So Long, Farewell

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This month, I contributed to an article for the Rupert's Land News that gives me a chance to say goodbye to the diocese that formed me. You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

It is an interesting time in both my life and in the life of the Diocese right now. At the time I am writing this story, we are in the process of electing a new bishop, and I am 8 weeks from moving from Winnipeg, a place I was born and raised, to North Cowichan, BC to begin a new step on my pastoral journey.

It’s hard to imagine that I began my relationship with the Diocese of Rupert’s Land over 17 years ago. For those of you in the know, I’m looking at you St. George’s Transcona, that means my oldest child is almost 17 years old. Where on earth did the time go? A lot has changed for me over all that time, and being part of this diocese has been an important piece of my growth as a person and as a priest.

My journey began with a chance meeting of a priest in training — a friend of a friend. I had been struggling with my faith for years and decided on a whim to attend this priest’s church. Why? Because I had never heard of women being priests before, let alone one who rode a motorcycle, and so I was immediately intrigued. I think the most appealing part, right from the beginning, was that they allowed me to return to the church slowly, at the pace that worked for me. That is a lesson that I carry in my heart and pass on to my parishes. While it is important to have people come in the door, it is just as important to let them grow at their own pace and not to try and get them to join vestry, or any other committee, on their first day.

What I received at St. George’s Transcona was also provided to me through the Diocese of Rupert’s Land — a chance to grow as a person of faith, as a person of the collar, and as a person on the whole. I acknowledge that this diocese still has a long way to go, but I honestly feel as if it has grown alongside of me. Whenever I tell me story of coming out as transgender to Bishop Don, people are pleasantly surprised to hear that, rather than barriers, he extended me his full support. Most importantly, he allowed me to continue my pursuit of becoming an Anglican priest.

While people have told me of different experiences in various dioceses, the Diocese of Rupert’s Land has accepted me for who I am. At least, those who don’t have kept quiet about it. I have been allowed to experience all levels of diocesan government right from a lay member of diocesan council up to a clerical representative at General Synod. I have helped organize events, facilitate workshops, and head committees. I have learned so much from the people, lay and clergy, in this diocese, and I have gained plenty of experience. The Diocese of Rupert’s Land has helped to shape me into the person I am today.

While I want to express my gratitude   and pen a farewell letter to everyone I’ve connected with through the diocese, I also have a piece of advice to offer regarding a common question nowadays : why should I go to church? Well, if I hadn’t gone to church 17 years ago, where would I be today? Stepping through the doors of St George’s Transcona all those years ago changed who I was; it  changed the direction of my life. I don’t know if I would have regained my faith if that wonderful church hadn’t opened its doors to me. I truly think if that chance meeting hadn’t happened, I never would have rekindled my relationship with God, and I certainly would never have heard the call to spread the Gospel to others, with or without the collar.

Going to church is like going to the gym. You go to the gym to work out your body, get yourself into shape, and increase your bodily health. Going to church is a workout for your spirit, a place to get it into shape and increase your spiritual health. You go to church to reconnect with God and renew your relationship with Jesus. We falter throughout our lives, losing our way, let our faith slip. We are only human after all. But going to church is how we reset our mind, our soul, and our spirit. Through the prayers, liturgy, ritual, and hymns, we can return to God and strengthen our faith.  Church is also where you go to find a community of people who can enrich your spiritual life. It is a place full of people wanting to talk about Jesus and wanting to experience a life of faith together.

Is that why I went to church 17 years ago? Not consciously, but something inside pulled me to church. I stayed because I found what I didn’t know I was looking for — spiritual peace. I’m still here because I want to share what I found with others.

So, as I pack my life up to head west, I have nothing but fondness and love for the people who helped me start my journey, the people who supported me along the way, and a diocese that gave me ample opportunity to flourish.

So long. Farewell. Goodbye. Until we meet again.

Speaking Up For Silenced Voices

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This month, I contributed to an article for the Rupert's Land News that "challenges readers to consider 'silent voices,' those persons whose voices are suppressed through means subtle and direct, and consider how we might speak up for all." You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

Silence is a double-edged sword. It can be equally beautiful and comforting, and dangerous and scary.

            There are moments in life where being silent or sitting in quiet can be important. In church liturgy, there are various periods of silence strategically placed throughout a worship service so that a person has time to reflect on what has been said, to meditate and pray, and to open their heart to God.

