The Rev’d David Burrows is the Incumbent Priest of the Anglican Parish of Kokanee, encompassing
Nelson, Kaslo, and the North Shore.
This writing is apart of his weekly ‘Mountain Reflections’.
Nelson, Kaslo, and the North Shore.
This writing is apart of his weekly ‘Mountain Reflections’.
Mountain Reflection ~ November 6, 2024
Grounded and Open . . . . . .
Have you ever had a time, perhaps a moment, day, week, month, or even a year that left you reeling? As I’ve moved through life, periodically, and often without warning, I’ve found myself in chaotic circumstances, feeling that the ground beneath me is unstable, forcing me either to stop or at least make adjustments to my regular routine.
As an individual who lives with great privilege and resources, when I’ve been knocked sideways by chaotic times I’ve usually been able to navigate through them; yes, somewhat inconvenienced, or even a little bit lost, yet in the end, I find solutions and can continue to be me, even in a shifting environment.
What am I getting at, might you ask? My life requires resources, planning, a vision and flexibility if I am to accomplish my most important goals and objectives. This includes creating healthy balances and boundaries in both my personal and professional life, within a community tempered by values of spirituality, human dignity, justice and compassion.
This always seems easiest when I have clear skies and smooth sailing. When storms of chaos burst overhead I am tossed by the ups and downs of uncertainty, change, fear and anxiety. In times of conflict, grief, or loss, my ‘survival’ system, that I hold to most fiercely, feels precarious. I find myself retreating, ‘circling the wagons,’locking myself away both from the wider community and even from those who love me the dearest.
At times like this, when I am the most fragile, vulnerable, and hurt, I need to draw deeply on my spiritual resources. Yet when I retreat inward, I close myself off to love and compassion, and separate myself from the very people who can provide the support and companionship that I profoundly need in that moment.
I am called, even at my most vulnerable, to be both grounded and open. Grounded, I have a better chance to heal and learn, and to live authentically as the person I am called to be. Being open to others enables me to remember that I am never alone. Living a grounded and open life takes hard hard work, especially if one has been wounded, excluded, or experienced trauma and suffering.
How do you navigate hard places on your journey? What do you need to live fully, heal daily, and thrive in your community? Although your answers may differ, I believe we do agree on many common themes.
Currently in the Kootenays we are in the transition from autumn to winter with colder weather, less daylight, and perhaps more sadness in our hearts. Combine this with illness, death, loss of employment or purpose, and this can indeed be a lonely, desolate time for many.
Consider what helps you be grounded and open. Consider the people you pass every day: family, friends, neighbours. Check in to see if everyone is managing. Does someone need care and love? Or need to be listened to and acknowledged? What can you contribute toward creating a community of love and support and a safe space for listening?
Don’t forget to listen to yourself. Are you coping? Do you feel safe and able to talk to those who care about you, to give you courage to face your own problems?
Be present, breathe.
Find ways to be grounded and open.
Hang on and remember you are deeply loved.
David
Grounded and Open . . . . . .
Have you ever had a time, perhaps a moment, day, week, month, or even a year that left you reeling? As I’ve moved through life, periodically, and often without warning, I’ve found myself in chaotic circumstances, feeling that the ground beneath me is unstable, forcing me either to stop or at least make adjustments to my regular routine.
As an individual who lives with great privilege and resources, when I’ve been knocked sideways by chaotic times I’ve usually been able to navigate through them; yes, somewhat inconvenienced, or even a little bit lost, yet in the end, I find solutions and can continue to be me, even in a shifting environment.
What am I getting at, might you ask? My life requires resources, planning, a vision and flexibility if I am to accomplish my most important goals and objectives. This includes creating healthy balances and boundaries in both my personal and professional life, within a community tempered by values of spirituality, human dignity, justice and compassion.
This always seems easiest when I have clear skies and smooth sailing. When storms of chaos burst overhead I am tossed by the ups and downs of uncertainty, change, fear and anxiety. In times of conflict, grief, or loss, my ‘survival’ system, that I hold to most fiercely, feels precarious. I find myself retreating, ‘circling the wagons,’locking myself away both from the wider community and even from those who love me the dearest.
At times like this, when I am the most fragile, vulnerable, and hurt, I need to draw deeply on my spiritual resources. Yet when I retreat inward, I close myself off to love and compassion, and separate myself from the very people who can provide the support and companionship that I profoundly need in that moment.
I am called, even at my most vulnerable, to be both grounded and open. Grounded, I have a better chance to heal and learn, and to live authentically as the person I am called to be. Being open to others enables me to remember that I am never alone. Living a grounded and open life takes hard hard work, especially if one has been wounded, excluded, or experienced trauma and suffering.
How do you navigate hard places on your journey? What do you need to live fully, heal daily, and thrive in your community? Although your answers may differ, I believe we do agree on many common themes.
Currently in the Kootenays we are in the transition from autumn to winter with colder weather, less daylight, and perhaps more sadness in our hearts. Combine this with illness, death, loss of employment or purpose, and this can indeed be a lonely, desolate time for many.
Consider what helps you be grounded and open. Consider the people you pass every day: family, friends, neighbours. Check in to see if everyone is managing. Does someone need care and love? Or need to be listened to and acknowledged? What can you contribute toward creating a community of love and support and a safe space for listening?
Don’t forget to listen to yourself. Are you coping? Do you feel safe and able to talk to those who care about you, to give you courage to face your own problems?
Be present, breathe.
Find ways to be grounded and open.
Hang on and remember you are deeply loved.
David
Mountain Reflection ~ November 6, 2024
Remembrance . . .
The days are getting shorter, and the nights longer and darker. Candles lit on All Souls Day for deceased loved ones still flicker. This week, more lights will be lit, wreaths laid and tears shed for those who fought, died and suffered because of war. Bugles sound, drums beat and feet march; we gather at cenotaphs, listen to prayers, regard the poppies, and join in the refrain, “We will remember them.”
Remembrance Day is an emotional time for me as I recall the wartime actions of parents, grandparents and many others I have known and loved. Observing the Remembrance Day ceremonies I lament that lives had to be lost in efforts to uphold peace, justice and dignity for the benefit of my world today.
Yet despite their efforts, war is always with us, driven by imperialism, economics, greed and racism. Across cultures and societies we humans struggle to get along and our differences can lead to argument, anger, antagonism and, ultimately, attempts at annihilation.
Yet here we are, living on the earth, within the beauty of the cosmos, hopefully each one of us holding to a vision of peaceful coexistence. Today is a moment to reiterate our promise that we will try to live the truth of Micah 6:8 (What does God require of you? Do Justice, Love Kindness, walk humbly with your God). Although we strive to do this, we can rarely keep on track for very long. We try to remember the past so as not to repeat its unhealthy patterns. We want to bring about healing at the national, community and individual level. But we must admit that the work is never done.
Our world is still filled with:
Injustice
Inequality
Oppression
Hatred
Propaganda
Homelessness
Greed
Ignorance
Racism
Poverty
Sexism
Murder
Slavery
War
When I pray with these laments in mind, I see poppies and pain; I hear music and silence. I yearn to engage with others to develop new paths toward reconciliation, healing, understanding, wisdom, care and humility. I want the world to heal. I wish for love to prevail. I act for justice. I stand with the vulnerable who do not yet have what they need for healing and dignity.
This November 11th, stand and watch, listen in silence. Pray earnestly. Do everything you can to create the world we all need.
Peace,
David
Remembrance . . .
The days are getting shorter, and the nights longer and darker. Candles lit on All Souls Day for deceased loved ones still flicker. This week, more lights will be lit, wreaths laid and tears shed for those who fought, died and suffered because of war. Bugles sound, drums beat and feet march; we gather at cenotaphs, listen to prayers, regard the poppies, and join in the refrain, “We will remember them.”
Remembrance Day is an emotional time for me as I recall the wartime actions of parents, grandparents and many others I have known and loved. Observing the Remembrance Day ceremonies I lament that lives had to be lost in efforts to uphold peace, justice and dignity for the benefit of my world today.
Yet despite their efforts, war is always with us, driven by imperialism, economics, greed and racism. Across cultures and societies we humans struggle to get along and our differences can lead to argument, anger, antagonism and, ultimately, attempts at annihilation.
Yet here we are, living on the earth, within the beauty of the cosmos, hopefully each one of us holding to a vision of peaceful coexistence. Today is a moment to reiterate our promise that we will try to live the truth of Micah 6:8 (What does God require of you? Do Justice, Love Kindness, walk humbly with your God). Although we strive to do this, we can rarely keep on track for very long. We try to remember the past so as not to repeat its unhealthy patterns. We want to bring about healing at the national, community and individual level. But we must admit that the work is never done.
Our world is still filled with:
Injustice
Inequality
Oppression
Hatred
Propaganda
Homelessness
Greed
Ignorance
Racism
Poverty
Sexism
Murder
Slavery
War
When I pray with these laments in mind, I see poppies and pain; I hear music and silence. I yearn to engage with others to develop new paths toward reconciliation, healing, understanding, wisdom, care and humility. I want the world to heal. I wish for love to prevail. I act for justice. I stand with the vulnerable who do not yet have what they need for healing and dignity.
This November 11th, stand and watch, listen in silence. Pray earnestly. Do everything you can to create the world we all need.
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection ~ October 30, 2024
Echoes of Mercy
Vessels of Grace. . .
This week I sat in church where a gifted musician played Bach, Mozart, Rachmaninoff and others on two ancient violins, from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. I mostly listened to the reverberations of sound in the church, marveling at the gift of music, the ways in which instruments convey feelings and emotions, including but not limited to beauty, grief, angst, joy and love. I thought about the many virtuoso musicians who have held these instruments, and imagined the quantity of music and emotion cradled within the church walls over the years.
This weekend in the life of the Christian Church our communities will observe All Saints and All Souls. All Saints is a feast day set apart for the church to remember and recall those persons who have through their words and deeds, reflected the presence of the Holy One. All Souls is a feast day that recalls all those we have loved who have died, commending them to the Holy One, and honouring their life. We remember with gratitude how they’ve shaped and loved us, and we light a candle, offer a prayer, and give thanks for their love, even in our grief.
Christian churches can be Holy places, and Christians can be holy people, but we do not hold a monopoly. Many other places and people beyond the scope of my faith reflect the mercy and grace of the Creator.
Do you have holy places where you feel connected to your authentic self? Places where you can listen for echoes of mercy and healing that may help you on your daily journey?
Do particular holy songs encapsulate all the angst, wonder, hope, pain, and love that accompanies you on your journey of life? What is your soul music? When did you last stand still, in silence, letting that music infuse you with grace, hope, and love?
Who are the Holy People in your life who have acted as beacons, displaying love and wisdom, and acting as vessels of beauty and love, like the violins?
Amid the hustle and bustle of daily life, we are helped on our journeys by the foundational anchors of holy places, holy songs, and holy people. Two of my own anchors are the island of Iona and the legend of the Iona Boat Song. Iona, an island in the Inner Hebrides of Scotland, is a holy place, where for generations Scottish Royalty were buried. A Holy Irishman, Columba, settled the island in the sixth century. He gathered Holy men and women, encouraging them to be attuned to creation and the Creator. The Iona Boat Song was sung as the dead were rowed from the mainland to their final resting pace on Iona. Kings Duncan, MacBeth, Donald, and some fifty more were interred there.
Have a listen to the Iona Boat Song one of my holy songs from one of my holy places. In this time of light and darkness, joy and grief, find places to hold on to the holy. Sing your holy song, sit in your holy place, and be with your holy people.
Blessings
David
Echoes of Mercy
Vessels of Grace. . .
This week I sat in church where a gifted musician played Bach, Mozart, Rachmaninoff and others on two ancient violins, from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. I mostly listened to the reverberations of sound in the church, marveling at the gift of music, the ways in which instruments convey feelings and emotions, including but not limited to beauty, grief, angst, joy and love. I thought about the many virtuoso musicians who have held these instruments, and imagined the quantity of music and emotion cradled within the church walls over the years.
This weekend in the life of the Christian Church our communities will observe All Saints and All Souls. All Saints is a feast day set apart for the church to remember and recall those persons who have through their words and deeds, reflected the presence of the Holy One. All Souls is a feast day that recalls all those we have loved who have died, commending them to the Holy One, and honouring their life. We remember with gratitude how they’ve shaped and loved us, and we light a candle, offer a prayer, and give thanks for their love, even in our grief.
Christian churches can be Holy places, and Christians can be holy people, but we do not hold a monopoly. Many other places and people beyond the scope of my faith reflect the mercy and grace of the Creator.
Do you have holy places where you feel connected to your authentic self? Places where you can listen for echoes of mercy and healing that may help you on your daily journey?
Do particular holy songs encapsulate all the angst, wonder, hope, pain, and love that accompanies you on your journey of life? What is your soul music? When did you last stand still, in silence, letting that music infuse you with grace, hope, and love?
Who are the Holy People in your life who have acted as beacons, displaying love and wisdom, and acting as vessels of beauty and love, like the violins?
Amid the hustle and bustle of daily life, we are helped on our journeys by the foundational anchors of holy places, holy songs, and holy people. Two of my own anchors are the island of Iona and the legend of the Iona Boat Song. Iona, an island in the Inner Hebrides of Scotland, is a holy place, where for generations Scottish Royalty were buried. A Holy Irishman, Columba, settled the island in the sixth century. He gathered Holy men and women, encouraging them to be attuned to creation and the Creator. The Iona Boat Song was sung as the dead were rowed from the mainland to their final resting pace on Iona. Kings Duncan, MacBeth, Donald, and some fifty more were interred there.
Have a listen to the Iona Boat Song one of my holy songs from one of my holy places. In this time of light and darkness, joy and grief, find places to hold on to the holy. Sing your holy song, sit in your holy place, and be with your holy people.
Blessings
David
Mountain Reflection ~ October 23, 2024
Bridging Liminality . . .
One of the iconic structures of Nelson is BOB, the Big Orange Bridge, built in 1957, which crosses the West Arm of Kootenay Lake. I have walked, cycled, driven it, and even paddled under it. As I am immersed ever more deeply into life and ministry in the Kootenays, it represents a transition for me - from Nelson to the North Shore, ministry at St. Saviour’s to ministry at St. Mark’s Kaslo, and a change from the busyness of the city to more rural, pastoral settings.
Bridging Liminality . . .
One of the iconic structures of Nelson is BOB, the Big Orange Bridge, built in 1957, which crosses the West Arm of Kootenay Lake. I have walked, cycled, driven it, and even paddled under it. As I am immersed ever more deeply into life and ministry in the Kootenays, it represents a transition for me - from Nelson to the North Shore, ministry at St. Saviour’s to ministry at St. Mark’s Kaslo, and a change from the busyness of the city to more rural, pastoral settings.
Bridges transport us. Metaphorically, I also see bridges as liminal structures that transition us from one state of being or experience to another. Liminal, or ‘thin’ spaces are places where things can feel undefined, such as the time between dawn and daylight, dusk and moonlight. The beauty of both sunrise and sunset is always preceded by a liminal time of anticipation.
As I move further into autumn, I keep encountering the themes of liminality, and of bridging liminality. Fall has been so busy, I find I am in danger of jumping from one task to another, without allowing that space and time to make an adequate transition. Consider for yourself, do you find there’s little pause in your life these days? I often fear I look like a character in an old silent movie that is being played too fast - I’m walking too quickly, jumping and racing as I follow the scenes of life.
Over the past three weeks I have been busy being and doing, listening and speaking, acting and waiting, waking and sleeping, often without proper transitions. Society seems to expect us to be in constant motion, while individually we also yearn for quiet and stillness. In so many ways I feel caught up in one or the other, with little opportunity to inhabit the liminal thin space
between them.
Today amid the rush and hurry, before stepping from one activity to another, I forced myself to rest in the somewhat uncomfortable thin space of being in the moment. I stopped and noticed the eyes of a friend and remembered our first encounter before I launched into a meeting. I waited before responding in a conversation; I took time to meditate in the car before I shared intimate time in prayer with an elderly couple. I paused and noticed the beauty of light and leaves and the movement of the community. I slowed my movements at lunch so I could taste the goodness of hot soup. I stood and breathed deeply as I watched social workers respond with care and compassion to those in need.
There will always be somewhere one needs to be, and a journey to get there. I have learned today that while both beginnings and endings are important, the
journey between them has deep value.
The next time you’re in Nelson, consider the beauty and wonder of this iconic bridge in our midst. Remember the bridges of our lives, both physical and
metaphorical, that anchor us and give life its meaning.
Peace,
David
between them.
Today amid the rush and hurry, before stepping from one activity to another, I forced myself to rest in the somewhat uncomfortable thin space of being in the moment. I stopped and noticed the eyes of a friend and remembered our first encounter before I launched into a meeting. I waited before responding in a conversation; I took time to meditate in the car before I shared intimate time in prayer with an elderly couple. I paused and noticed the beauty of light and leaves and the movement of the community. I slowed my movements at lunch so I could taste the goodness of hot soup. I stood and breathed deeply as I watched social workers respond with care and compassion to those in need.
There will always be somewhere one needs to be, and a journey to get there. I have learned today that while both beginnings and endings are important, the
journey between them has deep value.
The next time you’re in Nelson, consider the beauty and wonder of this iconic bridge in our midst. Remember the bridges of our lives, both physical and
metaphorical, that anchor us and give life its meaning.
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection ~ October 3, 2024
All Things
Great and Small. . .
This week I have been trying to focus on presence. As September has passed, and Autumn is unfolding in October brilliance, I have been purposefully spending time in moments as they unfold, without focussing too heavily on future activities and past remembrances. In my walks I have observed the sights, scents and sounds of a city that I last visited ten years ago; as well I have offered short prayers of gratitude, peace, and hope, for passers by, flora in its glory, and birds and other animals that have crossed my path.
I have sat with two dear friends and caught up after a long absence and much change. I have listened to mentors and colleagues, one of whom reminded me that when he walks he focuses on the space between his front and back feet, so as to stay present, and not get caught up with grief, anxiety, or worry.
Yes, today, on this feast of St. Francis of Assisi, many in the Christian context focus on the beauty of nature and all her creatures. Some lament the continual destruction and chaos brought by humanity's disregard of climate markers - which has given us the crisis of climate in the world today. Some will be gathering in parks and cathedrals, in sanctuaries and in silence, blessing creatures, both great and small, thankful for their continued presence in our lives.
All Things
Great and Small. . .
This week I have been trying to focus on presence. As September has passed, and Autumn is unfolding in October brilliance, I have been purposefully spending time in moments as they unfold, without focussing too heavily on future activities and past remembrances. In my walks I have observed the sights, scents and sounds of a city that I last visited ten years ago; as well I have offered short prayers of gratitude, peace, and hope, for passers by, flora in its glory, and birds and other animals that have crossed my path.
I have sat with two dear friends and caught up after a long absence and much change. I have listened to mentors and colleagues, one of whom reminded me that when he walks he focuses on the space between his front and back feet, so as to stay present, and not get caught up with grief, anxiety, or worry.
Yes, today, on this feast of St. Francis of Assisi, many in the Christian context focus on the beauty of nature and all her creatures. Some lament the continual destruction and chaos brought by humanity's disregard of climate markers - which has given us the crisis of climate in the world today. Some will be gathering in parks and cathedrals, in sanctuaries and in silence, blessing creatures, both great and small, thankful for their continued presence in our lives.
I realize that presence has to be tempered with a healthy balance of forward planning and past reflection, don’t get me wrong. However, in so many ways I find I can be frozen in time - grieving and worrying over the past, or anxious and hopeful about the future. In between, if I am lost to the present, so much slips by: the unfolding of autumn’s mantle; the smile of a friend, the story shared by a loved one, the pain that someone is experiencing in the here and now.
What locks you into the past or the future? Do you measure out your time focussing on the balance of these acts, or do you become consumed by them? How do you mark your days in the present, with the world and the community around you?
I am by no means an expert. I am slowly (re)training myself to let go so I can show up for myself, for loved ones, the ones in my care, and the community and world round about me. For me it has to be a deliberate process, as I believe I am retraining all my muscles to do this - my brain, my body, my heart, and my soul.
What have you observed today? What do you experience at this moment? How do the sights, sounds, touches, scents inform and engage you?
May you be blessed today, and everyday, as life unfolds.
May you encounter what you need to, as you move and live and grow.
Pause and hold on to all things, great and small.
Peace,
David
What locks you into the past or the future? Do you measure out your time focussing on the balance of these acts, or do you become consumed by them? How do you mark your days in the present, with the world and the community around you?
I am by no means an expert. I am slowly (re)training myself to let go so I can show up for myself, for loved ones, the ones in my care, and the community and world round about me. For me it has to be a deliberate process, as I believe I am retraining all my muscles to do this - my brain, my body, my heart, and my soul.
What have you observed today? What do you experience at this moment? How do the sights, sounds, touches, scents inform and engage you?
May you be blessed today, and everyday, as life unfolds.
May you encounter what you need to, as you move and live and grow.
Pause and hold on to all things, great and small.
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection ~ September 25, 2024
The Pilgrim’s Way:
new journeys, old remembrances . . .
This week I journeyed to Kamloops with a parish team, to begin congregational development training for the communities of Nelson and Kaslo. It was a great opportunity to step away from the parish for a short time, in order to learn, to meet others that are exploring growing parish ministry, and to reconnect with old memories and old friends.
I looked at this time as a small pilgrimage, a way to disconnect from daily routines, and to engage more deeply with my mind and soul, as I opened up to new experiences, and considered how I might best serve as priest and pastor in this community as we discern together how we can enable God’s presence to grow and blossom in this part of the Kootenays.
