Sunday Reflection: Mountaintop hospitality

Fences to keep out the homeless...

Today's reflection is brought to you by 

Mark 9:5.

I've always liked Simon Peter. So many of his responses to the wonder of walking and working with Jesus make sense to me.

Today's Gospel reading (Mark 9: 2-10) is another case in point. Jesus, Peter, James, and John have climbed a mountain where Jesus is shown in dazzling white glory, and they are joined, quite miraculously, by Moses and Elijah. 

I can see Peter, standing in total awe of the moment, mouth open in amazement, thinking, "Wow! This is incredible! And so beautifully unexpected!" So his offer of hospitality for the three holy men he is with makes absolute sense in terms of resting in the moment and enjoying each others' company. Not to mention how he would have loved a chance to kibbitz with the holy men of old. How cool would that be?

But most of the sermons I've heard on this reading have been somewhat unkind to Peter. They don't give him any credit for his willingness to truck back down the mountain and bring back tents for Elijah, Moses, and his Rabbi, not to mention the other trappings required for hospitality -- food, water, wine, and bedding for the night. Peter was willing to go the extra mile for a heavenly camp out.

My own city isn't so hospitable. People living in poverty in downtown Edmonton have been pushed elsewhere, fences have been erected all over the inner-city to prevent camps from reappearing, and our police chief and provincial politicians are congratulating themselves that they no longer have daily reminders of the struggling poor who have no place to live. The officials have done their utmost to soothe their own consciences without lifting a finger to put permanent roofs over anyone's heads.

The provincial government is patting itself on the back for serving 300 people so far at the "reception centre" it opened a month ago for people who have been displaced. That's maybe 10 people per day who have moved into temporary shelters, when we know that there are probably 1500 more people than shelter mats available. Besides, downtown social service agencies were already doing the same work more effectively when they knew exactly where to find the folks in the camps who needed their help. Now it's much harder with folks spread throughout the city.

... and more fences...

What's really terrible is that sheriffs and clean up crews are still working daily to disrupt the lives of those who prefer to live outdoors among friends they trust than in overnight shelters where they are surrounded by strangers who might steal their few possessions. Clearly, shelter mats are not the solution to homelessness. Permanent, supportive, and affordable housing is the only answer (and costs less than the daily wages of so many ruthless sheriffs and cleanup crews!)

So today, I'm inviting St. Peter to pray with me, and you can too, if you like:

Creator,

thank you for this life you have given me.

As Peter said, it is good to be here.

Rabbi Jesus, 

as Peter enthusiastically asked 

to make dwellings for you, Moses, and Elijah,

I ask that you inspire government leaders

to make many dwellings

where people who lack

... and more fences......

the kinds of homes that work for them

may live in safety, warmth, and dignity.

Give your spirit of compassion

to those who are blind 

to all but their own needs,

who try to soothe their consciences

by choosing to hide their faces from

poverty 

in its many forms

rather than heal it.

Inspire those of us who have homes

to do what we can

for those who do not. 

Help us all

to work together to build

beloved community

by ensuring that no one is excluded

and that everyone

is cared for.

Knock down all our fences,

O God.

+Amen

P.S. My friend, Glen, wrote an excellent piece for a national paper this week. You can find it by clicking here.

Our hearts must break

Today we remembered 

one hundred and fifty-six people 

who died in our city 

only since last June 

just because they 

had 

nowhere to go.

Our hearts 

should break.

There were honour songs and bagpipes, 

tears and hugs. 

Two hundred carnations 

found rest at the feet of 

the statue

across from City Hall,

a statue that reminds us 

that until all are cared for

we are not "whole."

Our hearts 

should break.

Painted lady butterflies 

were released 

in honour 

of one hundred and fifty-six lives 

cut short 

because of lack of "home" --

compassion,

family,

forgiveness,

kindness,

light,

love,

protection,

room,

safety,

shelter,

warmth, 

and everything else

that "home"

means.

Our hearts

should break.

The ones remembered were 

siblings, 

friends, 

children, 

parents, 

grandparents, 

relations, 

all 

genuinely beloved people. 

They are gone too soon.

Our hearts

should break.

What do their deaths mean to us?

What would their deaths mean to you

if they were your

siblings, 

friends, 

children, 

parents, 

grandparents, 

relations, 

all 

genuinely beloved people?