            Sitting in a silent vigil next to a dying friend’s bed can be quite powerful, for both people. While it may take time to acclimate yourself to simply sitting in silence with another person (plenty of people find silent pauses uncomfortable), allowing for that quiet to permeate the room can bring moments of reflection, meditation, and prayer similar to those found in a worship service.

            Jonathan Bartels, a registered nurse in the US, created the Medical Pause. This event is a moment of silence taken by medical staff and friends and family of the patient immediately after death. This sacred moment of silence “allows individuals to personalize their practice while not imposing onto others and is a means of honouring a person’s last rite of passage.” (https://thepause.me/2015/10/01/about-the-medical-pause/)

            These silent moments are precious, beautiful, and comforting. They break up our busy lives, give us time to hear our own thoughts, and they can reconnect us to God. These golden moments can be tranquil and healing and are sometimes so rare that when they do happen, one needs to take hold of them and cherish them.

            However, silence has a dark side to it, as well. While there are times in our lives when silence is required, an imposed silence has a very different feeling. When a silence is imposed, it means there is a voice that has been silenced. Perhaps someone is making decisions for another person without consulting with them. Perhaps a voice is silenced by passive aggressive comments. More than likely, this imposed silence means that not all voices are being heard. Who is it that we are listening to and who is it we are silencing?

Being unable to tell your story could mean life or death. A person being abused, especially a woman being sexually abused, is often silenced by dismissing comments or outright declarations of denial by others. The abusee’s voice gets lost in the noise generated to protect the abuser.

A transgender person living stealth will be in constant fear that their secret will be discovered. It only takes one slip of the tongue or one tiny rumour to destroy a person’s life and possibly cause death, whether by their own hand or another’s.

These are only two examples of people are being silenced in one way or another. The only thing worse than voices being silenced are the bystanders who remain silent.

Desmond Tutu is attributed with the quote, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” By silencing your own voice in situations of abuse or intolerance, you are encouraging harassment, bullying, dismissal, and humiliation. So, whose voice is being labelled as more important? And who is it that is being silenced?

We as bystanders need to break the silence and change the course of history. Breaking the silence can change laws and as a result change a person’s life. Maybe even save a life.

It brings to mind Simon and Garfunkel’s song “Sound of Silence”, particularly this verse:

            “And in the naked light, I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never shared

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence”

            We have become accustomed to the evil around us, desensitized to the point that we no longer raise our voices against cruelty and injustice. No longer do we dare “disturb the sound of silence.” Instead, it’s become easier to turn the other cheek and allow the voices around us to be silenced. If we ignore a problem, it will simply go away, right?

            Clinical Pastoral Care students are taught that a silent listener is important for voices to be heard. That is what we need to be today – silent listeners. Space needs to be given to all the voices who have been silenced over the years. To do this, we need to shed our indifference and stand beside those who have been silenced, historically and presently.

            We can no longer be bystanders as victims of harassment, abuse, and violence are placated with half-promises and told to keep silent about events that have unfolded. We can longer be indifferent as death tolls rise from murder and suicide. It is long past the time for silent voices to be given the space they need to speak up against cruelty and injustice. It is time for those of us who have a voice, to speak up for those who have been silenced. It could mean the different between life and death.

Sitting with Synod 2022

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This month, I contributed to an article for the Rupert's Land News that talks about experiences at Diocesan Synod. You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

            Over the years, I have attended the diocesan synod as different types of delegates, first as an elected lay delegate, then as a deacon. This year, my first Synod as a priest, I represented St Cyprian Anglican, Teulon, MB as their incumbent.

            I was also asked to be part of the worship team for Synod 2022. I was honoured to take on the challenge of planning the opening worship and was blessed with an amazing support team that helped ensure a smoothly run event.

            It was amazing to be able to gather at Synod once again. The previous meeting was held via Zoom and while the business got done, we missed out on all the smaller conversations that happen at the coffee station or over lunch. The gift of being in the company of people from all over the diocese who want to see our church flourish and grow is incredible. The added bonus of having the Primate attend our Synod and give the opening welcome was a marvellous gift.

            Speaking of the Primate, she provided a stand-out moment for me. During the discussion period of one of the motions, a clergy member happened to mention how some of us had just come back renewed and encouraged from the Anglican Health Care Chaplain’s retreat in Mississauga, ON. Within minutes, I, and the others who had attended, received an email from the organizer of that event telling us the Primate noticed what had been said. It stood out for me because of the speed at which that message went around. It showed me that the Primate was listening and heard us.

