated books, which raise monies for many local charities. Even though he couldn't draw a straight line and had to make many, many adjustments to his cuts of wood, his motto was "if at first you don't succeed try, try again".

He took every opportunity presented to learn something...
He said if you can't say something nice don't say anything...
His love of family was his guiding force..
He was a great cook, gardener and teacher. Trying to teach anything from tennis, to golf and chess (as many of us will remember) and he never showed frustration at our attempts to improve.

Even back at Radio College when he was first married, he would bring groups of co-students home and he would help them to understand things as they gathered around the kitchen table in his small apartment in Toronto.

Upon graduation he joined the Dept. of Transport as a Radio Operator in Broadview Sask., then Churchill Man., then Kenora Ont. He found shift work was not what he wanted when Jean and he had four children to raise. So off he went to Resolute Bay for a year, to study and hoping to advance his career. Although he was Coroner, Justice of the Peace as well as Officer in charge of the Station, he found time to study. While at Resolute Bay he developed a curling rink in one of the hangers. Even though they had to wear their artic gear to play, they enjoyed the recreation.

Getting a day job and moving to a bigger city brought the family back to Ottawa where he edited and wrote Department of Transport Technical Instruction Manuals, as he was so precise to detail.

His next career move was becoming a Technician, then Instructor, which brought him to Cornwall to the Transport Canada’s Training Institute, where recreational activities included joining the Cornwall Curling Club.

He retired to Martintown and tremendously enjoyed 18 years of retirement life with winters in Florida to get away from the snow.

His working with Dept. of Transport was a great joy to him.

It was interesting to see how many of his colleagues from Transport came to pay their respects even though he had been retired and out of contact with them for many years.

Scott Dennis

A celebration of the life of Scott Dennis
Spoken by his son James Dennis on July 25, 2009

I would like to begin by thanking everyone here today for taking time out of their own lives to say good bye to a man who meant so much to my family and no doubt made a profound impression on you all.

When my Mother approached me a couple months ago and asked me to prepare a eulogy for my Father I was deeply honoured and yet frightened at the same time. I did not want to think about this final chapter in my Father’s life and worse yet was afraid that when the time came I would not be able to give a suitable homage to a man that meant so much to my Mother, Brother, and I.

Over the past months and years my Father took whatever steps he could think of to make his eventual departure as little a burden as possible on his dear wife and family. He even took the time to review the video montage prepared by the Brosseaus before giving it his seal of approval. I only wish that he could have written this speech for me today.

I know that that would not have been possible for my Dad because he was too humble of a man. He never liked to be the focus of attention but rather was more interested in hearing what was new in your life. Many people have told us that they loved talking to Scotty whenever he worked at Sears, was out having coffee with Rick or Ken, breakfast with Richard or Jim, or simply stopping by the condo to visit. He never dwelled on his condition but rather focused on positive matters so that people never felt uncomfortable being with him.

I am told though, that when Dad had his choice on the topic of conversation that he loved to sing the praises of his two sons, Jason and I. I do hope that our tales of adventure were not too boring for everyone. Jay and I learned very early in life that our passions, hobbies, and interests quickly became those of our Father. It did not matter what we chose to do or what we wanted to become, our Father was always behind us 100% with his love and support. He only wanted to see us happy.

When my brother embarked on his new business venture, Summit Fitness, our Father never hesitated in providing him with the support and guidance to see his dream materialize.

Prior to that, football was a large part of my Brother’s life and as such was a large part of my Father’s too. He always happily took my brother to his practices and was on the side lines cheering Jason on during all of his games. He became part of the local football executive and regularly watched NFL and CFL football games on TV with his youngest son. The Superbowl parties actually became a yearly tradition that brought the three of us closer together following the end of our university lives and our return to the Cornwall area.

I don’t know how he did it but he always seemed to have time for his sons. He loved us equally and while Jason had his football I had my Jeeps and offroading. I don’t think my Father ever thought I would find excitement in the Ontario and Quebec back country driving around with others in our modified and lifted Jeeps but it didn’t matter, he was going to be along for the bumpy ride. If I hadn’t promised my passenger seat to someone else he would happily ride shotgun on my adventures. On one trail run I learned what an athlete my Father still was. After putting the Jeep into an unexpected off camber position tilting the Jeep WAY over on his side he unbuckled his seat belt and darted out of the doorless Jeep faster than Ben Johnson saying, “I can’t handle this!”.

Some of those offroad excursions became weekend camping events and that is when I think Dad really fell in love with the hobby. He really enjoyed meeting all my offroad buddies and sitting around a campfire at night talking Jeep. At one point he told me that he really enjoyed camping but that it was just not my Mother’s “thing” and that her idea of camping was a 3 star hotel.

Despite their differences our Father loved our Mother dearly and he knew the first time he met her that she was the woman for him. On an evening nearly 40 years ago their paths crossed at the Cornwallis Hotel and their lives would forever be changed. With his confidence mustered he strode across the room and proceeded to introduce himself to Barbara Ann Alguire. After extolling all of his affections and complimenting her on her beauty he proclaimed that she would one day be his wife. His steady perseverance paid off as soon they were dating, then engaged, and ultimately married. The fact that he had a car too didn’t hurt.

Together they became a formidable parenting duo. No child could have asked for better parents. Family was always the highest priority to Dad and Mom. We always had dinner together, went on several trips together, spent the summer down at the cottage together, and gathered together with the rest of the family during ALL the holidays.

You would think that after all of that time spent together Dad might be a little relieved to see us leave the nest so that he could perhaps pursue other interests. That couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact Mom has told us that whenever they dropped Jason or I off at university down in London or Waterloo Dad would always be quiet and sullen with his headed tilted away from Mom as they made the long drive home along the 401. He would even be teary eyed in the days that followed. He simply missed his boys dreadfully.

My Father’s love for my Mother never faded. He would do whatever it took to make her happy and gladly took on the challenge given to him by his Father-in-law on their wedding day to take care of her for the rest of his life. Even as they got older Dad would have no qualms putting on a public display of affection in front of my brother and I despite our chagrins. He loved to hug and kiss his “Tooty”.

Dad was Mom’s ROCK. She could always count on him to be there and with his support she has been able to spread her wings and become a strong, independent, and loving woman, wife, and Mother.

A lot could be learned from their marriage and at times I have asked Dad for advice on this topic. I can’t recall how the conversation came about but one day but I asked my Father if he ever had difficulties with my Mother’s LOVE for a VERY clean and tidy household. He grinned at me and told me that he knew the day he proposed to my Mother that he would be spending the rest of his life living in a museum.

Some of Dad’s greatest moments were being able to see both of his sons getting married. He loved the women we had chosen to be our wives and equally loved to share with them one of his favourite all-time sayings, “You know my dear, there are two kinds of people in this world. Dennis’, and those that want to be Dennis’”…Did I say he was a humble man, my mistake.

I think that one of his greatest joys was the birth of his grandchildren, Lydia, and Preston. He was so looking forward to becoming a grandfather and spoiling them as rotten as possible. If Jay and I are half the Father he was to us then our children will be better off than most.

Dad’s only regrets were that he would not be around to see his grand children grow up, spend time helping out his sons, and traveling near and far with his wife.

As he lay in his bed on Tuesday morning I leaned in and told him that I loved him and that I couldn’t have asked for a better Father. He told me that he loved me and simply asked that I take care of our Mother. I know that if he could of he would have enveloped me in a warm bear hug as he often did.

My Father was the greatest man I have ever known. He was smart, loving, considerate, hard working, and had a warm smile. He was more than a Father and a Husband to our family, he was our Best Friend.

I would like to send out a special thank you to those individuals who have spent a lot of time with my Father over the past couple of years as his health deteriorated. I will not mention names as they know who they are but I am certain that it is because of your kind gestures that he was able to remain so active for so long. For this our family is eternally grateful to you.

I am sure that Dad is looking down on us now, smiling, and slightly humbled by the number of lives that he has touched. And if he could speak to us now I am sure that he would say to not worry about him because things are just Tickety-Boo.

2007 - Happy New Year

2 September 2007
Lorna McKendry

Scripture
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20
Psalm 81: 10-16
Colossians 3:1-11

“Sisters and brothers, if you are serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with things right in front of you. Look up and be alert to what is going on around Christ--that’s where the action is! See things from his perspective. Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life--even though invisible to spectators--is with Christ in God. Christ is your real life. When Christ shows up again on this earth, you’ll show up too--the real you, the glorious you. Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ. That means killing off everything connected with the way of death -- promiscuity, impurity, lust, doing whatever you feel like whenever you feel like it and grabbing whatever attracts your fancy. That’s a life shaped by things and feelings instead of by God. It’s because of this kind of thing that God is about to explode in anger. It wasn’t long ago that you were doing all that stuff and not knowing any better. But, you know better now. So make sure it’s all gone for good--bad temper, irritability, meanness and profanity. Don’t lie to one another. You are done with that old life. It’s like a filthy set of ill-fitting clothes you’ve stripped off and put in the fire. Now you’re dressed in a new wardrobe. Every item of your new way of life is custom made by the Creator. It has God’s label on it. All the old fashions are now obsolete, Words like Jewish and non-Jewish, religious and irreligious, insider and outsider, civilized and uncouth, slave and free mean nothing. From now on everyone is defined by Christ. Everyone is included in Christ. So, dressed by God for this new life of love, put on the wardrobe God picked out for you.” (from “The Message”, emphasis mine)

“ Happy New Year ” ???

Sears “Back-to-School” television commercial has been on since early August. It’s the one that promotes back-to-school and the month of September as the beginning of a new year. The kids in the commercial all say “This year, I’m going to… get a new skateboard… be in the school band… take flying lessons…” Whatever. According to Sears, this morning we should all be wishing each other a “Happy New Year” back to school and back to work.

A few years ago, another television commercial for a big-name office supply store used the catchy little Christmas jingle, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.” I thought Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year. It’s a indication that back-to-school has become a “season” all its own now, with all the commercialism and hype and pressures to go with it.

Yes, my friends, it’s time for our children to be making a list, and checking it twice. Time again to shop ‘til we drop! Only this time it’s for pencils and erasers and lined paper and duo-tang folders, whether they really need them or not.

The authors of A Greener Planet: 2 Minutes a Day at Home and Work have some comments to make about this new season of spending and accumulating. We’ve made a ritual of purchasing everything new every September. We need to get past the idea that new means better. We need to ask ourselves and our children “What happened to last year’s leftovers?” Does starting this new year with new school supplies also mean that our children are making a fresh start in thoughts, ideas, philosophies and ideals?

Life seems to be a continual round of wanting things. Voices advise, advertise, and entice us to pay homage to commercial gods. All too often, and especially in September (and December), they win our attention and allegiance. Dare I say that we are raising a generation whose pride seems to be in what they have rather than in what they can do and who they are. We need to break out of consumerism and the accumulation of possessions. As followers of Christ, we are called to pay homage to a different voice that sounds in our hearts.

In this morning’s New Testament reading, Paul writes to new followers of Christ in Colossia. He explains how the world’s teachings are empty when compared with God’s plan. He describes how those who call themselves “Christian” ought to think and behave. “Set your mind on things that are above”, he writes. “Clothe yourselves with the new self,” he tells them.

I like the old clothes/new clothes imagery. In reality, before we can put on new clothes we usually get rid of our old clothes, (or at least we should). But before we can even do that, we have to decide that it’s time for new clothes! And we have to decide what kind of new clothes we’re looking for.

As a young child, part of my morning ritual of getting ready for school included calling out to my mother from my bedroom, “What will I wear?” And I remember the exasperation in her voice as she would tell me which skirt or slacks to put with which sweater or blouse. I think maybe I was in Grade 4 or 5, and the point was that I hadn’t yet learned how to co-ordinate everything, but I was learning that it was important. As a ten year old, I was starting to get the message that what I wore to school mattered. Looking back on that time in my life, I can see now that along with fashion advise, my mother, and my father, were also tucking things like kindness, sharing, and caring into my pockets and I didn’t even know it.

In faith terms, to become new people in Christ, we have to get rid of old ways and put on God’s ways. Paul listed bad habits and behaviours like anger, greed, deception, anything that goes against God’s will. We are to be loving and kind, helpful, obedient. We are called to become more like Jesus.

It is the things that are not seen that are important, more important than what we wear, or what we eat, or what we put in our children’s back-to-school backpacks. As followers of Jesus, it’s about filling our minds with something else, something different, something lasting. We can harbour thoughts of envy, bitterness, competitiveness, and fear. Or we can fill our minds with what is good and peaceful and life-affirming. We can embrace thoughts of love, kindness, patience, courage and contentment. How we fill our minds shapes our lives.

It reminds me of those three verses from Micah 6 -- What does the Lord require of us? “…to do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.” Oh, that those qualities were on our children’s back-to-school list.

As responsible, conscientious Christians perhaps it’s time again to take a look at what’s essential, what’s vital, what will really make a difference in our lives and the lives of our children. Thinking of this time of year as the beginning of a new year is a good idea, I think. It’s a fine time to make a list and check it twice. It’s a fine time to consider what we would like to change about ourselves and make it a resolution. As worshipping Christians, every day, and certainly every Sunday, is a good day to review and resolve to be better people; to set our minds on things that are above, that are lasting.

And so, my friends, I say to you

“Happy New Year”

“Happy New You” !!

2005 - Veterans Week

November 6, 2005
read by Bill Chambré

During Veterans’ Week, we pay tribute to those who have courageously helped to protect the values and freedoms that we enjoy as Canadians.

This year, Veterans’ Week has a special significance because it is the focal point of the Year of the Veteran, a year-long celebration of Veterans’ contributions and sacrifices.

It is important to remember Veterans’ Week, for not all nations enjoy peace and freedom as we do in Canada. Our peace, freedom and democracy have come at a tremendous cost.

During the past 100 years, some 1.5 million Canadians have worn the uniform of the Canadian Forces in conflicts overseas. More than 110,000 have not come home.

Veterans’ Week is a time to learn about this aspect of our shared Canadian heritage. It is a time to reflect on the meaning of peace and freedom as we gather to thank the men and women whose courage, selflessness and sacrifice contributed so much to our current way of life. Many of the freedoms we enjoy today — such as the freedom to express our views and to participate in cultural, religious and political activities — were secured for us by our Veterans’ courageous actions.

We owe it to our Veterans to remember the sacrifices they made for us, to reflect on the ways the tradition of military sacrifice they began continues to affect our nation, and to respond by creating and preserving peace and freedom for future generations.