 

More compassion fatigue?

Or a deeper desire to work 

so that everyone

has 

somewhere to go?

We are all one family.

Our hearts

must break

and we 

must act.

Change must come.

The Social in social justice

Photo by Matt Collamer on Unsplash

Last week, I was asked to write an article for the national social justice newsletter for the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. I share it here, for reflection purposes, as it sort of ties in with my previous moodling.

The Social in Social Justice 

As a volunteer for the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, I have never questioned the need for social justice for those living under the poverty line. It’s clear with every home visit that there are people in need, but our faith teaches us that if God’s justice truly lived in our land, no one would be struggling to survive. No one would have to choose between food or a roof overhead, and society’s fears about unemployment, crime, addictions, loneliness, and mental health issues would simply cease to be. Instead, we live in a world where the gap between rich and poor continues to grow, and where racism, sexism, homo- and transphobia continue to take their toll on peoples’ mental health and well-being, especially during this pandemic. 

But even with the corona virus raging, SSVP volunteers continue to think, talk and act toward making social justice a reality. Those who are able in these days continue to deliver groceries and furniture to our sisters and brothers in need while trying to follow the protocols set by our health experts and other community leaders. We continue to engage in advocacy for those who live on the margins by contacting officials who hold power when it comes to improving public policy, and participating in fundraising where possible to increase our capacity for outreach. 

But sometimes I wonder if we’re maybe missing something. I don’t question the need for social justice, I just wonder where the Social part of it is when it comes to really connecting with the marginalized during this pandemic. I wonder, is it enough to make a few phone calls and deliver some groceries? Is a load of furniture really the most important thing for that family of migrants? And even before covid, when Ray used to come to the Clothing Room every week for another pair of mittens because “somebody stole my last pair, and I know I’m only supposed to come once every ninety days, but my hands are cold, and I have a buddy who also needs mittens, and it’s really good to see you, Maria,” was it really mittens that he needed most? 

The Social in social justice is about creating social change for the common good of all, but isn’t it also about building human connection? As a volunteer, I find it easy to focus on the need for justice, the things that we can do to improve the lives of those who are struggling to make ends meet, or to find a job, or to get out of situational domestic violence. 

Providing material things is relatively easy. But often it’s the immaterial that is the deeper need -- the need for community, the need to be seen as a valuable and valued member of society. I guess what I’m wondering about is whether all this doing we are doing doesn’t also need an equally large side order of being during this pandemic. How can we be available for more than just the time it takes to drop things on the doorstep when we are told that we have to keep social distance and it’s cold outside? How, when making contact with someone in need, can we listen more, to offer not just material, but also emotional and spiritual support even when we can’t be so physically present? How do we build up the family of God in a time of pandemic? 

I suspect that while many of the brothers and sisters we serve through our work for the Society of St. Vincent de Paul appreciate the goods we deliver to them, what they really crave is eye contact, a listening ear, some cheerful conversation, and perhaps a heartfelt prayer that things finally go right in their world, a prayer that mentions them, their loved ones, and their needs, and gives them an extra helping of hope. 

 As for Ray, I saw him on the street the other day, and I have no doubt that he was looking for my smile far more than those mittens. It gets lonely on the street sometimes. He was delighted to have a socially-distanced chat when I asked him how he was doing, what was new, and whether he likes living in his sister’s basement. His eyes teared up when I told him that whenever he comes to mind, I pray for him. 

For me, that’s the Social in social justice – a ministry of presence to let the people we serve know that we see, hear, and truly care about them, COVID-19 protocols notwithstanding.

The Last Breakfast

 "Coffee?" 

"Please. Triple triple."

"Cocoa porridge or chicken vegetable soup?"

"Both."

Yesterday morning, I was privileged to help with the Last Breakfast at Camp Pekiwewin (Pekiwewin means Welcome Home), a place for the homeless of our city that was created by volunteers from Black Lives Matter and many other groups. When our city shut down the Expo Centre shelter facility at the beginning of the summer, many people stepped up to close the gap. They started by erecting a tepee and sacred fire which were soon surrounded by a small city of tents, situated at the foot of Walterdale Hill and Bridge, across from the city ball park in clear sight of downtown commuters. It survived on volunteer power and donations from the wider community offered by many people who understand the importance of caring for those living on the margins.