            Being part of a meeting of this size is not the easiest. There is a lot of information to process and plenty of opinions about the topics at hand. It can be difficult to stay engaged when there is back and forth discussions about sentence formatting and specific wording. It can be hard to keep the conversation on track. One thing I would love to see at future Synods is a pre-meeting review of Robert’s Rules of Order.

            Overall, attending Synod is an amazing experience and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Stranger in the Community

Photo by Andrew Neel

In October 2022, I wrote an article for the Rupert's Land News that talks about welcoming newcomers into our spaces. You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

Community is an essential part of the human experience. Connecting as part of a community is important to our mental wellbeing. Even the most introverted person needs some sort of human contact and support.

 

A community can be gathered in a geographic space where people connect in-person, or a virtual space such as a social media group or private community platform. Being part of a shared space, whether physical or virtual, gives people the chance to be inspired, solve problems, share humour, vent their frustrations, and share their achievements. Belonging to a community helps us develop a stronger sense of personal and collective identity. It can also give a boost to our self-esteem and to our willingness to take on the world and make our dreams manifest.

 

Since humans are inherently social beings, when people feel disconnected from their community, it is detrimental to their mental and physical health. According to an article on <happiness.com, https://www.happiness.com/magazine/relationships/the-importance-of-community/> “some studies have linked the emotional strain of loneliness caused by social isolation to physical illness, including sleep disorders, heart disease and a weakened immune system. A Public Health study done in Canada even ranked social isolation as a higher risk factor for premature death.”

 

It seems to me that over the last couple of years, while unable to attend school, childrens’ mental health has suffered. Without interaction with their community, kids turned in on themselves, forgot how to act around others, and grieved the loss of being with friends and teachers; you could see the weight on their shoulders. Similarly, when people feel disconnected from their faith community, it is detrimental to their spiritual health.

 

We, as a church, have a unique role in that we are a community that has history, that is multigenerational, that has no entrance requirements, and that (in theory) has an open-door policy, meaning everyone is allowed in.

 

The church could be the epitome of community.

 

In Paul’s epistles, one of the repeated themes is that of incorporation into the Body of Christ. People who are isolated, separate, and alone are called into the life of a new community.

 

Paul describes this reality in his letter to the Galatians when he says that for those who are clothed in Christ “(t)here is no longer Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female” (Gal 3:27-28). But in life, we know that those distinctions do exist! We know that in the church of Galatia they most certainly existed. Why else would Paul have written this, if there were not struggles related to the status of Jew, Greek, slave, free, male, and female? 

Those distinctions also exist within our church. Not literally Jew and Greek, but most certainly the “in” and the “not so in.” Perhaps not slave and free, but certainly those with power and those without power. And who would deny that there are distinctions made amongst us between male and female, gay and straight, rich or poor, Indigenous and settler, etc? Those distinctions most certainly exist and testify to the measure to which we fall short of the standard of what Paul says it means to be clothed with Christ.

 

As we come out of this pandemic, we are witness to a decline in church attendance. That said, some churches are experiencing a surge of new people coming in the doors of the physical building. These folks are looking for church and its community; they are wanting the kind of connection that has been missing during the past two years. So how do we ensure that these new people are welcomed into our community? According to Jesus, it’s all about hospitality.

 

During my postulancy (a training period while working to become an Anglican priest), I spent a year visiting various churches around the city. What I found interesting was the rarity at which I was approached. I was a stranger to these churches. And yet, it was a rare occasion when someone greeted me. Perhaps I was spoiled by coming from a parish whose greeters knew every parishioner and when someone new arrived, they were welcomed with a handshake, and then directed as to how to follow along with the bulletin during worship.

 

The church can be a great source of community - a community of mutual love. This mutual love is the foundation of doing good and sharing what you have; the foundation of being in relationship with God, and with each other.

So, on a Sunday morning, know who the strangers in your building are. Greet them, make them feel welcome. Show them how to read the bulletin – never assume someone “knows how to worship,” for lack of a better phrase. All of us are tasked with making our churches inclusive and welcoming – in words and in actions. It is not our job to gatekeep or to guard the pews. Christ’s table is open to everyone. Our job is to make more room at the table, and to ensure that we are making room for all, not a select few. We do not get to decide who is allowed to be part of the community and who is to be kept outside. Community creates relationships, fellowship, and growth, but growth cannot be the main goal of our hospitality. We aren’t creating community to get something in return. We are creating a loving community, following in the loving footsteps of Jesus Christ.