It was nostalgic as I returned to Kamloops for the first time in ten years. I remembered ministry activities that I coordinated, and the persons that I worked with that enabled youth to have positive experiences and learning in ministry. I walked through the cathedral sanctuary, remembering persons, emotions, activities and celebrations, and silently offered thanks. I shared a meal with old friends, as we caught up with life over the past ten years, the ups and downs, challenges and opportunities, and hopes for the future.
As I moved through the current training, I had opportunity to bond with our parish team, and to connect deeply with others, exploring themes, questions, and congregational development approaches. I feel the interactions have led to deeper connections and the possibility of new growth both within and beyond our parish life.
In short, this short pilgrimage has helped to refocus my heart and mind on the task of journeying in community with the Holy One.
When was the last time that you paused your regular routine in order to learn, to reflect, and to plan for the future? What insights have you gathered from such experiences? I believe that times of separation give insight and perspective that can serve to educate, heal, offer vision and hope for individuals and communities.
The Pilgrim’s Way:
new journeys, old remembrances . . .
This week I journeyed to Kamloops with a parish team, to begin congregational development training for the communities of Nelson and Kaslo. It was a great opportunity to step away from the parish for a short time, in order to learn, to meet others that are exploring growing parish ministry, and to reconnect with old memories and old friends.
I looked at this time as a small pilgrimage, a way to disconnect from daily routines, and to engage more deeply with my mind and soul, as I opened up to new experiences, and considered how I might best serve as priest and pastor in this community as we discern together how we can enable God’s presence to grow and blossom in this part of the Kootenays.
It was nostalgic as I returned to Kamloops for the first time in ten years. I remembered ministry activities that I coordinated, and the persons that I worked with that enabled youth to have positive experiences and learning in ministry. I walked through the cathedral sanctuary, remembering persons, emotions, activities and celebrations, and silently offered thanks. I shared a meal with old friends, as we caught up with life over the past ten years, the ups and downs, challenges and opportunities, and hopes for the future.
As I moved through the current training, I had opportunity to bond with our parish team, and to connect deeply with others, exploring themes, questions, and congregational development approaches. I feel the interactions have led to deeper connections and the possibility of new growth both within and beyond our parish life.
In short, this short pilgrimage has helped to refocus my heart and mind on the task of journeying in community with the Holy One.
When was the last time that you paused your regular routine in order to learn, to reflect, and to plan for the future? What insights have you gathered from such experiences? I believe that times of separation give insight and perspective that can serve to educate, heal, offer vision and hope for individuals and communities.
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Though we can’t always be pilgrims exploring a new way, or a new journey, I believe that planned opportunities for reflection enable greater growth for us as humans, in our personal, professional, and communal lives. We are not called to continue moving forward in life with no pauses or rests. Pauses, such as pilgrimages, sabbaths, sabbaticals give opportunity for perspective, for healing, growth, and a fresh look at life’s challenges and opportunities.
In Celtic spirituality the idea of pilgrimage was called peregrinatio. It was a journey, quest, the search for the holy; an outer journey which reflected an inner journey of the heart. (A World Made Whole - Esther de Waal) Pilgrimages in ancient times were much more difficult than the present day, though they are still just as important to explore and undertake. We travel so that we can find ourselves in relation to the world, to the community, and in relation to the Holy One. We travel to find out what needs to die in our lives, and what needs to be resurrected. We travel so that our journey home can be a journey of healing, of wholeness, and of hope.
This autumn, consider your life. Do you need to undertake a journey of discovery? Does your heart and soul match your daily actions of body and mind in your life? Is there something lacking? Is there something you need to let go? Does new learning need time to be incorporated into your daily routines?
Much has changed for me in the last ten years; I have no doubt there will be more change in the next ten. During this time I will continue to walk into my days as a peregrinati, dying to ineffectual and unhelpful patterns, and rising to a pilgrim’s life of wholeness and holiness, as best I can.
Blessings,
David
In Celtic spirituality the idea of pilgrimage was called peregrinatio. It was a journey, quest, the search for the holy; an outer journey which reflected an inner journey of the heart. (A World Made Whole - Esther de Waal) Pilgrimages in ancient times were much more difficult than the present day, though they are still just as important to explore and undertake. We travel so that we can find ourselves in relation to the world, to the community, and in relation to the Holy One. We travel to find out what needs to die in our lives, and what needs to be resurrected. We travel so that our journey home can be a journey of healing, of wholeness, and of hope.
This autumn, consider your life. Do you need to undertake a journey of discovery? Does your heart and soul match your daily actions of body and mind in your life? Is there something lacking? Is there something you need to let go? Does new learning need time to be incorporated into your daily routines?
Much has changed for me in the last ten years; I have no doubt there will be more change in the next ten. During this time I will continue to walk into my days as a peregrinati, dying to ineffectual and unhelpful patterns, and rising to a pilgrim’s life of wholeness and holiness, as best I can.
Blessings,
David
Mountain Reflection - September 18, 2024 Issue
Shifting Perspectives;
Mountain Memories . . .
It is good to be back in the Kootenays after some annual leave, time spent with family, and a shift from busyness to recreation. Now I’ve been back for a bit, I am settling into the rhythm and pattern of life in ministry once again.
When I first arrived in the Kootenays a year ago, it took me a while to adjust to the rhythm of life here in this part of the world. I remember a coworker offering advice, and cautioning me as to some challenges of mountain living, including the early darkness that comes with being settled in a deep valley surrounded by mountains. I heard him, yet at that moment I couldn’t quite fully understand the reality of living here. I expect I was simply overwhelmed with the vastness and immensity of the change that I had undergone, shifting from a North Atlantic climate and culture, to life in the British Columbia interior.
Shortly after that, this same co-worker invited Heather and I to hike up the mountains at some point, so as to gain a fresh perspective as to the beauty of nature, the immensity of the environment, and our place within it. In my continued immersion in the ministry and work in Kokanee Parish, I didn’t find time to take up this offer until this week.
Why did I wait? This past Monday Heather and I accompanied my co-worker on a sixteen kilometre hike into Kokanee Glacier Park. Kokanee Lake and Kaslo Lake were absolutely stunning. I found myself opening my eyes wider, listening more intently, breathing in more deeply, and completely humbled by the beauty, the immensity, the intricate intertwining of flora and fauna in a place that is so close to where I live. So close, and yet so separate, as life in urban and rural settings is so different from the wildness of mountain, lake, woodland and meadow. I saw and heard animals I had never seen before, and my co-worker and friend shared with us the names and descriptions of so many plants, flowers, animals, rock formations, as well as some of the history of the place.
I was humbled, awestruck. Though I’ve lived here just over a year, and seen many parts of the Kootenays, I had yet to climb and hike that high. I find I am still processing that experience, realizing that I once again have to reorient myself due to this new learning, this new immersion into the beauty of this great green earth.
Shifting Perspectives;
Mountain Memories . . .
It is good to be back in the Kootenays after some annual leave, time spent with family, and a shift from busyness to recreation. Now I’ve been back for a bit, I am settling into the rhythm and pattern of life in ministry once again.
When I first arrived in the Kootenays a year ago, it took me a while to adjust to the rhythm of life here in this part of the world. I remember a coworker offering advice, and cautioning me as to some challenges of mountain living, including the early darkness that comes with being settled in a deep valley surrounded by mountains. I heard him, yet at that moment I couldn’t quite fully understand the reality of living here. I expect I was simply overwhelmed with the vastness and immensity of the change that I had undergone, shifting from a North Atlantic climate and culture, to life in the British Columbia interior.
Shortly after that, this same co-worker invited Heather and I to hike up the mountains at some point, so as to gain a fresh perspective as to the beauty of nature, the immensity of the environment, and our place within it. In my continued immersion in the ministry and work in Kokanee Parish, I didn’t find time to take up this offer until this week.
Why did I wait? This past Monday Heather and I accompanied my co-worker on a sixteen kilometre hike into Kokanee Glacier Park. Kokanee Lake and Kaslo Lake were absolutely stunning. I found myself opening my eyes wider, listening more intently, breathing in more deeply, and completely humbled by the beauty, the immensity, the intricate intertwining of flora and fauna in a place that is so close to where I live. So close, and yet so separate, as life in urban and rural settings is so different from the wildness of mountain, lake, woodland and meadow. I saw and heard animals I had never seen before, and my co-worker and friend shared with us the names and descriptions of so many plants, flowers, animals, rock formations, as well as some of the history of the place.
I was humbled, awestruck. Though I’ve lived here just over a year, and seen many parts of the Kootenays, I had yet to climb and hike that high. I find I am still processing that experience, realizing that I once again have to reorient myself due to this new learning, this new immersion into the beauty of this great green earth.
Have you ever found yourself in a new place? Have you ever had an experience that is out of your ‘ordinary?’ How has it changed you? What growth, learning, memories do you hold with that encounter?
For me, journeying to new places, both in nature and within the soul are times of great transformation and great humility. When I journey in familiar places, I tend to come from a place of groundedness, a place of confidence, a place of self-assurance and self-importance. I (think I) know who I am, what I am called to be, and how I should move and live. When I encounter new places, both in the physical and in the spiritual, I have to shift perspectives. I can no longer be central. I become immersed in the new, unknown, and I seem to shift toward a perspective of renewed gratitude, humility, wonder and awe.
Are you forever moving and living within a static rhythm of life? Do you make or find opportunities to explore new places, both in nature and in your soul? How might you shift perspectives, so as to climb (figuratively or literally) new mountains, new feelings, new experiences?
In the Christian Scriptures there are numerous stories of fresh encounters with the unknown. In particular I recall the story of Jesus' journey in the wilderness, the transfiguration, Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus, the disciples and the crowd’s experience of Jesus as healer, miracle bringer, and redeemer.
This autumn, I hope you continue with your daily rhythm of life. I hope that you find space to encounter beauty, love, transformation and wonder, both in the physical world, as well as in the interior soul. I hope that you find ways to shift perspectives, to see places, people, experiences, from a new point of view.
May these opportunities, shared with family and friends, bring you to deeper appreciation of life, of nature, of the Holy One, of this place in time and space.
Peace,
David
For me, journeying to new places, both in nature and within the soul are times of great transformation and great humility. When I journey in familiar places, I tend to come from a place of groundedness, a place of confidence, a place of self-assurance and self-importance. I (think I) know who I am, what I am called to be, and how I should move and live. When I encounter new places, both in the physical and in the spiritual, I have to shift perspectives. I can no longer be central. I become immersed in the new, unknown, and I seem to shift toward a perspective of renewed gratitude, humility, wonder and awe.
Are you forever moving and living within a static rhythm of life? Do you make or find opportunities to explore new places, both in nature and in your soul? How might you shift perspectives, so as to climb (figuratively or literally) new mountains, new feelings, new experiences?
In the Christian Scriptures there are numerous stories of fresh encounters with the unknown. In particular I recall the story of Jesus' journey in the wilderness, the transfiguration, Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus, the disciples and the crowd’s experience of Jesus as healer, miracle bringer, and redeemer.
This autumn, I hope you continue with your daily rhythm of life. I hope that you find space to encounter beauty, love, transformation and wonder, both in the physical world, as well as in the interior soul. I hope that you find ways to shift perspectives, to see places, people, experiences, from a new point of view.
May these opportunities, shared with family and friends, bring you to deeper appreciation of life, of nature, of the Holy One, of this place in time and space.
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection - July 31, 2024 Issue
Community Connectivity
Strength to serve ...
As I share this Mountain Reflection, I am preparing for my annual leave which begins next Monday, August 5. I will be taking a month to rest, restore, and rejuvenate with family and friends, and thus will pause my Mountain Reflections until I return.
As I prepare, I am mindful that much of my writing of late has addressed community connectivity: how we hold compassion and comfort for ourselves and others, as we hold strength to serve and love in our various contexts. Each day as I try to live out this reality, I find that I have differing capacities to address the challenges of daily life.
Perhaps you, like me, are increasingly aware of the ups and downs of living, and the challenges of living and working within broken systems, differing expectations and energy levels as one attempts to live faithfully into a rule of love with God and with neighbour.
In the ups and downs of our journeys, we are called into cycles of work and rest, waiting and responding. Our life in Jesus is about dignity and justice, accountability and care, compassion and comfort. The task is continuous, the challenge for me is always capacity. I hope to fulfil the demands of compassion and service as I look with caring eyes and a full heart on the troubles and difficulties of the world.
I do not do it alone. I am thankful for this community of Kokanee Parish. For those in Kaslo, Nelson, and the North Shore that join with Jesus as we work together to provide love and care, worship and gratitude in our context.
This time for me is about recalling rest, community, and capacity. I do not do this work alone. I do not do this work at all times and in all ways. I am called to rest and rejuvenate, to loose the reins so others may lead. All of us need to take stock of our own personal and communal capacity to respond and be with others. We rest so we can be strengthened; we pause to reflect and re-vision our path forward.
As I reflect on the reality of the cycles of work and rest, I will be listening to my self: body, mind, heart, and soul. I will also be acknowledging God and Community, how listening and being in their presence brings life and love, care and support.
How will you observe these last days of July, the month of August, and the waning days of summer? Will it be rest and re-orientation? Will it be planning and preparation? Will it be care and celebration?
However you encounter this time, may you be surrounded in love, in healing, in being.
Know you are beloved,
Know you matter to so many
Know your inherent dignity
Know of the presence of the Holy One within and among you.
Be
Love always,
David
Community Connectivity
Strength to serve ...
As I share this Mountain Reflection, I am preparing for my annual leave which begins next Monday, August 5. I will be taking a month to rest, restore, and rejuvenate with family and friends, and thus will pause my Mountain Reflections until I return.
As I prepare, I am mindful that much of my writing of late has addressed community connectivity: how we hold compassion and comfort for ourselves and others, as we hold strength to serve and love in our various contexts. Each day as I try to live out this reality, I find that I have differing capacities to address the challenges of daily life.
Perhaps you, like me, are increasingly aware of the ups and downs of living, and the challenges of living and working within broken systems, differing expectations and energy levels as one attempts to live faithfully into a rule of love with God and with neighbour.
In the ups and downs of our journeys, we are called into cycles of work and rest, waiting and responding. Our life in Jesus is about dignity and justice, accountability and care, compassion and comfort. The task is continuous, the challenge for me is always capacity. I hope to fulfil the demands of compassion and service as I look with caring eyes and a full heart on the troubles and difficulties of the world.
I do not do it alone. I am thankful for this community of Kokanee Parish. For those in Kaslo, Nelson, and the North Shore that join with Jesus as we work together to provide love and care, worship and gratitude in our context.
This time for me is about recalling rest, community, and capacity. I do not do this work alone. I do not do this work at all times and in all ways. I am called to rest and rejuvenate, to loose the reins so others may lead. All of us need to take stock of our own personal and communal capacity to respond and be with others. We rest so we can be strengthened; we pause to reflect and re-vision our path forward.
As I reflect on the reality of the cycles of work and rest, I will be listening to my self: body, mind, heart, and soul. I will also be acknowledging God and Community, how listening and being in their presence brings life and love, care and support.
How will you observe these last days of July, the month of August, and the waning days of summer? Will it be rest and re-orientation? Will it be planning and preparation? Will it be care and celebration?
However you encounter this time, may you be surrounded in love, in healing, in being.
Know you are beloved,
Know you matter to so many
Know your inherent dignity
Know of the presence of the Holy One within and among you.
Be
Love always,
David
Mountain Reflection - July 24, 2024 Issue
Do not be afraid . . .
There are many portions of Scripture that encourage us to stay strong, resolute in the face of fear and adversity. I think of the numerous encounters that people have with angels, inciting fear and awe, and how the response is, ‘Fear not!’ Here in the Scriptures this week, Jesus is found encouraging the disciples to not be afraid, as they encounter him walking on the sea in the middle of the night.
Rough seas and strong winds bring fear and apprehension to most people, because nature vastly overpowers and overwhelms human beings. To be in the ocean surrounded by the immensity of space, depth, and perspective, reminds us how small we are, and how big the world is. Shifting currents, increasing wind and waves can cause so much damage, destruction, and death. Humans need to be prepared for shifting conditions, listen to weather reports, train for worse case scenarios, and bring essential life saving equipment. Getting caught in bad weather, even with all necessary equipment and training, can still produce catastrophic results, so fear is definitely warranted. I was reminded of this this past week as I read reports of a fishing longliner lost off Newfoundland and Labrador, and how fortunately all crew were rescued: found safe in a life raft.
The extremes of nature can be devastating to humans, and elicit so many emotions, so I feel in good company when I am feeling fear and anxiety when confronted with poor weather and storms. Here in the Kootenays we have not been experiencing the challenging storms of the North Atlantic, instead we have been faced with the challenges of extreme heat, wildfires, wildfire smoke, thunder and lightning storms, dry lightning, and lack of rain. In casual conversation, in the news, and in most aspects of daily life, there is a constant strain on the nervous system, as individuals and families, communities and regions adjust to increased smoke, wildfire destruction, and forced episodic homelessness.
Do not be afraid . . .
There are many portions of Scripture that encourage us to stay strong, resolute in the face of fear and adversity. I think of the numerous encounters that people have with angels, inciting fear and awe, and how the response is, ‘Fear not!’ Here in the Scriptures this week, Jesus is found encouraging the disciples to not be afraid, as they encounter him walking on the sea in the middle of the night.
Rough seas and strong winds bring fear and apprehension to most people, because nature vastly overpowers and overwhelms human beings. To be in the ocean surrounded by the immensity of space, depth, and perspective, reminds us how small we are, and how big the world is. Shifting currents, increasing wind and waves can cause so much damage, destruction, and death. Humans need to be prepared for shifting conditions, listen to weather reports, train for worse case scenarios, and bring essential life saving equipment. Getting caught in bad weather, even with all necessary equipment and training, can still produce catastrophic results, so fear is definitely warranted. I was reminded of this this past week as I read reports of a fishing longliner lost off Newfoundland and Labrador, and how fortunately all crew were rescued: found safe in a life raft.
The extremes of nature can be devastating to humans, and elicit so many emotions, so I feel in good company when I am feeling fear and anxiety when confronted with poor weather and storms. Here in the Kootenays we have not been experiencing the challenging storms of the North Atlantic, instead we have been faced with the challenges of extreme heat, wildfires, wildfire smoke, thunder and lightning storms, dry lightning, and lack of rain. In casual conversation, in the news, and in most aspects of daily life, there is a constant strain on the nervous system, as individuals and families, communities and regions adjust to increased smoke, wildfire destruction, and forced episodic homelessness.
In many ways I feel like I would be less fearful in an ocean storm than in a BC Wildfire. I suppose this is because of familiarity and experience. I’ve spent more time at the ocean’s coast than in the mountains in the Kootenays. Nevertheless, fear and anxiety can and are present in both, and Scripture invites us to learn from the encounters that persons have with Jesus.
When Jesus is present with others, Jesus doesn’t remove the danger, he invites us to move through the danger and address our fear. There is an understanding that we are not alone in our fears and anxieties; we are invited to let the presence of the Holy One into our lives so that we can be better equipped to handle adversity. Employing a spiritual approach does not magically solve our challenges, instead it helps give us time, perspective, and peace, so that we can face the problem, the adversity more calmly and make better decisions.
As a follower of Jesus, I believe that the presence of Jesus dwells within humanity; that when open to love, to wonder, to gratitude, the Holy One dwells with us and within us. As a follower of Jesus, I believe that when we are crippled by fear and anxiety we close the door to the Holy One, and can also close our lives to others who may be reaching out in love and care.
Are you in a stormy period of life? Is it due to natural occurrences that have been magnified due to the climate crisis? Do you get locked into patterns of fear, anxiety and depression at times? Do these storms rule you life? Do they shape the lives of your loved ones? How might you present as a being of love, of care, of support, to address the challenges and storms that people face?
Reach out to friends and family, neighbours and strangers this week. Show through your care and compassion, that love will conquer fear. It will not take away all danger, but it will help people to know that they are never alone.
Blessings
David
When Jesus is present with others, Jesus doesn’t remove the danger, he invites us to move through the danger and address our fear. There is an understanding that we are not alone in our fears and anxieties; we are invited to let the presence of the Holy One into our lives so that we can be better equipped to handle adversity. Employing a spiritual approach does not magically solve our challenges, instead it helps give us time, perspective, and peace, so that we can face the problem, the adversity more calmly and make better decisions.
As a follower of Jesus, I believe that the presence of Jesus dwells within humanity; that when open to love, to wonder, to gratitude, the Holy One dwells with us and within us. As a follower of Jesus, I believe that when we are crippled by fear and anxiety we close the door to the Holy One, and can also close our lives to others who may be reaching out in love and care.
Are you in a stormy period of life? Is it due to natural occurrences that have been magnified due to the climate crisis? Do you get locked into patterns of fear, anxiety and depression at times? Do these storms rule you life? Do they shape the lives of your loved ones? How might you present as a being of love, of care, of support, to address the challenges and storms that people face?
Reach out to friends and family, neighbours and strangers this week. Show through your care and compassion, that love will conquer fear. It will not take away all danger, but it will help people to know that they are never alone.
Blessings
David
Mountain Reflection - July 17, 2024 Issue
Leaders, Followers
Comfort, Action, Compassion, Rest . . .
This week in the West Kootenays we are experiencing week two of a three week heatwave. Temperatures between 35 - 41 degrees C, with little cloud and no precipitation. It is summer in all its glory in many ways, as so many are engaging in recreation and leisure. Any and all who have time and means are by the water, entombed in air conditioned environments, or simply resting.
I am thankful for leaders and organizations that are providing care and comfort to the most vulnerable, including Nelson United Church with its cooling centre, ANKORS, Nelson Library, our Food Pantry, and the City of Nelson. So many are taking the time to check in on vulnerable persons within the community. Amid the heat, there is an air of compassion and comfort for all.