I only made it down to camp three times, twice to serve porridge and coffee and once to drop off a donation. I was impressed by the young adults who were in charge and their strong sense of service and social justice. They showed the City of Edmonton that caring for the homeless is not optional, but essential, insisting on the dignity of all those living in the tent community and demanding their rights to a place where they felt safe. 

In effect, Camp Pekiwewin shamed the City into taking action sooner than later to set up shelters for colder weather, and woke many Edmontonians up to the usually hidden fact of homelessness. Now that winter is arriving, the camp is in its last days. Yesterday's meals were the last to be offered by volunteers, and today there will be a closing Round Dance for the community as a whole.

And make no mistake, it was a well-organized community considering that we are in pandemic times. Everyone did their best to live by covid-19 protocols given the roughness of the situation. The people onsite knew each other and looked after each other. One fellow appeared at the kitchen window five or six times yesterday morning, taking away bowls after bowls of porridge, clearly serving his friends -- there was no way a beanpole like him could eat that much, that quickly. Most folks were polite while waiting in line, ensuring that the person ahead of them had picked up all their food before stepping up to the window. There was plenty of good-natured banter, and considerable dismay that this was "The Last Breakfast." The residents are now expected to go to one of three shelters the city has arranged, and the community is saying its farewells to each other.

I couldn't help but feel the weight of sadness in the air, that these friendships and Camp's sense of community is being divided up. Though I definitely wasn't one of the regulars, I felt the camaraderie and sense of purpose in supporting the common good just by the way everyone welcomed and kibbitzed with a relative stranger, and put me to work organizing the kitchen or dishing out porridge. The volunteers, some of whom practically lived onsite, figured out what the community needed and worked very successfully to create it. Social work, medical care, security, food, and clothing were provided by a large group of committed Edmontonians who volunteered their time and resources, and who clearly had a stake in the common good provided for at Camp.

And now, while many of Camp's residents will go to the shelters, I suspect others will retreat into more isolated camps in the River Valley once again. They are the ones I worry about the most. In February during a dog walk, I happened upon a fellow who had built himself a tiny plywood shack in the ravine not far from here. He was friendly, and clearly used to roughing it. He might be able to survive winter, but will he be able to avoid covid-19 with the numbers rising in our city? And if he does get sick, will he be able to access the help he needs? God, I hope so.

This morning, the snow is really coming down. Our health officials tell us the virus is really ramping up. The temptation for those of us living in relative comfort and security is to settle down for a long winter's nap. The challenge, especially in these days of pandemic, is to continue to work for the good of all those around us, to remember to support the foodbanks, the inner city agencies, and the many volunteers and service organizations that help our low-income brothers and sisters. Maybe I can't serve porridge at Camp again, but there are other opportunities to donate or work for the good of those who struggle...

Bent Arrow Traditional Healing Society

The Bissell Centre

Boyle Street Community Services

Edmonton Food Bank

Hope Mission

Homeward Trust

The Marian Centre

The Mustard Seed

The Society of St. Vincent de Paul

Guest Moodler: Seeing beauty, seeing God

This past week -- well, all summer, really, I have been struck by the beauty of the world around me... the bumblebees in the bee balm and the hummingbird at the honeysuckle vine... the children riding past on their bikes... the cloudscapes in the sky... the perfection of purple beans hanging from their vines or blanching on my stove... the wonderful people in my life... and those in need of compassion who can benefit when we see their beauty and reach out to them...

My best friend spoke about this beauty at her church a few weeks ago when they began six Sundays of reflection called Beguiled by Beauty, and I have been internally moodling (musing and doodling) on her words ever since. Cathy graciously allows me to share her reflection here. 

Where are you beguiled by beauty, God's visible and invisible presence in your life? I invite you to Stop, Linger, Observe and Wonder at God's marvels wherever you may find them this week, but especially, in the marvel of your own soul...

Beguiled by Beauty

Cathy Coulter

God is beguiled or charmed by beauty. But what kind of beauty are we talking about? This is more than our superficial definitions of pretty. This is about the sacred worth of things that we become aware of when we sense the divine. We have all had experiences of this. I was visiting my brother and family in Cranbrook last weekend I came across a photo of my nineteen year old niece as a new baby and I was so moved by the beauty of of her newborn face. When I showed it to my niece, she said, “Ack!”, not impressed. I told her some day she would know how beautiful she is. I hope that day is not too far in the future.