 

Making room for the stranger may upset the balance of the church for a while, but opening the doors of the church is not meant to be a threatening situation. Making room for the stranger reaffirms the humanity of all persons.  Our humanity is not based upon physical or mental ability, our intelligence, nor on our history or cultural background. Our humanity is shaped by our understanding of the importance of the community and the affirmation that we are all created in the image of God. Each of us springs forth from the imagination of God, regardless of who we are.

 

In Hebrews, Paul reminds us what a Christian community was meant to be: a community which expresses and shares love and in that context praises God, because God is a God who reaches out in love and compassion.

 

So don’t turn the stranger away. Instead, welcome them home.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

 

Photo by Ben Mack

In November 2021, I wrote an article for the Rupert's Land News that gave a testimony of my journey towards becoming one of Canada’s first transgender priests in the Anglican Church. You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

    Over the last 13 years or so, I have often been asked, “Why the Anglican church?” It is a question that has arisen as I have made a return to church life, discerned a path to ordination, and, ultimately, been ordained into the priesthood. It is a question that still gets asked as I venture through various points in my life, especially where there are discussions about being transgender and Christian, with an addendum of “why do you stay?” Every time I am asked, I admit honestly that I stumbled into the Anglican church completely by accident. But why do I stay? Well, that is an interesting question.

    I was baptized and brought up in the Roman Catholic church, at St Bernadette’s Parish in Windsor Park. I don’t remember when or why I started going, but I went each week knowing that it meant lunch at a restaurant with my grandma after the service (which, for a young kid in the 80’s, was pretty darn exciting).

    Most of the details are hazy as my memory of these early experiences is not great. I do, however, recall the heaviness of the room, the powerful feelings behind the words (even though I didn’t understand what it was all about), and the hard wooden pews. I also remember shaking hands with the people around me and not knowing why. Everyone just seemed so happy to see each other.

    I remember attending catechism classes, both in school and at someone’s home, so I am sure that I had all the appropriate church lessons. As a child, though, all I cared about was playing with my friends.

    As I got older, my faith and my increasing interest in scientific knowledge began to clash. Socializing became more important than praying, and, for many reasons beyond the scope of this particular essay, I got lost in life through my teenage years, succumbing in the end to the peer pressure that church was not a cool thing to do.

    Despite the confusion of these years, my heart felt pulled towards a belief in Jesus Christ and other aspects of the Christian faith. I was not always consciously aware of this pull, knowing only that prayer came automatically to my lips in times of despair and need and that I felt the call to attend church services at various points in my life. I didn’t tell anyone how I felt inside, letting those around me think that I had given up my belief in such things. 

    In my mid-twenties or so, I was at a meeting for a now-defunct charity organization where I met a priest, a female priest, who rode a motorcycle. It went against everything I knew about priests – as in old, male and boring ! She mentioned that she was about to become the priest at an Anglican church. Without much arm-twisting, and still in shock that women were allowed to be priests, I decided I would check out this seemingly progressive church.

    While I stumbled across this Anglican church by accident, my decision to stay was purposeful. The people were amazingly loving, allowing me to explore my faith the way I needed to, accepting my family as it was, and guiding me back to the Jesus Christ I subconsciously always knew was there. I became an imported Anglican because of the faith, love, and support that I found in those people beside me in the pews.

    Not everyone has a great experience in church. The Anglican church has some rotten history and the present views of a good portion of the Anglican Church worldwide is not always loving to all people, despite the plea that God makes of us to love our neighbours as ourselves. I can certainly see why people leave the church. The deep-rooted systemic issues that exist in the Anglican Church are cringeworthy. Homophobia, transphobia, racism, cis-heteronormative behaviours, and ignorance of climate change are just some of the reasons given if you ask someone why they jumped ship from the Anglican Church. Denominations exist that are much more accepting and loving towards their fellow human beings and more caring of God’s creation.

    The more I learn about the Anglican Church’s history and present, the more I need to discern why it is I stay, being a transgender male, in a blended multi-racial family, and with liberal religious views. 