In the Scriptures this week there is great imagery concerning leaders and followers. Jeremiah recounts God’s concern that leaders of Israel have been too caught up in their own selves to provide essential leadership and care for the nation. Psalm 23 reminds us that God as shepherd will never abandon us, journeying with us over mountains, through valleys, amid our enemies, and in our celebrations. Mark’s Gospel reminds us that following Jesus’ example, we are called to make place for both work and leisure, so that we can be fully present to provide comfort and compassion when needed.
This week I find myself reflecting on pastoral work, specifically the labour of shepherds, the rhythms of farming and pastoralia as persons for generations have cared for flocks, even as they’ve learned the patterns of the seasons, the dangers and delights in fields and meadows. I’ve reflected on the example I’ve seen in my parents as they’ve farmed this past fifteen years, and in the examples of so many mentors and leaders that I’ve worked with, both within the church, and within the nonprofit sector.
Over and over again I’ve witnessed humility, compassion, care, patience, determination, and love. These seem to be the key learnings and directions for healthy leaders, healthy communities, and healthy living. As I slap on the sunscreen, find my hat, and dress for the weather, I am mindful of these points. I’m mindful too, that I must attune myself to the rhythms of the place, the culture and the community, if I’m going to attempt to be an effective follower and leader in this place.
How do you hold space for humility and patience? How do you act in ways of compassion and comfort? How do you balance your rhythm of work and rest, amid the ups and downs of your journey?
Blessings,
David
Leaders, Followers
Comfort, Action, Compassion, Rest . . .
This week in the West Kootenays we are experiencing week two of a three week heatwave. Temperatures between 35 - 41 degrees C, with little cloud and no precipitation. It is summer in all its glory in many ways, as so many are engaging in recreation and leisure. Any and all who have time and means are by the water, entombed in air conditioned environments, or simply resting.
I am thankful for leaders and organizations that are providing care and comfort to the most vulnerable, including Nelson United Church with its cooling centre, ANKORS, Nelson Library, our Food Pantry, and the City of Nelson. So many are taking the time to check in on vulnerable persons within the community. Amid the heat, there is an air of compassion and comfort for all.
In the Scriptures this week there is great imagery concerning leaders and followers. Jeremiah recounts God’s concern that leaders of Israel have been too caught up in their own selves to provide essential leadership and care for the nation. Psalm 23 reminds us that God as shepherd will never abandon us, journeying with us over mountains, through valleys, amid our enemies, and in our celebrations. Mark’s Gospel reminds us that following Jesus’ example, we are called to make place for both work and leisure, so that we can be fully present to provide comfort and compassion when needed.
This week I find myself reflecting on pastoral work, specifically the labour of shepherds, the rhythms of farming and pastoralia as persons for generations have cared for flocks, even as they’ve learned the patterns of the seasons, the dangers and delights in fields and meadows. I’ve reflected on the example I’ve seen in my parents as they’ve farmed this past fifteen years, and in the examples of so many mentors and leaders that I’ve worked with, both within the church, and within the nonprofit sector.
Over and over again I’ve witnessed humility, compassion, care, patience, determination, and love. These seem to be the key learnings and directions for healthy leaders, healthy communities, and healthy living. As I slap on the sunscreen, find my hat, and dress for the weather, I am mindful of these points. I’m mindful too, that I must attune myself to the rhythms of the place, the culture and the community, if I’m going to attempt to be an effective follower and leader in this place.
How do you hold space for humility and patience? How do you act in ways of compassion and comfort? How do you balance your rhythm of work and rest, amid the ups and downs of your journey?
Blessings,
David
Mountain Reflection - July 10, 2024 Issue
New and Old
Used and Renewed . . .
In many parts of the world, the fullness of summer has descended, with all its beauty, warmth, growth, recreation and freedom. In these same spaces, summer brings vulnerability, heat warnings, lack of food, water, shelter, and being imprisoned in one's circumstance. It is also a time of renewed community, where we connect and reconnect with friends, family, strangers, neighbours, in the complexity of human interaction, which at times can be life-giving, while in other contexts can be destructive.
Into all this we live, breathe, and experience our being. For me summer holds memories of warm rain, lemonade stands, and jumble sales. Summer is a time of renewal, of stepping outside my regular patterns, of learning and living into a better way of being. At times in my life I have been enthralled with the newness and novelty of summer. As a child I was caught up in summer toys, activities, clothing, as I shed the routine of the old and familiar, and got caught up in the need to express myself and live into the joy of summer - thinking that it only could occur if I had that distinct, new thing.
Society, media and culture seem to focus on all things new, bigger, and better. We are constantly being pounded with messaging and imaging that tells us that only the new things are the best. They are wrapped up in language, marketing, packaging that is disposable, and promises so many things - joy, love, satisfaction, success, want. We need to get these things in order to have a beautiful, perfect life.
Here enters my best memories of summer: contradictions and surprises. The best parts of my summer experiences have always been unexpected: a random hike, a casual conversation, chance weather patterns, surprising garage sale finds. The fallacy of new, bigger, and better may have once enticed me; today I live into old, used and renewed. I am letting go of expectations, as I find new love and new learning in reusing, recycling, reducing, and refusing. As much as I am able, I refuse buying new, I recycle what is no longer needed, I reduce my impact within the world, and I reuse those items gently loved, giving them a new home, new purpose, as I explore how I will grow as a human in this time and space.
So I give thanks, and acknowledge the gift of reused greeting cards, of much loved books, and of previously owned art. I value seeds harvested from last year's crops; I try to live by repurposing tools, items, so that I can lessen my footprint on the earth. I am trying to live into a gentler way of being, acknowledging that I am a small part of the whole, which is beyond my comprehension. I am trying to hold to a pattern of life that highlights thankfulness and gratitude, meaning and use, and not be wasteful with my power, privilege, and position. I am trying to live gently and meaningfully - trying to make up for past excesses, poor decisions, and selfishness. How do you encounter new and old in summer?
New and Old
Used and Renewed . . .
In many parts of the world, the fullness of summer has descended, with all its beauty, warmth, growth, recreation and freedom. In these same spaces, summer brings vulnerability, heat warnings, lack of food, water, shelter, and being imprisoned in one's circumstance. It is also a time of renewed community, where we connect and reconnect with friends, family, strangers, neighbours, in the complexity of human interaction, which at times can be life-giving, while in other contexts can be destructive.
Into all this we live, breathe, and experience our being. For me summer holds memories of warm rain, lemonade stands, and jumble sales. Summer is a time of renewal, of stepping outside my regular patterns, of learning and living into a better way of being. At times in my life I have been enthralled with the newness and novelty of summer. As a child I was caught up in summer toys, activities, clothing, as I shed the routine of the old and familiar, and got caught up in the need to express myself and live into the joy of summer - thinking that it only could occur if I had that distinct, new thing.
Society, media and culture seem to focus on all things new, bigger, and better. We are constantly being pounded with messaging and imaging that tells us that only the new things are the best. They are wrapped up in language, marketing, packaging that is disposable, and promises so many things - joy, love, satisfaction, success, want. We need to get these things in order to have a beautiful, perfect life.
Here enters my best memories of summer: contradictions and surprises. The best parts of my summer experiences have always been unexpected: a random hike, a casual conversation, chance weather patterns, surprising garage sale finds. The fallacy of new, bigger, and better may have once enticed me; today I live into old, used and renewed. I am letting go of expectations, as I find new love and new learning in reusing, recycling, reducing, and refusing. As much as I am able, I refuse buying new, I recycle what is no longer needed, I reduce my impact within the world, and I reuse those items gently loved, giving them a new home, new purpose, as I explore how I will grow as a human in this time and space.
So I give thanks, and acknowledge the gift of reused greeting cards, of much loved books, and of previously owned art. I value seeds harvested from last year's crops; I try to live by repurposing tools, items, so that I can lessen my footprint on the earth. I am trying to live into a gentler way of being, acknowledging that I am a small part of the whole, which is beyond my comprehension. I am trying to hold to a pattern of life that highlights thankfulness and gratitude, meaning and use, and not be wasteful with my power, privilege, and position. I am trying to live gently and meaningfully - trying to make up for past excesses, poor decisions, and selfishness. How do you encounter new and old in summer?
How do you balance used and renewed in your life? Have you examined your patterns of living and being? How might your model inspire and engage others? How does this reflect love, care, dignity, service?
May these summer experiences bring re-creation, joy, meaning and love. May this world be sustained, renewed, enlivened by our conscious reexamination of priorities. May we share, so that all may live, and live fully.
David
Mountain Reflection - July 3, 2024 Issue
Friends, Family
Hometown Hospitality . . .
As the shift into summer has begun, I am making preparations to visit my parents in August. In many ways it is going home, even though it is not a place I have ever lived permanently. I look forward to being present with my parents, to sharing meals, listening to stories, working together on the farm, and experiencing community with them without the aid of telephone and computer.
Life in the 21st Century seems to be such a mixture of in-person and virtual communication. We are forced to become adaptive as we navigate commitments to family, friendships, resulting from the interconnective, cosmopolitan society in which we are immersed. Deficiencies in technologies, heavy work schedules, and poor work-life balances can contribute to loneliness, disconnection, miscommunication, and challenge, whether with acquaintances, colleagues, friends, or family. Taking time to be with others is essential, enabling love and care, reconciliation and growth to occur.
So often the pace of society and culture is blistering, focusing on personal success and gratification, conformity, and capitalism. These foci can cause disconnect, grief, pain, and distancing from meaningful friendships, deep caring, family connections, and a life focused on love.
As many enter into the summer months, a focus on rest and rejuvenation is paramount. We are invited to set aside our regular patterns in order to heal body, mind, soul, and the community that supports us - those we consider family.
The Scripture designated for this week seems to be in stark contrast to ideas of rejuvenation and relaxation. In the Gospel, Jesus returns to his hometown with anything but rest on the agenda. He is there to provide healing and comfort, teaching and guidance. He is rejected by his family, most of the community, and those who were familiar with his hometown life prior to his vocation after his desert sojourn.
This conflict seems in direct discord with how modern society honours themes of family, rejuvenation, and respect. How I navigate this passage is to consider and contemplate authenticity. Jesus is being his authentic self, following his vocation, living as he feels the Holy One, Abba, has called him to be. Family, neighbours, hometown friends do not or can not accept this. At times we are called to live into our authentic lives, and this may cause dissension and disrespect within our family of origin or our extended friends network.
I have seen this time and again as I’ve encountered persons struggling with authenticity in their vocation, in their sexuality, in their choice and decision around friends and family. To me, the example of Jesus focuses on living an authentic life, which can sometimes rub against those that know us best, as some may wish to exert pressure, control, direction, that is contrary to the vocation that one is choosing to follow.
The needed response is listening and understanding, caring and love. It is not seen in this passage through Jesus’ family and hometown friends - That is not to say that it did not occur - it is just that the Gospel writers of the day chose to emphasize a different part of the story. We see in the passion that Jesus’ mother does stay connected as an integral part of Jesus’ life and identity.
This summer, as we contemplate rest, relaxation, let us also contemplate authenticity. How might a pause in our lives bring about a more authentic pattern of living into the future? How might our closest friends and family respond? How are we called to engage with them, listening and learning, as well as sharing in safe and caring ways, the transformations that may affect our lives?
As we tend to this time, whether in summer solitude bliss, or whether working steadily in the patterns of our current lives, let us always try to live authentically, being supported by those whom we consider our family, surrounded by the presence of the Holy One.
Peace,
David
Friends, Family
Hometown Hospitality . . .
As the shift into summer has begun, I am making preparations to visit my parents in August. In many ways it is going home, even though it is not a place I have ever lived permanently. I look forward to being present with my parents, to sharing meals, listening to stories, working together on the farm, and experiencing community with them without the aid of telephone and computer.
Life in the 21st Century seems to be such a mixture of in-person and virtual communication. We are forced to become adaptive as we navigate commitments to family, friendships, resulting from the interconnective, cosmopolitan society in which we are immersed. Deficiencies in technologies, heavy work schedules, and poor work-life balances can contribute to loneliness, disconnection, miscommunication, and challenge, whether with acquaintances, colleagues, friends, or family. Taking time to be with others is essential, enabling love and care, reconciliation and growth to occur.
So often the pace of society and culture is blistering, focusing on personal success and gratification, conformity, and capitalism. These foci can cause disconnect, grief, pain, and distancing from meaningful friendships, deep caring, family connections, and a life focused on love.
As many enter into the summer months, a focus on rest and rejuvenation is paramount. We are invited to set aside our regular patterns in order to heal body, mind, soul, and the community that supports us - those we consider family.
The Scripture designated for this week seems to be in stark contrast to ideas of rejuvenation and relaxation. In the Gospel, Jesus returns to his hometown with anything but rest on the agenda. He is there to provide healing and comfort, teaching and guidance. He is rejected by his family, most of the community, and those who were familiar with his hometown life prior to his vocation after his desert sojourn.
This conflict seems in direct discord with how modern society honours themes of family, rejuvenation, and respect. How I navigate this passage is to consider and contemplate authenticity. Jesus is being his authentic self, following his vocation, living as he feels the Holy One, Abba, has called him to be. Family, neighbours, hometown friends do not or can not accept this. At times we are called to live into our authentic lives, and this may cause dissension and disrespect within our family of origin or our extended friends network.
I have seen this time and again as I’ve encountered persons struggling with authenticity in their vocation, in their sexuality, in their choice and decision around friends and family. To me, the example of Jesus focuses on living an authentic life, which can sometimes rub against those that know us best, as some may wish to exert pressure, control, direction, that is contrary to the vocation that one is choosing to follow.
The needed response is listening and understanding, caring and love. It is not seen in this passage through Jesus’ family and hometown friends - That is not to say that it did not occur - it is just that the Gospel writers of the day chose to emphasize a different part of the story. We see in the passion that Jesus’ mother does stay connected as an integral part of Jesus’ life and identity.
This summer, as we contemplate rest, relaxation, let us also contemplate authenticity. How might a pause in our lives bring about a more authentic pattern of living into the future? How might our closest friends and family respond? How are we called to engage with them, listening and learning, as well as sharing in safe and caring ways, the transformations that may affect our lives?
As we tend to this time, whether in summer solitude bliss, or whether working steadily in the patterns of our current lives, let us always try to live authentically, being supported by those whom we consider our family, surrounded by the presence of the Holy One.
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection - June 26, 2024 Issue
Patience in Discernment;
Observation as a role in healing...
Next week will mark nine months since I began my ministry here in the West Kootenays. During this time of transition and discovery, I have very much grappled with discernment and healing, as I minister as priest and pastor in the Parish of Kokanee. Almost a year ago, I was immersed in the parish selection process, and actively trying to plan and sort out a future for myself, after an abrupt end to a long ministry, and a painful divorce. I was asking all sorts of questions of myself, of God, of the church and of the world, as I searched for a route forward in life. In many ways I felt like a rudderless boat, sails limp in the doldrums, waiting for gusts of wind and flow of current to set me on a new course.
In many ways I felt both closer and more distant from God, as I tried to navigate a way of living and being, reorienting myself, looking for signs of hope, of meaning, of purpose. After a time I accepted the reality that my action and busyness would not chart a path forward; I had to stop, be patient, trust in the Holy One, and stay in the present.
Now that I look back, I realise that my forced inaction was a gift. I developed gifts of patience and observation that have helped me to model a new way of being as I partner in ministry with others here in the Kootenays. In modelling patience and observation, I have taken much time to read, listen, and learn, as I continue to grow and develop as a human.
Most of my reading and learning have been in the social sciences, as I delved into anthropology and sociology, exploring the impact of humanity on history, in nature, and how continued examination of these subjects in the past and present may help humanity’s journey forward to a healthier, more sustainable future.
This month, my reading has included the 2009 CBC Massey Lecture entitled:
"The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World," by Wade Davis.
In this tome, I have found new insight in his description of Polynesian Navigators, or Wayfinders. These individuals use gifts of patience and observation to guide catamaran canoes thousands of kilometres, from Hawaii to Tahiti to New Zealand. They use no compass, GPS, or sextant, instead they discern from the natural environment a map of the route in their mind, in turn offering decisions, and getting the craft to its destination. One navigator describes, ‘you don’t look up at the stars to know where you are; you need to know where you come from by memorizing from where you sailed . . . If you can read the ocean, if you can see the island in your mind, you will never get lost.’(Wayfinders, 60-61). Reading these passages, and reflecting on my own journey I realise that I am most effective as a priest, friend, partner, community member, and human when I live in the present, observing, listening, and being patient before deciding on direction and course of action.
Lately, I have become much more aware of the environment around me. There is something about living in the mountains that makes me appreciate the subtle differences in weather, the movement of trees, the response of flora and fauna. I am patiently taking time, being with myself and others, which I believe is helping both me and others to explore discernment and open up to healing in various ways.
Patience in Discernment;
Observation as a role in healing...
Next week will mark nine months since I began my ministry here in the West Kootenays. During this time of transition and discovery, I have very much grappled with discernment and healing, as I minister as priest and pastor in the Parish of Kokanee. Almost a year ago, I was immersed in the parish selection process, and actively trying to plan and sort out a future for myself, after an abrupt end to a long ministry, and a painful divorce. I was asking all sorts of questions of myself, of God, of the church and of the world, as I searched for a route forward in life. In many ways I felt like a rudderless boat, sails limp in the doldrums, waiting for gusts of wind and flow of current to set me on a new course.
In many ways I felt both closer and more distant from God, as I tried to navigate a way of living and being, reorienting myself, looking for signs of hope, of meaning, of purpose. After a time I accepted the reality that my action and busyness would not chart a path forward; I had to stop, be patient, trust in the Holy One, and stay in the present.
Now that I look back, I realise that my forced inaction was a gift. I developed gifts of patience and observation that have helped me to model a new way of being as I partner in ministry with others here in the Kootenays. In modelling patience and observation, I have taken much time to read, listen, and learn, as I continue to grow and develop as a human.
Most of my reading and learning have been in the social sciences, as I delved into anthropology and sociology, exploring the impact of humanity on history, in nature, and how continued examination of these subjects in the past and present may help humanity’s journey forward to a healthier, more sustainable future.
This month, my reading has included the 2009 CBC Massey Lecture entitled:
"The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World," by Wade Davis.
In this tome, I have found new insight in his description of Polynesian Navigators, or Wayfinders. These individuals use gifts of patience and observation to guide catamaran canoes thousands of kilometres, from Hawaii to Tahiti to New Zealand. They use no compass, GPS, or sextant, instead they discern from the natural environment a map of the route in their mind, in turn offering decisions, and getting the craft to its destination. One navigator describes, ‘you don’t look up at the stars to know where you are; you need to know where you come from by memorizing from where you sailed . . . If you can read the ocean, if you can see the island in your mind, you will never get lost.’(Wayfinders, 60-61). Reading these passages, and reflecting on my own journey I realise that I am most effective as a priest, friend, partner, community member, and human when I live in the present, observing, listening, and being patient before deciding on direction and course of action.
Lately, I have become much more aware of the environment around me. There is something about living in the mountains that makes me appreciate the subtle differences in weather, the movement of trees, the response of flora and fauna. I am patiently taking time, being with myself and others, which I believe is helping both me and others to explore discernment and open up to healing in various ways.
This week in the Scriptures Jesus has been journeying by boat. He hasn’t been wayfinding the Polynesian Pacific; instead, he has taken a path that he believes will bring sabbath rest and perspective for he and his disciples. Upon arriving at the shore, Jesus is greeted by crowds, including a distraught father of a dying girl, and a ritually unclean woman who has suffered for years. Wayfinder Jesus does not admonish nor dismiss the crowds. As he moves to fulfil the father’s wishes, he is patient, and observant of his surroundings. He feels his garment being touched; he provides healing to the woman; he takes time in his new surroundings to be fully present to all in need. Though he may not have known his path before he landed on the shore, he stays in the present, and responds to the circumstances in the new place. Healing and purpose come from observation and discernment.
How do you stay present in your surroundings? Do you take time to be in the moment? What methods do you use to be fully present to self, friends, family, nature, and the Holy One? What factors distract you or block you from being fully present, and fully authentic in your life? Do you get lost in your past history, or do you become paralyzed contemplating your future? How might you model the skills of a navigating Wayfinder to live into patience and healing as you discern a course forward?
Peace always,
David
How do you stay present in your surroundings? Do you take time to be in the moment? What methods do you use to be fully present to self, friends, family, nature, and the Holy One? What factors distract you or block you from being fully present, and fully authentic in your life? Do you get lost in your past history, or do you become paralyzed contemplating your future? How might you model the skills of a navigating Wayfinder to live into patience and healing as you discern a course forward?
Peace always,
David
Mountain Reflection - June 19, 2024 Issue
The slow, determined walk
Justice Bringing,
Peace-Building,
Reconciliation . . .
Give me all the bent and broken Christians. The ones who know they’re weak and full of strife. Who walk in spite of rain and embrace the joy and pain as they celebrate the wonder of this messy life.
by David McNeish, from Living Letters of the Word.
Each morning when I awake, I lie in bed, stretch, offer my prayers of praise and thanks, and sit up, ready to face the day. As I look out my window, I invariably glance at a pair of old mukluks. These were made for me when I was a child, living in Iqaluit in the 1970’s. They hold special meaning to me, as I remember the six years I lived with my family in the north, and how that shaped, and continues to shape my sense of self, my love of community and of nature. In addition to this, I believe I hold a deeper sense of responsibility in caring for creation, and in the work of reconciliation and healing with Indigenous persons and communities.