I would like to take some time to explain exactly who we mean when we use the word Veteran. When we refer to our Veterans, we are talking about the men and women who served in the First World War, the Second World War, and the Korean Conflict, and those who have served in the Canadian Forces since the Korean Conflict ended. We honour these people, their bravery, and their sacrifices during Veterans’ Week.

Canada’s history is filled with examples of our Veterans’ courageous actions. During the First World War, from 1914 to 1918, almost 620,000 Canadians, nearly one tenth of the population at that time, joined the war effort.

These were ordinary Canadians who made extraordinary sacrifices, interrupting their lives to fight for peace and freedom. Few were prepared for the horrors of the “Great War.” More than 66,000 people — a generation of Canadian youth — gave their lives.

Twenty years later, Canadians, including more than 3,000 Aboriginal Canadians, saw action in Europe again during the Second World War. One of our numerous heroes was Private Ernest “Smokey” Smith. During the Italian Campaign, he single-handedly disabled a German tank, drove back more than ten enemy soldiers, rescued an injured comrade, and held his position under heavy close-range attack from grenades and machine gun fire.

For this action, Smokey Smith received the Victoria Cross, the Commonwealth’s highest award for military valour. He was one of only sixteen Canadians who received the Victoria Cross during the Second World War, and he was Canada’s last surviving Victoria Cross holder.

In 1950, another major conflict erupted in Korea. During the three-year-long Korean Conflict, Canada was one of the 16 countries that fought together as part of the very first United Nations military action. 26,000 Canadian Forces members served in Korea.

These were dark times in world history, but our Veterans – and the millions of Canadians who supported them – were motivated not by glory, but by their belief in peace and freedom.

Since the Korean Conflict, tens of thousands of Canadians have participated in dozens of peacekeeping and peace support missions in more than 35 countries. More than 125 have died.

As a nation, we can be—and should be—proud of Canada’s near fifty-year peacekeeping history. But peacekeeping operations have changed. During the past fifteen years, traditional peacekeeping missions have evolved into a broad, multidisciplinary kind of operation we call “peace support.” Canadian Forces members have served in peacekeeping and peace support operations all around the world: in the Balkans, the Middle East, Africa, the Arabian Gulf, Southwest Asia, and the Caribbean. Our contribution to these types of operations has helped to elevate Canada to a position of international prominence and esteem.

Since the end of the Cold War in 1991, new and more complex security challenges have emerged. Failed and failing states have created regional instability, human catastrophes, and despair. Global terrorism has become a deadly adversary, as demonstrated by the attacks in New York, Madrid, Istanbul, Bali, Mombassa and London.

In this new threat environment that is likely to persist well into the future, the first and highest priority of our military will be the defence of Canada. We will also continue to work with the United States towards the defence of North America.

However, this enhanced focus on domestic and North American security will not reduce Canada's strong international role. Security at home often begins with security abroad.

Today's front lines stretch from the streets of Kabul to the rail lines of Madrid to our own Canadian cities. Around the world, Canadian Forces members are engaging in peace support operations that are becoming more complicated and more dangerous.

Earlier, I talked about how peacekeeping operations have evolved into peace support operations. We may still use the term “peacekeeping,” but, put simply, the days when peacekeeping operations involved deploying static observers along a cease-fire line have, for the most part, passed. Contemporary peace support operations are sometimes referred to as a “Three Block War” where Canadian Forces members could be engaged in combat operations against well-armed militia forces in one city block, stabilization operations in the next block, and humanitarian relief and reconstruction two blocks away.

It is treacherous, demanding work that calls on the men and women of the Canadian Forces to endure long separations from loved ones and live in hostile environments.

On any given day, 8,000 Canadian soldiers, sailors and Air Force personnel are preparing for, engaged in, or returning from an overseas mission. At present, more than 2,000 of them are deployed on international operations in such places as Bosnia, Afghanistan, the Golan Heights, Sinai and Darfur.

As our Veterans did in past decades, today’s Canadian Forces members carry the torch of freedom around the world, putting their lives on the line in far-off lands.

When we remember our Veterans’ sacrifices and reflect upon how their century of military service is impacting us today, we must pause to ask: What have our Veterans given to Canada?

The Veterans who fought Canada’s many battles and campaigns fought for more than freedom from oppression. They fought for liberty, democracy, and respect for humanity. Such are the values that we honour during Veterans’ Week. Our Veterans’ courage, dedication and sacrifice helped to position Canada as one of the most respected nations in the world.

Like their predecessors who stormed the beaches of Normandy, today’s Canadian Forces members will not be deterred. Building on the legacy forged by those who went before us, we continue to conduct missions around the globe to make the world a safer, more secure place for future generations, not only for Canadians but for all people.

Veterans know the price they paid for our freedom and security. They have passed the torch of freedom to new generations. It is now up to us to strive for peace for the future.

Take the time to get to know a Veteran. Listen to their stories. Show your gratitude for the sacrifices they made by attending a Remembrance Day ceremony this week.

Let us remember our Veterans’ sacrifices.

We can contribute to this legacy by creating an environment of peace in our communities, schoolyards, and homes, just as our Veterans did on a global scale so many years ago.

Let us respond by being peacemakers in our daily lives.

On the eleventh day of the eleventh month at eleven o’clock in the morning, we pause for two minutes to remember our Veterans and reflect upon their sacrifices, and we honour and thank all those who served and died protecting Canada.

Their legacy is our freedom.

Thank you.

2005 - Loyalist Weekend

19 June 2005
By Ian Cumming

It is indeed an honour – and somewhat humbling – to stand in this pulpit talking to the Loyalist descendants of Sir William Johnston, the Ferguson’s, MacDonald’s, Grant’s, Cameron’s, Ross’s, Munro’s and McDonell’s from Mayfield, who have spanned 11 generations in this historic church.

As a congregation, we honour the military of our nation. The retiring of the colours of the regiment this weekend who played a vital role in the forming and protection of our country and community, those names etched on the village cenotaph, those who served and returned, and soldiers in our present armed forces.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve had several phone conversations with J K Abbot from Lanark county, a direct descendant of the Rev John Bethune who founded this church. Mr Abbot was a bomber pilot in the famed Demon Squadron of the Second World War, flying over 40 extremely dangerous missions, the most of anyone, in what historians have called “suicide missions.”

In any other nation he would be famous and his book Gathering of Demons – dedicated to those “who flew out in the dark of night and did not return” – would be a great seller, as it was in the U.K. But Mr Abbot was raised with Loyalist ideals and several years ago when I emotionally praised what he did in a phone conversation, he quietly replied, “I was just doing my job.”

He wanted to join us this weekend, but was unable to, being he has an important far away meeting tomorrow. At 84 years of age, Abbot is about to launch another book entitled Conspirators At the Gate. As former director of Inspection Services at Immigration Canada, Abbot follows what goes on behind the scenes throughout the world, probably better than any MP or most cabinet ministers.

This family’s service to Canadian society spans the centuries. The Rev Bethune’s granddaughter married Sir John Abbot, a future Prime Minister, and from that family also came the establishment of an educational institution in Montreal and Maude Abbot, the first lady to graduate as a medical doctor from McGill.

Lest we think those on the vanguard of our nation, who established the Loyalist ideals, have no relevance today, consider several weeks ago I was honoured to stand at the front of this church as godfather to a boy being baptised. A baby whose mother, Diane Poilly, immigrated to Canada when she was four, because her dad wanted to escape racism. Diane is also a doctor, getting her degree at McGill.

It struck me the other day, when my little daughter Mei Le clambered on my lap, that her birth parents - whom are unknown – would be comforted if they knew, that the child they had left outside an orphanage in Guangdon Province at one day of age, is frequently in the Canadian church founded by the ancestor of that revered hero in China, Dr Norman Bethune.

Locally Rev Bethune’s greatest legacy was the foundation he laid for harmonious relationships between Catholics and Protestants. Bethune and Bishop McDonell from St Raphel’s knew that if this community, indeed this nation, was to function and become all that they had envisioned, than religious fighting couldn’t exist.

That relationship has been Glengarry’s greatest legacy. There are countless examples, but the most recent was a Williamstown lady, Christine Sloan, who was raised in the pews of St Mary’s and then over here to the pews of St Andrews, being a prize winner and valedictorian at the Queen’s University Theological College graduation.

After the ceremony that valedictorian met Judge John Matheson, a wounded war veteran who became parliamentary Secretary to Lester Pearson and the main person responsible for the development of our Canadian flag and the Order of Canada. Matheson, whom is of Glengarry Loyalist stock and my second cousin once removed – which counts as family here in Glengarry – is related to a lot of us.

It was Matheson’s sister’s son, Donald Carty, who was president of American Airlines at 9/11. If ever there was an example of those from Loyalist stock showing caring and loyalty with whom they are connected, it was Carty making every funeral throughout the U.S. and doing a eulogy for every pilot, co - pilot and flight attendant on those planes.

When the other Bethune founded church, St Andrews Presbyterian in South Lancaster, was having its bicentennial celebrations nearly two decades ago Matheson was the guest speaker. In his speech about the Loyalists who founded this community and country, Matheson said, “you will never understand what God is about, until you understand those people.”

In all reality our ancestors must have been a dispirited lot when they arrived here in the late 1700’s. Imagine the feelings of loss, the odds against them were almost insurmountable. But they persevered, even finding the strength to fight again in 1812.

Among us today are ordinary people whose ancestor was this village’s namesake, Sir William Johnston, the second largest landowner in colonial America after William Penn. But there is no lament for lost wealth and power, but rather lives led of quiet dignity and personification of what God is about.

The strength and soul of a community and nation’s people is far more than the wealth of an ancestral laird or the result of a battle It is everyday all around us; ordinary people leading extraordinary lives.

Whether it is Alex and Betty MacDonald delivering trays of free food from their cafe to a family suffering tragedy, or Robert and Jane McDonell always there offering sympathy at a wake, or George and Bev Runions doing countless unpaid tasks for church and community, or those caring people wearing yellow bracelets engraved Live Strong, for Julie MacLachlan, a young wife and mother fighting brain cancer with a grace and courage which mere words cannot convey; they are all instinctively understanding and personifying what their Loyalist ancestors were about What God is about.

“Tread softly stranger, reverently draw near, the vanguard of a nation slumbers here,” is the powerful and beautiful inscription on this church’s gatepost. The highest honour we can pay our ancestors, is being who they taught us to be.

2004 - The Healing Power of a Baby

19 December 2004
Ian Cumming

Introduction:
In our Bible, we have two Gospels – Matthew and Luke – that tell stories of the birth of Christ child. Matthew tells of an angel visiting Joseph, and of the visit by the wise men, and of the slaughter of children in Bethlehem who were two years and under – a parallel to the slaughter of infants when Moses was a baby. Luke tells of an angel visiting Mary, and stories of Mary and her cousin Elizabeth, and Zechariah. Luke tells of shepherds being visited by angels, and coming to visit the Christ child.

These aren’t complete stories. We don’t have all the details. Their intent is not to be factual accounts, but rather to draw us into a story of God being birthed among us – of Emmanuel, God with us. Are these just a stories of a past event, a one-time occurrence, or does the story of the birth of the Christ child tell us of God’s constant birth among us?

We light candles of Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. Is God born among us in all the moments that Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love are present in our midst? If we look for the spark of God’s divine light among us in our day to day living, will we be transformed, like the shepherds who encountered angels? If we seek out the advent of God among us, will we be rewarded with encounters with God’s presence, like the wise men who knelt and offered gifts to the young child, Jesus? Can we name our own stories as stories of God’s birth and blessing in our lives? Can we name our children, our parents, our friends, even ourselves as being children of God? As having a divine spark within us? Or a healing presence?

Ian Cumming has been gracious in agreeing to share his Christmas story with you - a story of two wise people from the West, who went to the East in search of a child.

--------

The Healing Power:
A year ago, in a hotel lobby in Beijing, China, our daughter Mei Le’s beaming smile caught the eye of an American. He gushed to us how beautiful she was and ran to his room to get his wife and son, so they could meet her. They were flying to somewhere in China in a few days to get their new daughter.

Now the American, who was from Georgia, made the classic southern geographic mistake and in his cooing talk with Mei Le mentioned something about living in Canada, would allow her to “have a trap line and be able to hunt bear.” Allison bit her tongue.

But later in the conversation, after sharing some of our respective personal history, this tough ex Marine who had seen so much of what is horrible in troubled countries of the world, said, “this little girl is going to heal a lot of hurt.”

From an intellectual, common sense point of view, you would wonder how really? A mere 10 month old baby, who only days before could not sit up unassisted, had never even heard English, could by her mere presence heal suffering. After all society provides trained professionals to do that; clergy, social workers and psychiatrists who charge by the hour.

But this American’s intuition was right. Although it was only a week since Allison and I had first held Mei Le in our arms, that unspoken ache stemming from our baby son's grave up the concession, which I guess we thought we were always supposed to live with, was somehow being healed.

Now, in the quiet of night, instead of us silently staring misty eyed at a ceiling, we are propped on our elbows, whispering, staring in misty eyed wonderment at the baby sleeping in the crib beside us.

Less than 24 hours after being home, a lady sat at our kitchen table with Mei Le on her lap. They faced each other, smiled and from that moment somehow connected; with Mei Le now always seeking her out in crowds and squirms with delight when that lady baby sits in our house one afternoon a week.

While our plane had been in the sky the day before on our long flight back to Canada, that lady’s husband of 55 years had died.

There were my three children, two in university, one in the last year of high school, who were somewhat wary of what Mei Le’s arrival was going to mean.

They all fell in love with her instantly. The twins emailing several weeks after Christmas to bring Mei Le to a track meet at McGill, “so our friends can meet her.” My son and her have become inseparable when in the same room, with him also finding that with her in his arms it makes him a chick magnet.

Through the last year Allison has, in the words of her friend, “just shone,” with Mei Le. So many of the special, tender moments have been photographed, many others have not. The first step, the first words, the hugs and kisses. They share a love of animals, adventure and funky clothing.

Over the course of every year Allison had bought individual Christmas gifts for a host of family and friends. Taking the time and having the intuition to know what would be special for each.

The other day Allison handed me a UNICEF form with a list of the same people she always shopped for. This year they were all getting donations in their names to help needy children.

“I’ve spent $500,” she said, and before I blurted, “we can’t afford that, charity begins at home,” I was touched by the simple beauty of the act. That amount was probably spent other years on gifts.