    While I struggle to hear and read stories about events occurring within the worldwide Anglican Church, I can also see the potential that lies just beneath the surface. I have met enough people who are striving for significant structural and systemic change that I feel hopeful for the future of the Anglican Church, especially the Anglican Church of Canada. I stay to be a part of that change, to be a visible representation of the beauty that exists in our differences. I stay to help lead the Anglican Church to a future of truly following in Jesus’ footsteps.

Music Revives the Soul

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In April 2021, I wrote an article for the Rupert's Land News about the joys of music-making in the midst of stress and loss. You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

Sometimes it can be very hard to find peace in the hectic busy-ness of life. For me, one of the guaranteed times that I found peace was in Sunday worship. The joining of souls in common worship, in the saying in unison of prayers and creeds, in singing thought-provoking hymns, and the communion around the table have been a weekly resetting of my life for over a decade now. While each experience is unique, the peacefulness found in worship is common, I am sure.

For the last twelve months, while there have been worship services using such tools as Zoom, Facebook Live, and YouTube, which have allowed us to continue liturgical services and have perhaps joined us in new community, there is a very different feel to that time of worship. Especially during these difficult times, we have all had to find new ways to revive our spirits and feed our souls outside of the standard litanies of praise.

Even outside of COVID-times, there are many ways that one could find peace and praise outside of Sunday worship. For me, that has always been music, especially playing the piano.

I first started learning to play the piano when I was three. Granted, it wasn’t more than banging a few keys while learning rhythms and sounds, but I have never been far from a keyboard since. I was taught through the Royal Conservatory of Music and made it almost to the end of grade 9. There was talk of going on to be a concert pianist, but my teachers were too serious and my memory was terrible. They wanted me to memorize 10-page pieces and I just wanted to play and sing along to my favorite Disney theme song.

For years, I would spend hours playing everything from Bach to Bryan Adams, Scott Joplin to church hymns. As a geeky introvert, playing the piano is how I would beat away the stresses of the day.

Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize that’s what was happening. I just loved to play. So when I would have a rough day at school, I would close the doors to the living room and play song after song after song. A couple of hours would pass and I would feel better.

I learned to play other instruments as well, such as the flute and various percussion instruments (the timpani were my favorite), but my true skill lay in the piano and to the keyboard I always returned.

It never really occurred to me that playing the piano was a way of reviving my spirit until a few years ago. During my clinical pastoral education training (CPE), I was doing my placement at St Boniface Hospital. This was at a time where I had a full time job, part time school, and my first church placement as a postulant with hopes to be a priest in the Diocese. Not only that but I had a partner and two school-aged children at home who also need my love and time. To say it was a stressful time would be an understatement and even Sunday morning worship wasn’t always able to bring me the peace for which I sought.

In a conversation with my CPE instructor, we talked about stress management and she asked what I did for self-care with regards to daily stress. I thought that I wasn’t really doing much for self-care but upon further discernment, I realized that playing the piano brought me peace and calmed my spirit.

The chapel at the hospital has a piano. I decided that before my class I would play one song to reduce my stress and calm my nerves. I was amazed at the change in my soul before heading off to do visits or go into class.

I really shouldn’t have been surprised though. When I think back on my teenage years of playing, I can now recall the peacefulness that would come into my soul as I played.

Now I enjoy playing for my family and, especially, my partner. Whenever everyone is feeling stressed, all I have to do is play their favorite hymns or songs and you can feel a calm wash over the entire household. Sometimes, listening to me play even helps my children to fall asleep.

Music is a very powerful force of nature and it is a universal language of the soul. Sometimes music is the only thing that takes your mind off everything else. Losing yourself in the words or the notes is just as much a litany of praise as is being pulled into a well-delivered sermon. Even as I write this reflection, I have the beautiful sounds of an orchestra playing in my ears. As I begin my liturgical preparation, I listen to Steve Bell. As I write my sermons, I listen to classical piano. Music has that way of bringing peace to the soul and, as it turns out, gets the creative juices flowing. As the quote says, “Music is life. That’s why our hearts have beats.”

Worshipping Outside the Walls

Photo by Grant Whitty on Unsplash

In September 2020, I wrote an article for the Rupert's Land News about heading outside the church building and posing the question of virtual worship being part of the “new normal.". You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

This pandemic has completely up-heaved our lives. In the midst of it, we have been isolated from friends and family; stores big and small  have been shut down, affecting the livelihood of many business owners and their employees; schools have closed their doors so students of all ages have had to finish their year learning in solitude, save for those with siblings (which really isn't the same as being with your friends), and various grade levels have had to miss out on the ever important life-event of graduation.