It is hard for us to see our own beauty. This seems to be the human condition as we lose our innocence and experience the hurts and traumas of life. But we are told that we are created in the image and likeness of God. We are worth all that God is worth and we have a value that cannot be measured. No one can diminish or destroy that value because it belongs completely to God. There is that in you which no one, including yourself, can trash talk. St. Teresa of Avila describes our soul as a castle made of diamond. In the centre of that castle is God waiting for us to come near. Teresa says, “Where would the King of Kings rather be than in the middle of us. That is the most beautiful place in all of creation!”

Life would be so much easier if we realized this, that we are good and beautiful. That we don't have to prove ourselves to be better or worse than others. That there is nothing we have to accomplish to be worthy of being simply here, on earth as part of creation. If we all knew this it would be like being in heaven. Our soul is God’s heaven but we don’t realize it. Jesus knew it, and he knew it about everyone and everything he saw. And just like Jesus, when we know it about ourselves, we will know it about others. And others will see it in themselves, mirrored by us.

Compassion springs from this well of divine love within us. We access this well by slowing down and paying attention to what is right in front of us. When we slow down, God can catch up to us and show us glimpses of that divine beauty. We’ve all had experiences of this too. Moments when you’re caught off guard in the ordinariness of life when you have a moment of spaciousness and wonder and gratitude. It might be in nature, it might be with your loved ones. It might be among the pots and pans. It might happen when you’re walking down the street and see a stranger or when you’re sitting in church and a word or piece of music touches your heart. Maybe tears arise, or maybe you blink and the moment is gone. These are moments that God is sharing with us, moments of beguiling beauty. God is sharing God’s very self with us.

How can we be someone who God doesn’t have to run after so hard? I saw a nice little practice on the internet the other day. A 5 minute retreat called SLOW...S..L...O...W. Stop, linger, observe and wonder. I tried it out on a walk when I was feeling more like getting my walk in than stopping and lingering. I stopped in the presence of a beautiful acacia tree that has caught my eye more than once. I actually set the timer on my phone for 5 minutes and I stood in the shade and lingered. I felt a little silly but I focused on observing the tree. I gradually relaxed and noticed all the dragonflies floating around, and the sharpness of the blue sky against the yellow-green leaves. I gradually developed a sense of wonder which stayed with me as I continued on my walk, for a few more minutes anyway, until my thoughts began to chase each other around again. That’s a very intentional practice. But the moments that catch us off guard can also be times to practice SLOW. Stop when you notice you’ve become absorbed in something beautiful. Linger in that space. Observe what is happening inside you. Allow a feeling of Wonder to arise. Bit by bit, God’s grace will allow you to know the beauty of yourself, and of others and of all things. Pretty, unpretty... all beautiful.

This well of divine love that we can access when we become aware of these moments of beauty are the springs that nourish that cedar tree in Ezekiel (31:3-7). 

You are like mighty Assyria,
    which was once like a cedar of Lebanon,
with beautiful branches that cast deep forest shade
    and with its top high among the clouds.
4 Deep springs watered it
    and helped it to grow tall and luxuriant.
The water flowed around it like a river,
    streaming to all the trees nearby.
5 This great tree towered high,
    higher than all the other trees around it.
It prospered and grew long thick branches
    because of all the water at its roots.
6 The birds nested in its branches,
    and in its shade all the wild animals gave birth.
All the great nations of the world
    lived in its shadow.
7 It was strong and beautiful,
    with wide-spreading branches,
for its roots went deep
    into abundant water.

You are that tree giving shelter and shade to others. You are majestic in your beauty with your spreading boughs, your roots reaching deeply into an abundance of water.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Laudato Si Sunday Reflection: What the Ruler of the Universe wants for Christmas

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Colossians 1:15-17.

You, 

O Christ,

are God,

and you reveal God to us

in all that you have created.

In you,

all was, 

is, 

and will be created,

beyond our telescopes and microscopes.

Nothing exists apart from you;

we all come from you

and depend upon you

for our very substance

and our every breath.

