Sunday Reflection: "If you choose, you can make me well"

Today's reflection is brought to you by 

Mark 1:40-42.

A Prayer for Brett

The man 

came to you

with his heart in his eyes,

saying,

"If you choose, you can make me clean."

"I do choose," 

you reply --

over and 

over and 

over.

You choose us

no matter how

messed up 

and complicated

our lives get.

You reach out to us

in the love of those 

around us,

in the beauty of the world

with which you surround us,

in the moments 

that fill us with joy and delight

-- and even

in the painful times when we

reach the bottom

and have nowhere to go

but up.

You choose us.

You are with us.

And you wait for us

to choose you, 

too.

Our messed up, 

complicated,

beautiful,

painful lives

need your help.

Help us to choose

you,

to choose

the good road

starting now.

+Amen

* * * * * * *

Pastor Quinn invited Brett to come in off the street for church this morning at the Community of Emmanuel, our ecumenical community in the inner-city. Brett came in and sat by the door, and we ended up chatting as we waited for the service to start. He told me he wasn't sure why he accepted Quinn's invitation because he hadn't been to church in years, so I assured him that ours was a low-key and no-pressure kind of service, and he told me a bit about his life on the streets. 

Once the service began, I spent most of it helping a fellow with very cold hands, and passing coffee out the door to people waiting outside because it was a full-house kind of day. As the service ended, I checked in with Brett. He was very emotional and talked about how much he wants to get off of drugs, and how afraid he is that they've already damaged him beyond healing. 

Today's reading about Jesus choosing to make the leper well aligns with Brett's story. Just as leprosy divided families in Jesus' day, addiction and anger issues have been a wedge between Brett and his family for the past five years, and he's homesick. Quinn's invitation to pray with our community -- and Brett's acceptance of it -- might be a turning point for him, or it might not. 

That puts this young man whom I barely know near the top of my prayer list for the week ahead. I hope and pray that today's service at Inner City Pastoral Ministry can be the moment that Brett realizes that Christ does want to restore him to his community, as he did the leper. I hope that Brett will call Quinn for a meeting in the days ahead that will bring him healing, reconciliation, and reconnection with his family sooner than he expects. 

If you have any spare prayers for healing and hope, Brett can use them.

The most recent suffering

Last night I listened to the voices of the parents of the young man who killed 11 people on James Smith Cree Nation, and cried along with them.

It's a parent's deepest suffering to lose a beloved child, never mind two children.

And to have to watch as children make choices that lead to destruction not only for themselves, but for others too, is gut-wrenching. You could hear it in the apologies and sobs of Myles and Damien's parents.

A friend of mine tells me that he has reached "saturation point" with all these Indigenous issues, and wonders what happened that sets their suffering on a higher rung of the existential ladder than anyone else's. Suffering is universal, he says, so how is theirs worse? 

It's a mindset that's easy to fall into if we live in a world of white privilege. 

While it's true that we all have our heartaches and sorrows because suffering is universal, what makes the trauma of Indigenous peoples so much worse is that they have been treated as less than human and ignored for generations by settler peoples (our ancestors included) who, knowingly or unknowingly, saw Indigenous lands and livelihoods as free for the taking. 

It's centuries -- not weeks or months or years of injustice -- that has led to the gangs, drugs, addictions, and violence that took 12 people down, including two sons of the couple whose hearts are forever broken. 

Our hearts need to break with theirs before we can really understand and true healing can begin. 

If suffering is universal, I pray that healing can be, too.

A new neighbour shows up

Pope Francis arrives in his Fiat

He's just a few blocks from here. His cortege arrived yesterday at about 1 p.m., a long line of about two dozen vehicles -- suburbans, Prestige sprinter vans, and two ambulances -- surrounding his little white fiat with the papal flag. 

For three days before he arrived, we heard a couple dozen RCMP and Edmonton Police on motor bikes practicing their motorcade skills, sirens blaring. I actually called the Catholic Pastoral Centre and suggested that Pope Francis probably didn't want to sound like a fifteen-alarm fire.

This morning my mom and I watched from her front window as he and his cortege left for Maskwacis to begin his "pilgrimage of penance" among Indigenous People here. Then I went home and watched the ceremonies online, beginning with a time of prayer at the Ermineskin Cemetery, and a simple apology to the residential school survivors gathered there. The emotion reflected in the faces of the elders listening to the Pope's speech made me cry.