There is so much I love about my spiritual home in the church, it’s worship and community. Also, there is much I lament about the church, our legacy so linked with colonialism and the destruction of cultures, language, and spirituality. In short, like McNeish’s poem above, there is so much messiness in life, and despite it all, I continue to walk forward, stepping ever deeper into pain and joy, knowing that the Holy One journeys with me in acts of justice, peace, and reconciliation.
June 21 each year persons take time to remember, recall, and act upon the 94 resolutions of the National Truth and Reconciliation Commission. This week we are invited to look more closely at the past, and at the ongoing and future work in our context. Justice has not yet been fully realized; peace is not yet breathed into all areas of this place, as Indigenous people and nations continue to suffer, experience racism and stigma, and be treated with disdain.
This is not acceptable; all need to acknowledge the harm and destruction that settling peoples have had in the Americas. The Anglican church, as well as other churches, governments, and individuals have imposed customs, laws, and restrictions that have disregarded Indigenous people. For the past thirty years there has been much change, for which I am thankful. Each day, as I get up, say my prayers, and look at the beauty of sealskin and cloth that I used to wear on my feet, I am reminded that the work is not finished. Though I may not fit into these boots, I still have to walking to do, to be at a place of justice, peace, and reconciliation.
How do you observe the National Indigenous Day of Prayer? Will you light a candle? Will you shape your prayer into reflective time that leads to action and change? Will you take time to read and learn more?
Consider your place in time and space, in culture and community. Take time to participate in Indigenous dialogue as a listener and a learner. Show up to learn, to participate in healing and justice. Be present.
Peace,
David
The slow, determined walk
Justice Bringing,
Peace-Building,
Reconciliation . . .
Give me all the bent and broken Christians. The ones who know they’re weak and full of strife. Who walk in spite of rain and embrace the joy and pain as they celebrate the wonder of this messy life.
by David McNeish, from Living Letters of the Word.
Each morning when I awake, I lie in bed, stretch, offer my prayers of praise and thanks, and sit up, ready to face the day. As I look out my window, I invariably glance at a pair of old mukluks. These were made for me when I was a child, living in Iqaluit in the 1970’s. They hold special meaning to me, as I remember the six years I lived with my family in the north, and how that shaped, and continues to shape my sense of self, my love of community and of nature. In addition to this, I believe I hold a deeper sense of responsibility in caring for creation, and in the work of reconciliation and healing with Indigenous persons and communities.
There is so much I love about my spiritual home in the church, it’s worship and community. Also, there is much I lament about the church, our legacy so linked with colonialism and the destruction of cultures, language, and spirituality. In short, like McNeish’s poem above, there is so much messiness in life, and despite it all, I continue to walk forward, stepping ever deeper into pain and joy, knowing that the Holy One journeys with me in acts of justice, peace, and reconciliation.
June 21 each year persons take time to remember, recall, and act upon the 94 resolutions of the National Truth and Reconciliation Commission. This week we are invited to look more closely at the past, and at the ongoing and future work in our context. Justice has not yet been fully realized; peace is not yet breathed into all areas of this place, as Indigenous people and nations continue to suffer, experience racism and stigma, and be treated with disdain.
This is not acceptable; all need to acknowledge the harm and destruction that settling peoples have had in the Americas. The Anglican church, as well as other churches, governments, and individuals have imposed customs, laws, and restrictions that have disregarded Indigenous people. For the past thirty years there has been much change, for which I am thankful. Each day, as I get up, say my prayers, and look at the beauty of sealskin and cloth that I used to wear on my feet, I am reminded that the work is not finished. Though I may not fit into these boots, I still have to walking to do, to be at a place of justice, peace, and reconciliation.
How do you observe the National Indigenous Day of Prayer? Will you light a candle? Will you shape your prayer into reflective time that leads to action and change? Will you take time to read and learn more?
Consider your place in time and space, in culture and community. Take time to participate in Indigenous dialogue as a listener and a learner. Show up to learn, to participate in healing and justice. Be present.
Peace,
David
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Mountain Reflection - June 12, 2024 Issue
I think I can,
I think I can . . .
This week I have been reflecting on accomplishments in nature and in society that seem impossible. I think of the role of salmon in the Pacific Northwest, providing essential nutrients to landscape and vegetation, as well as to bears, orca, and numerous other species. Robert T. Paine, a biologist coined the phrase ‘keystone species’ in the 1960s, denoting that certain species are key to the sustainability and growth of entire ecosystems. There are certain species that are diminutive, yet have immense impact on their environment. Note the University of Washington’s College of the Environment as they identify five keystone species.
In reflecting upon society, I note major acts of defiance that have occurred throughout history, bringing sweeping change to cultures and nations. I remember seeing an image of crowds offering the Nazi salute, with one individual defiantly refusing; the story of Gandhi’s salt march protest, Rosa Parks refusing to leave her seat, and numerous examples of actions leading to the cessation of Apartheid in South Africa, and the Good Friday Peace Accord in Northern Ireland.
In these examples, both from nature and society, the common thread I see is a small catalyst that produces large change. This got me exploring stories in literature, and I paused significantly on the story of The Little Engine that Could, by Charles S. Wing. So many times I feel I am in the position of the small switch engine, working hard at something, saying, ‘I think I can, I think I can,’ hoping that I get to a place where I can exclaim ‘I knew I could, I knew I could!’ On the surface, I believe that story is a helpful illustration addressing optimism, resilience, and hard work. Deeper though, I believe that the story misses the mark.
For the past eight months in ministry here in the Kootenays, I have been working with others addressing Homelessness and Food Security, primarily through the organization Nelson Committee on Homelessness. Food Security, Winter Emergency Bed Programmes, and now Cooling Centres and Smoke protection have been top of mind. In my role as a leader in a faith community, I bring the lens of Jesus to the dialogue, specifically focusing on respect for human dignity, compassion, humility, and selfless acts of service to others.
This coming Sunday in the readings we hear of the young shepherd David, and of the parable of the mustard seeds. Both stories focus on the relative diminutive nature of the subject (shepherd boy and tiny seed), and how God can use them to accomplish great things. It is not by their own might or individual ability alone. The seed contains genetic code that can only be accessed in the right conditions - water, soil, sunlight, nutrients. David is an unlikely candidate to be king. He is the youngest and smallest of Jesse's sons. He can only accomplish leading the people of Israel after he’s anointed, and accepts the task God offers, through listening to the prophets Samuel and Nathan.
The longer I live, the more I see the pain and chaos present in the world. It is so easy for me to live in hopelessness; to believe that I cannot make meaningful lasting change. All our frameworks and systems of living are broken. Systems become systems of oppression, incorporating greed and grief, capitalism and corruption, and seem to forever offer favour to some, and disregard to many.
I hold on to a path of life which upholds the goodness of creation, human dignity, compassion, humility, and selfless acts of service. I may be one engine on a track, one seed in a bowl, one voice among others. I cannot, and do not do this alone. I am surrounded by others in community (within and outside the church), I am nurtured through the presence of others, open to learning and instruction, forgiveness and reconciliation, I am immersed in the presence of the Holy One, whom I believe affects and engages with all of life.
Peace,
David
I think I can,
I think I can . . .
This week I have been reflecting on accomplishments in nature and in society that seem impossible. I think of the role of salmon in the Pacific Northwest, providing essential nutrients to landscape and vegetation, as well as to bears, orca, and numerous other species. Robert T. Paine, a biologist coined the phrase ‘keystone species’ in the 1960s, denoting that certain species are key to the sustainability and growth of entire ecosystems. There are certain species that are diminutive, yet have immense impact on their environment. Note the University of Washington’s College of the Environment as they identify five keystone species.
In reflecting upon society, I note major acts of defiance that have occurred throughout history, bringing sweeping change to cultures and nations. I remember seeing an image of crowds offering the Nazi salute, with one individual defiantly refusing; the story of Gandhi’s salt march protest, Rosa Parks refusing to leave her seat, and numerous examples of actions leading to the cessation of Apartheid in South Africa, and the Good Friday Peace Accord in Northern Ireland.
In these examples, both from nature and society, the common thread I see is a small catalyst that produces large change. This got me exploring stories in literature, and I paused significantly on the story of The Little Engine that Could, by Charles S. Wing. So many times I feel I am in the position of the small switch engine, working hard at something, saying, ‘I think I can, I think I can,’ hoping that I get to a place where I can exclaim ‘I knew I could, I knew I could!’ On the surface, I believe that story is a helpful illustration addressing optimism, resilience, and hard work. Deeper though, I believe that the story misses the mark.
For the past eight months in ministry here in the Kootenays, I have been working with others addressing Homelessness and Food Security, primarily through the organization Nelson Committee on Homelessness. Food Security, Winter Emergency Bed Programmes, and now Cooling Centres and Smoke protection have been top of mind. In my role as a leader in a faith community, I bring the lens of Jesus to the dialogue, specifically focusing on respect for human dignity, compassion, humility, and selfless acts of service to others.
This coming Sunday in the readings we hear of the young shepherd David, and of the parable of the mustard seeds. Both stories focus on the relative diminutive nature of the subject (shepherd boy and tiny seed), and how God can use them to accomplish great things. It is not by their own might or individual ability alone. The seed contains genetic code that can only be accessed in the right conditions - water, soil, sunlight, nutrients. David is an unlikely candidate to be king. He is the youngest and smallest of Jesse's sons. He can only accomplish leading the people of Israel after he’s anointed, and accepts the task God offers, through listening to the prophets Samuel and Nathan.
The longer I live, the more I see the pain and chaos present in the world. It is so easy for me to live in hopelessness; to believe that I cannot make meaningful lasting change. All our frameworks and systems of living are broken. Systems become systems of oppression, incorporating greed and grief, capitalism and corruption, and seem to forever offer favour to some, and disregard to many.
I hold on to a path of life which upholds the goodness of creation, human dignity, compassion, humility, and selfless acts of service. I may be one engine on a track, one seed in a bowl, one voice among others. I cannot, and do not do this alone. I am surrounded by others in community (within and outside the church), I am nurtured through the presence of others, open to learning and instruction, forgiveness and reconciliation, I am immersed in the presence of the Holy One, whom I believe affects and engages with all of life.
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection - June 5, 2024 Issue
You are God’s Temple;
God’s Spirit dwells within . . .
This Sunday is a time of celebration throughout the church. In particular, in Scotland and Ireland, faith communities remember and give thanks for Columba, Abbot of Iona, and missionary, who died on this date in the year 597 C.E. Columba saw himself as a peregrinator - one who wandered and traveled for the sake of Jesus - to bring the message of redemption, and to establish a community with a rule of life that acknowledges liminal spaces within ourselves and in the world. Liminal spaces refers to places where the space between heaven and earth is very thin, such that we can have an encounter with the Holy One. Paul reminds us that we are all capable of holding liminal space - ‘You are God’s Temple; God’s Spirit dwells within you’ (I Corinthians 3:16). Those who follow the teachings of Columba strive to hold liminal spaces within their hearts, and to search out for liminal spaces in their daily lives.
After Columba established the Abbey at Iona, the community flourished there, enduring hardship of weather, Viking invasions, and the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16th century. The place was a pilgrimage site for christians, peregrinators that wished to connect more deeply with Christ. During this time, pilgrims from as far away as Egypt and North Africa, journeyed to Iona, the ‘Holy Isle.” Kings and Queens of Scotland, knights, and other nobles were buried there up until the 14th Century.
Early in the twentieth century, a Presbyterian Minister, George MacLeod, established the Iona Community, an ecumenical community that strives to live, remembering the legacy of Columba, and following Jesus. Their rule of life involves daily prayer, worship and engagement with the Scriptures, as well as working for justice and peace, wholeness and reconciliation in local communities, society, and the whole of creation. The modern Iona Community brings much hymnody and liturgical form to the entire church, and we in the Anglican Church of Canada are in debt to them. The rule of the Iona Community is one that I strive to follow, as I live in my context here in the Kootenays. I gather with other associate members of the Iona community every six weeks, reflecting on ministry and mission, justice and peace.
You are God’s Temple;
God’s Spirit dwells within . . .
This Sunday is a time of celebration throughout the church. In particular, in Scotland and Ireland, faith communities remember and give thanks for Columba, Abbot of Iona, and missionary, who died on this date in the year 597 C.E. Columba saw himself as a peregrinator - one who wandered and traveled for the sake of Jesus - to bring the message of redemption, and to establish a community with a rule of life that acknowledges liminal spaces within ourselves and in the world. Liminal spaces refers to places where the space between heaven and earth is very thin, such that we can have an encounter with the Holy One. Paul reminds us that we are all capable of holding liminal space - ‘You are God’s Temple; God’s Spirit dwells within you’ (I Corinthians 3:16). Those who follow the teachings of Columba strive to hold liminal spaces within their hearts, and to search out for liminal spaces in their daily lives.
After Columba established the Abbey at Iona, the community flourished there, enduring hardship of weather, Viking invasions, and the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16th century. The place was a pilgrimage site for christians, peregrinators that wished to connect more deeply with Christ. During this time, pilgrims from as far away as Egypt and North Africa, journeyed to Iona, the ‘Holy Isle.” Kings and Queens of Scotland, knights, and other nobles were buried there up until the 14th Century.
Early in the twentieth century, a Presbyterian Minister, George MacLeod, established the Iona Community, an ecumenical community that strives to live, remembering the legacy of Columba, and following Jesus. Their rule of life involves daily prayer, worship and engagement with the Scriptures, as well as working for justice and peace, wholeness and reconciliation in local communities, society, and the whole of creation. The modern Iona Community brings much hymnody and liturgical form to the entire church, and we in the Anglican Church of Canada are in debt to them. The rule of the Iona Community is one that I strive to follow, as I live in my context here in the Kootenays. I gather with other associate members of the Iona community every six weeks, reflecting on ministry and mission, justice and peace.
In 2017 during a sabbatical I traveled to Iona, spending a week immersed with others, exploring my faith, and how God might be calling me deeper into ministry and mission. Early each morning of my journey at Iona I hiked up the hill dun-i, offered prayers at the cairn, and looked around to other hebridean isles, to the North Atlantic, and indeed, inward to my heart. As I breathed in and out atop that hill, I was reminded of the short distance between me and the Holy One, between the earth, and the heavens. It was a liminal, transforming experience.
Seven years on now, I find myself finding a liminal space every day - a place and time where I can meditate, be present to myself, to nature, and to the Holy One. This time and place is sacred for me, and helps me to reorient myself - to come back to the essence of my humanity, of my Christianity, of my love of nature, of humanity, and of God.
Do you have a liminal space? Where do you go to be present to yourself? Where and when do you make time to breathe, and be in the presence of the Holy One?
Peace
David
Seven years on now, I find myself finding a liminal space every day - a place and time where I can meditate, be present to myself, to nature, and to the Holy One. This time and place is sacred for me, and helps me to reorient myself - to come back to the essence of my humanity, of my Christianity, of my love of nature, of humanity, and of God.
Do you have a liminal space? Where do you go to be present to yourself? Where and when do you make time to breathe, and be in the presence of the Holy One?
Peace
David
Mountain Reflection - MAY 29, 2024 Issue
LISTENING and HEARING
VOCATION and PURPOSE
This past Monday I crossed Slocan Lake at Silverton, and spent a lovely four hours immersed in the meditative act of kayaking. As I breathed in and out, listening to the rhythm of paddling, and being present to the water, wind, waves, and beauty of the environment, I found myself closing my eyes, hearing my surroundings, and listening intently.
Have you ever been in that kind of place? How do you slow yourself and be present in the wonders of nature, and the wonders of community while still being present to self, body, mind and soul? In these times, whether it is kayaking, hiking, singing, writing, - intensely personal activities, or whether it is being with, caring, helping, worshiping - communal activities - I find myself discerning between listening and hearing.
When I’m in nature, especially when paddling, I am hearing all sorts of sounds that I usually dismiss in other contexts. The sounds of wind, water, birds, insects, other animals, human activity fill my consciousness. I experience these sounds, hearing them, engaging with them to some degree, and using them as reference points for my experience - whatever it is that I am doing.
In the same context, I sometimes go deeper than simply hearing. At times in these places, I go beyond hearing, and listen. For me, these are sacred moments, holy times, when I am open - in all my fragility and vulnerability - to go deeper, through listening, and experience meaning and purpose to the sounds around me.
In the Scripture last week and this week, we have been confronted with stories of vocation. Last week in Isaiah we heard of the prophet being in the presence of seraphs, who purified, invited, and commissioned Isaiah to fulfil his role as prophet of God. He not only heard the invitation (‘whom shall I send?’) but listened, and responded (‘Here am I, send me). This week we have the boy Samuel, who hears God speaking (‘Samuel, Samuel’), and responds, first to Eli the priest, and finally to God, when he listens and responds (‘Speak Lord, your servant is listening’).
How often do we find ourselves in the daily routine of life, whether in personal activities or communal actions, hearing what is around us? Oftentimes, what we hear becomes a cacophony of experiences that can overwhelm and immerse us. Other times, we find the patience and presence to listen, and respond.
This is the crux of vocation for me. We are called, and we hear, but we do not always make space to listen.
What have you heard these past few weeks? What have you listened to in all the sounds?
How has the Holy One been present in your hearing and listening?
How will it be tomorrow? Next week?
Consider this now; open your ears to hear, to listen, to respond.
Peace and patience,
David
LISTENING and HEARING
VOCATION and PURPOSE
This past Monday I crossed Slocan Lake at Silverton, and spent a lovely four hours immersed in the meditative act of kayaking. As I breathed in and out, listening to the rhythm of paddling, and being present to the water, wind, waves, and beauty of the environment, I found myself closing my eyes, hearing my surroundings, and listening intently.
Have you ever been in that kind of place? How do you slow yourself and be present in the wonders of nature, and the wonders of community while still being present to self, body, mind and soul? In these times, whether it is kayaking, hiking, singing, writing, - intensely personal activities, or whether it is being with, caring, helping, worshiping - communal activities - I find myself discerning between listening and hearing.
When I’m in nature, especially when paddling, I am hearing all sorts of sounds that I usually dismiss in other contexts. The sounds of wind, water, birds, insects, other animals, human activity fill my consciousness. I experience these sounds, hearing them, engaging with them to some degree, and using them as reference points for my experience - whatever it is that I am doing.
In the same context, I sometimes go deeper than simply hearing. At times in these places, I go beyond hearing, and listen. For me, these are sacred moments, holy times, when I am open - in all my fragility and vulnerability - to go deeper, through listening, and experience meaning and purpose to the sounds around me.
In the Scripture last week and this week, we have been confronted with stories of vocation. Last week in Isaiah we heard of the prophet being in the presence of seraphs, who purified, invited, and commissioned Isaiah to fulfil his role as prophet of God. He not only heard the invitation (‘whom shall I send?’) but listened, and responded (‘Here am I, send me). This week we have the boy Samuel, who hears God speaking (‘Samuel, Samuel’), and responds, first to Eli the priest, and finally to God, when he listens and responds (‘Speak Lord, your servant is listening’).
How often do we find ourselves in the daily routine of life, whether in personal activities or communal actions, hearing what is around us? Oftentimes, what we hear becomes a cacophony of experiences that can overwhelm and immerse us. Other times, we find the patience and presence to listen, and respond.
This is the crux of vocation for me. We are called, and we hear, but we do not always make space to listen.
What have you heard these past few weeks? What have you listened to in all the sounds?
How has the Holy One been present in your hearing and listening?
How will it be tomorrow? Next week?
Consider this now; open your ears to hear, to listen, to respond.
Peace and patience,
David
Mountain Reflection - MAY 22, 2024 Issue
TRINITY
RELATIONSHIP IN COMMUNITY
This week marks the celebration of the Trinity in the life of the church. It also marks the gathering of the Synod of the Diocese of Kootenay. In Kokanee Parish, the following delegates will be members of Synod, tasked to discern the life of the Spirit in our area, and join with the counsels of the church to make decisions concerning our life together. I ask for your prayers for Archbishop Lynne, for the Synod as they gather in Kelowna, and in particular for the delegates that will be attending from Kokanee Parish: Nelson Aiken, Sue Basek, Elizabeth Brandrick, Stafford Brandrick, Bonnie Holland, Marcella Mugford, and Marg Whalley. Synod is the gathering where the community of faith gathers formally to explore how we have worked together over the past few years, and to plan and decide how we will continue to work together in the future. It is a time to celebrate community, and celebrate community and communion in Christ Jesus. In some ways it concerns how we develop relationship in community, honouring our history, and dreaming of our future.
This week in Kokanee Parish, two parishioners are publicly proclaiming their commitment to each other before God, before their families, and before the community of faith, as they join themselves in the covenant of marriage. Kallee and Jamie are affirming their relationship in symbolic and legal ways, reflecting their love for each other, and reflecting God’s love. As we celebrate with them, we will offer our prayers and blessing acknowledging their union, the life that they have shared together thus far, and their dreams for their life as it unfolds in the future. Their relationship mirrors the ways in which God loves humanity and all creation, and the ways in which Jesus offers us love, forgiveness, relationship and meaning.
This week in the life of the church worldwide, we acknowledge and affirm Trinity Sunday - taking special time and effort to grapple with understandings of God as Trinity - three persons in one God. It is a mystery of the church, one that focuses on the nature of relationship - the ways in which the Holy One is revealed to us, and how we respond to the reality of the Holy One as Creator, as Jesus Redeemer, and as Spirit the Sanctifier.
In hymns and prayers, Scripture and Sacrament, messages and reflections, we are invited to contemplate the depth of relationship that we have with the Holy One, and in turn, how that relationship affects and enhances all other relationships that we hold.
Consider the relationships that you hold in life this week. How may your relationships be enhanced, deepened? What actions might you take to magnify and strengthen your relationship with the Holy One? What ways might you enrich and improve your relationships with loved ones, with neighbours, with friends, with strangers?
