|Life ... is full of questions. Sometimes we're alone ... but mostly we have each other ...|
|with a lot of the same questions ...|
A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of visiting my family. :-) First in Grimsby, ON, Cousin Mike and Marilyn, her Mum, Ruthie (90+) and three senior dogs! Family can be defined any way we like - so I spent time with family (Sisters) at St. John's Convent in Toronto. :-) Then a week with Sandi and Jim (my big bro) and most of the greats. Nathan and Taylor stayed over for three days with their Grandma and Grandpa, so I got to see more of them than I ever have at one time. It was wonderful. And Holly and Cody, too... as there was an ice storm, and the Kevin and Monica Macgregors had no power.
Sandi, Jim, Taylor, Nathan, and I had been out for the evening, and were driving home in the van, when Nathan, my favourite youngest great-nephew, quietly posed a question into the darkness: "Is the world going to end because of global warming?" He's 11. He plays video games on his little whatever it is, thumbs going lickety-split (that word dates me, eh?). One of the games I was able to play - poorly, and with much laughter. Nathan is skilled! He began to play another game in which he killed critters like sharks off, and blood flowed. Yuck, thinks I. Later on I asked him why he liked that game, and he replied, "They're things that can hurt us." The world is full of things, real and imagined, that can hurt us. How do we protect and take care of ourselves? How, sometimes, do we survive?
Food for thought - and I've been pondering Nathan's question ever since. How brave of him to ask. It's the kind of question I suspect most of us harbour in the back (or front) of our minds. Anxiety in a form I don't think our generation lived - except maybe briefly during the Cuban Missile Crisis and our worry about fingers too trigger-happy and close to the red (I always imagined they were red) buttons of destruction.
Today: More, and more destructive, tornadoes, tsunamis, and hurricanes. Water levels rising. Ice caps melting. Pollution, pollution, pollution. Today on CBC radio they were discussing the red and poisoned waters of China ... Millions starving in droughts in Africa. AIDS pandemic. Cancer. Inconceivable levels of abuse of children, past and present. Wars. Governments and corporations and churches high on power and greed.
I'm glad I'm not growing up today, although today does, of course, have its joys as well as challenges that aren't experienced or perceived as life-threatening. We get so much information so terribly quickly it's overwhelming. And I don't mean that the bruised, battered, and wonderful Canadiens are out of the play-offs (sigh).
We had our challenges and terrors growing up in the 50's. And back then, people didn't realize how we children were sometimes suffering ... psychology wasn't really on the radar. We didn't really have a clue how much other people were suffering, either. Our friends. Family. People 'out there' in the great big world ...
If you are still reading, and not so depressed that you aren't going to continue - let me say I will inject a word of hope, but not yet.
First ... Nathan's question touched me. Continues to touch me. When I got home to Montreal, I attended the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. I'd already viewed the film, "We Were Children" (see previous blog entry for details) about the residential schools in Canada, set up by the government to 'deal with the Indian problem,' and run by the Churches. The abuse was beyond ... well ... beyond ... words. Sickening. Dis-grace-ful. EVIL. The loss of culture, traditions, language, innocence - sexually and otherwise, family support, protection and love ...
I didn't want to go to church that Sunday. I cried first, and then got ready and went. It's my job to go. For our sermon, I asked if others in our little congregation had attended the TRC. Two did - a 91 year old and an 89 year old! I knew they would! I asked if they would like to share comments. Evelyn said, "... I was ashamed of our church, really ashamed of our church ... " Edith likewise, and it also reminded her of her internment in Japanese-Canadian camps during WWII. Again, unspeakable horrors. Where was the Church then? Well, they took over a Japanese-Canadian Anglican Church in Vancouver once the congregation had been sent off with the thousands of others, to the interior of BC to live in tar-paper shacks in fenced in prisons, effectively. But I digress...
The stories shared at the TRC made me ask myself - and our congregation - why are we able to address the issues of the residential schools - and OF COURSE - we should - when we refuse to address the historical abuse of boys and girls in our churches by clergy and lay people in the past? What will it take? We KNOW about it. We can hope no one takes us to court, and sit quietly waiting. We can say we can't do anything unless someone comes forward and goes to the police - lays charges. Or, we can, as some churches like the U.S. Presbyterians have done, set up a process whereby people can come forward, tell their stories, and be heard. It is a well-known fact that people are far less likely to sue if they are listened to and believed. Not in the corridors of power. In a safe space. And anyhow, if some find justice by suing the church, then so be it.
I preached out of my despair and dis-illusionment. It's not a bad thing - dis-illusionment. To let go of illusions opens us, potentially, to new life. I didn't know what the message of hope could be that day, and had no intention of providing false, facile comfort. There was discussion - sharing ... and at the end, I asked how people were feeling and if they wanted to say anything. Madeleine asked poignantly, "What kind of a church am I leaving my grandchildren and great-grandchildren?" Ohhhh... I replied, "What a wonderful question. I think a glimmer of hope may be: we're part of a church that is just beginning to tell the truth. That's as far as I can go right now - but ... we have it on good authority, that the truth will set us free."
The following week, we had a celebration of what church also is - JOY. Our little group, with some local musicians including our own Tom, put on a jazz/country/ concert and raised over $1,300 to help our Millie's sister get life-saving surgery in Cuba. The sermon was very different on Sunday. Both aspects are true - the Church as weak, caught up in power and secrets ... and the church as joy and celebration and self-giving.
We have also raised over $3,000 in the last two years for Apeti pou aprann - the food aid and food security program through our Primate's Fund (PWRDF) for school children in the Léogane mountains of Haïti. We average about 20 these days at church, and I am still the youth group at 66 - except when we have special services like the upcoming Jazz Mass at Pentecost. Dedicated people who love God and are committed to justice and sharing.
So, Nathan, I don't suppose you will be reading this. I want you to know, though, that you asked a question that we are all living with. We are all anxious about the world, about our safety. About our futures. What helps us get through and keep going? I think it's courageous youngsters like you who ask difficult, frightening questions. It's family and friends who hear us and encourage and love us. It's people we can share hard questions with - for me, that's also my church family. It's telling the truth about whatever troubles us. It's knowing that we are weird and wonderfully made - that we're all scared sometimes - and it's remembering that there's only one of each of us - and we're special! The world needs us! :-)
I love you forever and always, my favourite great nieces and nephews - Nathan (mfy-g-nephew) and Taylor (mfy-g-niece) and Holly (mfo-g-niece) and Cody (mfmiddle-g-nephew) and Josh (mfo-g-nephew). It's so amazing to watch you growing up ... yes - sometimes going through challenging times - but you're GOOD! AR
|What kind of questions did you ask today?|