It is the season. The earth brown after the snow has disappeared . . . and now the first hints of green.  Mixed feeling.  So loving the spring. But 20 degrees Celsius on the first of April with snow drops in the garden!?.  Strange.  Another sign of climate change that should be changing us  . . . or just another weather anomaly? But the overall message is clear.  Spring is coming.  And so is climate change.

And of course at the heart of the Christian story — this weekend — the story of death and suffering before resurrection.  The mystery of this.

And so it is perhaps fitting that it is now that I end this blog on WordPress to start something new.  The new website for the ministry is now up and running (www.risingspirit.ca.) and I have have moved my blog there.    You can find the blog by following this link:  http://blog.risingspirit.ca/

I hope you visit and keep in touch.  Thank you Word Press.  And thanks for reading, following and commenting on this site. Hope you will follow to my new location.

Blessings,

John

This little sketch has really spoken to me lately — especially as we move closer to Good Friday and Easter. It comes from a book I’ve just finished by the late British missionary, Lesslie Newbigin. After decades as a missionary in India he returned to Great Britain to find it a thoroughly secular country that itself called out for missionary work. He brought his years of thought and the depth of his encounter with other faiths — especially with Hinduism – to his thinking of Christian mission in a secular and multi-faith world.

This little diagram sums up how he sees where the church needs to encounter and dialogue with other faiths. The stairs represent the high and rich religious achievements of all religions and ethical systems. It is easy to assume that true and rich dialogue will therefore happen at the highest rungs of the ladder of human religious achievement. This is like the often quoted proverb that humans are all climbing the same spiritual mountain by different routes and all will eventually meet at the summit.

Newbigin suggests otherwise. For the Christian, he says, we understand that God meets us at the bottom, in the valley. Not in the place of human success but in the place of human failure and brokenness. The place of the cross. To begin the dialogue and encounter we must get off our high horse “as one who possesses the truth and holiness God”. Rather we begin with self emptying.

It is in this meeting at the bottom where he says that Christianity has something unique to offer. At the bottom — at the place where people do the worst to each other — we believe God meets us and makes the place a place of transformation. That is the central message of the cross of Jesus we have to share as Christians. And further, paradoxically, we witness that this place of failure and death turns out to be a place of new life — because God meets us there.

It seems to me that for too long Christians have preached down at others from the heights. Now the work is to walk down the stars in the way of self emptying that we see in Jesus.  (See Philippians 2:6-8) To draw close to those who suffer and carry a cross . . . whoever they are. And God knows there’s enough sadness in the world and in people’s lives to come down close to meet people there. And yet we do so in faith that this also is the place where they and we will meet God. And that will make all the difference.

That is my experience.  Is that your experience as well?


I’m dreaming of daffodils and dandelions. I know it’s crazy and a little premature — why it’s only March in Canada! But with the weather these past days  . . . how can I help myself. It’s a foretaste of what is to come. Yes, there will be still some winter left to be sure. But real hope takes root with this taste of spring — new life irrepressible.
I love daffodils. We carefully brought and transplanted hundreds of bulbs from our farm house where we used to live, to our garden here when we moved to Guelph. With their arrival — and they are poking their heads up out of the ground now — I feel like I am greeted by an old friend. I treasure both their beauty and the story they represent.
I could liken them to my church experience. The heritage of the church and its culture has been cultivated and handed down and passed on to me. It is precious and beautiful. It’s something I in turn want to cultivate and pass on as well.

But what God desires is more insidious and transforming of the whole landscape. Like a dandelion. Billions of seeds. Springing up everywhere — from cracks in sidewalks, to abandoned places, to the first plant to brave toxic lawns of uniformity poisoned by our desire for control and order.

Jesus used the image of a mustard seed. Equally tough, growing in the most unlikely and difficult places. Growing impossibly tall in situations of low water and poor soil but growing and thriving and offering rest and shelter and a home for the birds of the air.
I love that. Something beyond our control. Something irrepressible. Truth and justice and human hearts transformed spring up from an irrepressible love. God’s work. God’s new season.
Do you long for that spring too?

Ever since our Pub Conversation last Wednesday (March 3^rd – fyi – our next conversation is Wed. April 7^th ) I’ve been thinking about what the Holy Spirit might be calling me to give up in these times. We’ve been gathering to consider the environmental crisis and how it touches our spirits and affects our hope. I sense this is a deep and fundamental question for all of us who have gathered — regardless of our religious affiliations or inclinations.