How will you be held in love, by the Creator, by the community, and by those closest to you?
Blessings and peace this week, and always,
David
TRINITY
RELATIONSHIP IN COMMUNITY
This week marks the celebration of the Trinity in the life of the church. It also marks the gathering of the Synod of the Diocese of Kootenay. In Kokanee Parish, the following delegates will be members of Synod, tasked to discern the life of the Spirit in our area, and join with the counsels of the church to make decisions concerning our life together. I ask for your prayers for Archbishop Lynne, for the Synod as they gather in Kelowna, and in particular for the delegates that will be attending from Kokanee Parish: Nelson Aiken, Sue Basek, Elizabeth Brandrick, Stafford Brandrick, Bonnie Holland, Marcella Mugford, and Marg Whalley. Synod is the gathering where the community of faith gathers formally to explore how we have worked together over the past few years, and to plan and decide how we will continue to work together in the future. It is a time to celebrate community, and celebrate community and communion in Christ Jesus. In some ways it concerns how we develop relationship in community, honouring our history, and dreaming of our future.
This week in Kokanee Parish, two parishioners are publicly proclaiming their commitment to each other before God, before their families, and before the community of faith, as they join themselves in the covenant of marriage. Kallee and Jamie are affirming their relationship in symbolic and legal ways, reflecting their love for each other, and reflecting God’s love. As we celebrate with them, we will offer our prayers and blessing acknowledging their union, the life that they have shared together thus far, and their dreams for their life as it unfolds in the future. Their relationship mirrors the ways in which God loves humanity and all creation, and the ways in which Jesus offers us love, forgiveness, relationship and meaning.
This week in the life of the church worldwide, we acknowledge and affirm Trinity Sunday - taking special time and effort to grapple with understandings of God as Trinity - three persons in one God. It is a mystery of the church, one that focuses on the nature of relationship - the ways in which the Holy One is revealed to us, and how we respond to the reality of the Holy One as Creator, as Jesus Redeemer, and as Spirit the Sanctifier.
In hymns and prayers, Scripture and Sacrament, messages and reflections, we are invited to contemplate the depth of relationship that we have with the Holy One, and in turn, how that relationship affects and enhances all other relationships that we hold.
Consider the relationships that you hold in life this week. How may your relationships be enhanced, deepened? What actions might you take to magnify and strengthen your relationship with the Holy One? What ways might you enrich and improve your relationships with loved ones, with neighbours, with friends, with strangers?
How will you be held in love, by the Creator, by the community, and by those closest to you?
Blessings and peace this week, and always,
David
Mountain Reflection - MAY 15, 2024 Issue
BREATH AND SPIRIT
FIRE AND LIGHT
This coming Sunday in the life of the Church we celebrate Pentecost. It is fifty days after Easter, and we share the stories and songs related to the gift of the Holy Spirit. Scripture explores themes of breath and spirit, fire and light. It is a time when the gathered assembly acknowledges that the presence of God is among us and within us, challenging us to live a life in partnership with the Holy One.
Traditionally in the life of Christian communities, Pentecost has been a time of both welcoming and challenge. Persons are welcomed into the community of faith through baptism, and persons are also set aside for important work through ordination, or commissioning for specific tasks. It is a time for the community to celebrate its role as a partner with the Holy One in bringing about change and transformation so that the world better reflects God’s love and justice.
It is a tall order for sure. I have seen so many Pentecosts over my lifetime - where the church honours God in prayer and song, where banners are red with images of flames and doves, and messages speak of the birth of the church, and our task to bring peace and justice, healing and reconciliation to all parts of our lives and our interactions. As the years go by, the celebrations still occur, yet each new year brings the reality that the world does not yet reflect the peace and justice that is promised through the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Putting all the pomp and circumstance aside, each day as I wake, I need to be reminded of the ongoing struggles that are present: in my life, in the wider community, and throughout the world. All of life is not always celebratory songs and festivities as we have at Pentecost. Accepting a life following the Way of Jesus requires me to examine my rhythm of living - how it affects others, how it affects nature, and whether or not I am living into actions of justice, reconciliation, and healing. In small ways I try to exact change and exude love and justice on a daily basis.
Each day as I awake, I take time to breathe in and out, reflecting and meditating on the past day, and the day to come. I do my stretches, yoga, and prepare myself to be in the presence of others - those who require my attention, those that need care, guidance, encouragement, and love. Most evenings when I return, I light a candle as we eat supper. I am reminded of the passage of time, of the presence of the Holy One, and I try to reflect on the life I have lived that day - and how I have been more or less attentive to others, to myself and to the Holy One. In these small ways I attempt to be accountable to myself, and to the Holy One.
How do you experience the presence of God in your life? In what ways do you express the breath and fire of the Spirit in your life and in your actions? How do you partner with the community of faith to reflect the justice, love, reconciliation and healing that God intends for all?
Breathe in and out this week, and reflect on your place in the world.
Light a candle, and meditate on the acts of justice and peace that you offer in your daily life.
Be present with God; be present within the community.
Blessings,
David
BREATH AND SPIRIT
FIRE AND LIGHT
This coming Sunday in the life of the Church we celebrate Pentecost. It is fifty days after Easter, and we share the stories and songs related to the gift of the Holy Spirit. Scripture explores themes of breath and spirit, fire and light. It is a time when the gathered assembly acknowledges that the presence of God is among us and within us, challenging us to live a life in partnership with the Holy One.
Traditionally in the life of Christian communities, Pentecost has been a time of both welcoming and challenge. Persons are welcomed into the community of faith through baptism, and persons are also set aside for important work through ordination, or commissioning for specific tasks. It is a time for the community to celebrate its role as a partner with the Holy One in bringing about change and transformation so that the world better reflects God’s love and justice.
It is a tall order for sure. I have seen so many Pentecosts over my lifetime - where the church honours God in prayer and song, where banners are red with images of flames and doves, and messages speak of the birth of the church, and our task to bring peace and justice, healing and reconciliation to all parts of our lives and our interactions. As the years go by, the celebrations still occur, yet each new year brings the reality that the world does not yet reflect the peace and justice that is promised through the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Putting all the pomp and circumstance aside, each day as I wake, I need to be reminded of the ongoing struggles that are present: in my life, in the wider community, and throughout the world. All of life is not always celebratory songs and festivities as we have at Pentecost. Accepting a life following the Way of Jesus requires me to examine my rhythm of living - how it affects others, how it affects nature, and whether or not I am living into actions of justice, reconciliation, and healing. In small ways I try to exact change and exude love and justice on a daily basis.
Each day as I awake, I take time to breathe in and out, reflecting and meditating on the past day, and the day to come. I do my stretches, yoga, and prepare myself to be in the presence of others - those who require my attention, those that need care, guidance, encouragement, and love. Most evenings when I return, I light a candle as we eat supper. I am reminded of the passage of time, of the presence of the Holy One, and I try to reflect on the life I have lived that day - and how I have been more or less attentive to others, to myself and to the Holy One. In these small ways I attempt to be accountable to myself, and to the Holy One.
How do you experience the presence of God in your life? In what ways do you express the breath and fire of the Spirit in your life and in your actions? How do you partner with the community of faith to reflect the justice, love, reconciliation and healing that God intends for all?
Breathe in and out this week, and reflect on your place in the world.
Light a candle, and meditate on the acts of justice and peace that you offer in your daily life.
Be present with God; be present within the community.
Blessings,
David
Mountain Reflection - MAY 8, 2024 Issue
FURTHER UP AND FURTHER IN . . .
This Sunday in the life of Christian faith communities throughout the world, most are observing Jerusalem Sunday, and anticipating the feast of the Ascension. In prayers and reflections, we give thanks for the heritage we share with the Jewish community of the first century C.E., and for the ancient Christian communities that still express faith, love and service in Jerusalem, and throughout the Middle East.
This Sunday we wrestle with the Scripture that outlines the imagery of the Ascension, and the mystery of Jesus being both with us and with the Holy One. We may find at times that both words and music fall short. How does one reconcile the Scriptural accounts, how do we understand Resurrection and Ascension, as we live and move in the 21st Century? Do ancient texts need to be disregarded? How do we engage reason and experience with Scripture, tradition, and ever evolving scientific discovery?
I find myself holding on to the writing of CS Lewis, specifically his Narnian Chronicles. Perhaps yes, his writing is simple allegory outlining a basic orthodox understanding of faith. Yet Lewis’ descriptions of Aslan, Aslan’s country, and the encounter at the stable door in The Last Battle provide for me a framework in which to explore, encounter, and grow.
In The Last Battle, Lewis explores themes of apocalypse, end times, and the afterlife. He explores through characters how we respond as people of faith, how we are called to grow - in our understandings of love, of the Holy One (Aslan), and how to live life to its fullest. The mantra, ‘Further up and Further in’ refers to the call that the main characters receive as they go through the stable door.
For me, this call of further up and further in reminds us that live with God is ever unfolding. Our experience, our knowledge, our expressions of love and service grow daily when we live within the encounter of the Holy One. The call encourages us to see that there are parts of life that are unexplainable, and it is more important for us to live in the present and be present to those around us, than to try to codify, define, categorize, or judge all that we find around us.
In the fifteenth chapter of The Last Battle, the main characters encounter an enemy through the stable door. This enemy’s name is Emeth (Hebrew word for truth). In the encounter, Aslan appears, and explains that to be a true follower of Aslan, is to be Narnian. It is to know Aslan, recognize his voice, understand his character: It means to act justly, live nobly, and esteem a Narnian neighbour as equal to oneself.(Bruce Edwards, Not a Tame Lion, ©2005) Emeth is no different from the Narnians, though once perceived as an enemy, for his heart shows justice, mercy, and love.
The overarching reality of the last chapters of the book is that the world is ending, and people are dying. All face the reality of their mortality, and their need to embrace the spiritual life. Those that explore and express their spirituality through love and mercy, service and humility, experience the fullness of life in Aslan’s Country, as they move further up and further in.
As we celebrate Ascension, and anticipate Pentecost, I believe we need to embrace moving further up and further in to the reality of God’s presence. Though the world is not ending yet, nor are we all dying; each day the world suffers, we suffer, we die. If we embrace a spirituality that brings humility and perspective we may be able to shift the reality of life - climate change, war, aggression, poverty, oppression, greed and apathy will slowly change. We will die to human expectations and rise to a transformed life that brings life and hope to all.
Blessings,
David
FURTHER UP AND FURTHER IN . . .
This Sunday in the life of Christian faith communities throughout the world, most are observing Jerusalem Sunday, and anticipating the feast of the Ascension. In prayers and reflections, we give thanks for the heritage we share with the Jewish community of the first century C.E., and for the ancient Christian communities that still express faith, love and service in Jerusalem, and throughout the Middle East.
This Sunday we wrestle with the Scripture that outlines the imagery of the Ascension, and the mystery of Jesus being both with us and with the Holy One. We may find at times that both words and music fall short. How does one reconcile the Scriptural accounts, how do we understand Resurrection and Ascension, as we live and move in the 21st Century? Do ancient texts need to be disregarded? How do we engage reason and experience with Scripture, tradition, and ever evolving scientific discovery?
I find myself holding on to the writing of CS Lewis, specifically his Narnian Chronicles. Perhaps yes, his writing is simple allegory outlining a basic orthodox understanding of faith. Yet Lewis’ descriptions of Aslan, Aslan’s country, and the encounter at the stable door in The Last Battle provide for me a framework in which to explore, encounter, and grow.
In The Last Battle, Lewis explores themes of apocalypse, end times, and the afterlife. He explores through characters how we respond as people of faith, how we are called to grow - in our understandings of love, of the Holy One (Aslan), and how to live life to its fullest. The mantra, ‘Further up and Further in’ refers to the call that the main characters receive as they go through the stable door.
For me, this call of further up and further in reminds us that live with God is ever unfolding. Our experience, our knowledge, our expressions of love and service grow daily when we live within the encounter of the Holy One. The call encourages us to see that there are parts of life that are unexplainable, and it is more important for us to live in the present and be present to those around us, than to try to codify, define, categorize, or judge all that we find around us.
In the fifteenth chapter of The Last Battle, the main characters encounter an enemy through the stable door. This enemy’s name is Emeth (Hebrew word for truth). In the encounter, Aslan appears, and explains that to be a true follower of Aslan, is to be Narnian. It is to know Aslan, recognize his voice, understand his character: It means to act justly, live nobly, and esteem a Narnian neighbour as equal to oneself.(Bruce Edwards, Not a Tame Lion, ©2005) Emeth is no different from the Narnians, though once perceived as an enemy, for his heart shows justice, mercy, and love.
The overarching reality of the last chapters of the book is that the world is ending, and people are dying. All face the reality of their mortality, and their need to embrace the spiritual life. Those that explore and express their spirituality through love and mercy, service and humility, experience the fullness of life in Aslan’s Country, as they move further up and further in.
As we celebrate Ascension, and anticipate Pentecost, I believe we need to embrace moving further up and further in to the reality of God’s presence. Though the world is not ending yet, nor are we all dying; each day the world suffers, we suffer, we die. If we embrace a spirituality that brings humility and perspective we may be able to shift the reality of life - climate change, war, aggression, poverty, oppression, greed and apathy will slowly change. We will die to human expectations and rise to a transformed life that brings life and hope to all.
Blessings,
David
Mountain Reflection - May 1, 2024 Issue
MASTER, SERVANTS,
FRIENDS, FAMILY . . .
As the church continues through the season of Easter, we continue with examining the Acts of the Apostles, I John, and the Gospel of John. Themes of love and service abound. In my travels this week I have witnessed numerous examples of love and service. In Kaslo, in Trail, and in Nelson I have been a part of conversations that all centre around care in community. How do we walk alongside others in support, providing love, care, and dignity?
Jesus outlines this in terms of a change in relationship - away with a master/servant model, instead focussing on a friend model that involves sacrifice, service, care and love. It is summed up in the passage as a commandment, and invites the reader/hearer to promise to live a specific way within the community.
I appreciate this perspective, knowing how persons have offered me care, love, service and sacrifice, as well as working with me in community under these tenets. In so many ways, examples of sacrificial servant love can be beautiful and life transforming. In many ways too, life in community can be difficult and strained. How I show up with others at times can be challenging when I don’t have the energy or capacity to be at my best with others. I can find relations strained, my focus wanders, or my ability to be compassionate lessened due to various factors.
Perhaps I can relate most to the ups and downs of the interactions between the disciples in the Gospels, as they discuss various topics while following Jesus. The disciples aren’t always fully present to Jesus or to the individuals and crowds that wish to encounter Jesus. At times they focus on their own needs, their hopes, desires, and miss the point. They approach life through their own lens and perspective, rather than taking the time to see things from other sides, including Jesus’ perspective.
As I continue through this week, through this season, and through my life, I am recognizing that I need to stop and listen, reflect, and be present, rather than focus on my own perspective, my own agenda, my own needs. When I stop and listen, when I reflect upon the community around me, the pieces that I believe are most important seem to fade into the background. Perspective is key. I believe Jesus challenges us in this season, and in this Scripture, to look beyond ourselves so that we can continue to provide care and support as fellow partners in ministry.
When I look beyond myself, I can’t help but see the challenges and pain of individuals within community. This week, we are exploring two key questions in both Nelson and Kaslo. What specific tools do we need in order to enable outreach in our parish? And How does our community welcome the stranger, outcast, and the lonely?
It seems to me that if I know and relate to individuals, it is easier to walk a path of love and service, support and dignity. Even if I don’t know them (or know them well), if they present in particular ways, it still can be an easy, engaging process. When someone is a stranger, is unhoused, belligerent or unapproachable, it can be much more difficult. We are not called to avoid difficult, hard conversations, nor difficult hard persons. We are called to be open and engaging, with everyone. This requires tools of patience, keen listening abilities, and resilience as we continue to engage others.
Ultimately, I feel that people want to be valued, loved, shown dignity and care. As hard as situations may be, we are called to be with others. We are called to love and serve. It is an ongoing process that needs to hold our attention and action as followers of Jesus. Remember the feelings you may have felt when you are new within a community. You may feel fear, apprehension, disconnect, uncertainty, among other things. Remember this as you interact with others - they may have some of these feelings, and others as well. Be present, be patient, and show up for others. We are not called into master/servant relationships: we are called to engage as friends and companions with others.
Blessings,
David
MASTER, SERVANTS,
FRIENDS, FAMILY . . .
As the church continues through the season of Easter, we continue with examining the Acts of the Apostles, I John, and the Gospel of John. Themes of love and service abound. In my travels this week I have witnessed numerous examples of love and service. In Kaslo, in Trail, and in Nelson I have been a part of conversations that all centre around care in community. How do we walk alongside others in support, providing love, care, and dignity?
Jesus outlines this in terms of a change in relationship - away with a master/servant model, instead focussing on a friend model that involves sacrifice, service, care and love. It is summed up in the passage as a commandment, and invites the reader/hearer to promise to live a specific way within the community.
I appreciate this perspective, knowing how persons have offered me care, love, service and sacrifice, as well as working with me in community under these tenets. In so many ways, examples of sacrificial servant love can be beautiful and life transforming. In many ways too, life in community can be difficult and strained. How I show up with others at times can be challenging when I don’t have the energy or capacity to be at my best with others. I can find relations strained, my focus wanders, or my ability to be compassionate lessened due to various factors.
Perhaps I can relate most to the ups and downs of the interactions between the disciples in the Gospels, as they discuss various topics while following Jesus. The disciples aren’t always fully present to Jesus or to the individuals and crowds that wish to encounter Jesus. At times they focus on their own needs, their hopes, desires, and miss the point. They approach life through their own lens and perspective, rather than taking the time to see things from other sides, including Jesus’ perspective.
As I continue through this week, through this season, and through my life, I am recognizing that I need to stop and listen, reflect, and be present, rather than focus on my own perspective, my own agenda, my own needs. When I stop and listen, when I reflect upon the community around me, the pieces that I believe are most important seem to fade into the background. Perspective is key. I believe Jesus challenges us in this season, and in this Scripture, to look beyond ourselves so that we can continue to provide care and support as fellow partners in ministry.
When I look beyond myself, I can’t help but see the challenges and pain of individuals within community. This week, we are exploring two key questions in both Nelson and Kaslo. What specific tools do we need in order to enable outreach in our parish? And How does our community welcome the stranger, outcast, and the lonely?
It seems to me that if I know and relate to individuals, it is easier to walk a path of love and service, support and dignity. Even if I don’t know them (or know them well), if they present in particular ways, it still can be an easy, engaging process. When someone is a stranger, is unhoused, belligerent or unapproachable, it can be much more difficult. We are not called to avoid difficult, hard conversations, nor difficult hard persons. We are called to be open and engaging, with everyone. This requires tools of patience, keen listening abilities, and resilience as we continue to engage others.
Ultimately, I feel that people want to be valued, loved, shown dignity and care. As hard as situations may be, we are called to be with others. We are called to love and serve. It is an ongoing process that needs to hold our attention and action as followers of Jesus. Remember the feelings you may have felt when you are new within a community. You may feel fear, apprehension, disconnect, uncertainty, among other things. Remember this as you interact with others - they may have some of these feelings, and others as well. Be present, be patient, and show up for others. We are not called into master/servant relationships: we are called to engage as friends and companions with others.
Blessings,
David
Mountain Reflection - April 24, 2024 Issue
A SONG IN MY HEART
FOOD IN MY BELLY
LOVE IN MY FAMILY . . .
As the church continues through the season of Easter, we continue with examining the Acts of the Apostles, I John, and the Gospel of John. Themes of love and service abound. In my travels this week I have witnessed numerous examples of love and service. In Kaslo, in Trail, and in Nelson I have been a part of conversations that all centre around care in community. How do we walk alongside others in support, providing love, care, and dignity?
Do these words bring forward any memories for you? If you don’t already know, they are a part of the lyrics of the song All I really need, by Raffi. This children’s song has been rumbling around in my mind for the last couple of weeks. This song, along with Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book Braiding Sweetgrass, have been helpful companions for me as I listen to my heart, and take steps to become Indigenous to place in the Kootenays.
Do these words bring forward any memories for you? If you don’t already know, they are a part of the lyrics of the song All I really need, by Raffi. This children’s song has been rumbling around in my mind for the last couple of weeks. This song, along with Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book Braiding Sweetgrass, have been helpful companions for me as I listen to my heart, and take steps to become Indigenous to place in the Kootenays.
Do these words bring forward any memories for you? If you don’t already know, they are a part of the lyrics of the song All I really need, by Raffi. This children’s song has been rumbling around in my mind for the last couple of weeks. This song, along with Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book Braiding Sweetgrass, have been helpful companions for me as I listen to my heart, and take steps to become Indigenous to place in the Kootenays.
Raffi sings of rain, of sun, of the blooming of creation, of safety and love, the necessity of an ecological understanding for humanity wherever we choose to live and be. For me it’s not just safety and comfort as an individual or for humanity, it is about how we integrate ourselves in place and time, and be mindful of the immensity of nature and the work of creation all around us. In short, it’s about mindfulness and humility.
In my pastoring here in the Kootenays, I have spent significant time over the past six months in the town of Kaslo. I am learning about the worshipping community of St. Mark, and the things that make folk tick that live here. I realize that I am only scratching the surface, and that it takes a lifetime to become immersed and indigenous to place. Yet, I have found that the people I have encountered in Kaslo live life like that song. They long for - and hold on to - a song in their heart, food in their belly, and love in their family. They have invited me to sing the song, and be present with them in their life and ministry.
This Sunday they are celebrating. They are giving thanks for the 129 years in which their faith community has prayed, walked, worked, lived, died, and loved here in Kaslo. They will be honouring the Church building, yes, and taking time in prayer and mindfulness, thanking the Holy One for the journey they have walked, for the benefactors who have lived and died in ministry and mission here, and for the opportunity they have to give back. They give back to the community, to each other, to strangers and neighbours, enemies and friends, and to the Holy One that gives them life.