His presence here on Turtle Island (North America) is a continuation of the fulfillment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's Call to Action #58, asking for the Pope to apologize for the Church's complicity in the devastation caused by Residential Schools. But as the National Chief of the Assembly of First Nations, RoseAnne Archibald, said, apologies are only as good as the actions that follow.

Still, we can be hopeful that, as this week's papal visit progresses, Pope Francis will speak more and more boldly about the steps the Catholic Church must take to make amends for centuries of injustices. It was the Church's Papal Bulls that led to Terra Nullius, the belief that non-European lands were empty and available for exploitation, allowing for the colonization of Indigenous lands and the subjugation of peoples and their cultures not just in Canada, but around the globe. 

If Pope Francis can open the Vatican Records related to the experience of Indigenous peoples and clearly admit to centuries of church disrespect, neglect, and injustice toward them, he will, in my books, live up to the radical example of the humble little saint from which he takes his papal name. Even better would be if he would liquidate some of the Church's many financial assets to actually finance programs that help suffering Indigenous people to heal physically, mentally, emotionally, sexually, and spiritually. 

St. Francis of Assisi stood up against all forms of violence in his day -- he understood that all of creation is beloved of God, and he walked away from wealth and prestige to stand with the people of his time who were ignored by those who held power.

Dear neighbour for three days, Pope Francis, please do what is most needed. There are so many praying for you. Indigenous people and me included.

Growing like the garden on Canada Day

I do love living in Canada... but I am only too aware of the way our country is divided right now between those who want to fight for the freedoms they feel have been trampled because of past health mandates and the collapsing economy, and those who wish the freedom convoy folks would go to Ukraine and come to an understanding of how free we Canadians actually are. 

I am also very mindful of how the establishment of Confederation 155 years ago was a trampling of the rights of our First Peoples, and the centuries of pain inflicted on them by colonists (European settlers and everyone who came after) make it hard to feel like celebrating.

So I am having a low-key Canada Day, putzing around in my garden between rain showers, and moodling in my mind about this beautiful stolen land we call home, and ways to live in appreciation of the freedom many of us enjoy as Treaty People. We have much to be grateful for, but also many reparations to make. There's much to ponder as we try to heal the divides among us, to welcome truth and work for reconciliation, and to be open to newcomers fleeing places of conflict. 

Happy Canada Day. May we all open our hearts to listen to one another, and create cooperation and healing in our country.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share two videos that show how much things can grow in one month. Can we grow bigger hearts as Canadians the way my fava beans grow? I think so.

A simple Christmas Prayer for 2021

Creator of all that is,
You are with us.

You hold your children

and our broken world

in your tenderness.

Let your Love 

shine through us

and help us

to care for each other

and all that is.

+Amen.

* * * * * * *

Most people will see Madonna and child, but this image has many other layers. It came to me as the pandemic began. I found myself climbing into God's lap to just be held. As time went on, I turned and looked with Creator at our world's brokenness, praying for wholeness for everything that is. The eagle feather is a sign of Creator, so it became part of the image early on.

Merry Christmas, dear readers. May you know yourselves to be held in love no matter what comes.

Patience for something beauty-full

My six-year-old blooming
Lionheart amaryllis

Some years ago, I asked a florist to send an amaryllis to my dear friend in Belgium as a Christmas gift. Gaby was delighted and wrote to me, saying, "she is very beauty-full!" So the next fall, I ordered a bulb for myself, and planted it so it would bloom for Christmas. And yes, she was very beauty-full!

She also managed to produce a roundish pod where one of the flowers had been -- because I transferred pollen between the blossoms with my fingers. I allowed the pod to ripen into a hard brown shell, and eventually it cracked and opened to reveal many black, flat and crinkly seeds about the size of a loonie (dollar coin here in Canada).

I turned to the internet for information about how to grow an amaryllis from seed, but all I could find was that they produce the plants in Florida, and it takes about four or five years from germination to flower stage. Wow, that long, I thought.

I was game to try for germination at least, curious what those flat black seeds would do. So I spread them out in a large-ish shallow pot, covered them with a fine layer of soil, and kept them well watered. Before long, the pot appeared to be growing fine grass.