I’ve been thinking about all this from a Christian context. What does it mean to listen to the new thing that the Holy Spirit may be calling Christians and the church to engage? Our conversations — broad and deep conversations that matter – seem to me not only the work of some individuals who gather but a movement of spirits and hearts that makes me wonder if this is a nudging of the Holy Spirit?

The passage from Scripture that has been speaking to my heart as I think of this is a passage from the Acts of the Apostles. This book, written by the Gospel writer, Luke, describes the early history of the church. Scholars have suggested that a better title would be The Acts of the Holy Spirit — for it is the Spirit, and attentiveness to the Holy Spirit — that shapes and directs all the action described in the book. The particular story that speaks to me is the story of Peter, the generally acknowledged leader of Jesus’ disciples, and a Gentile, Roman soldier named Cornelius.  This encounter, we discover is entirely orchestrated by the Holy Spirit. But the faithful response to this encounter changes the whole direction of the church, moving it from being a Jewish sect, to a worldwide movement. It was a pivotal conversation and meeting — that transformed all concerned.

You can read the full story in Acts 10 — but here is a synopsis. Cornelius has a dream/vision of an angel who tells him in very specific ways to send for Peter who was staying in the town of Joppa. The Spirit even gives the address. Cornelius entrusts a few trusted servants to go to Joppa to invite Peter to his home. Meanwhile, Peter has a prayer time at midday on an empty stomach. And he has a vision/dream of a whole basket of unclean food descending from heaven and he is invited to eat. Peter is appalled and protests that nothing unclean has ever passed his lips. The Spirit says, “If God says it’s okay, it’s okay.” This happens three times. And as Peter wakes and is scratching his head as to what all this means the emissaries from Cornelius arrive with the invitation for him to come and receive hospitality from the Gentile household of Cornelius.  This was something that Peter would not be permitted to do as a Jew and remain pure and clean (religiously speaking). But Peter, obeying the Spirit, goes with them. When they arrive at Cornelius’, they are welcomed and Peter shares the Gospel of Jesus with them. And then the Holy Spirit falls upon the whole assembled group. And Peter concludes that, “God shows no partiality”. Cornelius and his household are baptized.

What fascinates me most is that both parties are changed by this encounter. Cornelius hears the gospel of Jesus and responds and is transformed. And Peter too is transformed.  Has to throw out his most deep and sacred notions of his faith and what it means to be a good Jew. Interestingly there was nothing that Peter could remember from the teaching of Jesus that would have prepared him for this new challenge and obedience that the Spirit was demanding of him. This was brand-new territory. And it shocked and appalled many of the other Jewish Christians — Peter was called on the carpet for his actions. His only defense was in effect, “The Spirit made me do it”. That settled the matter.

All this might seem like a long digression — but it says something that challenges me to careful listening and attentiveness and nudging of the Holy Spirit in our time. As I met and talked to with many wonderful people in our Pub Conversations (as well as many others) all who are not Christian, there is a deep and shared longing for creation made whole and the brotherhood and sisterhood of all peoples.  There is a movement of spirit.

I wonder what deeply held notions of faith I am being asked to perhaps jettison to embrace the new thing that the Holy Spirit is trying to birth in our world today. Because I feel the Holy Spirit is trying to birth something new. Maybe nothing less than the salvation of the planet.

Do you sense it is well?

“But it doesn’t fit in!”  I heard that many times from those opposing the building of a Sikh Temple in the southern part of the City of Guelph. “A temple wasn’t in the plans when we bought our homes in a planned subdivision.”  I was at the City Council meeting on March 1^st speaking because I was fearful that the Sikh community would find themselves on the defensive and feeling unsupported. Fortunately they were far from alone and the tenor of the meeting was respectful.  I was also very heartened at the way the members of Guelph City Council listened attentively and asked probing questions of the various presenters as various arguments for and against were presented for the rezoning of the land in question.

I made a number of points in my brief presentation, but the primary one was that all religious organizations are faced with the issue of rezoning — since land is not specifically set aside in planning for the building of religious institutions. And further, any land in the southern part of the city is both expensive and hard to come by.  This needed to be taken into account as the application by the Sikh community to find a place of worship in Guelph.