On Friday Allison was supposed to drive for her sixth daily meeting in Ottawa, important stuff for the industry she works for. But she had decided to stay home and cancelled the baby sitter, her and Mei Le cuddling on the couch. Outside a raw east wind bringing the first skiff of snow.

“It would be better for Mei Le to have a little sister,” she told me quietly. “I haven’t decided yet, I’m not being as productive as I should be at work. Plus I don’t know from where; Africa, China, Korea, Trinidad? There are so many children in this world that need a home.”

And, like that baby in Bethlehem over 2,000 years ago, who will heal beyond all understanding.

2004 - Meditation “…for I am no better than my fathers”?

June 20, 2004
Rev. Andrea Harrison

Hebrew Scripture Reading: 1 Kings 19:1-15 (page 314)
Epistle Reading: Galatians 3:23-29 (page 1014)
Gospel Reading: Luke 8:26-39 (page 898)

The people are desperate. There has been no rain in the land. The wadis have dried up. The drought has lasted for three years. And so the people pray for rain. Some pray to Yahweh, “a transcendent, universal God who is the provider of rains and fertility yet who is no ‘nature God’ trapped in unvarying seasonal cycles.” Others pray to Ba’al, the Canaanite storm God who annually brings revival of vegetation and fertility. Others pray to the Canaanite mother-goddess, Asherah. But the gods will not answer, and the rain is not coming.

So Elijah engineers a competition to determine to whom the people should be praying to bring about the gift of rain. On one side, there are the 450 prophets of Ba’al. Somewhere in the assembly are the 400 prophets of Asherah, although they do not seem to have been invited to participate in the competition. On the other side is Elijah, the self described only remaining prophet of Yahweh.

The first to enter the competition are the prophets of Ba’al. They build an altar of stone, lay wood upon it, select a bull, slaughter it and lay pieces of the animal upon the wood. They then call upon Ba’al, the God who holds a thunderbolt in one hand, imploring him to answer with fire, to light the tinder dry wood upon which they have place meat for a burnt offering. The hours pass, the prophets work themselves into a frenzy, but there is no voice, no answer, and no response. And Elijah mocks them.

This righteous prophet of Yahweh, the one true God, enters the competition. He builds his altar of stone, covers it with wood, lays the pieces of his bull on top, and just to make sure that no one could accuse him of cheating, he has the whole thing doused with water three times, enough so that the trench around the altar fills with water. Elijah then prays to God, saying, “ ‘O LORD, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, that I am your servant and that I have done all these things at your bidding. Answer me, O LORD, answer me, so that this people may know that you , O LORD, are God and that you have turned their hearts back.’ ” Then the fire of the LORD falls and consumes the burnt offering, the wood, the stones, and the dust, and even licks up the water that was in the trench.” The victorious Elijah then oversees the seizing and killing of all the prophets of Ba’al, which greatly annoys Queen Jezebel, causing Elijah to flee for his life, even though the long sought after rain did actually come upon the land.

Elijah then laments to God, “ It is enough now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.” After he sleeps and has a vision, and arises twice to eat food provided by angels, he journeys without food for forty days and forty nights to Horeb, the mount of God. He then laments to God again, saying “I have been very zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.”

Elijah is then instructed to stand out on the mountain, and await the passing by of God. There is a ‘great wind’, but God is not in the wind; then an earthquake, but God is not in the earthquake; then a fire, but God is not in the fire, unlike before at the altars of competition with the god, Ba’al. After the fire, there is a ‘sound of sheer silence’, or a ‘still small voice’. In the conversation that follows, God points out that Elijah he is not the only faithful follower, but that there are indeed 7,000 faithful followers, who will not be subject to God’s wrath.

It’s tough to be a follower of God. In our world, even today, there are many gods from which to choose. What about Yahweh, or Allah, or Vishnu, or any of the other names ascribed to the god of the universe or a smaller aspect of that god? We call our god “God” with a capital “G”, implying that our god is the one true God. Even my Microsoft Word autocorrect spellchecker changes the small g to a big G when I type God! Perhaps Bill Gates will get to heaven after all.

Gerard Sloyan says, in his commentary about this story of Elijah, that it is a salutary (or helpful) text for the many Christian groups of all the ages convinced that they alone have preserved the true faith.1

Just look at the Martintown stories of the “preservation of the faith”, as we heard referenced by David Anderson and Rev. Phil Joudrey last weekend. In the mid 1800’s there was a split in the Presbyterian Church, between the “Old Church” and the “Free Church” of Scotland. Jean MacIntosh says of this that, “a reformed movement within the church called for changes and a more spiritual outlook. Then, of course, “church union” in 1925 raised more questions about how best to defend and preserve the faith.2 Since 1988 in the United Church, there have been “Affirming” congregations and “Community of Concern” congregations, and those of us in between, all seeking to be faithful witnesses.

A book I have recently purchased, and am looking forward to reading, is titled Saving Jesus from those who are right – rethinking what it means to be Christian.3 This book is written by Carter Heyward, an author whom I know to be liberal, or on the “left side” of the theological spectrum. Faye Wakeling, a United Church minister who has recently returned from six years of “overseas work” in Guatemala, and whom we had the privilege of hosting in our home a week and a half ago, noticed this book on my shelf, and recommended it. The curious thing that she said about it was that although Carter Heyward does indeed criticize those on the right who consider themselves to be “right”, she also criticizes the self-righteousness demonstrated by those on the left who consider themselves to be “right”.

Then, what about beyond our denomination, or beyond the Christianity?

Interfaith dialogue, today, is no longer limited to conversations between Christian denominations, it is between people of different world religions. In the United Church, extensive conversation has occurred with our brothers and sisters of the Jewish faith, as evidenced in the document, Bearing Faithful Witness. This year, a new study document, That We May Know Each Other: United Church – Muslim Relations Today,4 has been published, and is something we could choose to study together.

Does it matter any more, what name or names we use for God, what we believe, or even whether we believe?

The ancient peoples were different from us. They had to pray to their gods for help, as they had troubles like drought and pestilence. They had to deal with imperial nations who engaged in trade wars, not to mention territorial wars. Oh, maybe we’re not so different. That sounds like the plight of Canadian farmers, Guatemalan campesino’s, and Iraqi civilians, just to mention a few.

So what should we do? Does it matter to whom we pray, and what we believe? Do we believe that if all Canadians united in praying to the same god, we could bring an end to drought, that we could overcome imperial and terrorist enemies? Do we believe that national policies, such as legislation approving same-sex marriages, could anger God, and cause God to rain down fire upon British Columbia forests? - a view expressed by a clergy colleague on the front page of the Cornwall Freeholder last summer. Is a particular belief going to get us to heaven or send us to hell? In the end, does it matter what we believe about God, or even if we believe in God?

I’m not convinced that we do need to hold a prescribed belief, or follow a dictated path. I don’t long for one unified church or religion where we all believe the same thing, and engage in the same spiritual practices. I enjoy the freedom to explore faith, sometimes whimsically, sometimes critically.

I enjoyed reading Tom Harpur’s book, The Pagan Christ,5 where, amongst other things, he suggests that the Jesus story was not a historical event, but rather the historicizing of a myth. I fear no retribution from God for mulling over such ideas, although they could be a vocational challenge.

Joseph Campbell has been acclaimed as “the world’s foremost authority on mythology”. He, himself, claimed that mythology was “the song of the universe, the music of the spheres.” In a conversation between Bill Moyers, television journalist, and Joseph Campbell, Bill Moyers says, “Myths are stories of our search through the ages for truth, for meaning, for significance. We all need to tell our story and to understand our story. We all need to understand death and to cope with death, and we all need help in our passages from birth to life and then to death. We need for life to signify, to touch the eternal, to understand the mysterious, to find out who we are.”

Joseph Campbell responds, “People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life.” He then continues, saying, “I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive. That’s what it’s all finally about, and that’s what these clues [these myths, these stories] help us to find within ourselves.”

In our Gospel story today, a man tormented by demons, a man who was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, saw Jesus, and, as the Gospel writer puts it, recognized Jesus as the “Son of the Most High God”. This man, this demoniac, living a life of chaos, knew he was in the presence of one who could restore order in his life, who could break the bonds with which chaos gripped him.

In 1993, in solitary confinement at Kingston Penitentiary, there was a man whose life was likewise gripped by chaos. He was young, bright, had committed one or more crimes warranting a federal sentence. For some reason, or probably many reasons, he became so wild that he smeared the walls of his prison cell with his own feces. And he smeared his own body in the same way, making his removal from his cell by prison guards a slippery and offensive task.

As an act of desperation he was brought over to the Regional Psychiatric Treatment Centre, still within the walls of Kingston Pen. A cell had been adapted particularly for him, and others like him, so that he could be not throw feces into the corridor, and could be observed by camera. When the camera cover, the walls, and his own body became smeared again, all could be hosed down within his cell, as enabled by the newly built-in drainage in the floor. For some reason, or probably many reasons, he started to emerge from the chaos.

After a while of maintaining cleanliness and stable behaviour, he was able to come to the rehab/activity area. He was given permission to take paper and pencils back to his cell. I read some of his writings, which became more and more intelligible, and less and less bizarre over time. Later on, he participated in therapy groups, where he was insightful, open, and supportive of others. I enjoyed working with him. The demons had left him, hopefully not to return.

Did this man have an encounter with Jesus? Would it matter if he was Protestant or Catholic, or prayed to the Christian God, to Yahweh, or to Allah? Would it matter if he had no faith at all?

The Apostle Paul said, “There is no longer Jew of Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus."

I like to would extend Paul’s metaphor of oneness, of inclusion. I would like to say that the good news is that we are all invited to cultivate our inner life through the richness of religion, ritual, and story, and we are then all challenged to reflect the kingdom of God, in the way we live our lives.

In the particularity of our Christian faith, are universal themes of love and redemption, of forgiveness of sin, and of a challenge to live justly and in harmony within ourselves and with one another and our God.

I don’t think that “right” beliefs alone can save us, or using the “right” name for God, or engaging in the “right” rituals and observances.

In the created order of this planet, it is only humans who have the privilege of consciously cultivating our spiritual potentialities. I choose the Christian tradition as my way of nurturing my spiritual or inner journey, and of empowering me in my pursuit of right living. More particularly, I have chosen and continue to choose the United Church as my church home because this is the denomination that I find most life giving.

I do not know the stories of Ba’al or Asherah. I do not know the practices of ritual burnt offerings of peoples long ago. I do not think that I am better or worse than my fathers, than my ancestors, for the wisdom and love of God seems to penetrate all generations.

I do know that there is a God of many names, to whom I can pray in the midst of drought or abundance, and whom, through Christian and other stories, theological debates, worship, and community, I can encounter and follow in my day to day life. I thank God for the privilege of this journey, and pray that we may all find paths to God and through life, that enable us to flourish in body, mind, and spirit. Amen.

References:
1. Sloyan, Gerard S. Preaching from the Lectionary: An Exegetical Commentary. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Press, 2004.
2. MacIntosh, Jean McCuaig. Our Heritage: a History of Old St. Andrew’s, the Stone Church at Martintown. 1984.
3. Heyward, Carter. Saving Jesus from Those Who Are Right: rethinking what it means to be Christian. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Press, 1999.
4. Harpur, Tom. The Pagan Christ: Recovering the Lost Light. Toronto: Thomas Allen Publishers, 2004.
5. That We May Know Each Other: United Church–Muslim Relations Today – Toward a United Church of Canada understanding of the relationship between Christianity and Islam in the Canadian context. Authorized for study in the United Church of Canada by the 38th General Council. Produced by the Committee on Inter-Church and Inter-Faith Relations of the U.C.C., 2004.
6. Campbell, Joseph with Bill Moyers. The Power of Myth. Toronto: Doubleday, 1988.

2003 - Safer or Better

February 2nd, 2003
Rev. Andrea Harrison

Responsive Reading: Psalm 111
Gospel Reading: Mark 1:21-28

"You and I serve our country in a time of great consequence. … We have the duty to reform domestic programs vital to our country; we have the opportunity to save millions of lives abroad from a terrible disease. We will work for a prosperity that is broadly shared, and we will answer every danger and every enemy that threatens … . In all these days of promise and days of reckoning, we can be confident. In a whirlwind of change and hope and peril, our faith is sure, our resolve is firm, and our union is strong."

These are opening remarks from President Bush’s State of the Union Address on Tuesday night. It was a compelling speech, if one can get past the strains of American patriotism, and the interruptions of applause. I caught the beginning of the speech on TV - checked out the President’s blue tie, observed the standing applause - then opted to listen to the speech on CBC radio.

By the end of the speech, I found myself leaning toward the call to war against Iraq. I found myself becoming convinced of the sense of urgency to deal militarily with the threat that Saddam Hussein presents to the world.

President Bush made the point that,

"Some have said we must not act until the threat is imminent. Since when have terrorists and tyrants announced their intentions, politely putting us on notice before they strike? If this threat is permitted to fully and suddenly emerge, all actions, all words, and all recriminations would come too late. Trusting in the sanity and restraint of Saddam Hussein is not a strategy, and it is not an option."

Twelve years ago, I was clearly opposed to the Gulf War. This time around, I have been more ambivalent. What if Saddam Hussein is within three months of developing a nuclear bomb? (and note that it is "nu–cle-ar" not "nu-cu-lar" as Bush insists on saying) What if Saddam’s regime does launch a pre-emptive strike on Israel, or smuggle biological or chemical agents of mass destruction into the U.S., or sell such weapons to other terrorists? Is this more of a threat than the thousands of nuclear missiles sitting, guarded by chain links fences and under-paid security guards, all across the former Soviet Union.

Project Ploughshares cites sources that estimate that,

"At the low-end, a "quick victory" war of a few months is estimated to cost US$50 billion in direct costs, whereas a year-long war would be three times that. Overall costs over the next decade, including reconstruction and economic downturn triggered by war, would likely range from a modest $120 billion (if everything goes extremely well) to a more substantial $1.6 trillion in a much worse case scenario (if the war drags on, occupation is lengthy, nation-building is costly, the war destroys a large part of Iraq’s oil infrastructure, and there are both lingering military and political resistance to US occupation, and major adverse psychological reactions to the conflict.]"

Lloyd Axworthy, Canada’s former Minister of Foreign Affairs, expressed his views from Amman, Jordan, in a radio interview on As-It-Happens on Tuesday night, prior to George Bush’s State of the Union Address. Axworthy said,

"I think there's a good chance that a military intervention would … engender a lot more hostility. There would be a lot more sense of... being excluded, of being set aside ... If we only … did something about the extreme water shortages, did something about the development, showed people there's a dividend, then you might... get people believing again that [they] can trust …what the international community is up to. But they don't see signs of that.