That fall, I transplanted a dozen of the grassy plants into small pots and left them to grow in a sunny window through the winter. By the next spring, they looked like baby leeks, and I put a half dozen into four slightly larger pots and set them outside, bringing them indoors before first frost. The next summer, I kept only the three healthiest specimens. For three years, they spent their days in the sunny back yard or the south-facing kitchen window, depending on the season.

But last fall, as they were ending their fourth year, I cut the leaves from bulbs about the size of medium onions, shook the dirt from their roots, and put them in my basement cold room for a winter's nap with my original bulb, which has bloomed every year after its winter break. 

I promptly forgot about them all -- until after Easter!

The one that didn't bloom

In the middle of an episode of insomnia, I remembered! The next morning, I planted them in some good potting soil and set them out in our little greenhouse, where they put out some healthy looking leaves... and two of the three plants sent up a flower stalk! All that patience had paid off!

I gave one amaryllis to my sisters and one to my mom, and the flowers didn't disappoint! As Gaby said, they were "very beauty-full." Perhaps the third plant hadn't stored quite as much sunlight as the other two, as it hasn't blossomed. Maybe next year!

The lesson I am taking from this is that people are like amaryllises. We all grow at our own pace -- especially when it comes to discovering and accepting the truths of life. For some people, it takes much longer than others. 

In this season of uncovering many painful truths about Canada's colonial history and its myriad injustices against our Aboriginal Peoples, we need to be patient with one another, not to give up on each other. If we can bring each other along with gentleness, kindness, atonement, forgiveness, and healing, hopefully we can all bloom together into something very beauty-full.

Please pray with me for that, and let's all do what we can to further reconciliation...

The Ridge Key Phoenix

One year ago today, my friend, Allie, lost her home and business to the Camp Fire at Paradise, California. Allie is a force for positivity and good in the world, a warm, loving person who draws people into her gentle and fun-loving presence like a magnet draws iron. Today, November 8th, is an emotional day for her and everyone involved with the healing and rebuilding of Paradise, as there will be different events marking a very difficult anniversary.

I spoke with Allie this morning, and she reminded me of the video she shared to her Facebook page earlier this week. I decided to share it here because Jesse Mercer's idea is inspired, brilliant, and life-giving. It's a sign of the resilience of the people of Paradise, and a reminder that art inspires healing, community, and hope. I wish I could be there this morning to see it unveiled because though the pictures are amazing, they can't really give a sense of the sculpture's size, scope and meaning. If you have the time, please watch to the end -- you'll get a better sense of what an artwork like this means.

My prayers today are for the many people of California who are climate change refugees because of so many terrible fires, and especially for those from Paradise, that they may find strength and goodness as they rebuild their lives in many different ways.

https://youtu.be/mi-M1g4fAJU

It is well with my soul

As I've mentioned before, I have the privilege of accompanying three of the able-bodied young adults who are assistants to our L'Arche core members with disabilities. Basically, that just means that I listen to the assistants, appreciate them, and encourage them on what is sometimes a very difficult journey. And as I've mentioned before, often I find that in the listening and sharing, I inadvertently receive really beautiful gifts.

Last week during an accompaniment session, I heard about Mariette*, a core member who is struggling with pain that the doctors are unable to identify at present. The team of assistants who are trying to help her are baffled, and things at the house are a bit chaotic as she is unable to communicate the problem, her schedule has become unpredictable, she doesn't sleep well at night and just isn't like her usual self.

L'Arche assistants consistently amaze me with their patience and love as they live with their core member friends, and the mutuality of their relationships flow both ways -- assistants often share anecdotes about how the ones they care for care deeply for them in return. My concern as an accompanier is always with the wellness of the assistants in their roles as caregivers. Though it had been a particularly taxing week for the young woman who shared with me about Mariette, when I asked her how her spirits were doing in the midst of the struggle, she played me the song below on her phone and told me, "I listen to this song every night before I sleep, and it really is well with my soul."

The video below isn't the exact version that she played for me. Providence led me to this version, which just came out just this week, with an album to be released Friday by young mom and singer-songwriter Andrea Assad. It gives me goosebumps with its simplicity and beauty. Her voice is a treasure, don't you think? And I really wish her well! (You can find her website here.)