But as is often the case for me, my best thoughts happened as I was lying in bed after the Council Meeting.

I thought about the planning requirement, cited often as a major argument by those who opposed the Temple — that whatever is built needs to “fit in” architecturally with Westminster Woods and the surrounding residential area.

That got me thinking about religious institutions in general. They are not meant to “fit in”. By its very nature the Sikh Temple is to stand as a symbol of the Sikh religion that contains familiar forms of architecture that connect it to its birthplace in the Indian subcontinent. When you see churches built in India during colonial times — they look like they were simply transplanted from England and planted on Indian soil. And they were also planted there to make a statement — a cultural and religious statement.

The Church of our Lady, that now iconic landmark of the city of Guelph, was also not meant to “fit in”. It was built to make a statement. No doubt many of my Protestant ancestors would not be pleased by the statement it was making. While they might admire it architecturally — it would be seen as a religious challenge in what was otherwise a Protestant town.

Indeed much of the church architecture of 19th and 20th century Canada was built in a way that reflected the style and ethnic roots of those who built it as recent immigrants. And it just so happened that most of these immigrants were Christian. Many of the Anglican churches in Canada are copies of English parish churches. And likewise other traditions — for example Greek Orthodox, with their distinctive Byzantine domes. If they “fit in” now into our Canadian landscape is because they have been part of the landscape for decades and in some cases centuries.

To ask a Sikh Temple “fit in” is quite impossible. And it seems to me that those who wish it to do so, do not fundamentally understand the tradition and customs of those who have come to Canada as Sikh immigrants and wish to express themselves in their new Canadian context.  It’s like being told that you “don’t fit in”. Many opponents would see the only place where it could possibly “fit in” somewhere where it is basically unseen and sidelined — hidden away in an industrial area, off a major arterial road or built in a decaying commercial area.

All this speaks to me about how we embrace the diversity that our city is — and celebrate that diversity.

What are your thoughts and feelings as you watch this debate unfold?

Lent is that time in the Christian calendar for some serious self reflection — looking at ourselves in the mirror. A time to be honest with ourselves — and with God. Sometimes doing that means that we must turn to someone else and say we’re sorry. To ask forgiveness. To offer an apology.

It’s never easy.

It seems to me even more difficult for groups or corporations or nations to say they’re sorry. Native peoples waited a long time for an apology from churches and from the government for Residential Schools. “Home children”, children of poor people, shipped off to Canada and other colonies waited a long time for Great Britain to offer an apology this past week. “Comfort women” in Japan and Korea are still waiting.  And the Roman Catholic Church’s apology to victims of sexual abuse in Ireland feels more like a Tiger Woods’ apology — extracted but not heartfelt.

What about the rape and pillage and the exploitation of Mother Earth? When are we going to repent our ways, change our ways and make reparations?

Thomas Berry lays responsibility for environmental destruction in North America at the feet of excessive anthropomorphism from some of our most cherished traditions: (The Great Work – pg.45)

• Greek cultural tradition
• Biblical Christian religious tradition
• English political-legal tradition
• Economic traditions  of an aggressive merchant class

How and why does our Biblical Christian tradition make the list? How does our Christian faith — that is supposed to be about salvation – become part of the cause of the destruction of the planet?

I know of some theologians that have engaged that question. But too often, it seems to me, we want to point this individual misunderstanding of the Christian faith or that individual action as the sinful “bad apple”.

In United Church of Canada it seems to me that it took the Residential School issue to open us up to see systemic racism and prejudice towards nonwhite people.  We are only beginning to recognize and comes to terms with this hard lesson. It is systemic.

When are we going to truly examine how our very theology is part of the problem and part of our blindness in the exploitation of the earth and creation?

I’m not sure. But the cross — which is a central part of the Lenten journey — challenges us to look towards those who suffer. The streams and brooks. The oceans and the coral. The polar bears and spotted owls. Mother Earth. Feeling with and for them turns out to be the beginning of salvation – for them and for us. Part of the journey, its seems to me, is also to humbly learn from other peoples — people we’ve often persecuted or ignored –who have lived over centuries with a deep respect, care and attentiveness to the sacred aliveness of creation. This is literal salvation and the resurrection of life on earth.

It feels like a journey just begun.

A REMINDER –  Another of our Pub Conversations on Spirituality and the Environmental Crisis on Wed. March 3^rd at the Fat Duck Pub at 7:30 p.m.