The powerful have no power before you

and the weak have all their strength because of you.

You hold everything together,

yet we behave as though everything depends on us.

Help us to remember

You are in charge,

and to withhold our judgments

in favour of yours.

May your reign, 

your justice 

come to us all

and save us.

Help us to see and do

your will,

and to give you

what you really want

for Christmas this year.

+Amen.

* * * * * * *

Consider yourself warned -- in this week's paragraphs of Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home, Pope Francis and his encyclical writing team bring out a dog's breakfast (British slang meaning a confused mess or mixture) of issues that our world isn't handling particularly well due to the fact that many of us give priority to personal interest rather than the common good.

I'm focusing on paragraphs 120-123 of Laudato Si, which can be found by clicking here and scrolling down. Only four paragraphs today because a fifth would take us into a different topic which we'll cover next week.

As the seventh chorus of Laudato Si reminds us in paragraph 120, everything is interrelated and all of God's creation -- from the human embryo to his mother to the oilsands worker to the wildlife that lives near the tailings pond -- all are important and really, how can we assign them particular value, especially when we are not God and we can't see the Big Picture?

When human beings try to play God and make decisions about who should thrive and who should die; when practical relativism says, "it is inconvenient, therefore it must go"; when we devalue life in any form, we end up with a dog's breakfast "whereby different attitudes can feed on one another, leading to environmental degradation and social decay" (paragraph 122).

Let's backtrack a moment to practical relativism. Basically, it has to do with seeing everything in life in terms of how it serves my personal interest. It's interesting to me that practical relativism really took hold during the age of the 'me generation' which is comprised of people my age and older.

The world's present leadership came of age in a time when there was mostly peace and prosperity in the Western World, and many of us developed a sense that we had worked hard for our wealth and security, forgetting that there were others like us in poorer and more dangerous parts of the world who were working just as hard or even harder, but were unable to reach our standards of living because of many factors beyond their control (some of those factors created by our high standard of living). Some of us have lost sight of the fact that everything we have is blessing and gift from God, and now think that because we can afford it, we are entitled to a life of luxury and convenience, and that the world revolves around us and our desires.

But it doesn't, and it shouldn't. All God's creatures should be as fortunate as we are, and we shouldn't rest on our prosperity until they are.

In paragraph 123 we read that "The culture of relativism is the same disorder which drives one person to take advantage of another, to treat others as mere objects, imposing forced labour on them or enslaving them to pay their debts." And it leads to the dog's breakfast which we see in our newspapers almost daily (some of which is named by Pope Francis and friends in the continuation of paragraph 123):

abortion
sexual exploitation of children
abandonment of the elderly
human trafficking
organized crime
the drug trade
commerce in blood diamonds and endangered species
buying of organs of the poor for resale or experimentation
elimination of unwanted children
(and this list hardly begins to account for the hardships faced by other species... like loss of habitat, pollution of soil, water, and air, climate change, etc.)

And all of it, all of it, springs from our inability to really appreciate the value of life in its many forms. If I have a bone to pick with Pope Francis and those who helped to write Laudato Si, it is that is that they fail to acknowledge that we humans might need to employ some form of reliable birth control to limit our numbers for the sake of all earth's species, all God's creatures.

Be that as it may, I completely agree when they note that

[relativism's] "use and throw away" logic generates so much waste, because of the disordered desire to consume more than what is really necessary. We should not think that political efforts of the force of law will be sufficient to prevent actions which affect the environment because, when the culture itself is corrupt and objective truth and universally valid principles are no longer upheld, then laws can only be seen as arbitrary impositions or obstacles to be avoided (paragraph 123).

A quick word about our "use and throw away" logic as we come toward Christmas -- could this year be the year to do what Christ suggests we do for the poor and marginalized among us? To offer a different sort of gift?

How shall we celebrate your upcoming birthday,

Ruler of the Universe?

You give no directives

about spending so much on gifts

or cooking massive meals.

Instead you remind us:

“I was hungry and you gave me food,

thirsty and you gave me a drink,

a stranger and you welcomed me,

naked and you clothed me,

sick and you cared for me,

in prison and you visited me.” (Matt 25: 35-36)

You can’t get more direct than that.

Help us to be your compassion this Christmas.

+Amen.