We haven't really tested out all the resorts. Military forces should be a last resort, not a first resort. And I'm afraid this is where the... US philosophy under George Bush always looks to a military action as its first instinct, not as its last instinct.

What are we to believe? In December, I tried to avoid the whole issue. This month, however, I find myself trying to listen to as much information as possible – news reports, interviews, even radio talk shows. I want to have an informed opinion so that I can take a stand for what is right. I want to consider varying viewpoints. The truth is out there, but then, truth is the first casualty of war.

The line of Scripture that jumped out at me in this week’s readings is the reaction of the people in the temple in Capernaum to Jesus. "They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes."

That’s what I want to hear – the voice of one having authority, not as the politicians; that voice of truth, that reflects the wishes and wisdom of our God, rather than the agendas and follies of we humans. Where is that voice? Speak to us God!

When it comes to decisions about waging war, it’s obvious that we might like to know what decisions God would make. But there are all kinds of smaller decisions that we make, where we would like some wisdom from God; where we would like clear information to help to know what is right, and to know what to do.

Graduating high school students are trying to figure out what to do with their lives beyond grade 12 or 13. To stay home & do some more courses. To take a year off and work or travel. To go to this college or that university. To apply to this programme or that. And there are so many opinions – those of parents, peers, teachers …. There are the recommendations that universities, colleges, and programmes make for themselves in terms of what they have to offer. How does one decide?

Another bewildering scenario is that of life threatening illness. Often in finding a diagnosis, one needs second opinions and more tests. And then there are choices to be made about treatment, choices with probabilities of outcomes. Nothing is certain. Where is the voice that will speak with certainty?

Psalm 111, which we read responsively today, concludes by saying, "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; a good understanding have all those who practice it." If we fear God, as in, if we are first concerned about the wishes and wisdom of God, we are less likely to be terrorized by the prospects ahead of us, and less likely to make choices out of fear.

In his State of the Union Address, President Bush asked the Congress to commit $15 billion over the next five years, including nearly $10 billion in new money, to turn the tide against AIDS in the most afflicted nations of Africa and the Caribbean. This is a good decision! This was good news in the ear of Canadian Statesman and United Nations Special Envoy, Stephen Lewis, who is working day and night to determine the impact of HIV/AIDS on Africans, and to mobilize the international community to respond.

Listen to the words President Bush used as a lead up to this promise. He said, "As our nation moves troops and builds alliances to make our world safer, we must also remember our calling as a blessed country is to make this world better." Making the world safer; making the world better. I would suggest that our efforts to make the world safer, have fear as a driving force. When we are afraid, we sometimes make rash decisions. We are willing to commit financial and human resources. We may make decisions that are not consistent with the ways we generally live our lives. We may not think about the long-term consequences of our decisions.

Marketers know this, and use it to make sales. How often are products available at a low, low price, for a limited time only, until inventory runs out. ‘Buy now’, because if you don’t, you’ll never get a deal like this again. Inducing a little fear is a great way to influence decision making.

Our scriptures tell us to fear God, or we might say revere God, and not to live in fear of the circumstances of our lives, or make decisions driven by anxiety.

Think about the angel Gabriel, when he approaches Mary. What is the first thing he says to her – "Fear not". The decision she is about to make should not be based on fear and trepidation due to the presence of an apparition. It is to be made with a clear mind. It is to be made from the heart, not from that pit of anxiety in the stomach.

What does Jesus say to his disciples before he dies, and again when he meets with them after his resurrection? – "Don’t be afraid", "Peace be with you." If the disciples were going to have any chance at fulfilling their calling as people of faith, they were going to have to overcome their fears, and allow the Spirit of God to move among them.

The husband of someone I know through the world outreach network was terminally ill. I can only imagine that he shared the same passion for the well being of the world, that shows so through so clearly in the life and work of his wife. She tells me that at one of the points where he had to make a decision about treatment, he chose not to take any further treatment to prolong his life. His reason for this was that he had had a good life, and did not wish to consume any more of the valuable hospital resources or tax dollars that he thought could be better allocated elsewhere.

I imagine that this kind of thinking was absolutely consistent with how he had lived his life, in life. To make this kind of decision, he must have been facing death unafraid – unafraid of letting go of the security of this life for the unknown of the next. He must have been able to overcome whatever fears he may have had of death, and was thereby free to make decisions with clear head and an open heart.

Alternatively, a person might find the prospects of facing the side effects of treatment scarier than facing death. But such a person might discern that it would be a great gift to his or her family to have a little extra time. Consistent with the way that person had lived his or her life, that person might summon the courage to face treatment and choose that little extra time with family.

When we think about what it means to be a Christian, we often think in terms of being loving. Today, I would say that we should think about this in terms of being unafraid. To make decisions, not based on what is "safer", but on what is "better". To make decisions, not from the pit of anxiety in our gut, but from the confidence and compassion of our heart, and from the clarity of thinking of our minds.

Are times when waging war is the better option? I would say yes. Ilan Ramon, the Israeli fighter pilot who died in the explosion of the space shuttle, Columbia, yesterday, was one of the fighter pilots who flew in formation over Saudi Arabia to Iraq in 1981. The group of fighter planes flew wing tip to wing tip – so close to each other that they were able to appear, on radar, as a passenger aircraft. They bombed the Iraqi nuclear reactor, that was under construction. The world, including the U.S., condemned this action. Hindsight shows that they set back Saddam Hussein’s nuclear weapons programme by 10 years. In 1991, it was the U.S. who bombed such targets, and, as far as we know, Iraq has not yet achieved nuclear capability.

What should be done today? Well, that depends on a lot of things. On Wednesday of this week, American Secretary of State Colin Powell will "present information and intelligence about Iraq's illegal weapons programs, its attempt to hide those weapons from inspectors, and its links to terrorist groups." Will this information have clarity that enables an appropriate evaluation of risks and long-term consequences? Will it’s purpose be to instil fear to gain support for a course of action which misses the mark in terms of global security?

What can we do? At the very least, we can all pray daily that world leaders will exercise wisdom, and that decisions will be made on the basis of what is "better" for the world, rather than what might make us feel "safer" in the present.

"The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; a good understanding have all those who practice it."

2003 - Am I My Brother's Keeper?

Sunday, June 22nd, 2003
Sermon by the Hon. Flora MacDonald

The longer I live, the more aware I become of how small our planet earth, really is. And how occurrences in one part of the globe can impact profoundly on the lives of people thousands of miles away. We’ve certainly seem much of that in recent weeks – those of us who thought that places like Ur of the Chaldees, Kadesh and Babylon were names associated only with the Old Testament, have come to a very different recognition of them in the past few months as fighting in their streets became part of our nightly fare on television.

But for all the scenes of conflict we’re shown, there are many positive events taking place that should have equal media coverage for those of us in the western world. Unfortunately that kind of message doesn’t easily lend itself to the 30-second sound bite or to the selling of newspapers. But those positive events are taking place in many developing countries.

These past fifteen years, which have been about the most interesting and rewarding years of my life, have given me ample opportunity to work with and learn from citizens of other countries – countries which are often thought to be far removed from Canada; though in reality, given today’s miracles of communication and transportation, they are not. These years have also given me a much deeper realization of how fortunate Canadians are, whether they have been born here or have chosen to make Canada their home. We live in a country in which rights and freedoms are all too often taken for granted, a country which provides a life-style and creature comforts that millions of people elsewhere in the world cannot even begin to imagine.

From my frequent travels I have witnessed, time and again, the incredible efforts many people in developing countries continue to make, day in and day out, in order to improve their lives and that of their children. And often they do so with a cheerfulness that is contagious. While carrying water, working in the fields, winnowing grain, or planting trees, the voices of the people ring out, singing in order to lighten their toil. When they’re not busy with these kinds of work, people – particularly the women – are immersing themselves in literacy classes, or health and hygiene courses.

And frequently I run across Canadian volunteers, young people and indeed, those not so young, who are contributing years of their lives to help with the training that is necessary to raise the standard of living in these countries.

Two such places I’ve visited recently (and a number of times in the past) are Tibet and Afghanistan, countries where life is never easy, given the existing political situations, and as well, given the rigorous climatic and geographic conditions that exist in these high-altitude regions. From experience, I can tell you that although their roads may be difficult to navigate, the scenery is breathtakingly beautiful.

One of the non-governmental organizations I chair, Future Generations – is an NGO committed to community development and environmental conservation in high altitude regions of the world. As it does in Tibet. (15 years ago only 2% of Tibet’s land acreage was under nature preservation, today 42% of its land mass is protected). (Describe the Four Great River Nature Preserve – gorges go from 3,000 ft. at river bed to 23,000 ft. – covering the same climatic differences as that from the Caribbean to the North Pole. Rivers sustain one-fifth of humanity). 1/7th of China’s timber resources are in that Nature Preserve and the 800,000 local Tibetans are being trained to take care of them.

Future Generations has been working with villagers throughout Tibet for the past 15 years, in programs designed to improve the health and hygiene standards of the people and to preserve Tibet’s rich bio-diversity. The community leaders in this effort are known as ‘Pendabas’ – a Tibetan word meaning, ‘The People who serve the villages’ and over the years Future Generations has been responsible for their training.

In one of the world’s most spectacular sites I met one of these Pendabas --a tiny Tibetan woman – who is attached to the Rongbuk Monastery. In addition to her religious duties as a Buddhist sister or nun based in the Monastery, Sister Nwawang carries out her responsibilities as a Pendaba serving the villagers in the isolated communities that surround the religious institution. Rongbuk Monastery, at the base of Qomolangma (which is better known to westerners as Mount Everest) is the highest permanent dwelling on Earth, situated at an altitude of 17,000 feet. Almost entirely destroyed during the Cultural Revolution, the Monastery has been lovingly restored by the devoted monks.

Sister Nwawang, who has had the benefit of four sessions of training in health and hygiene matters with Future Generations, is the sole dispenser of medical knowledge in the entire region. After her early morning devotions, she attends to the medical needs of the members of the Monastery. Then she begins her daily round of caring for the villagers.

She told us that her greatest need is for more medicines, but at the same time she doesn’t want to create a dependency on her and her medicines among the villagers, so she encourages them to contribute to the cost of the program by helping in some way with the upkeep and maintenance of the monastery. (Collecting firewood to ward off the worst cold of the long winter is one such way). In a non-cash economy, this kind of exchange welds the villages and the monastery into a more coordinated unit. In particular, Sister Nwawang works with the women to have them implement better hygiene practices and methods of treatment for children’s diseases. As a result, she was able to show us from her recorded data that the infant mortality rate in the region is declining significantly. It’s amazing what one person – a very tiny Buddhist nun – has been able to accomplish.

Afghanistan is a country trying to recover from 23 tortuous years of conflict and four long years of drought. I first went to Afghanistan two years ago on behalf of CARE Canada at a time when the Taliban regime was still in power. Despite their despotic rule, CARE was carrying out monthly food distribution to 10,000 war widows and their 50,000 children. It wasn’t much according to our standards – a bag of wheat flour, a supply of lentils (beans), sugar and cooking oil. And even though the bombing and shelling have now stopped, the distribution of these food staples continues because many of the women have little else in the way of support – over two million men were killed during the years of fighting. When I visited one of these food distribution centres in April, a number of women told me how they have now set up their own kitchen gardens, with the help of CARE Canada, so that they can augment theirs and their children’s diets with home-grown vegetables. Some of them have become so good at growing vegetables that they are able to sell some of their produce in the local markets.

CARE has also been active in upgrading the training of hundreds of female school teachers whom the Taliban hadn’t allowed in the schools since 1996. Neither were girl students.

One school I visited was especially designated for girl students ages 9 - 14 years, who had never been in school before. These youngsters didn’t want to go into a class with 5 and 6 year olds, they felt out of place; so they were being given accelerated classes, permitting them to take Grades 1, 2 and 3 in a single year. And how they applied themselves to their work, knowing that the next year they could go into Grade 4 with students their own age.

Much of what we see on television from Afghanistan focuses on what takes place in the Kabul area, because that’s where the Government offices are located, that’s where the UN agencies and peace-keeping forces are based, and that’s where most of the non-governmental organizations are situated. But reporting from Kabul doesn’t give an accurate picture of what is happening in Afghanistan.

80% of the country’s population is rurally based, and it’s in this vast rural area that the need is greatest. I was able to travel into the countryside, into the villages of the central highlands where much of the infrastructure has been destroyed – roads, dwellings, schools. Electricity, running water and an adequate transportation system are non-existent.

A year ago January, the nations of the world met in Tokyo at the call of the Secretary-General of the U.N. to pledge their support for reconstruction and rehabilitation in Afghanistan. $l0 billion was asked for, $5 billion was promised, but less than $2 billion has so far been made available. So the shortages continue. And with the invasion of Iraq, the needs of Afghanistan and its people have pretty well disappeared from the global agenda – and one wonders if the pledges that were made in Tokyo will ever be honoured.

In their desperation the people of Afghanistan themselves are doing what they can to cope with the legacy of 23 years of war. When I was in this region a year ago, people in the villages told me that schools were at the top of their priority list. Education is a highly-prized commodity. In one village I visited at that time, a teacher with a single hand-held slate as his blackboard was trying to teach a class of boys and girls amidst the rubble of a bombed-out mosque.

I met that teacher again just a few weeks ago, but now he is one of several teachers who are holding classes throughout the day in the rebuilt mosque.

The people of the village, with some outside help, had taken matters into their own hands; they devoted time and energy to restoring the mosque – it is now not only a religious and cultural centre but is in continuous use as a school – for boys and girls during the days; in the evenings, it becomes a learning centre for men and women, most of whom were unable to attend school during the long years of conflict.

In another region of Afghanistan which was relatively untouched by the shelling and bombing of recent years, 350 mosque-based schools are now providing literacy courses to 7,000 women. One young woman I met is just finishing her high school education in a neighbouring town, but she returns each evening to her own community to teach women who never before had the opportunity to attend school.

The number of women who want to be enrolled in these classes is growing by leaps and bounds – the greatest difficulty we encounter is the shortage of qualified women teachers. Anyone with a high-school education is considered eligible to teach, but even the number in that category is very limited.

When I was in this district a year ago I had to get special permission, as a woman to enter the mosque for a meeting. Behavioural change is coming about much more quickly than I had anticipated.