The hymn's lyrics were written by a man named Horatio Spafford, a well-to-do Presbyterian businessman who suffered several serious calamities in his life, the worst being the loss of 4 daughters in the collision of two ships at sea. As he travelled near the place where the disaster occurred while on his way to catch up with his grieving wife, who was the only one to survive the original journey, these words came to him. In the following years, the Spaffords' losses were seen as divine punishment by their church, but that didn't fit with their understanding of God, so they sold everything and went to Jerusalem to help found a Christian group who provided soup kitchens, hospitals and orphanages for poor Muslim, Jewish and Christian people there.

Coming from a Catholic background, I had never heard Horatio Spafford's hymn before (every Christian denomination seems to have developed its own hymns and ignored all others, somehow, which is another good reason for ecumenism!) The melody is gorgeous, and while I struggle a little with some of the lyrics, I find it deeply moving, especially knowing about the Spaffords' struggles, the struggles in Mariette's situation, and the strength and solace the song has given in both cases. My young assistant friend had no way of knowing what a gift this song was to me in the week that I missed my godfather's funeral. We all come up against "sorrows like sea billows" on occasion, but worship music's potency can bring us healing and hope.

Whatever struggles and challenges you may be facing, may it also, somehow, be well with your soul -- simply because God loves you and never leaves you, no matter what. Have a good Lent.

*I use pseudonyms for all my L'Arche friends.

The healing power of community

Helena*, the oldest member of our L'Arche community, suddenly took sick last week. Unfortunately, her common cold became pneumonia in a hurry, and on Saturday morning, she was taken to the hospital because she wasn't doing well. Over the following days, her oxygen levels dropped, her heart seemed to be affected, and yesterday the doctor told the community leader that she might not recover.

Emails went out in the afternoon to let everyone in L'Arche know that Helena wasn't doing well, and to invite them to pay her a visit, though she wasn't conscious. Last night, every home sent a little group of visitors to her semi-private room, and though our gatherings were rather subdued because we didn't want to bother the other two ladies sharing the space, people spoke and sang quietly to Helena.

Later in the evening, after most of the others had gone home, I was able to visit and remind her of a few stories from her life that I've heard from others too far away to visit. Before leaving, I kissed my thumb and made the sign of the cross on her forehead. My arm was in the way and I didn't see her reaction, but the two other friends in the room said, "Did you see that? Her eyebrows went up." I laughed and said, "We need to get all the men in the community to come and give her a kiss, and she'll be just fine!"

Helena may have appeared to be sleeping, but all the visitors who came and everything that happened in her little curtained cubicle last night were clearly very important to her. This morning our community leader sent an update saying that when she visited Helena this morning, she was responding to voices, mumbling and opening her eyes, and humming along to "You Are My Sunshine." Her heart's rhythm is stronger and more regular, and antibiotic treatment will continue. I don't think we're saying good bye yet!

It's just another example of the fact that the most potent drug of all is community, also known as human connection. We've seen a similar situation recently in our L'Arche community where Harry*, who suffers from the onset of dementia, had the worst of his symptoms alleviated with the help of a better drug regime and the love of his friends, who never gave up on him even when the situation wasn't looking hopeful.

And this morning, it seemed my thoughts were aligning with the universe yet again when I bumped into an article by Johann Hari. He sees the necessity of community, too, and talks about it in a book he's written about drug addiction and the importance of human connection for recovery. He wrote an excellent summary which you can access by clicking here. It hits upon the truth, a truth that the L'Arche community discovers over and over again -- every day, really:

There is incredible power in community.

*I use pseudonyms online in place of the names of my L'Arche friends.

Wisdom, Truth and Reconciliation (Day 4): Remembering the Children

There's another full day of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission today. Events can be found by clicking here. This evening around 6 p.m. there will be a gathering of people at the Shaw Conference Centre who will walk in solidarity (as I understand it) to the Alberta Legislature to wrap up the TRC. All are welcome.

For today, I close with the prayer with which our volunteer training began on Thursday morning, which I think originated with Anglican Church leaders on the 2008 Remembering the Children tour across Canada....