A SONG IN MY HEART
FOOD IN MY BELLY
LOVE IN MY FAMILY . . .
As the church continues through the season of Easter, we continue with examining the Acts of the Apostles, I John, and the Gospel of John. Themes of love and service abound. In my travels this week I have witnessed numerous examples of love and service. In Kaslo, in Trail, and in Nelson I have been a part of conversations that all centre around care in community. How do we walk alongside others in support, providing love, care, and dignity?
Do these words bring forward any memories for you? If you don’t already know, they are a part of the lyrics of the song All I really need, by Raffi. This children’s song has been rumbling around in my mind for the last couple of weeks. This song, along with Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book Braiding Sweetgrass, have been helpful companions for me as I listen to my heart, and take steps to become Indigenous to place in the Kootenays.
Do these words bring forward any memories for you? If you don’t already know, they are a part of the lyrics of the song All I really need, by Raffi. This children’s song has been rumbling around in my mind for the last couple of weeks. This song, along with Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book Braiding Sweetgrass, have been helpful companions for me as I listen to my heart, and take steps to become Indigenous to place in the Kootenays.
Do these words bring forward any memories for you? If you don’t already know, they are a part of the lyrics of the song All I really need, by Raffi. This children’s song has been rumbling around in my mind for the last couple of weeks. This song, along with Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book Braiding Sweetgrass, have been helpful companions for me as I listen to my heart, and take steps to become Indigenous to place in the Kootenays.
Raffi sings of rain, of sun, of the blooming of creation, of safety and love, the necessity of an ecological understanding for humanity wherever we choose to live and be. For me it’s not just safety and comfort as an individual or for humanity, it is about how we integrate ourselves in place and time, and be mindful of the immensity of nature and the work of creation all around us. In short, it’s about mindfulness and humility.
In my pastoring here in the Kootenays, I have spent significant time over the past six months in the town of Kaslo. I am learning about the worshipping community of St. Mark, and the things that make folk tick that live here. I realize that I am only scratching the surface, and that it takes a lifetime to become immersed and indigenous to place. Yet, I have found that the people I have encountered in Kaslo live life like that song. They long for - and hold on to - a song in their heart, food in their belly, and love in their family. They have invited me to sing the song, and be present with them in their life and ministry.
This Sunday they are celebrating. They are giving thanks for the 129 years in which their faith community has prayed, walked, worked, lived, died, and loved here in Kaslo. They will be honouring the Church building, yes, and taking time in prayer and mindfulness, thanking the Holy One for the journey they have walked, for the benefactors who have lived and died in ministry and mission here, and for the opportunity they have to give back. They give back to the community, to each other, to strangers and neighbours, enemies and friends, and to the Holy One that gives them life.
To stand in the sanctuary at St. Mark’s is a humbling experience. Not a large building, but the timbers, the windows, the floor and doors all seem to emanate care and love. It is a beautiful space, that has been shaped by so many who have called this place home. Most who attend here were not born in Kaslo - they have moved from other places in BC, in Canada, and in the world. From the ringing of the bell each evening at 7:00 p.m., the intricate wood carving of the Altar, Rood Screen and Font, to the warning on the door about Leo the Cat, all about this space speaks of holiness and love. It is a healing place, it is a welcome place.
These celebrations this weekend will be filled with song, with prayer, with good food, with family and fellowship. The celebrations will be wrapped in love. Those who will join us with the Holy One may find an opportunity to experience healing, care, purpose, and being.
We may not all be in Kaslo this Sunday. Yet, we have the opportunity to find a song in our heart, food in our belly, and love in our family. Remember that love is found in the Holy One that invites us to be present to our authentic selves. Wherever you are this weekend, make time for love, for thankfulness, for healing, for presence in nature and with community.
Blessings,
David
Mountain Reflection - April 17, 2024 Issue
HOLY CONVERSATIONS:
LEADER, FLOCK, CARE . . .
HOLY CONVERSATIONS:
LEADER, FLOCK, CARE . . .
Every Saturday I make time to speak with my parents on the telephone, catching up on our lives, sharing joys and worries, concerns and cares. Inevitably, we end up chatting about sheep, as my parents have cared for sheep for the last fifteen years of their retirement. I treasure these conversations, as I have seen our relationships deepen, even though for the last twenty-two years we have lived between 2800 and 4400 km apart.
These holy conversations speak of the reality of living - of navigating the challenges of life, of the realities of aging, grief, loss, as well as the beauty of nature, the practicalities of sheep farming, and the love of being connected to family, place, and being.
Each spring I listen with interest as dad makes ready the barns with pens, and shares the development of the ewes, the lambing, and the fluctuations in spring which affect the flock, the donkeys, and the rhythm of care that they both offer in their context.
I have heard of the different breeds of sheep they cared for: Katahdins, Suffolks, and Shetlands. I have heard of obstinate rams, sickly ewes, and precocious lambs. I have heard of the adaptation that mum and dad have undergone these last fifteen years - as they modified their approach with different breeds, different ways of caring for the flock in different circumstances. In their senior years they haven’t stopped learning, haven’t stopped adding new tools, new wisdom to their toolbox. At times I have been present part-way through the lambing, and seen the beauty of new life even amid the chaos and busyness of a large flock. I have realized the immensity of responsibility and of task that comes with farming, tending, shepherding.
This time of year in the church we observe Good Shepherd Sunday, or Vocations Sunday, and faith communities focus on imagery of Jesus as Shepherd, of the people of God as a flock, and themes of leadership, following, pastoral care, and steadfast love. As the church honours this Sunday in its focus of prayer, hymnody, and service, I can’t help but think of the farm in Eastern Ontario, and the many stories of the flock, which are a combination of comedy, romance, tragedy, and drama. When mum and dad tell of the herd, they speak with love and care. They know each animal by name, and in turn, the herd comes to know and understand my parents pattern of life, farming and living.
It is a holy conversation that we have, my parents and me. It is also a holy conversation between the farmer and the flock. In the dialogue I have heard over the years, I’ve witnessed care and concern, love and meaning, for both animal and shepherd. Springtime and autumn, winter and summer, my parents tend as they can, to the needs of those in their care. Storms and drought, wild animals and disease, my parents show up as they can, providing care and love. They will not be able to sustain this forever; yet their strength of character and consistency to the task shows me the foundation that they bring to the farm, and their lives.
As I recite Psalm 23 this Sunday, as I hear John’s Gospel, and sing the hymns, I will remember ram, ewe, lamb and donkey. I will give thanks for the pastoral examples we have in life that model for us a way to care, a way to love, a way to live.
We all may not have lived on a farm. We all may not have lived examples of care and sustenance like this. Whether we live in an urban, suburban, rural or remote context, we are invited this week to explore our relation to the Holy One as seen in the image of shepherd and flock. Consider the groups, the flocks of which you are a member. Consider the roles you take on in your context as a leader, a shepherd. What tools do you need to grow and tend the flock? What tools might be missing from your toolbox? What inhibits your growth, what encourages your growth? How might you be feeling called to explore how you care, love, grow, and serve within the wider community?
Consider spending time listening and learning this week. What opportunities for holy conversations might be within your reach? Contemplate how your life has been supported by individuals, communities, and circumstances that accentuate care, love, concern and meaning. Who has been a shepherd for you? How do you experience community? What might you need to learn, to experience?
Blessings,
David
These holy conversations speak of the reality of living - of navigating the challenges of life, of the realities of aging, grief, loss, as well as the beauty of nature, the practicalities of sheep farming, and the love of being connected to family, place, and being.
Each spring I listen with interest as dad makes ready the barns with pens, and shares the development of the ewes, the lambing, and the fluctuations in spring which affect the flock, the donkeys, and the rhythm of care that they both offer in their context.
I have heard of the different breeds of sheep they cared for: Katahdins, Suffolks, and Shetlands. I have heard of obstinate rams, sickly ewes, and precocious lambs. I have heard of the adaptation that mum and dad have undergone these last fifteen years - as they modified their approach with different breeds, different ways of caring for the flock in different circumstances. In their senior years they haven’t stopped learning, haven’t stopped adding new tools, new wisdom to their toolbox. At times I have been present part-way through the lambing, and seen the beauty of new life even amid the chaos and busyness of a large flock. I have realized the immensity of responsibility and of task that comes with farming, tending, shepherding.
This time of year in the church we observe Good Shepherd Sunday, or Vocations Sunday, and faith communities focus on imagery of Jesus as Shepherd, of the people of God as a flock, and themes of leadership, following, pastoral care, and steadfast love. As the church honours this Sunday in its focus of prayer, hymnody, and service, I can’t help but think of the farm in Eastern Ontario, and the many stories of the flock, which are a combination of comedy, romance, tragedy, and drama. When mum and dad tell of the herd, they speak with love and care. They know each animal by name, and in turn, the herd comes to know and understand my parents pattern of life, farming and living.
It is a holy conversation that we have, my parents and me. It is also a holy conversation between the farmer and the flock. In the dialogue I have heard over the years, I’ve witnessed care and concern, love and meaning, for both animal and shepherd. Springtime and autumn, winter and summer, my parents tend as they can, to the needs of those in their care. Storms and drought, wild animals and disease, my parents show up as they can, providing care and love. They will not be able to sustain this forever; yet their strength of character and consistency to the task shows me the foundation that they bring to the farm, and their lives.
As I recite Psalm 23 this Sunday, as I hear John’s Gospel, and sing the hymns, I will remember ram, ewe, lamb and donkey. I will give thanks for the pastoral examples we have in life that model for us a way to care, a way to love, a way to live.
We all may not have lived on a farm. We all may not have lived examples of care and sustenance like this. Whether we live in an urban, suburban, rural or remote context, we are invited this week to explore our relation to the Holy One as seen in the image of shepherd and flock. Consider the groups, the flocks of which you are a member. Consider the roles you take on in your context as a leader, a shepherd. What tools do you need to grow and tend the flock? What tools might be missing from your toolbox? What inhibits your growth, what encourages your growth? How might you be feeling called to explore how you care, love, grow, and serve within the wider community?
Consider spending time listening and learning this week. What opportunities for holy conversations might be within your reach? Contemplate how your life has been supported by individuals, communities, and circumstances that accentuate care, love, concern and meaning. Who has been a shepherd for you? How do you experience community? What might you need to learn, to experience?
Blessings,
David
Mountain Reflection - April 10, 2024 Issue
WALKING TOGETHER IN LOVE. . .
It is Eastertide in the Kootenays, and here I am witnessing the unfolding of a beautiful spring. In the midst of nature’s changes, I have been surrounded by emotions and experiences that span a wide spectrum. I look forward thinking and dreaming of the future, as well I look back and considering the past. It has been a time for me that has been about wonder, worry, challenge, opportunity, chaos, angst, peace and love. In all this, after a bit of a break, I find myself moving back into the rhythm of ministry and mission, responding to the need and reality of leading the spiritual community of the parish of Kokanee.
With all these emotions, I find myself relating to the grieving disciples on the Emmaus road. In so many ways, challenges of uncertainty, change, emotion and grief can be present with so many, even in the midst of unfolding possibilities and unfolding seasons. It seems that with each new season, new moment, new experience, new year, I am aware of the beauty, fragility, and meaning of life. Perhaps I wax on too much; maybe I am getting far too soft - yet each day the immensity of the gift of life seems to bowl me over.
Today I have taken time to sit with both friends and strangers, and share. It has been beautiful, it has been hard. There has been grief, pain, laughter, learning, hope, and peace. I am reminded continuously of the gift that life is, that life brings, and how at times I have ignored, or squandered it. In the midst of all this, I have become acutely aware of the presence of the Holy One in conversations and interactions. For this I am wholeheartedly thankful.
My reading of Wall-Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass, my listening with families in grief, and my delving into my own self-examination have reminded me of the Emmaus walk. Two disciples, hopeless and grief stricken, make a decision to journey together. Chapters in Braiding Sweetgrass speak of the interaction and relationship between sisters, family, plants, and the entire earth. The holy listening I engaged in today showed me of a family’s love for their dead father, and how they have journeyed together, finding hope, joy, sorrow, and deep deep love.
The gift of the Emmaus story for me is that it recalls that even in hopeless despair, we are not called to journey alone. When we decide to move together, no matter how hard the steps, we can unfold the grief and pain, the hurt and destruction, and come to a place of healing, peace, joy and love.
Things can get hard in life. Even in the springtime moments of our lives. In this, and in all times, we are encouraged to be Easter people, to journey together in community. The Holy One encourages us to journey together, for the Holy One never leaves us alone. We see this in the faces of those who journey with us, and in the beautiful unfolding of nature’s gifts all around us.
Happy Easter
David
WALKING TOGETHER IN LOVE. . .
It is Eastertide in the Kootenays, and here I am witnessing the unfolding of a beautiful spring. In the midst of nature’s changes, I have been surrounded by emotions and experiences that span a wide spectrum. I look forward thinking and dreaming of the future, as well I look back and considering the past. It has been a time for me that has been about wonder, worry, challenge, opportunity, chaos, angst, peace and love. In all this, after a bit of a break, I find myself moving back into the rhythm of ministry and mission, responding to the need and reality of leading the spiritual community of the parish of Kokanee.
With all these emotions, I find myself relating to the grieving disciples on the Emmaus road. In so many ways, challenges of uncertainty, change, emotion and grief can be present with so many, even in the midst of unfolding possibilities and unfolding seasons. It seems that with each new season, new moment, new experience, new year, I am aware of the beauty, fragility, and meaning of life. Perhaps I wax on too much; maybe I am getting far too soft - yet each day the immensity of the gift of life seems to bowl me over.
Today I have taken time to sit with both friends and strangers, and share. It has been beautiful, it has been hard. There has been grief, pain, laughter, learning, hope, and peace. I am reminded continuously of the gift that life is, that life brings, and how at times I have ignored, or squandered it. In the midst of all this, I have become acutely aware of the presence of the Holy One in conversations and interactions. For this I am wholeheartedly thankful.
My reading of Wall-Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass, my listening with families in grief, and my delving into my own self-examination have reminded me of the Emmaus walk. Two disciples, hopeless and grief stricken, make a decision to journey together. Chapters in Braiding Sweetgrass speak of the interaction and relationship between sisters, family, plants, and the entire earth. The holy listening I engaged in today showed me of a family’s love for their dead father, and how they have journeyed together, finding hope, joy, sorrow, and deep deep love.
The gift of the Emmaus story for me is that it recalls that even in hopeless despair, we are not called to journey alone. When we decide to move together, no matter how hard the steps, we can unfold the grief and pain, the hurt and destruction, and come to a place of healing, peace, joy and love.
Things can get hard in life. Even in the springtime moments of our lives. In this, and in all times, we are encouraged to be Easter people, to journey together in community. The Holy One encourages us to journey together, for the Holy One never leaves us alone. We see this in the faces of those who journey with us, and in the beautiful unfolding of nature’s gifts all around us.
Happy Easter
David
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Mountain Reflection - March 27, 2024 Issue
HEART'S HOME . . .
It is Tuesday of Holy Week. Many throughout the world are marking this week with specific activities, prayer and worship, and keeping space for what Christians refer to as the Passion, or the suffering of Jesus. Here in the midst of this time, I have always felt a mixture of closeness and distance: in leading prayer and worship in this setting for almost twenty-five years, there have been some distinct memories of peace, loneliness, struggle, and expectation. I remember times spent in community creatively exploring dramatic expressions of the passion, of exploring with others the core of the journey of Holy Week, through prayer, reflection, drama, and song.
This year, above all others, I am realizing the restlessness and impermanence of my journey thus far. In many ways I relate to nomads. This place where I live is not my birthplace. The place I was born is not the place where I grew up, nor the place where I received my education, nor the place where I grew into adulthood, responded to my vocation, became a parent, grew in my career and matured in adulthood and my faith. These days I have been contemplating my journey, and the impermanence of the things we gather around us as we live life. What is it that I truly need to express who I am? What do I hold on to that helps me express the authentic David?
Since moving here six months ago, I have been slowly settling into new rhythms of life. In this, I have found that I was missing key pieces in my vocation/career tools that I had had previously. These I would consider are pieces that help me express who I am, and how I express my spirituality. In the challenge of moving so many times in my life, some things do get lost along the way. This Lent, this Holy Week, I have been contemplating journey, as the parish of Kokanee has been exploring how we walk closer with the Holy One.
As I have had so many homes, so many places in which I have lived and worked, sometimes I feel lost, rudderless, and unable to express who I am and where I’m from. When getting introduced, I sometimes cringe at the litany of places and situations I have to relate to identify with folk. It just becomes a complicated mess.
Sometimes I feel lost; perhaps lost in the Kootenays is the best thing that I have had for me. In it I have found my heart’s home - the things that I find and feel essential in my expression of being a human, spiritual being, journeying on this earth. What a time for me to explore and have revealed! All in the midst of Holy Week, the suffering and passion of the one that Christians follow!
For me, I require skis, a bike, a kayak. I require key books for reflection and recreation. I require physical and spiritual stimulation - exercise and a rhythm of life. I require community, both within and outside the church. I require struggle so that healing, growth, learning, and reconciliation can be possible.
This week I obtained two long-lost books to add to my library. For me these are vital for my personal reflection and spirituality. Does God have a Big Toe, by Marc Gellman, and An African Prayerbook, by Desmond Tutu. Both books were in my possession for a long time, yet through moves and relocations, they had become lost. In this rejoicing, today a mantra had been resonating with me over and over, ‘Our hearts are restless until they find their home in you.’ I had forgotten the famous writer, and the context of that line, (St. Augustine of Hippo), and I rejoiced today to find the words in the introduction to Tutu’s book.
Lost in the Kootenays? Perhaps. Yet, found, healed, loved, and with deeper purpose as I live and breathe here.
Where is your heart’s home? What are the essential things you need to be the authentic you? Who needs to be present in your life? What community needs to support and uphold you? How will you find a place and a way to have this realized? Will Holy Week, and an expression of spirituality help you on your journey?
Peace always,
David
HEART'S HOME . . .
It is Tuesday of Holy Week. Many throughout the world are marking this week with specific activities, prayer and worship, and keeping space for what Christians refer to as the Passion, or the suffering of Jesus. Here in the midst of this time, I have always felt a mixture of closeness and distance: in leading prayer and worship in this setting for almost twenty-five years, there have been some distinct memories of peace, loneliness, struggle, and expectation. I remember times spent in community creatively exploring dramatic expressions of the passion, of exploring with others the core of the journey of Holy Week, through prayer, reflection, drama, and song.
This year, above all others, I am realizing the restlessness and impermanence of my journey thus far. In many ways I relate to nomads. This place where I live is not my birthplace. The place I was born is not the place where I grew up, nor the place where I received my education, nor the place where I grew into adulthood, responded to my vocation, became a parent, grew in my career and matured in adulthood and my faith. These days I have been contemplating my journey, and the impermanence of the things we gather around us as we live life. What is it that I truly need to express who I am? What do I hold on to that helps me express the authentic David?
Since moving here six months ago, I have been slowly settling into new rhythms of life. In this, I have found that I was missing key pieces in my vocation/career tools that I had had previously. These I would consider are pieces that help me express who I am, and how I express my spirituality. In the challenge of moving so many times in my life, some things do get lost along the way. This Lent, this Holy Week, I have been contemplating journey, as the parish of Kokanee has been exploring how we walk closer with the Holy One.
As I have had so many homes, so many places in which I have lived and worked, sometimes I feel lost, rudderless, and unable to express who I am and where I’m from. When getting introduced, I sometimes cringe at the litany of places and situations I have to relate to identify with folk. It just becomes a complicated mess.
Sometimes I feel lost; perhaps lost in the Kootenays is the best thing that I have had for me. In it I have found my heart’s home - the things that I find and feel essential in my expression of being a human, spiritual being, journeying on this earth. What a time for me to explore and have revealed! All in the midst of Holy Week, the suffering and passion of the one that Christians follow!
For me, I require skis, a bike, a kayak. I require key books for reflection and recreation. I require physical and spiritual stimulation - exercise and a rhythm of life. I require community, both within and outside the church. I require struggle so that healing, growth, learning, and reconciliation can be possible.
This week I obtained two long-lost books to add to my library. For me these are vital for my personal reflection and spirituality. Does God have a Big Toe, by Marc Gellman, and An African Prayerbook, by Desmond Tutu. Both books were in my possession for a long time, yet through moves and relocations, they had become lost. In this rejoicing, today a mantra had been resonating with me over and over, ‘Our hearts are restless until they find their home in you.’ I had forgotten the famous writer, and the context of that line, (St. Augustine of Hippo), and I rejoiced today to find the words in the introduction to Tutu’s book.
Lost in the Kootenays? Perhaps. Yet, found, healed, loved, and with deeper purpose as I live and breathe here.
Where is your heart’s home? What are the essential things you need to be the authentic you? Who needs to be present in your life? What community needs to support and uphold you? How will you find a place and a way to have this realized? Will Holy Week, and an expression of spirituality help you on your journey?
Peace always,
David
Mountain Reflection - March 20, 2024 Issue
IN THE CURRENT . . .
This week in much of the Christian church, the banners are red, there are palm branches and palm crosses, as music and prayers, liturgy and message focuses on the passion. Passion in the Christian context refers to the suffering, the struggle of Jesus during Holy Week, as he walks steadily from an entrance of palms and rejoicing to betrayal, trial, crucifixion and death. It is a hard time to be following the narrative in the gospels, for there is so much emotion, so much movement, all in a steady pace heading to a cross, death, and deep deep grief.