One of the top needs in the central mountains of Afghanistan is for firewood, both for cooking and for heating during the long cold winter. Communities are mobilizing around the planting of trees – willows and poplars. In one valley which has received its first real dosage of rain in four years, almost 100,000 trees are being planted, with everyone taking part. And its successes like this – through mobilizing school classes and planting trees – that lead the villagers to consider what other challenges they can tackle.

My fondest memories of Afghanistan are of the resiliency and determination of the people themselves. Except for the warlords, the Afghan people are genuinely sick of war – they desperately search for peace and stability. And they will work to help it happen – even though they have little in the way of resources to contribute. But what they have, they share. I have found that out on numerous occasions as I travel to districts where there are no hotels, inns or restaurants.

I am invited to stay in their small mud-brick homes and share their meals. But on my last visit their acts of generosity almost overwhelmed me. I had always been dressing in my slacks and fleece jacket to keep me warm. They said they felt sorry for me and wanted me to have some women's clothing (presentation of beautiful hand made dress that was given by the women of Afghanistan). Although these people had very little in the way of material possessions, they were very willing to share with me whatever they had.

Experiences like this helped confirm that I am indeed my brother's, and sister's keeper.

2001 - Entrusted with God's Creation

January 21, 2001
Rev. Andrea Harrison

Responsive Reading: Psalm 29
Hebrew Scripture Reading: Genesis 1:1-2:3

(From the children’s time:

"In 1896 a Swedish chemist discovered the greenhouse effect, and said that if we go on doing what we are doing, we will be growing oranges and bananas in Scotland.") [From a lecture by Dr. William Fife, broadcast on CBC Radio "Ideas" on January 17, 2001]

So, we aren't yet seeing oranges and bananas being grown in Scotland yet, but the predictions of environmental changes, as a result of our technology and lifestyles, have been coming true right under our noses.

In the last 100 years, we have changed our planet!

A week ago in El Salvador a massive earthquake rocked the country, leaving 650 people dead, hundreds missing, and about three million people – nearly half of El Salvador's population – without clean water. This, however, wasn’t just a natural disaster. In Santa Tecla where a massive landslide buried up to 500 homes, officials are blaming builders who removed trees to build mansions. The earthquake loosened a hillside in the neighbourhood of Las Colinas, bringing mud, and debris crashing down on homes below. Residents had asked the government to stop the construction of mansions above them, arguing the lack of trees left them vulnerable to landslides. Congress didn't respond to their requests, and the Supreme Court allowed the construction to continue. Now, environmentalists say Congress and the court were negligent, while Santa Tecla's mayor is condemning builders.

At the turn of the last century, we had the invention of the automobile. As I mentioned to the kids, "Forty years ago, there were 60 million cars in the world. Twenty years later, there were 300 million. Now we're up to 600 million and still counting. We also know that what's coming out of all of these tail pipes is affecting our health and changing the climate. Three-quarters of all of our air pollution comes from transportation. About half of that comes from cars and light trucks. Now, contributing to greenhouse gases has been added to the list of the car's bad habits.

Nations, corporations, interest groups, and individuals have been debating how to limit and reduce greenhouse gas emissions.

In October 1988, there was a climate change conference convened in Toronto. "At this conference governments pledged first to stabilize their carbon dioxide emissions by the year 2000 and then to achieve a reduction of 20% from 1990 levels by 2005." Maurice Strong, Canadian businessman, diplomat, and environmentalist laments that, "Not only were the Toronto targets not met, but most industrialized countries, including Canada, continued to increase their emissions afterwards." (Maurice Strong, Where on Earth are We Going? ©2000)

Maurice Strong then laboured intensely to help the preparations for the 1992 "Earth Summit" in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Rio was a ground breaking event, with a thousand or so delegates, plus an accompanying forum of non-governmental organizations with vested interests in the environment.

One of the speakers at the Earth Summit in Rio was 12 year old Severn Cullis-Suzuki, daughter of environmentalist David Suzuki. She admonished the delegates with these words, "Parents used to be able to comfort their children by saying, 'Everything is going to be all right; we're doing the best we can and it's not the end of the world.'" But, she went on, "You can't say that to us any more. Our planet is becoming worse and worse for all future children. Yet we only hear adults talking about local interests and national priorities. Are we even on your list of priorities? You grown-ups say you love us, but we challenge you to make your actions reflect your words." (Strong, p228)

Five years later, in 1997, at another environmental conference, this time in Japan, there was the Kyoto agreement on greenhouse gas emission levels. Now you need to remember that in 1988 governments pledged first to stabilize their carbon dioxide emissions by the year 2000 and then to achieve a reduction of 20% from 1990 levels by 2005.

The 1997 Kyoto accord called for a five-per-cent average cut in developed nations' 1990 levels of emissions by 2010. There, Canada agreed to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by six per cent by 2012, the U.S. agreed to seven per cent.

In November, last year, international delegates at a conference in the Netherlands looked at ways to implement the Kyoto agreement on greenhouse gas emission levels.

"Europe came to the conference with a united position and that position put it into direct conflict with the so-called Umbrella group, which includes the United States, Canada, Russia and Japan. For two weeks the two sides battled in speeches, in briefings and in behind-closed-door negotiations. Much of it was highly technical but the core of the dispute was quite simple. The Umbrella group wanted to be given big environmental credits for their forests and for money spent to plant forests in other countries.

"The forests act as "sinks" soaking up carbon dioxide. The Europeans said that getting credit for sinks was merely a way of finessing the key issue of how to reduce the level of greenhouse gas emissions from cars and industry. If the Umbrella group was given credits for its sinks, countries like the U.S. and Canada, which have yet to start to reduce their greenhouse gas emissions, would be given treaty carte blanche to increase those emissions.

"The Americans made a concession on behalf of the Umbrella group. They would drop the idea of getting credits for money paid to plant forests in developing countries. Canada, too, made a concession, dropping its demand that nuclear power be considered a plus in what is called the Clean Development Mechanism." (Don Murray, senior correspondent for CBC-TV)

These concessions were considered insufficient, and negotiations for an international commitment and plan to address the issue of global warming failed.

"The next meeting on global warming won’t take place until next May. For many environmentalists the collapse of The Hague talks was a disaster. (With the newly installed) American president, George W. Bush, they believe the Americans will be even less willing to agree to new restrictions on greenhouse gas emissions in a few months’ time. And unseemly squabbling among European ministers won’t put any more pressure on the Americans and their Umbrella allies." (Don Murray)

So that's just some of the bad news. So what's the good news?

Did you know that Cornwall Electric built the first co-generation power

system in southern Canada with a capacity to produce heat as a byproduct of electrical generation. The system generates about four per cent of the city’s electricity needs. Using co-generation for heat and power has reduced fuel consumption and greenhouse gases by up to 30 per cent. (Ontario government report)

Did you know that Honda and Toyota are producing hybrid electric cars that use a combination of gas and of electric cells that are recharged as one drives?

Projects to harness tidal energy, wind power, and solar energy are being pursued more seriously.

In Britain, they have found a species of algae that converts water into hydrogen.

In the past, we have demanded that science address our needs for comfort, convenience, and cost. When we think about spending money we may ask ourselves: "Will that bring me comfort or pleasure?" "Will it make life easier or more convenient?" "Can I afford it?"

If we want to save our planet, it's not necessarily that we have to get busy doing things, it's that we have to change our values. We will have to ask ourselves constantly, "What impact will this have on the environment, on the world?" We can no longer make choices just on the basis of comfort, convenience, and cost.

Think of what we spend on our houses to give us comfort and pleasure. The manse committee, for example, has, to my delight, gotten estimates on the cost of installing central air conditioning. That will make us comfortable, but will, as I think about it now, add to the problem of global warming. Perhaps we should be looking at the cost and practicality of installing a solar panel on the roof of the manse, and make the most of that southern exposure.

In fact, why is it, that in this modern era of technology and relative prosperity in our country, all houses don't have solar panels on the roof? On the east coast of Nicaragua, there is a water purification project, in part funded by the United Church of Canada, that is operated by solar power. If they can do it, why can't we?

And why don't all farms have windmills? Imagine if you could run your corn dryers using wind generated energy?

Why is it that we drive to places when we have the physical ability to walk?

Why is it that an employer can give you a free parking space without it being a taxable benefit, but a free bus pass would be a taxable benefit?

We have developed such busy and complicated lives that we have become disconnected from our environment, and ignored the consequences of our lifestyles. I don't think this is what God had in mind when s/he gave us the ability to "be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over ... every living thing that moves upon the earth." (Genesis 1:28)

Dr. William Fife, world renowned geochemist at (Western University in London, Ontario?), believes that we can solve most of the world’s problems if we have literate, educated people with freedom of information, access to the best information, and time to think about it. That’s encouraging. It also makes me glad that our Church Presbytery and the Char-Lan High School have raised enough money now to build a school in the developing world through the organization "Free the Children".

It also makes me think of URRACAN, a grass-roots university on the Atlantic coast of Nicaragua, that used its contacts to become affiliated with York University in Toronto, while at home working very hard to develop programmes to address their local environmental, health, education, and economic issues. One of their campuses didn’t even have a phone, but they were doing some serious, well informed, and highly relevant education.

So what are we to do?

As Maurice Strong says, "The doomsday clock is ticking toward a day of reckoning if we fail to change our ways."

If we are going to change our ways, we have to have a core value, that places environmental concerns ahead of our desires for comfort, convenience, and cost. To do that, I think we have to love our world - the trees, the air we breath and water we drink, the bio-diversity that surrounds us, the night sky, the crunch of snow. And we need to give ourselves time to be in love with our world.

Do you have time to be in love with our world? Do you have time to go cross-country skiing or to go skating on the outdoor ice-rink? Do you have time to grow your own vegetables? Do you have time to gaze out of the window at freshly fallen snow.

As we kindle our love of nature, and our passion for our world, we are reconnecting, I think, with our God, who is passionately in love with all of creation. Perhaps such love and passion would strengthen our commitment to live in closer harmony with our environment.

It's not too late to save our planet. In the words of Maurice Strong, we have to continue to try. "We must. We have no other legitimate choice. The future of the earth as a secure and hospitable home for those who follow is in our hands."

2001 - Childhood Sexual Abuse: Speaking About the Unspeakable

April 1, 2001
Rev. Andrea Harrison

Responsive Reading:Psalm 139: 1-16, 23-24
Gospel Reading: Luke 8: 4-8

Who would like to talk about childhood sexual abuse? That's a question that is bound to get a mixed response. Well, some of us were able to do just that at a workshop on Childhood Sexual Abuse, held at the Martintown Community Centre on Saturday, March 24th.

I imagine that all of us attending that morning wondered who would show up, and what kind of conversations would occur around such a difficult issue. Would there be angry statements? Would there be accusations and counter-accusations? Would there be tears? Would I, as a clergyperson, be a lightening rod for people's anger and pain around the issue of sexual abuse by clergy?

With coffee and Timbits in hand, we sat in a circle, interrupted only by a collection of plants, flowers, and a candle lit at the beginning of the workshop. The smell of homemade soup wafted into the room as volunteers set up an adjacent room for lunch for us. The weather co-operated with sunshine, and no more snow, enabling participants and presenters to make the journey to the Martintown Community Centre.

The stage was set. It was time for the conversations to begin. And converse we did. Our two presenters were Patti Carson from the Sexual Assault Support Services of Stormont, Dundas, Glengarry, and Akwesasne, and Darryl Tessier, a Men's Project counsellor, who came down from Ottawa. They did a fine job of sharing information, answering questions, and raising issues. There were no harsh or angry words spoken. Nor was there that "deafening silence" that so often occurs when a sensitive issue like this is raised.

Questions were asked, perspectives shared, and there was learning. I'm sure all of us came away with a new understanding, or thoughts, or even questions. And we did it. We talked about the issue of childhood sexual abuse, and the sky did not fall in on us, nor the earth open up to swallow us up into cavernous depths.

This is not an easy topic for any community to discuss. Statistics tell us that there is childhood sexual abuse in every community, large or small. The Project Truth investigation has certainly highlighted the issue in this area, and has left the Martintown and Williamstown communities struggling to deal with the fact that Father Charles MacDonald, a priest well-loved and respected by many from his time serving in parishes in these two communities, has been charged with sexually assaulting children, and is awaiting trial.

The temptation is to say nothing. To keep silent and hope the issue will go away, but of course it doesn't.

Patti Carson, the presenter from Sexual Assault Support Services, told us that one in two females and one in three males have been sexually abused in some way by the age of 18. Patti defined sexual abuse for us as anything that affects the sexual integrity of an individual. It was also emphasized to us, that silence – refusing to face the issue, or acknowledge, or talk about it – creates an environment in which child sexual assault is more likely to occur.

If one in two girls and one in three boys have their sexual integrity invaded, then we adults are obviously behaving inappropriately with children, or saying sexually offensive or damaging things far too often, and maybe even unwittingly.

Many workplaces and schools have programmes to address the issues of sexual harassment and racism. Remember, there were actions, lude comments, racial slurs, that we used to think were harmless, or not worth reporting or confronting a colleague or friend about. We are now taught to understand that these actions and words can indeed be degrading or damaging, and are not to be ignored or overlooked. Perhaps we need to pay the same kind of attention to the inappropriate ways in which we interact with children.

And then there are the criminal offences – the sexual acts with children, that any adult should know are wrong and harmful. Adults sexually assault children of all ages, from infancy through adolescence. And the sad news is that in 85% of cases the child knows the offender. It may be a family member, a family friend, a respected member of the community who interacts with children at school, at the arena, in children's organizations, at church … and the list goes on.

As a mother of a two year old boy, with my second baby due in June, I would like to think that I can ensure my children will never be victims of sexual assault. The reality is that I can't. But I'm sure that even just my awareness of this risk will help increase their safety.

You've probably all received brochures from organizations such as the Cancer Society or Heart and Stroke, that identify risk factors and early warning signs.

Well, there are risk factors and early warning signs for childhood sexual abuse. You probably just haven't received such advice in your mailbox.

There are suggestions of what we can tell our children, to help protect them. This includes telling them, "Your body is your own – you don't have to let anyone touch you or hurt you." At the workshop, we talked about not demanding that our children kiss people they don't want to kiss, even if that means disappointing grandma, who is waiting with outstretched arms.

It's also suggested that we teach our children names for their body parts, and that there are parts of their bodies that are private and that no one has the right to touch without their permission.