We long for coffee dates with friends, meetings that don't involve Zoom, visiting loved ones in care homes and hospitals, and simple things like hugs and handshakes. And how many of us miss seeing the random smiles on passersby that are now hidden behind masks? I know I do.

As the COVID-19 pandemic marched through the spring and summer months, we felt increasingly lonely and isolated as our church communities were not able to worship together. We experienced feelings of loss as prayers and hymns were brought to silence and the Eucharist tabled until further notice (pun intended).  We engaged in debates surrounding the virtual Eucharist and discussions about what “real church” looks like now that we are worshipping online, at home but also “together”.

In Matthew 18:20, Christ tells us that “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” But what happens when those two or three cannot gather together? Does that mean that Jesus, and therefore God, is not among them?

What seem to be dying breeds – church-goers, God-believers, evangelists – are growing exponentially. As more parishes move to online worship services, church attendance is electronically growing. The younger, tech-savvy generation, whom we have struggled to get in a pew on a Sunday morning, are listening online when and where they choose. The aging generation who can no longer attend worship services in person due to health and mobility issues are now able to tune in via YouTube, Facebook, and Twitch. Those who are searching for a place to worship, but who’s social and general anxiety don’t allow them to step through the door of a place full of strangers, are, through the joys of technology, able to church-surf without the pressure of going from place to place. Those who have been harmed by the Church, yet long for connection with God, can do so from the safety and comfort of their homes.

Indeed, empty church buildings do not mean that Christianity is coming to a halt, or that Jesus is no longer present in our lives. Rather, the increasing number of online viewers indicate a new way of evangelizing and a growing need for faith and spirituality in a world suffering together.

In January of this year, the Anglican Journal published “Gone by 2040?” by Tali Folkins, revealing some shocking statistics of the decline in church attendance over the last few decades. Parish rolls in the Anglican Church of Canada showed over 1.3 million members (or seven percent of the Canadian population) in 1961 and just above 280,000 (or one percent of the Canadian population) in 2017. While these reports seem to be showing that physical presence in church has become less important in people’s lives, I see no proof that God and faith are going the same way. In fact, this time of isolation has revealed  that the search for faith and spirituality increases significantly during times of duress.

One parishioner sent me an email of thanks for my blog services, stating “while I do tune in to streamed services when I can, your format offers other advantages, particularly in a rural area where internet is not always reliable enough for streaming.”

Another shared a story about how her family often visits her on weekends and they have chosen to gather together outdoors around an iPad, reading my blog service, and listening to the music that I have included. She states that “we found it rather peaceful, birds singing, and just being together to worship. At the first service we held in our backyard one of the highlights for me was hearing one of my friends singing and humming along.  Your setup of service gives us that opportunity.”

I have also been informed by a lay leader within the Interlake Regional Shared Ministry that online services (like the Zoom links for local services and my own personal blog) are regularly forwarded to “her multi-dozen email contacts - many locals plus several others, interdenominational, who live elsewhere across Manitoba and a few out of province as well.” It is encouraging and exciting to witness the services of the Church reaching well outside our local parishes.

A final, notable example of someone exploring all there is to offer electronically is a parishioner who shared with me that she  not only reads and listens to my blog, but tunes into the evening services from saint benedict’s table as well as the daily evening prayers led by Rachel Twigg  through Facebook Live. The parishioner told me that she “never would have experienced the services at [saint benedict’s table] if the pandemic had not messed up all of our lives... I honestly think it has made me a stronger Christian.”

We will always need physical worship spaces, as being a part of a church community is important for its own reasons, especially when considering the sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist. But it's time that we start looking outside of the box, or in this case outside the walls, and realize that our community need not be limited to those who are sitting in the pews. Church is not the building. Church is wherever you are at that moment, whether it be in your car, in your home, or sitting outside enjoying nature. What this pandemic has proven is that there are people out there longing for spiritual guidance but , for whatever reason, have chosen not to sit in the pew. Now that we are aware, the question moves to “what do we do with this information?”

Our Church has moved outside of its building and our worship looks increasingly more creative. As we begin to worship in-person once again, parishes will have to make a decision – do we continue what we have started in the online community? The resounding answer should be yes!