As we listen time and again to the readings and the liturgy, we can get caught up in the drama of this journey, as we reflect, we are invited to see the passion through the eyes of so many different persons: Mary, Peter, Judas, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Thomas, the crowd, and Jesus. It is so easy for us to try to make ourselves a little detached from the narrative - it happened then, it’s not happening now. We wish to hear the story and learn from it, yet at times we do not wish to face the harsh brutality of how the story unfolds.
So many of the characters in the passion seem to have been swept up in the journey to the cross. It is as if nothing can change the outcome. Again, in our time, we are called to observe this holy season, these feasts, mindful that what has happened in the past is to be brought into the present as we offer prayer and worship to God. In our worship, we hear the story, we are transformed by it, and we are called to live as people of the passion, people of the crucifixion, and people of the resurrection, each and every day.
The passion story reminds me of the power of crowd mentality, peer pressure, and living up to expectations. Many in the passion are almost looking over their shoulder, seeing who is watching them, and shaping their actions and words so that they will themselves be seen in the best light: Peter with the woman at the fire, the disciples abandoning Jesus, Herod deferring to Pilate, Pilate deferring to the crowd, the crowd choosing Barabbas. It seems as if so many are caught up in a current of suffering, hate, destruction and doom.
How many of us have ever gotten caught up in a groundswell movement? Have you been persuaded by words or music, charisma, or fear, colleagues or community? Have these movements always been of a positive persuasion?
When I see the passion, I think of navigating ocean tides and currents in a kayak. I have to be fully aware of winds, waves, dominant currents, and the tides. If I try to go against the current, I must have enough strength to make the journey. It is so easy to be swept away and be forced to follow.
Here in this time, we are invited to dwell in the discomfort of the passion narrative, knowing that at any point, we might be able to relate to any and all of the characters in this drama. We can be betrayer, accuser, griever, sentencer - we can at any time through our action or inaction, fail to live up to the challenge that God offers us in Jesus - to live a life of love and mercy that leads to new life.
How will you walk through Holy Week this year? Whom will you relate to?
How will you form your prayer and action?
How will you continue to partner with God to bring transformation and healing in this, God’s world?
Blessings,
David
Mountain Reflection - March 13, 2024 Issue
SOUL SINGING . . .
As the Lenten days journey on, we begin this week to start to contemplate passion. This Sunday coming in the life of the church is referred to as the Fifth Sunday of Lent, or Passion Sunday. It reminds us that we are a mere two weeks from Easter. Days are getting longer; weather is getting a little warmer (at least in this part of the world), there is a dampness and restlessness as snowdrops appear, and it seems as if all of nature is struggling to awaken.
Anticipating Spring is a time of mixed emotions for me. With the changing of seasons, the longer days and the time change, I anticipate all the growth and opportunity of the time ahead. In this transition also, I find the space to contemplate those pieces left unfinished or incomplete in this present season. As with all times of transition, there is hope and there is grief. Perhaps the changing of the seasons for me is reflective of my own life’s journey. I look to the future with hope and expectation, holding on to parts of brokenness/grief, as well as embracing growth, healing, and possibility.
Through all this, journeying as people of faith, I do not believe we are ever alone. We are called to hold on in the journey, through transitions, be they painful or joyful. As the seasons shift, our lives adjust to minute changes, and hold on to the presence of the Holy One, our faith community, our families, our perspectives. In the breathing in and out of our lives, much like the breathing in and out of Nature as it unfolds spring in its numerous ways.
This can be a fragile, tender time. It is a good time to check in with yourself, to check in with friend, family, neighbour, stranger, to see how life is unfolding all around us. It is a time to hold on to the practices that keep us grounded, keep us present in life and in community.
This week, in both Nelson and Kaslo, we are invited to contemplate our holy practice. What are the parts of life that you hold to that connect you with the Holy One, with yourself, with the earth, and with the community around you? For many in Christian communities, this focus is evident in our expression of worship (both public and private). This week contemplate walking the Lenten path as a holy practice: What parts of worship are the most meaningful for you? How might our expression of worship need to expand and develop?
As I walk through these days, I face much challenge and angst in transition. Much of my journey this past three years has been clouded by uncertainty, lack of knowledge, hard emotions, and mountains of grief. In my journey, the blossoming of Spirit, the growth of relationships, and the steadfast love offered by the Holy One has helped me journey on. In my prayer and contemplation, I have felt held and supported, such that though I’ve never known the outcome, I felt blessed that I haven’t been alone on the journey. I have dug deeply into emotional and spiritual resources on the hard days, and breathed freely, rejoicing on the easier days. In my mind, the words of a favourite song have helped me along the way:
Sing my soul, when hope is sleeping,
Sing when faith gives way to fears;
Sing to melt the ice of sadness,
Making way for joy through tears.
Sing my soul when sickness lingers,
Sing to dull the sharpest pain;
Sing to set the spirit leaping:
Healing needs a glad refrain.
Sing my soul, of him who shaped me,
Let me wander far away,
Ran with open arms to greet me,
Brought me home again to stay.
Sing my soul, when light seems darkest,
Sing when night refuses rest,
Sing though death should mock the future:
What's to come by God is blessed.
(c) 1988 The Iona Community, GIA Publications.
What is your Soul Song?
How are you held in your uncertainty or transition this year?
Where do you go to find rest?
Who do you bring along with you?
Peace,
David
SOUL SINGING . . .
As the Lenten days journey on, we begin this week to start to contemplate passion. This Sunday coming in the life of the church is referred to as the Fifth Sunday of Lent, or Passion Sunday. It reminds us that we are a mere two weeks from Easter. Days are getting longer; weather is getting a little warmer (at least in this part of the world), there is a dampness and restlessness as snowdrops appear, and it seems as if all of nature is struggling to awaken.
Anticipating Spring is a time of mixed emotions for me. With the changing of seasons, the longer days and the time change, I anticipate all the growth and opportunity of the time ahead. In this transition also, I find the space to contemplate those pieces left unfinished or incomplete in this present season. As with all times of transition, there is hope and there is grief. Perhaps the changing of the seasons for me is reflective of my own life’s journey. I look to the future with hope and expectation, holding on to parts of brokenness/grief, as well as embracing growth, healing, and possibility.
Through all this, journeying as people of faith, I do not believe we are ever alone. We are called to hold on in the journey, through transitions, be they painful or joyful. As the seasons shift, our lives adjust to minute changes, and hold on to the presence of the Holy One, our faith community, our families, our perspectives. In the breathing in and out of our lives, much like the breathing in and out of Nature as it unfolds spring in its numerous ways.
This can be a fragile, tender time. It is a good time to check in with yourself, to check in with friend, family, neighbour, stranger, to see how life is unfolding all around us. It is a time to hold on to the practices that keep us grounded, keep us present in life and in community.
This week, in both Nelson and Kaslo, we are invited to contemplate our holy practice. What are the parts of life that you hold to that connect you with the Holy One, with yourself, with the earth, and with the community around you? For many in Christian communities, this focus is evident in our expression of worship (both public and private). This week contemplate walking the Lenten path as a holy practice: What parts of worship are the most meaningful for you? How might our expression of worship need to expand and develop?
As I walk through these days, I face much challenge and angst in transition. Much of my journey this past three years has been clouded by uncertainty, lack of knowledge, hard emotions, and mountains of grief. In my journey, the blossoming of Spirit, the growth of relationships, and the steadfast love offered by the Holy One has helped me journey on. In my prayer and contemplation, I have felt held and supported, such that though I’ve never known the outcome, I felt blessed that I haven’t been alone on the journey. I have dug deeply into emotional and spiritual resources on the hard days, and breathed freely, rejoicing on the easier days. In my mind, the words of a favourite song have helped me along the way:
Sing my soul, when hope is sleeping,
Sing when faith gives way to fears;
Sing to melt the ice of sadness,
Making way for joy through tears.
Sing my soul when sickness lingers,
Sing to dull the sharpest pain;
Sing to set the spirit leaping:
Healing needs a glad refrain.
Sing my soul, of him who shaped me,
Let me wander far away,
Ran with open arms to greet me,
Brought me home again to stay.
Sing my soul, when light seems darkest,
Sing when night refuses rest,
Sing though death should mock the future:
What's to come by God is blessed.
(c) 1988 The Iona Community, GIA Publications.
What is your Soul Song?
How are you held in your uncertainty or transition this year?
Where do you go to find rest?
Who do you bring along with you?
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection - March 6, 2024 Issue
I WILL HOLD THE CHRIST-LIGHT FOR YOU . . .
Some folk may recognize the words in the title as a part of the Servant Song, written by Richard Gillard (found in Common Praise, #500). This hymn is offered at various times in the year, to focus on Christian life, and the responsibility of those in the faith community to journey with others in various stages of life. It is also often sung on Maundy Thursday, as the church remembers its responsibility to live up to the new commandment, the Mandatum novum do vobis for us to live out a commandment of love.
When I sing this song, often I find myself focusing on the third and fourth verses:
I will hold the Christ-light for you in the night-time of your fear;
I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear.
I will weep when you are weeping; when you laugh, I’ll laugh with you.
I will share your joys and sorrow till we’ve seen this journey through.
These words speak to me of companionship and humility. I believe it is a call for the faith community to be willing to walk with others in humility, offering to share in the bearing of burdens and sorrows, so that persons will not suffer alone. It is about journeying in the world together. There is much in the world that produces fear, hurt, hostility, seclusion, and pain for people. It is not that we can magically cure folk from challenges or ailments, but we can choose to walk with others, to advocate for their wellbeing, to fight injustice, and to accompany persons in their grief, sadness, and hurt.
For me this Lent, I am exploring a couple of questions: How do we hold the light of love with others?
How do we continue to walk the way of Jesus, within the wider community? Walking in service seems to be one major part. This week, folk in both Kaslo and Nelson are invited to explore the following questions: What acts of service help you to walk closely with the Holy One? And, in what ways might our parish expand its acts of service to help others?
We live as people of faith in this part of the world. We do not live in a vacuum. We are surrounded by people who may have different perspectives, beliefs, challenges, and gifts. The people that are in the wider community but not a part of our worshipping community deserve respect, dignity, care, and support. We are called to walk with them and support them as they navigate their lives.
How do you bear the light of Christ in your daily life?
How do others that you encounter receive care, love, and respect from you?
Peace,
David
I WILL HOLD THE CHRIST-LIGHT FOR YOU . . .
Some folk may recognize the words in the title as a part of the Servant Song, written by Richard Gillard (found in Common Praise, #500). This hymn is offered at various times in the year, to focus on Christian life, and the responsibility of those in the faith community to journey with others in various stages of life. It is also often sung on Maundy Thursday, as the church remembers its responsibility to live up to the new commandment, the Mandatum novum do vobis for us to live out a commandment of love.
When I sing this song, often I find myself focusing on the third and fourth verses:
I will hold the Christ-light for you in the night-time of your fear;
I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear.
I will weep when you are weeping; when you laugh, I’ll laugh with you.
I will share your joys and sorrow till we’ve seen this journey through.
These words speak to me of companionship and humility. I believe it is a call for the faith community to be willing to walk with others in humility, offering to share in the bearing of burdens and sorrows, so that persons will not suffer alone. It is about journeying in the world together. There is much in the world that produces fear, hurt, hostility, seclusion, and pain for people. It is not that we can magically cure folk from challenges or ailments, but we can choose to walk with others, to advocate for their wellbeing, to fight injustice, and to accompany persons in their grief, sadness, and hurt.
For me this Lent, I am exploring a couple of questions: How do we hold the light of love with others?
How do we continue to walk the way of Jesus, within the wider community? Walking in service seems to be one major part. This week, folk in both Kaslo and Nelson are invited to explore the following questions: What acts of service help you to walk closely with the Holy One? And, in what ways might our parish expand its acts of service to help others?
We live as people of faith in this part of the world. We do not live in a vacuum. We are surrounded by people who may have different perspectives, beliefs, challenges, and gifts. The people that are in the wider community but not a part of our worshipping community deserve respect, dignity, care, and support. We are called to walk with them and support them as they navigate their lives.
How do you bear the light of Christ in your daily life?
How do others that you encounter receive care, love, and respect from you?
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection - February 28, 2024 Issue
COME, TAKE MY HAND
Off and on the past three years, I’ve been rereading Esther De Waal’s book The World made Whole. It reflects the rediscovery of the Celtic traditions in Christianity. Esther shares the concept of peregrinatio – a wandering form of exile and pilgrimage. As pilgrims, monks from Ireland, Scotland, and Wales left homeland and friends, and all life’s securities to set out into the unknown, to journey for and with God. Three such monks summed it up as they explained their presence to King Alfred of Wessex, after arriving in Cornwall after drifting at sea for seven days. They said, ‘We stole away because we wanted for the love of God to be on pilgrimage, we cared not where.’ (De Waal).
Having spent some time in a kayak off the coast of Newfoundland in the North Atlantic, I imagine the challenges, the peril, the vulnerability of such a journey. A sturdy craft, true compass and charts and provisions would be essential. Our Lenten journeys may not be so perilous, and yet, we each in our own way, and as a community, march ever forward to Easter and Resurrection.
I believe we move forward, never doing so alone. With winds and weather, stars, sun, and clouds, we journey forward with the Holy One and with each other in community. Journeying with another can be complicated and exhausting at times. In the times I have taken trips with others, I have found navigating the ups and downs of human relationships to be far harder than the journey itself. Differences in opinion, experience and need cause challenges with communication and being, such that sometimes our journeys with others get scuttled before we reach our destination.
How much easier it is to journey alone! I don’t have to check in with others, I can set the pace. I can be alone with my thoughts, my feelings, my perspectives, not worrying about anything else.
We are not called to solitude and isolation as people of faith. We are called to journey with others, no matter the seas or the weather.
This week, the Lenten theme explores how we walk with others. Consider these questions:
Come take my hand and be my friend:
Your health and hope I’ll gladly mend:
Your worth, though hidden, I’ll reveal,
Your brokenness I’ll touch and heal.
And if you will go where I will go,
On pathways smooth and troublesome,
And if you will love as I will love,
You’ll see on earth the kindom come.
Words (c) 1988 WGRG, The Iona Community, Glasgow
The Holy One is the prime partner and companion with us on the way. In turn, as Jesus invites us to take his hand, we are called to hold the hands of others, befriend, touch and heal. We go where he goes, and where others dwell, so together we will face the storm and the calm, the cloudy and the clear.
How will you walk with others this week? How do others journey with you? Be there in the smooth and the troublesome and give thanks always for Love.
Peace,
David
COME, TAKE MY HAND
Off and on the past three years, I’ve been rereading Esther De Waal’s book The World made Whole. It reflects the rediscovery of the Celtic traditions in Christianity. Esther shares the concept of peregrinatio – a wandering form of exile and pilgrimage. As pilgrims, monks from Ireland, Scotland, and Wales left homeland and friends, and all life’s securities to set out into the unknown, to journey for and with God. Three such monks summed it up as they explained their presence to King Alfred of Wessex, after arriving in Cornwall after drifting at sea for seven days. They said, ‘We stole away because we wanted for the love of God to be on pilgrimage, we cared not where.’ (De Waal).
Having spent some time in a kayak off the coast of Newfoundland in the North Atlantic, I imagine the challenges, the peril, the vulnerability of such a journey. A sturdy craft, true compass and charts and provisions would be essential. Our Lenten journeys may not be so perilous, and yet, we each in our own way, and as a community, march ever forward to Easter and Resurrection.
I believe we move forward, never doing so alone. With winds and weather, stars, sun, and clouds, we journey forward with the Holy One and with each other in community. Journeying with another can be complicated and exhausting at times. In the times I have taken trips with others, I have found navigating the ups and downs of human relationships to be far harder than the journey itself. Differences in opinion, experience and need cause challenges with communication and being, such that sometimes our journeys with others get scuttled before we reach our destination.
How much easier it is to journey alone! I don’t have to check in with others, I can set the pace. I can be alone with my thoughts, my feelings, my perspectives, not worrying about anything else.
We are not called to solitude and isolation as people of faith. We are called to journey with others, no matter the seas or the weather.
This week, the Lenten theme explores how we walk with others. Consider these questions:
- How do you walk prayerfully? How do you model your Spiritual life to others?
- How do we walk the life of Jesus with those with whom we sometimes disagree?
- How do others support you in your walk with Jesus when you find things difficult?
- How does our worship reflect a close walk with God?
Come take my hand and be my friend:
Your health and hope I’ll gladly mend:
Your worth, though hidden, I’ll reveal,
Your brokenness I’ll touch and heal.
And if you will go where I will go,
On pathways smooth and troublesome,
And if you will love as I will love,
You’ll see on earth the kindom come.
Words (c) 1988 WGRG, The Iona Community, Glasgow
The Holy One is the prime partner and companion with us on the way. In turn, as Jesus invites us to take his hand, we are called to hold the hands of others, befriend, touch and heal. We go where he goes, and where others dwell, so together we will face the storm and the calm, the cloudy and the clear.
How will you walk with others this week? How do others journey with you? Be there in the smooth and the troublesome and give thanks always for Love.
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection - February 21, 2024 Issue
JOURNEYS OF DISCOVERY AND REDISCOVERY
The Lenten theme that is echoing through Kokanee Parish is ‘Walking the Path of Holiness.’ Each week together, we are invited to reflect, care, contemplate, learn and serve as we reexamine our relationship with the Holy One and with each other. There are various possibilities within the parish to complete this: Wednesdays in Kaslo with the Lenten Study Calmly Plotting the Resurrection followed by noon day prayers and discussion, Thursday mornings in Nelson with the same Lenten Study, accompanied by morning prayer.
As always, we provide the liturgy Sunday mornings, where each week we are invited to explore questions related to the overall theme. This coming week, the following questions are being offered:
Numerous thoughts, memories, experiences and actions come to mind as I read these questions. Heading into week two of Lent, I haven’t yet found the rhythm of my journey, and there forever seems to be challenges that may entice me to stray off the path. Yet I find myself returning to the path as I draw closer to community. Listening to others, dialoguing with them, reminds me of the common purpose and challenge each of us may experience, and how journeying together as a people is more enriching than walking alone.
This week I am thankful for the Book Study group in Nelson. Faithfully, for years this group has gathered, read books together, and explored the meaning for themselves, the church, within the context of the wider world. This week I finished the book we’ve been reading, Christ Actually, by James Carroll. It is an interesting tome that explores the Jewish foundation of the Jesus movement, bookended by the Jewish War and the devastating tragedies of the Second World War: The Holocaust and the bombing of Hiroshima/Nagasaki. In this writing, I learned much, and I was also reminded of the work of peacemaker Dorothy Day. Day’s fourfold approach to her spirituality sounded a deep chord in my very being. Carroll summed up Day’s approach in four words: Compassion, Companion, Conspiracy, and Conscience.
Where will you wander in your Lenten journey this week? How will you mark out a path of holiness? Will you gather with others? Will you learn something new? Will you serve within the wider community? Will you respond in justice? Will you meet Jesus in your living?
Peace,
David
JOURNEYS OF DISCOVERY AND REDISCOVERY
The Lenten theme that is echoing through Kokanee Parish is ‘Walking the Path of Holiness.’ Each week together, we are invited to reflect, care, contemplate, learn and serve as we reexamine our relationship with the Holy One and with each other. There are various possibilities within the parish to complete this: Wednesdays in Kaslo with the Lenten Study Calmly Plotting the Resurrection followed by noon day prayers and discussion, Thursday mornings in Nelson with the same Lenten Study, accompanied by morning prayer.
As always, we provide the liturgy Sunday mornings, where each week we are invited to explore questions related to the overall theme. This coming week, the following questions are being offered:
- Walking against the wind/grain:
- How is your walk with Jesus a counter-cultural act?
- How are you (and the faith community) willing to die to self and rise to a new, complete life in God?
- How do we balance a life of holiness within a life in the practical world?
Numerous thoughts, memories, experiences and actions come to mind as I read these questions. Heading into week two of Lent, I haven’t yet found the rhythm of my journey, and there forever seems to be challenges that may entice me to stray off the path. Yet I find myself returning to the path as I draw closer to community. Listening to others, dialoguing with them, reminds me of the common purpose and challenge each of us may experience, and how journeying together as a people is more enriching than walking alone.
This week I am thankful for the Book Study group in Nelson. Faithfully, for years this group has gathered, read books together, and explored the meaning for themselves, the church, within the context of the wider world. This week I finished the book we’ve been reading, Christ Actually, by James Carroll. It is an interesting tome that explores the Jewish foundation of the Jesus movement, bookended by the Jewish War and the devastating tragedies of the Second World War: The Holocaust and the bombing of Hiroshima/Nagasaki. In this writing, I learned much, and I was also reminded of the work of peacemaker Dorothy Day. Day’s fourfold approach to her spirituality sounded a deep chord in my very being. Carroll summed up Day’s approach in four words: Compassion, Companion, Conspiracy, and Conscience.
- Compassion – Suffering with
- Companion – Breaking Bread with
- Conspiracy – Breathing with
- Conscience – Knowing with
Where will you wander in your Lenten journey this week? How will you mark out a path of holiness? Will you gather with others? Will you learn something new? Will you serve within the wider community? Will you respond in justice? Will you meet Jesus in your living?
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection - February 14, 2024 Issue
ASHES AND EGGS
NEW LIFE FROM DEATH
In the life of most Christian communities throughout the world there is a communal pause, and a major shift as we enter the season of Lent. We prepare for the gift of our redemption through the death and resurrection of Jesus. It is a holy time, one in which we acknowledge our frailty, our need for repentance, and the gifts of mercy and forgiveness that are offered by the Holy One.