“You can add up the parts
but you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in. . .That’s how the light gets in.”

Anthem – Leonard Cohen

“Forget your perfect offering . . .”

Maybe that is what I need to give up for Lent

– my desire for a perfect offering.

The right words.

The perfectly crafted meditation or sermon.

The new idea.

The great turn of phrase or image.

The brilliant blog.

The perfect act of love.

The greater the pressure for the perfect, the greater my paralysis and stiltedness in any action.

“There’s a crack, a crack in everything,

That’s how the light gets in. . .

That’s how the light gets in.”

Lent, it seems to me, is about light breaking in through the cracks.

Grace at the broken places.

Heart broken open to love.

Coming to love . . . “but like a refugee”.

Perhaps the challenge of Lent is to open oneself to the broken heart of the world . . .

and let the light shine in.

Just a reminder to folks about our second Pub Night on Hope and the Environment.  An evening with Jim Profit from the Ignatius Jesuit Center Promises to be a “conversation that matters” and one that will inspire hope and resolve.  Hope you will be able to join the conversation.

35 people. A winter’s evening. A pub. A Guinness. Sharing. All that was missing for me was a real fire in a real fireplace.

But there was a deep fire in the heart.

Last Wednesday evening (Jan 27^th) we gathered at the Fat Duck pub to share a conversation that mattered. Mike Nagy, passionate environmentalist was looking for “hope when the heat is on”. He shared a very personal journey of sacrifice and loss in the cause of healing creation and of healing community. Of sadness and frustration that we in Canada really haven’t yet begun to embrace even the most basic changes — of mind, heart, lifestyle, economy – that will be necessary to love the earth and save the environment.

He spoke of hope. Hope was a word that did not sit well with Mike unless it was linked with action or transformation. Hope that was just wishful thinking without doing anything was no hope at all.

What lifted hope in me as he spoke was when he showed some beautiful pictures of the land and places he loved. He spoke of his love and the gift of these places. And the pictures and how he spoke of the gift stirred my heart to the beauty and bounty and blessing of creation.

And that stirred love in me. And the real hope and determination in me to love the earth.

Mike also spoke of people and community. Acts of kindness, listening, encouragement and goodness. That too stirred hope  and determination in me. To be a friend. To build community. To join with others in the work of healing creation. And that I’m not alone in my loves and my fears and my work.

Hope was rekindled and I went out into the cold and dark of a January night with an inner warmth.

(Just a reminder . . . if you wish to come along and join in a conversation that matters with Jim Profit of the Ignatius Jesuit Center here in Guelph, on Wed. February 10^th at 7:30pm at the Fat Duck, you would be most welcome. Please see the previous post for more details.)

I don’t think anyone can be untouched by the images and stories coming out of Haiti following the devastating earthquake that has caused such death and destruction on that poor island. In one way or another we have all been drawn into that tragedy. It has touched our hearts. It has moved us in our spirits and souls. It has riveted our attention. I find myself drawn to the news on TV — even when I find it hard to watch — to find out how they are faring. And I find myself during the day visiting Haiti in my imagination . . .  sending a prayer for those still trapped, for children orphaned and lost and alone and for parents grieving the loss of children or spouse.  The destruction and devastation, so patently visible, focuses our attention — and thank God, the world has responded.

But I think as well of a disaster that unfolds more slowly. I’m thinking of climate change. It’s as if little lights of warning flash here and there on the globe. A species lost here, a hurricane there.  For attentive souls they see it as a single catastrophe. But for most of us we miss the big picture, at least in a conscious way. But it seems to me that if you pay attention to our soul, it does register. Like the tiny tremors picked up on seismographic equipment, these tremors, that register only small numbers on the Richter scale, shake something inside us.

Brian Galligan (as of tomorrow a newly ordained priest in the Anglican Church of Canada) and myself are hosting two evenings we’ve titled “Finding Hope When the Heat Is On” where we are looking at the sources and places of hope we find in the face of environmental crisis. We have two thoughtful and wonderful presenters who love the earth and are working for its healing — Mike Nagy and Jim Profit.  It’s important it seems to me, to pay attention to those places of hope that will lead us to transformation and change. So you are welcome to come and be part of the conversation. Feel free to share this and bring a friend. See the poster below.