While the doors to church buildings have been closed, worship has not ceased, but has rather taken on a new form. In my opinion, the virtual church should become a regular part of our worship. Currently, many clergy and lay-leaders are hurrying to learn the technology, while leaning on those more experienced in recording live worship. . Scrolling Facebook and other social media platforms on a Sunday morning, it is encouraging to see all of the parishes that are providing live or recorded video feed or written services that can be used by anyone, at any time, in any place. One no longer needs to be available on a Sunday morning to attend church. Those who have a history with feeling uncomfortable in the physical spaces of the church can worship to their heart’s content in their own homes. Through online worship, the Church is reaching people it never would have before the pandemic.

As clergy and lay-people, we must continue to support this momentum in online attendance. People searching for a safe space through which to explore their spirituality have found it. It is time to engage them, teach them, and lead them into a life with Jesus. The pandemic may have closed our doors, but technology has revealed to us a new way to live out the Gospel. Let’s not allow this opportunity to slip through our fingers.

Setting the Table

In November 2019, I wrote an article for the Rupert's Land News about the importance of the deacon’s role of preparing the table for Eucharist. You can find it on their website by clicking here. I’ve also included the text below:

As seen in Acts 6:1–6, the diaconal ministry has been deeply involved in the church since its earliest days. One of a deacon’s many roles was to help the bishop with distributing communion elements, with the bishop sharing the bread and the deacon sharing the wine. In the examination at a deacon’s ordination, one of the duties stated in the Book of Alternative Services is: “You are to assist the bishop and priests in public worship, and in the ministration of God’s word and sacraments.”

Originally, the bishop presided over all Eucharistic services. As communities grew and spread out, it become harder for the bishop to reach all of the people. Therefore, deacons were called to attend a service. The bishop would bless the elements and then divide them up among the deacons for distribution to the people. These services would happen on a weekly basis, especially in major cities such as Rome. On feast days, it was expected that everyone would make pilgrimage to the martyr’s church and take Eucharist together with the bishop. Those deacons would subsequently return to their congregations to hold mass and distribute communion on behalf of the bishops.

According to Louis Weil in Liturgical Sense: The Logic of Rite, at the Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D., the roles of presider and distributor of communion were delegated to the presbyters, as the council deemed the deacons already had enough pastoral responsibilities , such as organizing ministry and tending to the needs of the world.

While the deacon’s purpose during the service has changed over time, they have kept the vital role within the Eucharistic liturgy as the one who sets the table and distributes the wine.

Sara Miles, author of Take this Bread, quotes Bishop Bill Swing in saying that, “there’s a hunger beyond food that’s expressed in food, and that’s why feeding is always a kind of miracle… the disciples took the bread and did what they were told, got up and started feeding.”  That quote explains a piece of the deacon’s role quite eloquently.

Andrew Rampton, in his article “The Deacon’s Role in the Eucharist,” also says that an important ministry of the deacon is one of assistance and hospitality, such as visiting the sick and feeding the hungry. This ministry is reflected in the traditional liturgy as the one who cares for the elements before and after the Eucharistic prayer. 

In my opinion, setting the table for the Eucharist is one of the most sacred parts of the liturgy, next to the receiving communion itself. As you lay out each item on the table, you create a bubble of sanctity that contains the spirit of Christ.

There are all sorts of things going on at this point of the service: music, money gathering, and people preparing themselves. But as you put yourself fully into preparing the table, all of that outside noise disappears. While others may be singing joyous songs of offering, you become part of a solemn event that will be the starting point of the most important part of the liturgy.

One theology that lies behind the Anglican Eucharist, one that sits well with me personally, is that of consubstantiation, meaning the substance of the body and blood of Christ are present alongside the substance of the bread and wine, which also remain present. When you prepare the table for the Eucharistic prayer, you can feel the power of what is about to happen at that table. It is humbling.

Holy Communion is both an encouragement to the journeying Christian and a celebration of the communion each Christian has with the Trinitarian God we worship, as well as with one another.

The prepared altar becomes the table of Christ. As it is prepared, it is made ready for those who love him, and for those who want to love him more. It is Christ's will that those who want to meet him, will meet him at the table.

The call to the table, the call that Christ will be there and waiting, is a reminder to us all that while not everyone is at the same point in their Christian journey, we are all welcome at God’s table. It is there where Christ will be found.

Communion then becomes a time where we gather together to share in the feast of the Lamb of God in memory of the communal Passover meal shared among Jesus and his disciples just before the his arrest.

The solemn preparation of the table becomes a joyous reunion with Christ.