Remembering the Children

God of our Ancestors,
who holds the spirits of our grandmothers and grandfathers
and the spirits of our grandchildren,
Remembering the Children,
we now pledge ourselves to speak the Truth,
and with our hearts and our souls
to act upon the Truth we have heard
of the injustices lived,
of the sufferings inflicted,
of the tears cried,
of the misguided intentions imposed,
and of the power of prejudice and racism
which were allowed to smother the sounds and laughter of
the forgotten children.
Hear our cries of lament
for what was allowed to happen,
and for what will never be.
In speaking and hearing and acting upon the Truth
may we as individuals and as a nation
 meet the hope of a new beginning.
Great Creator God
 who desires that all creation live in harmony and peace,
Remembering the Children
we dare to dream of a Path of Reconciliation
where apology from the heart leads to healing of the heart
and the chance of restoring the circle,
where justice walks with all,
where respect leads to true partnership,
where the power to change comes from each heart.
Hear our prayer of hope,
and guide this country of Canada
on a new and different path.
Amen.

Click here to see Day 1...
Click here to see Day 2...
Click here to see Day 3...

Wisdom, Truth and Reconciliation (Day 3)

Day 3 was my day to volunteer, so I didn't get to listen to very many sessions. But there were experiences worth remembering...

... a man whose painful past made many of us cry... and add our tissues to the collection for the sacred fire...

... a woman who said, "I forgive my abusers, not because they deserve my forgiveness, but because I deserve to be free of the pain and hatred. I am free!...

... Terry Lusty, whose poems I appreciated yesterday, telling me that once he became a teacher, he taught in a First Nations school that burned down, and it was forced to relocate to an old Residential School... he never thought he'd have to enter a Residential School again, and here he had to teach in one. It must have been difficult beyond imagining... I wish I had asked him how it was for him...

... two women chuckling at class pictures they found in the archives (where I was volunteering) over the expressions on their faces, and the faces of their friends...

... looking around the tables at the archives area where so many people were poring over photo albums and feeling it was, in a way, like a big family reunion... except for the pain...

Click here to see Day 1...
Click here to see Day 2...
Click here to see Day 4...

Wisdom, Truth and Reconciliation (Day 2)

Today's moodlings from the Truth and Reconciliation commission...

... how beautifully our First Nations sisters and brothers lead prayer... rather than imposing their words, they invite everyone gathered to pray, and then stand away from the microphone to talk to Creator for a moment in their own language, allowing all to do the same...

... on a survivor's wall... "I am 72 years old, and still hurting. I need help"...
Another survivor wrote: "Don't just say sorry. You's also need to ask us for forgiveness"...

... the story of a young boy who was called ugly by the authorities at his residential school, and the abuse he suffered not only at their hands, but at the hands of other children who scapegoated him, though he was one of them. Imagine being 8 years old and forced to wade through the 3-hole lavatory pit in search of a handkerchief that a nun insisted you had used as toilet paper, though you knew full well that someone had stolen it from you...

... Emcee Stan Wesley leading the crowd in stomping our feet to make it sound like a herd of buffalo running through the convention hall, out the doors and down the river valley...

... the prayer by First Nations poet Terry Lusty that appears in today's Edmonton Sun newspaper...

... the story of a young girl whose 13-year-old brother was beaten to death by a nun. Now a woman in her seventies, his sister just wanted his story, and his name to be known. Michael Antoine...

... the story of another young boy who had hated and wanted to kill an abusive priest for over 50 years, but upon meeting his abuser at a funeral, the survivor apologized for his hatred instead, and realized that he was further along the road to reconciliation than the perpetrator of his abuse...

... the taped voice of a cancer-ridden and dying Jack Layton, former NDP leader of Canada, sharing the story of how his grandparents only survived their first winter in Canada through the kindness of New Brunswick Mi'kmaq  people living nearby who showed the newcomers where to find the sweet potatoes and how to live off the land... and Jack's undying commitment to the healing of First Nations people. His son, Mike Layton, brought the recording to the Edmonton TRC from Toronto...

... the post-traumatic stress flashbacks still suffered by survivors...

... the wisdom of parents who told their children, "We didn't give you up; they took you away"...

... the care of the people in the red and white vests who pass through the listening crowds with glasses of water, boxes of facial tissues, and paper bags to save the tear-filled tissues so that all tears are honoured by burning in the sacred fire that is carefully tended outside...

... the decision of many survivors to let go of bitterness and anger in favour of forgiveness...