At the workshop, it was also emphasized that we listen to our children. I suppose that my husband, Bill, and I have been practicing that already when two year old Sam comes to us, troubled by the invisible "bad guys" in the shadows at night. We take it seriously that he is bothered by these imaginary characters, and he now has a repertoire of things to say to them, including: "Boo, run away!" and "Reform yourself!" He also tells us when he is sad or angry. When he is crying, we or he will often differentiate between "crying tears" and the "I'm not getting my way tears."

We also need to listen to our children when they surprise us with their responses. This could include their not wanting to spend time with someone, who up until now has been a person whose company they have enjoyed, or whose time and attention (such as that of a coach) they have appreciated. That person may indeed have treated them well in the past, but we need to remember that those who molest children often set up trusting, positive relationships first, luring the children in. They then try to ensure that the child remains silent about any abuse that subsequently occurs.

As parents, Bill and I will continue to try to learn and be aware of ways of protecting our children and the children with whom we have contact.

As a member of the clergy, I am particularly concerned about the reality that child sexual abuse takes place in church settings with church leaders. This results in all the usual scars of sexual abuse, plus it may deny the victim of their faith in God, or of access to a worshipping community.

The following is a poem written by one woman who was sexually abused by a clergyperson. She was inspired to write this by the Rev. Marie Fortune at the June 23, 1995, Kirkridge Retreat for Clergy Abuse Survivors.

[Insert poem Stolen not Lost, from the book Victim to survivor: Women Recovering from Clergy Sexual Abuse. Editor: Nancy Werking Poling, United Church Press, Cleveland, Ohio, 1999.] (not reproduced due to copyright)

This sad state of affairs is slowly becoming more recognized. As a fairly recent graduate from theological college, I can say that this issue was addressed in my training. We talked about clergy misconduct and professional boundaries. We talked about the need for clergy self care to help prevent us from slipping into inappropriate behaviours, when we are overwhelmed by unmet needs. We talked about our responsibility as professionals and as church leaders to keep ourselves and our colleagues accountable to professional standards of conduct.

Education of the church membership is also important. I would like to say that sexual assault of children does not occur within my denomination, but that would not be true. I would like to promise that children will never be sexually assaulted on the church premises in which I serve, but I cannot guarantee that. You, as members of the church, need to know that there is no job title that guarantees that a person will not sexually assault children, not even the job title of clergy, or elder, or Sunday School teacher. You need to watch for signs of childhood sexual abuse even within your church setting, painful though that may be. And if you are worried that something inappropriate is going on, you need to speak up and take action. Keep in mind that under Ontario law, "If a person has reasonable grounds to suspect that a child is, or may be, in need of protection, that person must promptly report the suspicion, and the information upon which it is based, to a children's aid society."

Jesus told the parable of the sower who planted seeds. He interpreted the parable with the seeds being the word of God. We might wish to think of those seeds as children. Some of those children are trampled upon; some are consumed by the needs of others; some whither for lack of nurture; some are choked by silence and abuse; but some grow and flourish in safe and nurturing environments.

It is up to all of us to create communities in which the risk of child sexual abuse is minimized. Those of us in the church must not bury our heads in the sand, and hope that this painful issue will just go away, for it won't. Just as we speak of facing the pain of Jesus' crucifixion in order to discover the healing power of love and resurrection, we need to face the crucifying stories of child sexual abuse in our midst so that we can begin to heal; so that we can turn from deathly silence to life giving words and actions; so that we can enable the experience of God's love and resurrection, even in the shadow of the crosses of abuse. May God help us in this painful journey from darkness to light, and in the process may we create environments in which children and adults can grow and flourish in safety and love. Amen.

1999/2000 - An Extra-Ordinary Birth

1999/2000
Andrea Harrison

Gospel Readings: Luke 2:1-20, Matthew 1:18-25

Can you imagine what it would be like to have no stories about Jesus’ conception and birth? Imagine if the Gospel of Matthew had no story about an angel visiting Joseph, or wise men coming to see the holy family; or if the gospel of Luke did not contain the stories we heard this morning, or the story of the journey to Bethlehem, or of angels appearing to shepherds. Wouldn’t it be awful if these two gospels just began like the Gospel of Mark, with Jesus, as an adult already, meeting John the Baptist; or if they began like the Gospel of John, with theology about Jesus being in the beginning with God, but with no actual birth story?

I’m so glad that Matthew and Luke put these stories in their gospels, and that the editors of the Bible included these two gospels. The infancy narratives are delightful stories that bring enchantment into our everyday lives. They also tell us something about God, in terms of how God chose to reveal Godself.

In interreligious dialogue, the Buddha and the Christ are often compared, both being founders of world religions, and being revelations of God. (Thich Nhat Hanh, Living Buddha, Living Christ, Riverhead Books, 1995) The Buddha began his life as a person of the world. His name was Siddhartha Gautama, and he was born around 560 B.C. in northern India, near the border with Nepal. "His father was a king, but as India was not then united, it would be more accurate to think of him as a feudal lord with the environment he provided for his son not unlike that of a Scottish castle in the Middle Ages. … By the standards of his day his upbringing was luxurious. [He] wore garments of silk and [his] attendants held a white umbrella over [him].

"When Siddhartha was born, so the story runs, his father summoned fortunetellers to find out what the future held for his heir. All agreed that this was no usual child. His career, however, was crossed with one basic ambiguity. If he remained with the world he would unify India and become her greatest conqueror … a Universal King. If, on the other hand, he forsook the world he would become not a king but a world redeemer." (Huston Smith, The Religions of Man, Harper & Row 1986)

Siddhartha walked away from his wealth and status, in spite of his father’s efforts to direct him towards kingship. Siddhartha’s journey in search of enlightenment, contained some peril, but did bring him to a point of Great Awakening, where he became the Buddha. He spent the rest of his life teaching and guiding others, helping them to glimpse and live out something of the profound reality into which his own life had become immersed. I see God as choosing to reveal Godself through the Buddha.

Now, I tell the Buddha story as a contrast to the infancy stories of Jesus. The Buddha was born in a palace, amidst wealth, and a healthy, safe environment. Jesus was born in a stable, a hillside cave to shelter animals, at the end of a precarious journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem.

Now that I’ve given birth to a baby myself, I have a whole different perspective on this birth story. I was 34 when Samuel was born. Mary would have been no more than half my age. I had the support of Bill, to whom I had been married for 7½ years. Mary had the support of Joseph, a man to whom she was betrothed, but with whom she had only lived for a very short while.

I had excellent pre-natal care by midwives. Mary would also have been helped by midwives. Perhaps there were midwives in that group that travelled to Bethlehem, or perhaps the innkeeper’s wife found her a midwife. Maybe Joseph’s mother was their to help, but perhaps not, as life expectancy was short, and women often died in childbirth.

Like Mary, I was hoping to give birth to my baby at home. After 24 hours of labour, however, I chose to go to the Riverside Hospital in Ottawa, and was driven there in the comfort of a car.

Mary had no choice about making a journey. There was a census to be taken, by order of the Emperor, and she had to make that journey to Bethlehem. When did the contractions start? It’s one thing to have contractions while on a car journey, but another thing to have them while riding on a donkey, or walking from inn to inn looking for a place to stay.

When I arrived at my destination in Ottawa, I was wheeled into a private, sanitary room. I was given an IV to replenish my fluids, and an epidural that did a wonderful job in eliminating the pain. I asked for a face cloth, so that I could wash up a bit, and the nurse who was caring for me gave me a bed bath.

When Mary arrived at her destination, she had to give birth in a stable – an unsanitary place in an unfamiliar town. Who was there to bring her fresh water? To help make her comfortable? To reassure her?

When I gave birth to Samuel, Bill was with me, helping me, as he had been since the first contraction. We also had the services of nurses, a resident, and an obstetrician. When Samuel was born, he was in distress, and needed chest compression to get his heart going, and ventilation to get him breathing. The resident did the chest compression to the count of my nurse, and under the supervision of the obstetrician. Another nurse, who was an instructor in infant ventilation, got him breathing. He rallied quickly, but spent the night in an isolet in the nursery.

What was it like when Jesus was born? Both Mary and Jesus would have been at high risk of dying that night in the stable. Why would God choose to come into the world in such a precarious way?

After we got home with Samuel, what struck me was how totally dependent and vulnerable he was. Without us caring for him, he could not survive.

Why would God choose this course of entry into our world? How could God take on a role of being so totally vulnerable and dependent on humans? Why not skip the baby stage, and burst through in revelation to a healthy, grown adult, as God did with Siddhartha Gautama? Or why not at least choose a family who was living in safe and comfortable conditions, with ready means to care for a baby?

Perhaps God had a point, or even many points, to make.

The world then, not unlike the world now, was full of problems, and the people wanted big solutions – perhaps a saviour king who would make everything right, a superman to save the day.

What was God’s response? – No superman, no king, just a tiny, vulnerable baby, who, given the odds, could easily have died before term, at birth or in infancy. God came into the world in a way that required the care of people. God needed Mary and Joseph, a donkey, an innkeeper, a midwife, people to get food, water, blankets. God needed to nurse at Mary’s breast, or God, in the form of the baby Jesus, would die. God needed a family and a caring community.

Perhaps partnership and interdependency is what God is all about. Perhaps God is telling us that God will only work with and through we ordinary people, that there will be no divine conquests, or big solutions.

God was born into humanity in a stable, in a shelter for animals. Now we know what substances one finds in a barn – a little messy, a little smelly. So when we think our lives aren’t holy enough for God to live in us, or we think our lives are too messy for God to get involved, we just have to remember, that God, in Christ was born in a stable, in the presence of animals, feed, hay, and excrement. No situation is too messy for God!

Whether we live in mansions, slum housing, or on the streets; whether we are alcoholic, or wearing diapers in a nursing home; whether our families are intact or falling apart; God will willingly be born in the midst of our lives.

As you spend time this Christmas with people that you love, and the people of your community, take time to look into each other’s eyes and see the presence of God that is born into each one of us. Amen.

1999 - The Deafening Silence

November 21, 1999
Rev Andrea Harrison

Gospel Readings: Luke 2:41-47; Mark 10:13-16 (for children’s story)
Responsive Reading: Psalm #130
Hebrew Scripture Reading: Genesis 37:12-30; 39:1-5

It’s difficult to believe that brothers would leave their kid brother in a pit to die, and then sell him as a slave when the opportunity for making money presented itself. It’s difficult to believe that children can be sexually assaulted in their own homes, schools, arenas, and churches. It’s difficult to believe that our neighbourhood priest of a few years back, Father Charlie MacDonald, has been charged with sexually abusing children, not to mention the whole ring of prominent men in Cornwall – doctors, business men, lawyers, politicians, and others who have been named in what is now being called Project Truth. It’s hard to believe that when 10,000 workers came to build the Seaway, that that created a market for selling children for sex.

These stories are hard to hear, especially for those of you who know victims or perpetrators, or are a victim yourself. But now that Project Truth is proceeding, now that there are so many stories being told, now that abuse can no longer be denied, there is an opportunity to face this reality – to face it in such a way that those who have been hurt can tell their stories, and be heard and believed. That in the telling and hearing of the stories, there might be healing, and we might all learn how to prevent such atrocities from happening again. We might learn to pick up on the cues, to trust our gut instinct, or to have the courage to speak out or act when someone comes to us for help.

Part of our training as clergy now, in the United Church anyway, includes workshops and discussion on issues of power, abuse of power, sexuality, and sexual abuse. There is an attempt to speak about the issues openly, to keep us all aware, to create a climate where both victims and potential abusers will seek out help. The aims are prevention of abuse, and recognition of the need for healing in our society.

During the workshop on sexuality and abuse of power, that I attended when at Queen’s Theological College, I picked up a number of book resources, including this book, entitled, Don’t Make Me Go Back, Mommy: a child’s book about satanic ritual abuse. This book is written to be read by children who have been subject to satanic ritual abuse. It’s written to help them to know that what happened to them was bad, but that they are good. More and more such resources are becoming available to help individuals and families on the healing journey.

As I was reading this book at the book table, a classmate approached me, and we started talking, and she told me that her father, a Protestant minister, and the church elders used to sexually abuse her. So in case we Protestants are tempted to look scornfully at the Catholic Church and its priesthood, we need to be mindful that such abuses occur just as readily in the Protestant Church.

Stories of abuse are difficult to tell and to hear. Sometimes they are even difficult to remember. It still seems amazing to me that memories of childhood abuse can be repressed, and then slowly or suddenly emerge in adulthood. I have one friend whose memories were triggered by watching the movie To A Safer Place. I’ve also heard a couple of stories on CBC radio about women remembering childhood abuse. One woman described having a recurrent image of seeing a strip of light shining underneath a door. This image made no sense to her because this strip of light was above her. She puzzled over this until she realized that this would have been the view she would have had of light shining under the door to the basement in her childhood home, as she lay on the basement floor being raped by her father and others.

Another woman told a story of awakening in the night to find her body writhing in an unexplainable way. Over time, she realized that this was a "body memory", and that her body was reliving the experience of being raped as a child.

This is "crazy" stuff. No wonder survivors of abuse are tempted to think that they are going crazy. Unthinkable acts perpetrated against them lead to unthinkable symptoms. Who would want to talk about stories that no one wants to hear or believe, or symptoms that seem bizarre or crazy? Who would want to risk the public scorn?

I don’t know if any of you watched the Sheldon Kennedy Story when it was on TV a month or two ago. He was the hockey player for the Boston Bruins, who lead in charges against the hockey coach of his youth, Colin Janes. Janes was found guilty, but the names of the victims were not released to the press or the public.

In the movie, you see Sheldon Kennedy, father of a young child, leaving the courthouse with his wife. He stops at the bottom of the court house steps, and watches another child playing outside. He leaves the safety of anonymity and walks back up the courthouse steps to talk to the reporters. He tells them that he was one of the victims, and that he has decided to go public, because he doesn’t want what happened to him to happen to anyone else. Sheldon Kennedy, like Joseph of the Bible story found himself in a position where he could reach out and help others, and in doing so, was able to rise above the abuse that had been perpetuated against him.

When it came to the next hockey game, following his disclosure, Sheldon was not sure if he was going to be shunned by his team. To his surprise, his team members supported him, and congratulated him for having the courage to come out with his story. Then, perhaps even more surprising, as his name was called, as he came out onto the ice in Philadelphia, the crowd gave him a standing ovation. Captain of the Philadelphia Flyers, Eric Lindross, came over and shook his hand.

Are we, or would we be that supportive of those who come forth in our community to tell their story? If St. William’s/St Mary’s ever decided to have a service of healing and reconciliation, would we be supportive, or would we just look over our shoulder and say, "I’m glad it’s them and not us."? I think that old adage, "If we’re not part of the solution, we are part of the problem" runs true here.

Sexual abuse can happen anywhere, and unfortunately, I think the place that kids are still probably most at risk is in their family homes. Beyond that, there are all kinds of other situations in which abuse could take place. The setting for satanic ritual abuse in this book is the day care centre. Then there are babysitters, coaches, teacher, doctors, camp counsellors, and the list goes on. How can we be sure of our children’s safety?

The United Church of Canada is now working on a code of conduct – standards, training, and inspection – for all care organizations working under the United Church name. This will mean effort and expense, but will hopefully be a move to help keep our children safe in United Church environments.

Perhaps one of the best things we can do is to talk openly about these issues. I’m sure that after the Sheldon Kennedy story broke, there were kids who were able to take courage and tell someone that they were being abused or scared by someone. Silence serves no one, except perhaps the perpetrator. But then, those who perpetrate these crimes have often been similarly abused, and have not had opportunities for healing, so the cycle of violence continues.

We each have a responsibility to break the cycle of violence, and help a cycle of healing. All of us know victims, whether or not they have told us their stories. Many of us know perpetrators. We cannot turn a blind eye or a deaf ear. Children and adults pray to God to liberate them from the abuse and the despair. They wonder if God hears their prays, or cares about them. Unfortunately, God does not reach down directly with his powerful hand, or lift these people out of their life circumstances and embrace them to her bosom. It is up to us to be God’s hands, and to hear what God hears and see what God sees. When people ask if God cares, it is up to us to show a compassion that mirrors God’s compassion, and through our caring, to answer "Yes, God cares, and so do we!"

1999 - Seeds of Peace

November 7, 1999
Rev Andrea Harrison

Hebrew Scripture Reading: Genesis 4:1-16
Gospel Reading: Matthew 5:1,2,9

"On July 4th, 1863, and in the days immediately following the conflict, Gettysburg was a town with a substantial problem. The living population was outnumbered by that of the dead. Over 6,000 bodies lay in the fields and hills, crumpled among the boulders on Little Round Top, or wedged in the rock crevices of Devil’s Den. Immediate action was necessary. The hot July sun caused the bodies to decompose rapidly. Soldiers and civilian volunteers hastily dug thousands of shallow graves, often burying men where they had fallen or placing them in long rows of shallow trenches. In doing so, they did not take into account the elements. When it came, rain quickly washed away the scanty layers of soil above the interred dead, and what the showers did not disturb, local farmers did. These were fields where more than bodies had to be sown. Later as farmers plowed their land in preparation for crops, they uncovered more bodies.

We are very fortunate to live in a time and a country where our farmers don’t have to worry about turning up skeletons, or massed graves, or landmines in the fields. But we shouldn’t take peace for granted. We need to be constantly working to maintain a peaceful society. Just look at the community of Burnt Church. One day, native and non-native peoples are living side by side, civilly at least, if not as friends. The next day there is fighting, destruction of property, and clear lines of opposition between neighbours. A long awaited court decision came down in the Marshall case, and there were no contingency plans to peacefully manage such a ruling. Better to have forethought and maintain peace, than try to intervene once a war is waging.

I don’t think we appreciate how lucky we are that the "No" vote in the last Quebec referendum won by ½ a percent. As far as I can tell, there were, and still are, no contingency plans as to how Quebec might peacefully and fairly become a sovereign nation. When we were in Gettysburg, Bill commented that when the Supreme Court was deliberating Quebec’s right to make a unilateral declaration of independence, he had often heard Americans on CBC phone-ins saying that Quebec should just do as the Americans had done, and declare themselves a separate nation, without all this legal banter and politicing. It was suggested that Quebec take a page out of the American history book; but what page, and what cost. The American move to declare independence from Britain, we should not forget, resulted in the War of Independence. Bill suggested that an even better analogy was that of the Confederate states trying to succede, to separate from the United States of America, with the four year war, and the 600,000 soldiers who died in pursuit of that ambition. Just imagine if the border with Quebec became a war zone, not to mention the violence that could occur between French and English neighbourhoods, or between French and Native regions.

Surely peace is worth the efforts at negotiating, defining legal rights & consequences. Much as we in Ontario might like to think of Quebec as the spoiled brat in the federal family, given too many federal treats, perhaps that is a reasonable price to pay for peace. Imagine what it is like to be in a country where land is being traded for peace – perhaps the land on which your house is built. There is a price for peace!

Perhaps the scare of the close referendum vote in Quebec has mobilized behind the scenes discussions, negotiations, and plans, hopefully other than just sending in the military and declaring martial law.

What wisdom does our text from Genesis offer us as we consider our need to be peacekeepers? The book of Genesis is full of what I would call "mythic tales" – stories that are not about historical accuracy, but about conveying timeless wisdom. You may have noted, for example, that there are two entirely different creation stories at the beginning of Genesis – a discovery I didn’t make until theological college. You may also have noted that when Cain went out to settle in the land of Nod, east of Eden, God put a mark on him so no one would kill him – ie. there were other people around, not just Adam and Eve, their dead son Abel, and their banished son, Cain.

Cain and Abel come into conflict because they are treated unfairly by God. God accepts, with pleasure, Abel’s offering of the firstlings of his flock, and holds Abel in regard. God has no regard for Cain and his offering, however. God then has the audacity to ask Cain why he is angry and depressed, and tells Cain that if he does well, he will be accepted (loved?), but that if he does not do well, he could be overtaken by sin. I don’t believe God actually plays nasty games like that, but life certainly does.

If you remember back to the war against Iraq, there were newspaper articles trying to profile Sadam Hussein’s childhood, to try to determine influences in his life that had caused him to become the evil person we saw him as.

Being a peacemaker begins in our families. If we love our children, and don’t set one child up against the other, as God did with Cain and Abel, if we impart attitudes of respect and compassion, if we negotiate our way through conflicts, and try to act fairly, then we are cultivating peace and peacemakers in our home.

Beyond our immediate family, there are wider circles of family, friends, community – work, school, church, arena… . Peace can break down in any of these relationships – family members who don’t speak to each other for years, committees or organizations that become rife with infighting or distrust. People can become disenfranchized, and get angry or depressed, like Cain.

It’s not easy to keep the peace. It’s not easy to keep everyone in the family happy or relating harmoniously. This is the story of human existence since the beginning of time. But in the mythic story of Cain and Abel, there is a grain of hope. In the words of the writer, we hear God saying to Cain, "If you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but [and here’s the crunch] you must master it" – you must master sin.

Within the human community, there is the ability to overcome conflict, depression, anger. Within our families, God calls us to help each other overcome these challenges. Then if we were to think of all of the communities of people, of which we are a part – school, work, committees, church, arena … Glengarry County, Ontario, Canada, the world, then maybe we would have a little more compassion and tolerance.

If we work on our peacekeeping skills at home, and foster a love of peace, then maybe each of us can take those skills and desire for peace into all of our family and community circles. If the next Quebec referendum resulted in a "Yes" vote, would you, and your children, and your children’s children be peacemakers, or would you get caught up in the violent sentiments and add fuel to the flames. "Sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it."

God has given humanity a tremendous capacity for war and violence, but God has also sown seeds of peace in each one of us – small little seeds that we need to cultivate as part of the larger project of building peace in our world. And God, the master gardener, will work with us on this most ambitious, collective effort. Amen.

1999 - Is God Among Us or Not?

September 26, 1999
Rev Andrea Harrison

Hebrew Scripture Reading: Exodus 17:1-7
Gospel Reading: Matthew 21:23-32

Is God Among Us or Not? This is an age old question. In our reading of the story of the ancient Israelites, we might wonder why they would even ask this question. The evidence of God’s presence was all around them. As the storytellers recount the story, God had caused 10 plagues against the Egyptians, to convince the Pharoh to let the Israelites go free. Then as we read two weeks ago, God parted the Red Sea, enabling the Israelites to escape from the Egyptian chariots and soldiers, who were drowned behind them. Then last week, we read that God provided manna and quails in the desert to feed the Israelites. In their journey, the storytellers also recount that the people were led by a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of cloud by night. Surely this would be more than enough evidence that God was among them. But here they are, thirsting in the desert, asking if God was among them.

Well, how different are we? I’m a "preacher", but I still wonder from time to time about the existence of God – wonder if these are just beliefs we hold because we want to believe. There are certainly enough people out there who are sure that there is no God. And yet there have been times in my life when there was no doubt. Or maybe it’s not so much about thinking, but about that feeling of God’s presence.

In my preaching life, the times I am most sure of God’s presence is often when I am doing funerals. God’s presence can seem more noticeable in times of crisis. Or the alternative can be true – that God seems more absent in times of crisis

My life, to date, has been relatively crisis-free, and certainly, there have been no tragedies or real hardships in my life. I would say that I lead a blessed life. Of course I appreciate that tragedy can strike at any moment, so I try to remember to count my blessings.

In the absence of tragedy, I think I have sought out other experiences to stimulate my faith and assure me of God’s presence. As a kid, Church camp was certainly one of those experiences. As an adult, travelling with other Christians to Haiti, and then a year later, going behind the Iron Curtain to Romania certainly stimulated my faith and drew me into God’s presence.

In theological college, a trip to Mexico had its impact. We visited impoverished communities in the slums and hillsides. We learned of the social, economic, and political forces that keep many in misery and poverty, while others prosper and profit. We were held up at gun point by three "banditos" as we journeyed by bus. These experiences affected each of us differently. Some were traumatized by the experience of looking down the barrel of a gun. Bill Chambré merely noted that the barrel of the Colt 45, pointed through the window at him, was dirty. [Editorial note: Obviously, he’s been through too many military inspections, and has lost all perspective!]

Accompanying all of these journey experiences, was the presence of other Christian believers. And as we struggled with what we were experiencing in Haiti, Romania, and Mexico, we prayed together, read Scripture together, sang hymns and songs. The trips on their own would not have brought me into God’s presence in the same way – it was the active seeking out of God’s presence along the journey, through fellowship, prayer, silence, Scripture, hymns that made the difference

When we returned as a class, from Mexico, we were changed. There was an almost palpable "we/they", between those of us who had gone to Mexico, and those students and teachers who had not. And yet, we travellers had to return to that ordinary place of theological college. How could we relate to those who had not experienced what we had? How could we nurture their faith, or they nurture ours? It now seemed like we were from two different worlds.

We were back in school on the Monday, then Tuesday at 11:30 in the morning, it was time, as it was each week, for chapel. We and They gathered for worship – for hymns, prayers, readings, sermon, and communion. I don’t remember what we sang or read, but the preacher that week was Bill Morrow, professor of Hebrew Scripture, and the Hebrew and Greek languages. This is the professor who I think most profoundly influenced my appreciation for Scripture, and my quest to make intellectual sense of the Christian faith.

I have no idea what he said, but his words, his passion, and his presence that day in chapel broke through the emotions, the we/they barriers, brought us together again as a Christian community, journeying in the presence of God. God was among us, not left behind in Mexico. There were tears as we sat in the pews. There were hugs as we passed the peace before communion. There was that wonderful sense of oneness as we all partook of bread and wine. We also listened to the Joan Osborne song that I played during the children’s time. The music and the words spoke to us, and in the midst of all the passion, we all had a good laugh at the last line about God talking on the phone to the Pope in Rome.

When the chief priests and elders came to Jesus and asked him, "By what authority are your doing these things, and who gave you this authority?" we can hear them asking, "Is God among us or not?" The problem was that they didn’t want the answer. They didn’t want to know that God was indeed among them in this unexpected way. They wanted order, tradition, and the safety of encountering God in familiar ways, or not at all.

So here we have a dilemma. From my experience, religious practice with a community of believers has helped me to encounter God. But in this story of religious leaders in Jesus’ day, it seems that their practice of religion blinded them to the presence of God in the flesh, right in front of them.

Within a community of faith, we can be blinded to God’s presence, perhaps because we don’t expect to encounter God among us, or we’re bored, or irritated, or tuned out. Within a community of faith, we can also find meaning, and find a presence that is more than the sum of just those of us who are gathered. Next week, we will be celebrating worldwide communion Sunday – a chance to "taste and see" God as part of a global community. Will we sense God’s presence among us?

Perhaps our Bible stories today are inviting us to keep asking the question, "Is God among us or not?" Perhaps in the asking of the question we are inviting God to respond. When the ancient Israelites asked "Is the Lord among us or not?", God responded by giving them water to drink. When the Jewish leaders of Jesus’ time asked "By what authority are your doing these things, and who gave you this authority?", Jesus responded, suggesting that they were afraid to encounter the truth of the answer, so he gave them no direct answer.

Perhaps if we honestly ask the question, "Is God among us or not?", God will give us a sign, a glimpse of her holy presence, a touch of his powerful hand. And maybe that will happen for us sometimes in worship, sometimes in the midst of a crisis, sometimes in the midst of joy, but if we persist in asking for God’s presence to be revealed, if we draw upon the resources of worship, prayer, music, candle lighting, nature walks – whatever methods we find helpful – we will indeed have times that we know that God is present with us in our lives.

Then in those times when we do not quite feel God’s presence, we can harken back to those special moments when we did not have doubt, when we knew that God was walking beside us as protector and friend. In those times of doubt, we can also console ourselves knowing that faithful people of all era’s have asked the question, "Is God among us or not?"

1998 - World Day of Prayer Service

March 6, 1998
Andrea Harrison

The Women of Madagascar ask: "Who is my neighbour?"

I had thought that I would be on the Internet, researching further background on Madagascar in preparation for this talk. That's what I did last year when I was invited to speak at the World Day of Prayer at a rural church just north of Kingston.

But this year, I find myself thinking more about the life of our women's groups here, and our connection with our communities here, and with our sisters worldwide. And I've been thinking about my own journey in the church, and the impact that the women's groups have had on me.

I started out in the Methodist Church in England. We came to Canada when I was nine, from a small town in Essex, to the City of Toronto. We spent those first few days with friends of my grandmother, then spent three weeks in a hotel on Eglington Street, near Lawrence. Across the road was a Presbyterian Church, who welcomed this immigrant family, just off the boat, from distant shores. I spent the next 16 years as a faithful member of the Presbyterian Church, and awareness of overseas mission was part of my church experience.

By age 11, I wanted to become a nurse when I grew up so that I could work in leprosy missions overseas. That idea came from my church experience - I don't know if it was through Sunday School, or worship, or special events, or a combination of these, but that awareness came through my participation in church as a child.