... the mention of two good Catholic priests who accepted the hurt and anger of two survivors and created a safe place where their healing process began...

... the 2000+ prayer shawls made so that people who have to speak or hear difficult things can wrap themselves in courage...

... the long road ahead... and the challenge of reconciliation...

... and so much more. I encourage you to attend either in person at the Shaw Conference Centre in downtown Edmonton, or to follow online by clicking here for daytime broadcasts.

Here's a mini-documentary by Wab Kinew, one of today's honorary witnesses at the Edmonton TRC...

Click here to see Day 1...

Click here to see Day 3...

Click here to see Day 4...

Wisdom, Truth and Reconciliation (Day 1)

Seven flames in the logo represent the seven sacred teachings:
love, respect, courage, honesty, humility, truth and wisdom
(on the volunteer t-shirt, which also says "It Matters to Me.")

"In order to educate the [Aboriginal]children properly we must separate them from their families. Some people may say that this is hard but if we want to civilize them we must do that."

-- Hector Langevin, 

Public Works Minister of Canada, 1883

Wisdom. There wasn't much of it around when it comes to Canada's dealings with First Nations people in the past. But Wisdom is the theme of the final leg of Canada's Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), which is taking place here in Edmonton for the next three days.

I'm attending sessions at the Commission hosted at the Shaw Conference Centre in downtown Edmonton (on Treaty 6 Lands) not just as a volunteer, but as a Canadian who has grown up with First Nations friends. My friends' families were affected by the Indian Residential Schools which took aboriginal children as young as five years of age from their parents in an effort to turn them into Canadians according to the misguided colonial (and racist) version of what it meant to be Canadian. The stories told by many residential school survivors about loneliness, abuse, neglect and the destruction of their families and culture are devastating -- and something all Canadians need to understand. Most First Nations people have had a very, very, very bad rap since the first schools were opened well over a hundred years ago (the last one closed in 1996), and many of their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren are suffering now because of the pain their parents and grandparents still carry.

These days of Truth and Reconciliation are a step in the long journey toward healing. Today, thousands of people converged to begin four days of sharing stories, listening to and supporting one another, and offering or working toward forgiveness. There were many moving moments, and I'd like to share a few impressions/experiences from the point of view of one who stands in solidarity and support...

...waiting for my daughters outside the conference centre with a survivor named Ted as he had a smoke. He told me that if his residential school had been anything like the private sports academy up the road, there would be plenty of First Nations NHL players. "We were every bit as athletic, and there were lots of us in the junior leagues, but by the time we came of age, we had too many problems from the past following us." Ted has come a long way in his healing -- it was clear in the way he talked with me,  the light in his eyes, and the number of people who lit up when they saw him and came to greet him...

... chuckling with a man from Onion Lake when he asked my daughter for help to turn off his cell phone. Seems we both need teens to help us understand technology...

... the heartbeat of the drums during the Grand Entry procession...

... weeping with the man from Onion Lake as an Honour Song was sung for Residential School Survivors...

... a panel of five youth sharing their hopes for reconciliation and the change it can bring to relationships between all Canadians...

... a young non-aboriginal woman expressing the shame she felt when she first heard about Indian Residential schools, and her complicit shock and silence... for which many of us feel bad...

... Justice Murray Sinclair, Chair of the TRC, encouraging First Nations and other youth listening to the youth panel discussions to discover the answers to four important questions:
Where do I come from? (Discover your creation stories and the meaning of your name/clan)
Where am I going? (Discover relationship with the Spirit world that will welcome you one day)
Why am I here? (Discover what am I called to do for family and community) and
Who am I? (Discover and take my rightful place in creation with both pride and humility)...

... having the privilege of hearing the sharing of five survivors and intergenerational survivors who courageously told stories of how the Residential School experience affected them and their loved ones...

... sharing the moments above with my kids and halls full of people who want to see healing in our country...

If you are interested in the TRC but unable to attend, some of the proceedings are being broadcast live -- click here for daytime broadcasts. To learn more about events in Edmonton, check here. And to learn more about the Residential School experience in Canada, here's a link to an interim report called They Came for the Children.

I'll be moodling more on this subject over the next three days...

Click here to see Day 2...
Click here to see Day 3...
Click here to see Day 4...