As a teenager and college student, I was a member of a Presbyterian Church in Hamilton - Southgate Presbyterian. There, there was a missionary, Pauline Brown, who worked in North India, and came home to our church on furlough and visits. I remember her presence. I remember her, with her tanned skin, wearing a sari, a red dot on her forehead, her long dark hair tied back; telling us stories of the work she was doing with women in Northern India. Then, my goal was to work in India, and I could imagine myself, one day, also wearing a sari, and a red dot on my forehead.

What I also remember from those visits by Pauline, was the love and friendship she shared with the women in the congregation. The women were so delighted to see her. During her time away, they had been writing to her, fund raising, and praying for the missions and people of North India. There was a deep, ongoing committment.

During college, I became a member of the Women's Misssionary Society, and needless to say, was the youngest member. There was a study programme on Indigenous peoples in Canada. A native woman came and spoke with us, and I remember her teaching that when her people were making decisions that would affect their environment, such as whether to cut down a tree, they would have to consider the consequences that that would have for the next seven generations. Words of wisdom I have not forgotten. I wondered if at some time, I might end up working with Native peoples in our own country.

Then there was a guest speaker from CIDA, the Canadian International Development Agency, who spoke to a gathering of us at Calvin Presbyterian Church in North Bay. He told us jokes, and had us laughing, and then in the next breath, hit us with four paths of destruction that were leading our world to annihilation of the human species: nuclear war, over-population, pollution, and using up all our natural resources. He blew us away. Our laughter stopped, and we sat there facing this devastating reality. He then told us stories - stories of development, stories of hope. He told us of stories of broken tractors sitting in the fields, being replaced by animals that could not only pull the plow, but could provide milk for the family, and manure for the fields or for cooking fuel. I spoke to him afterwards about my dream of becoming an overseas missionary or development worker. He encouraged me wholeheartedly, and sent me a list of agencies that I might wish to contact.

That was in 1986, then in 1987, I was off to Haiti for two weeks to visit with Christians and to help with a building project, and then in 1988, off to Hungary and Romania, to visit with Christians behind the Iron Curtain. And then it was me who was giving presentations to the members of my church - telling of the desperate situations I had seen, but of the hope that existed as we worked together in partnership with Christians overseas. During that time, which is when I was working as an occupational therapist, I took up the sponsorship of two children--one in Haiti, where I had been, and one in India, harkening back to my experiences with the W.M.S., and missionary, Pauline Brown.

Then there was a period where my interest in overseas work waned. I moved again, became a member of the Anglican Church, and at that time, invested most of my energy in my paid work, which was very demanding, and I turned to the church for solace, not for further responsibility. I was nurtured by the Anglican liturgy, and by receiving communion, or mass, every week.

We moved again, and the next thing I knew, I was a member of the United Church, and off to theological college to become a minister. This was perhaps a time when all my church experiences converged. I took a couple of courses on overseas work and development. I did a four month internship in Nicaragua. I was sustained through the demands of studies, by weekly participation in chapel, and receiving the eucharist. I turned to services of spiritual direction offered through Providence Centre, at the Catholic convent in Kingston. I still meet monthly with a Catholic lay woman who has been my spiritual director for, I guess it's three years now. During this time, two nuns have also kept me in their prayers, in a ministry of support, that could easily go unnoticed by people, including me, but does not go unnoticed by God.

So what does all this mean for you, as you are gathered here today for this World Day of Prayer?

Well, what I am trying to say, is the reason that I am here today, is because I have been mentored by those who have gone before me.

As you look around you today, you might be wondering about the future of the World Day of Prayer services in our community, or about the life of your women's groups, or Churches, or mission programmes.

You have probably done a lot of work in your churches over the years - been fund raisers, organizers, visionaries, pillars of the church, pilgrims of prayer. Who is following in your footsteps? Where are they today? You cannot let your vision, your work die. You cannot be a dying breed. The torch, the vision, the passion, the work, has to be passed on to the next generations.

"Well, they don't come," you say. "They're not interested." "They don't have time."

Well, yes and no. There are 10 young women in grades 7 through 9, in the confirmation class I am currently running. I invited them to come today, but of course, they have school. But they are good readers, and they are willing to do drama in church, and I know the World Day of Prayer service sometimes includes the option of drama.

Where are the other young women, who aren't in school? Well, they are at work, or if they are at home, perhaps they are looking after young children, and what would they do with the kids?

And what about the men? Well, a lot of them are at work, but some of them are retired; some of them could, if they wanted to, come to church between chores.

For a long time, you have been the workers, the doers, the leaders. I would suggest that the task ahead of you is that of mentoring - of looking for every opportunity to pass on your vision, work, and hopes to the next generations of women, men, teens, and children. And it's not just a matter of stopping cold turkey one day, and saying, "Okay, you do it." Or of inviting others to do things your way.

For example, the way of corresponding with overseas missionaries used to be by sending letters and parcels by boat, and waiting over the subsequent months for a response. This week, I've had two letters from missionaries, sending thanks for the cards sent air mail, from the confirmation class. I can correspond with another missionary friend by e-mail. I get up-to-date briefings on political and development actions in Nicaragua, sent to me, via the internet, from a Canadian in Managua.

I would say that this World Day of Prayer service is of vital importance. Without this service, women, our neighbours, who are struggling in other countries would be denied a voice. In Canada, women have come a long way in claiming their rights and working for justice for themselves and their children. Our sisters in many other countries are just beginning that journey, and they need our support. We can't abandon them now, just because, relatively speaking, things are good for women now in Canada.

When I was in Nicaragua, I was invited to speak at a rural women's church conference on violence against women. These women didn't drive to the conference themselves, like we would, they piled onto the back of trucks and pickups, children in tow. In Nicaragua, where there are women, there are children. The Indigenous women, on the North Atlantic coast, where I was for my internship, had an average of 10 children each, so you would never find a gathering such as this with no children. I met one woman at this conference, who was the same age as me at the time - 32 years old. One of the first questions asked between women who are meeting for the first time is, "How many kids do you have?" Quantos ninos tienne? This 32 year old woman and I managed to astound each other with our responses. I said none, and she said nine!

Anyway, at this conference, I spoke against the teachings of the Bible that say a woman should be silent in the church - easy to do when you are an affluent white woman heading for ordination in the United Church, of course with the limitation that what I said in English had to be translated into the indigenous language - Miskito. At the end of the session, an older woman, probably a great grandmother, dressed in black, came up to me and hugged me, and said, "Tengi, tengi, tengi!" - "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I don't know quite what the impact was for her of what I had said, I just know that for her it was important. And it is important, to our sisters around the world, that we listen to them, and that we join in with our voices. We do that at the World Day of Prayer.

Another thing that makes this service so great is that it is ecumenical. Ask any of your pastors or ministers to get seven churches together for a shared worship service, and there would be much groaning and tearing out of hair, not because it's not a good idea, but because it would be a lot of work. But you do this every year, and you know how to do it.

And it is part of your heritage. Women across Canada have been meeting together for a day of prayer, Eleanor MacNaughton tells me, for a hundred years, and that for over 70 years, there have been a worldwide days of prayer. Everyone who has ever darkened a pew on Sunday morning, should be invited to be here today, but it would have to be accessible.

I know you've tried having this service in the evening, but weren't able to draw many others in, and lost some of your regulars, who don't like going out or driving at night. But this is an opportunity to mentor. It has to be accessible in some shape or form to the next generations C to women, men, youth, and children. Of course, as I speak to you, I'm also speaking to myself, because we face the same dilemmas with our Sunday morning worship.

There are two aspect to this gathering this afternoon - worship and then sharing refreshments together.

Well, what would it be like to have a pot-luck evening meal, followed by a worship service for teens and adults in the sanctuary, and a children's programme of prayer and activity on the theme country? What if some of the youth in our churches did some internet research on the countries, and made posters for the walls, or information sheets for the meal tables? What if the children made prayer cards or decorated candles for us to take home and continue to use in offering prayers for the country and people, about whom we have just learned in worship? What if the men shared in the readings, and the teens shared in drama? What if there was a children's choir to sing for us? What if whole families came out because this was where the evening meal was being served?

I don't know. I'm a dreamer. But I'm an optimist, and I believe that where there is a will there is a way. Dreams are planted, and are passed on from generation to generation.

The previous generations have been good mentors to me. I never expected to become a minister. But here I am today, in clerical robes, further shaped by the influence of this community - wearing a McDonald of Glengarry tartan, and a Celtic cross. Who knows how I will be further shaped in the future. But if I remove this robe, there are the seeds that were first sewn for overseas mission. I did not become a nurse. I have not worked with people with leprosy, but I have travelled to India, to meet up with girls sponsored through the Christian Children's Fund. I have worn a red mark on my forehead, a tikka, placed there by grateful parents of Foster Parents Plan children in Nepal. I have sat with a Miskito woman, who was grieving the death of her husband and talking to her friends in a language I did not understand.

You are called to sew many seeds, and not all of them will grow strong roots, but know that when you do plant seeds, God is the master gardener; that with God's tender touch, seeds grow into trees, that shelter and nurture the next generations. May God give us all vision and courage to help to cultivate the garden. Amen.

---

Evelyn Murdoch and Pauline Brown, May 1998

Evelyn Murdoch worked as a Deaconess of the Presbyterian Church in the Synod/Synodical of Hamilton & London from 1957 to 1992. She has continued to be busy since retirement, sharing her leadership and ministry skills and passion with a variety of groups. Among other things, she is currently President of the Hamilton Presbyterial, and a member of the Board of Governors at Knox Theological College. Evelyn is a member of my home church in Hamilton, and is one of the people who sowed seeds for me. She lobbied for me to attend the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in 1984 as a young adult observer. She was the first person to suggest that I consider ministry as a vocation. I was in grade 11 at the time, and I rejected her suggestion--quite strongly she tells me.

Dr. Pauline Brown is a nurse who has worked for many years as a missionary in Jobat, North India. Her focus has been that of rural health care services. She has helped to set up rural clinics, and has been in charge of training of nurses at the Jobat hospital. She has been manager of the children’s centre, and has been responsible for the evaluation of rural health care services. In May, 1998, she was awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Divinity by Knox Theological College.

1998 - Peacekeepers and Peacemakers

November 8th, 1998
Captain Eric Lacasse, CD

Hebrew Scripture Reading: Micah 4:1-5
Gospel Reading: Matthew 5:1-9

Today is the Remembrance Day Service. November the 11th is the day to commemorate the memory of the soldiers of the "Great War", which ended 80 years ago. Nowadays, we also commemorate soldiers of the Second World War, Soldiers of the Korean conflict, and the new breed of veterans - the Peacekeepers, and the Peacemakers.

Who are these Peacekeepers/Peacemakers?

At the front line are the soldiers, the Peacekeepers. In the second line are the spouses, children, parents, grand-parents, and friends of these soldiers; Peacemakers in their own way by providing direct support to the Peacekeepers. In the third line are the communities; the communities who support the Peacekeepers’ efforts by organizing the sponsorship of orphanages in Rwanda, or simply by providing financial support to humanitarian organisations like the Red Cross. True Peacemakers they are, because without them there would be no food to distribute, like in Somalia, no needed supplies to rebuild countries and no teddy bears to give to children in Rwanda. There would be nobody to tell them that peace is better than war.

From the Peacemaker at home to the Peacekeeper deployed in a foreign country, there is a very important link, a critical link.

As one of the Peacekeepers who worked in Somalia, I have seen the devastation of civil war. I have climbed on mountains of grain that had not been distributed because warlords would not authorize it. I have visited hospitals where wounded men, women, and children could not be cared for because warlords would not allow it.

Somalia was a peace-enforcing mission. Show of force was the only language the warlords understood. The task of protecting humanitarian assistance was achieved. The task of restoring and maintaining order and stability was achieved in the Canadian sector.

For the Canadian soldier it was a very stressful mission. Not knowing when, where, and from which direction danger would strike. Always wondering if they would get the bullet; or if you would be the one that had to extract the steering wheel from the driver’s stomach, who had hit a landmine; or more simply die in a vehicle accident far from your loved ones.

Yes, there was real danger in Somalia, like in war movies: heavy machine-guns, mines, mortars, tanks, artillery; everything was there. It did not stop Peacekeepers from enabling freedom of movement to humanitarian organizations, so they could distribute food and give treatment to the ill and wounded. As well, the Peacekeepers rebuilt schools, destroyed landmines, and taught Somalians how to destroy these mines.

Yes! An unfortunate incident occurred in the Canadian compound: an unfortunate incident that cost the life of a Somalian teenager. An incident that should never have happened, but it did. The trust between the Peacekeepers overseas and the Peacemakers at home broke. The chain broke, an internal devastation was awaiting the soldier upon his or her return home. A devastation that is yet to be healed, in some case, An emptiness in the heart that can neither be filled by all the sweat of all the good work that has been done, nor by the memory of all those young Somalians saying, "Canada is a great country!" "Canadian soldiers are good, very good!" A devastation that has left a deep scars.

Rwanda was a peacekeeping mission, where our presence alone was enough to end the civil war. Had the UN Security Council acted faster, many more lives would have been saved. Once the civil war ended, the Peacekeepers concentrated their efforts at rebuilding the country. Within five months, the country was back to life. Peace was re-installed, hospitals were re-opened, mines were destroyed, and children were cared for in orphanages. Water and electricity were re-established. (We all know the importance of these two commodities since the ice storm.)

The Peacemakers at home provided the (relief) supplies to the Peacekeepers and humanitarian organizations, and together they made a tremendous difference for the victims of the war. Rwanda was a very successful mission. Yes! There was stress in Rwanda. A stress that the soldiers could bear because of all the good work that was achieved and the support provided by the peacemakers at home. Two months within the deployment, one of my tasks was to escort the liaison visit team from NDHQ Ottawa for five days. After three days, the liaison team leader mentioned to me that we had it pretty good. I brought the team to a massacre site, a chapel were all the corpses had not been buried yet. Once they saw men, women, children, and babies that had been massacred with machetes, they clearly had a taste of the stress we were living with.

Peacekeeping operations are very demanding on soldiers; it puts them directly in the service of peace. Canadian soldiers are among the best peacekeepers, if not the best in the world. However, Soldiers cannot succeed in this endeavour if the Peacemakers at home don’t support them. Let’s hope that the Peacekeeper-Peacemaker chain never gets challenged again, so Canadians, together, continue to build a better world.