We begin by accepting and facing our mortality in the liturgy of Ash Wednesday. We journey through the weeks of Lent accompanied by the community of faith in many ways. We are encouraged to take this time to examine our lives, examine the patterns of our faith community, and attempt to engage in a discipline that brings us closer to the Holy One, closer to each other, and closer to this world which God so dearly loves.
The church is invited to enter a holy Lent. Through our acts of self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, we spend intentional time that will transform us both individually and as a wider community.
I encourage you to read or view the Archbishop’s Ash Wednesday Reflection and consider how you will observe a Holy Lent.
I encourage you to ponder and participate in our parish wide Lenten Journey: Walking a Path of Holiness.
Consider how you will be present in worship, reflecting on questions and placing them on ‘footprints.’
Engage in the Lenten Study, as we calmly plot the Resurrection. The Lenten Studies are on Wednesdays in Kaslo (11 – 1pm) and Thursdays in Nelson (10am – noon).
Contemplate how you will travel these next forty days – with yourself, with your neighbours, and with the Holy One.
How will it be a struggle? How might you find joy in this journey?
How will you rise refreshed, resurrected, when we meet Jesus at the Tomb?
What steps do you need to take this year, to walk a path of holiness?
Peace,
David
ASHES AND EGGS
NEW LIFE FROM DEATH
In the life of most Christian communities throughout the world there is a communal pause, and a major shift as we enter the season of Lent. We prepare for the gift of our redemption through the death and resurrection of Jesus. It is a holy time, one in which we acknowledge our frailty, our need for repentance, and the gifts of mercy and forgiveness that are offered by the Holy One.
We begin by accepting and facing our mortality in the liturgy of Ash Wednesday. We journey through the weeks of Lent accompanied by the community of faith in many ways. We are encouraged to take this time to examine our lives, examine the patterns of our faith community, and attempt to engage in a discipline that brings us closer to the Holy One, closer to each other, and closer to this world which God so dearly loves.
The church is invited to enter a holy Lent. Through our acts of self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, we spend intentional time that will transform us both individually and as a wider community.
I encourage you to read or view the Archbishop’s Ash Wednesday Reflection and consider how you will observe a Holy Lent.
I encourage you to ponder and participate in our parish wide Lenten Journey: Walking a Path of Holiness.
Consider how you will be present in worship, reflecting on questions and placing them on ‘footprints.’
Engage in the Lenten Study, as we calmly plot the Resurrection. The Lenten Studies are on Wednesdays in Kaslo (11 – 1pm) and Thursdays in Nelson (10am – noon).
Contemplate how you will travel these next forty days – with yourself, with your neighbours, and with the Holy One.
How will it be a struggle? How might you find joy in this journey?
How will you rise refreshed, resurrected, when we meet Jesus at the Tomb?
What steps do you need to take this year, to walk a path of holiness?
Peace,
David
Mountain Reflection - February 7, 2024 Issue
HOW LONG? HOW LONG? . .
Over the last number of weeks, I have been trying hard to stay present to the concerns and challenges that I see all around me. In my review of the media, there is so much pain and destruction in the world, whether through open conflict/war, injustices in social contexts, or the continually unfolding climate crisis. There is much for me to offer in prayer. In my listening to family, friends, conversations with parishioners, and those in the wider community, I hear of lots of struggle, pain, restless waiting, and lament. It seems that currently, so many are searching for specific resolve: themes include healing, peace, end of pain, hope for the future.
In the challenges of life, I find looking to the psalms offers me perspective and hope, giving me comfort and a path forward. So many times I can feel dismayed and discouraged as I read the news, as I listen to the pain shared by a friend, and I find my prayer rising ‘how long O God, how long?’ I want to find ways to bring justice, to bring resolve, to hurry healing and bring peace.
I am reminded that in the psalms there are laments that remind me that the Hebrew people struggled, and addressed their struggles to the Holy One, expressing their emotion, their concerns, and sharing gratitude when the resolve had come. Psalm 40 is a standard offering that I use for prayer in these times:
I waited patiently for God, for God to hear my prayer;
And God bent down to where I sank and listened to me there.
God raised me from a miry pit, from mud and sinking sand,
And set my feet upon a rock where I can firmly stand.
And on my lips a song was put, a new song to the Lord.
Many will marvel, open-eyed and put their trust in God.
Great wonders you have done, O Lord, all purposed for our good.
Unable every one to name, I bow in gratitude.
(c) 1993 The Iona Community.
This metricization of psalm 40 always seems to help me with perspective and offer me hope even in the darkest days. I find myself reciting it on and off through times of struggle, and through times of joy. In the words I am reminded that in the hardest parts of life I am not alone – and in the joys of life, I offer gratitude.
Read the words once again, this time with the tune of Amazing Grace in your mind. For me this psalm comes alive in a new way, bringing comfort, even if I feel my prayer is not resolved.
When I was very young, I offered litanies of prayers for almost every occassion. I prayed for God to help me in my learning. I prayed for food when I was hungry. I prayed for direction, for healing, for world peace. For so so so many things. Periodically I would get so frustrated that my prayers seemed fruitless, seemed lost in the midst of all the other things of life.
Late in 1999 I came across a book Prayers for People in Hospital by Neville Smith. I used it as a resource to explore how I could better care in pastoral ministry for those I would be visiting. In reading the book, I came across a beautiful examination of prayer. Smith pointed to the book The Living God by Keith Ward (SPCK 1984). He recounted that God doesn’t answer our prayers per se, instead:
‘All our prayers are used. They influence the future for good. But we cannot say how they may be used, since we have no idea at all of what other constraints there are upon the determination of the future.’
This idea of God using our prayers rather than answering them has stuck with me ever since. I have long since abandoned my frustration with God not ‘answering’ my prayer, as if I somehow have a direct line to an entity that listens to all the concerns of the earth and cosmos throughout all time and makes me the priority. I have come to accept my reality that my prayer is used, used to change me. In my rhythm and pattern of prayer, I hope to become more understanding, more compassionate, more attune to the concerns of friend and foe, stranger and neighbour, family and newcomer. My life of prayer helps me to change who I am amid a world that needs more love, care, hope, justice, and gentleness.
It is a hard process, prayer. I feel and experience, I get frustrated and lost at times. I get self-absorbed, and yet I am continually called out of myself to be present with the Holy One, and with others. I have come to a place where I find a consistent pattern of lament and gratitude, struggle and hope, that leads me to inward change. Here I find ways to keep going, keep learning, keep asking for forgiveness, keep forgiving, keep grappling with love and pain, with disappointment and justice.
How about you? What is it that sustains your everyday living amid the chaos and wonder of the world? How do you hold hope? How do you manage disappointment? How do you grow love and faithfulness?
Peace,
David
January 31, 2024 Issue
LIGHT AND WARMTH, HOPE AND REDEMPTION. . .
This Sunday within the Parish of Kokanee, at both Kaslo and Nelson, one may see candles brightly burning. In the life of Christian communities throughout the world this week, it is Candlemas, or the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. In the customs and practice, we listen to Scripture, and hear of wise aged Anna and Simeon, who rejoice that the gift of hope and the promise of redemption is fulfilled in a little child.
For Christians, the presentation of this infant reminds us that when we walk in the Way of Jesus, we are alight, aglow with joy and wonder, and we share the love that has been given to the world all around us. Families and individuals are invited to bring candles this week: Baptismal candles, marriage candles, pillar candles, emergency candles, perhaps even romantic candles, to be blessed.
The blessing and the lighting of these candles signify to us that the Holy One never abandons us, even in the darkest places or in the most painful times. The Holy One is a light to our path, helping us, offering us hope, redemption, and sustaining love.
I have written these words above, in many variations over the years, believing it to be true. After a period of wilderness and struggle time in my life, I found it hard to focus on light and life, hope and redemption. Through that wilderness, struggling time, I had faithful companions, friends and family, that held me up, encouraged me, created safe spaces for me, so I could experience light and warmth, healing, hope and redemption. Now, when I reread the first two paragraphs, I feel I understand more about the value of things that are light and hope in life. I hold on to those in my family, my friend network and my faith community, and I value the light and blessing they offer by being who they are with me.
As we walk through the path of life, we are faced with many challenges, opportunities, obstacles and openings that can shape our living and being. Depending on the terrain we traverse, we can come across various experiences, emotions and feelings. We can choose to do so alone, or we can invite and encourage others to journey together with us.
The times when I have shut off community have been some of the hardest times; the places and spaces where I have chosen to let folk in have been the most rewarding. We are human beings – we are built for community, family, for integration and interaction with others, with nature, and with the Holy One.
Many times I’ve had the opportunity to listen, and been given feedback surrounding a particular conversation, action, or writing that I have given, and found that my dialogue, my acts, and my words may have given another hope, care, and love. Most often this discovery happens at times when I least thought I was bringing light and hope to another.
Consider the impact you have in your life with others, with community, with nature. When have you brought light to another? When have others brought light and hope to your life? Remember and reflect, and perhaps light a candle, write a note, pick up the phone. Say thank you.
When we share the light of the Holy One, we bring comfort, hope and meaning to others. We may not always realize this, but our presence and our presentation of the Holy One is us to others IS essential. I recognize that there are times and places where perhaps we only show and express pain, disappointment, frustration, or negativity; How does this bring life and hope to others?
This day, this season, when we may be lost under mounds of snow, blown this way and that by the forces of life and of circumstance, or darkened by the challenges of duty or responsibility, let us have courage to light the light, and shine the light. Even in these small actions, others around us will be blessed.
For me the steps to encountering God have to encompass growth both within and without. We may not always realize this, but our presence and our presentation of the Holy One to others IS essential.
Perhaps these questions will serve as a catalyst in the coming weeks as we continue this journey through Epiphany, and find ways in which we encounter the Holy One, both within, and all around us.
Peace,
David
LIGHT AND WARMTH, HOPE AND REDEMPTION. . .
This Sunday within the Parish of Kokanee, at both Kaslo and Nelson, one may see candles brightly burning. In the life of Christian communities throughout the world this week, it is Candlemas, or the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. In the customs and practice, we listen to Scripture, and hear of wise aged Anna and Simeon, who rejoice that the gift of hope and the promise of redemption is fulfilled in a little child.
For Christians, the presentation of this infant reminds us that when we walk in the Way of Jesus, we are alight, aglow with joy and wonder, and we share the love that has been given to the world all around us. Families and individuals are invited to bring candles this week: Baptismal candles, marriage candles, pillar candles, emergency candles, perhaps even romantic candles, to be blessed.
The blessing and the lighting of these candles signify to us that the Holy One never abandons us, even in the darkest places or in the most painful times. The Holy One is a light to our path, helping us, offering us hope, redemption, and sustaining love.
I have written these words above, in many variations over the years, believing it to be true. After a period of wilderness and struggle time in my life, I found it hard to focus on light and life, hope and redemption. Through that wilderness, struggling time, I had faithful companions, friends and family, that held me up, encouraged me, created safe spaces for me, so I could experience light and warmth, healing, hope and redemption. Now, when I reread the first two paragraphs, I feel I understand more about the value of things that are light and hope in life. I hold on to those in my family, my friend network and my faith community, and I value the light and blessing they offer by being who they are with me.
As we walk through the path of life, we are faced with many challenges, opportunities, obstacles and openings that can shape our living and being. Depending on the terrain we traverse, we can come across various experiences, emotions and feelings. We can choose to do so alone, or we can invite and encourage others to journey together with us.
The times when I have shut off community have been some of the hardest times; the places and spaces where I have chosen to let folk in have been the most rewarding. We are human beings – we are built for community, family, for integration and interaction with others, with nature, and with the Holy One.
Many times I’ve had the opportunity to listen, and been given feedback surrounding a particular conversation, action, or writing that I have given, and found that my dialogue, my acts, and my words may have given another hope, care, and love. Most often this discovery happens at times when I least thought I was bringing light and hope to another.
Consider the impact you have in your life with others, with community, with nature. When have you brought light to another? When have others brought light and hope to your life? Remember and reflect, and perhaps light a candle, write a note, pick up the phone. Say thank you.
When we share the light of the Holy One, we bring comfort, hope and meaning to others. We may not always realize this, but our presence and our presentation of the Holy One is us to others IS essential. I recognize that there are times and places where perhaps we only show and express pain, disappointment, frustration, or negativity; How does this bring life and hope to others?
This day, this season, when we may be lost under mounds of snow, blown this way and that by the forces of life and of circumstance, or darkened by the challenges of duty or responsibility, let us have courage to light the light, and shine the light. Even in these small actions, others around us will be blessed.
For me the steps to encountering God have to encompass growth both within and without. We may not always realize this, but our presence and our presentation of the Holy One to others IS essential.
Perhaps these questions will serve as a catalyst in the coming weeks as we continue this journey through Epiphany, and find ways in which we encounter the Holy One, both within, and all around us.
Peace,
David
January 24, 2024 Issue
EXPERIENCING WITHIN, WITHOUT. . .
For Christians, the presentation of this infant reminds us that when we walk in the Way of Jesus, we are alight, aglow with joy and wonder, and we share the love that has been given to the world all around us. Families and individuals are invited to bring candles this week: Baptismal candles, marriage candles, pillar candles, emergency candles, perhaps even romantic candles, to be blessed. The blessing and the lighting of these candles signify to us that the Holy One never abandons us, even in the darkest places or in the most painful times. The Holy One is a light to our path, helping us, offering us hope, redemption, and sustaining love.
I have written these words above, in many variations over the years, believing it to be true. After a period of wilderness and struggle time in my life, I found it hard to focus on light and life, hope and redemption. Through that wilderness, struggling time, I had faithful companions, friends and family, that held me up, encouraged me, created safe spaces for me, so I could experience light and warmth, healing, hope and redemption. Now, when I reread the first two paragraphs, I feel I understand more about the value of things that are light and hope in life.
I hold on to those in my family, my friend network and my faith community, and I value the light and blessing they offer by being who they are with me.
As we walk through the path of life, we are faced with many challenges, opportunities, obstacles and openings that can shape our living and being. Depending on the terrain we traverse, we can come across various experiences, emotions and feelings. We can choose to do so alone, or we can invite and encourage others to journey together with us.
The times when I have shut off community have been some of the hardest times; the places and spaces where I have chosen to let folk in have been the most rewarding. We are human beings – we are built for community, family, for integration and interaction with others, with nature, and with the Holy One.
Many times I’ve had the opportunity to listen, and been given feedback surrounding a particular conversation, action, or writing that I have given, and found that my dialogue, my acts, and my words may have given another hope, care, and love. Most often this discovery happens at times when I least thought I was bringing light and hope to another.
Consider the impact you have in your life with others, with community, with nature. When have you brought light to another? When have others brought light and hope to your life? Remember and reflect, and perhaps light a candle, write a note, pick up the phone. Say thank you.
When we share the light of the Holy One, we bring comfort, hope and meaning to others. We may not always realize this, but our presence and our presentation of the Holy One is us to others IS essential. I recognize that there are times and places where perhaps we only show and express pain, disappointment, frustration, or negativity; How does this bring life and hope to others?
This day, this season, when we may be lost under mounds of snow, blown this way and that by the forces of life and of circumstance, or darkened by the challenges of duty or responsibility, let us have courage to light the light, and shine the light. Even in these small actions, others around us will be blessed.
For me the steps to encountering God have to encompass growth both within and without. We may not always realize this, but our presence and our presentation of the Holy One to others IS essential.
Perhaps these questions will serve as a catalyst in the coming weeks as we continue this journey through Epiphany, and find ways in which we encounter the Holy One, both within, and all around us.
Peace,
David
EXPERIENCING WITHIN, WITHOUT. . .
For Christians, the presentation of this infant reminds us that when we walk in the Way of Jesus, we are alight, aglow with joy and wonder, and we share the love that has been given to the world all around us. Families and individuals are invited to bring candles this week: Baptismal candles, marriage candles, pillar candles, emergency candles, perhaps even romantic candles, to be blessed. The blessing and the lighting of these candles signify to us that the Holy One never abandons us, even in the darkest places or in the most painful times. The Holy One is a light to our path, helping us, offering us hope, redemption, and sustaining love.
I have written these words above, in many variations over the years, believing it to be true. After a period of wilderness and struggle time in my life, I found it hard to focus on light and life, hope and redemption. Through that wilderness, struggling time, I had faithful companions, friends and family, that held me up, encouraged me, created safe spaces for me, so I could experience light and warmth, healing, hope and redemption. Now, when I reread the first two paragraphs, I feel I understand more about the value of things that are light and hope in life.
I hold on to those in my family, my friend network and my faith community, and I value the light and blessing they offer by being who they are with me.
As we walk through the path of life, we are faced with many challenges, opportunities, obstacles and openings that can shape our living and being. Depending on the terrain we traverse, we can come across various experiences, emotions and feelings. We can choose to do so alone, or we can invite and encourage others to journey together with us.
The times when I have shut off community have been some of the hardest times; the places and spaces where I have chosen to let folk in have been the most rewarding. We are human beings – we are built for community, family, for integration and interaction with others, with nature, and with the Holy One.
Many times I’ve had the opportunity to listen, and been given feedback surrounding a particular conversation, action, or writing that I have given, and found that my dialogue, my acts, and my words may have given another hope, care, and love. Most often this discovery happens at times when I least thought I was bringing light and hope to another.
Consider the impact you have in your life with others, with community, with nature. When have you brought light to another? When have others brought light and hope to your life? Remember and reflect, and perhaps light a candle, write a note, pick up the phone. Say thank you.
When we share the light of the Holy One, we bring comfort, hope and meaning to others. We may not always realize this, but our presence and our presentation of the Holy One is us to others IS essential. I recognize that there are times and places where perhaps we only show and express pain, disappointment, frustration, or negativity; How does this bring life and hope to others?
This day, this season, when we may be lost under mounds of snow, blown this way and that by the forces of life and of circumstance, or darkened by the challenges of duty or responsibility, let us have courage to light the light, and shine the light. Even in these small actions, others around us will be blessed.
For me the steps to encountering God have to encompass growth both within and without. We may not always realize this, but our presence and our presentation of the Holy One to others IS essential.
Perhaps these questions will serve as a catalyst in the coming weeks as we continue this journey through Epiphany, and find ways in which we encounter the Holy One, both within, and all around us.
Peace,
David
January 17, 2024 Issue
UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTERS. . .
This past week in the liturgy I announced an initiative that will encourage folk within Kokanee parish to explore how they encounter God in their daily lives. As we continue to move further into the season of Epiphany, Scripture points us to the story of Jonah, and continues with the call of the disciples. A community is called to repentance and transformation, and individuals are invited to leave the comfort of their routine to journey with Jesus in unexpected ways.
This week in my meditations about this Scripture, I found myself visualizing how people’s lives might be disrupted in those instances. How did the people of Nineveh encounter Jonah’s announcement? Were folk grumpy that their morning routine was interrupted? Did their coffee get cold as they listened to the announcements of a
stranger-prophet in their midst? Were Simon and Andrew just waiting for an excuse to leave the family business? How did Zebedee react to Jesus' announcement, how come he didn’t follow as well? How did his family fare with the loss of two workers? Did funds get low, did people go hungry?
This week, I’ve been encouraging folk to contemplate and record how they’ve encountered God in their lives. It is a part of a larger examination for the parish to begin a dialogue in which we can explore the presence of the Holy One, respond in need within the wider community, and sort out needed gifts, skills, and direction as we
continue to move and work in community in this part of creation. It is a lofty challenge, inviting a conversation where the information offered may be unseen, unexpected, and outside of the routines we normally hold. It is a time for us, over these next six weeks (and indeed, throughout the coming year) to actively participate in reflection and information gathering, so that we can form a plan for mission and ministry in the coming seasons.
For me there is much excitement, as I hope to read of the different ways that people encounter God, explore deeply, and learn through simple sharing and reading of the experience of others in the wider community.
As you move through your day, your week, be open. Stop while sipping coffee, while engaged in your regular routine, and be open to encounter, to newness, to wonder. How will God show up in your life? How will circumstances in the world, in the community, in your world shift your patterns? What might that be indicating for you in this time and place? How can you gently hold these pieces as you move forward in life?
Peace,
David
UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTERS. . .
This past week in the liturgy I announced an initiative that will encourage folk within Kokanee parish to explore how they encounter God in their daily lives. As we continue to move further into the season of Epiphany, Scripture points us to the story of Jonah, and continues with the call of the disciples. A community is called to repentance and transformation, and individuals are invited to leave the comfort of their routine to journey with Jesus in unexpected ways.
This week in my meditations about this Scripture, I found myself visualizing how people’s lives might be disrupted in those instances. How did the people of Nineveh encounter Jonah’s announcement? Were folk grumpy that their morning routine was interrupted? Did their coffee get cold as they listened to the announcements of a
stranger-prophet in their midst? Were Simon and Andrew just waiting for an excuse to leave the family business? How did Zebedee react to Jesus' announcement, how come he didn’t follow as well? How did his family fare with the loss of two workers? Did funds get low, did people go hungry?
This week, I’ve been encouraging folk to contemplate and record how they’ve encountered God in their lives. It is a part of a larger examination for the parish to begin a dialogue in which we can explore the presence of the Holy One, respond in need within the wider community, and sort out needed gifts, skills, and direction as we
continue to move and work in community in this part of creation. It is a lofty challenge, inviting a conversation where the information offered may be unseen, unexpected, and outside of the routines we normally hold. It is a time for us, over these next six weeks (and indeed, throughout the coming year) to actively participate in reflection and information gathering, so that we can form a plan for mission and ministry in the coming seasons.
For me there is much excitement, as I hope to read of the different ways that people encounter God, explore deeply, and learn through simple sharing and reading of the experience of others in the wider community.
As you move through your day, your week, be open. Stop while sipping coffee, while engaged in your regular routine, and be open to encounter, to newness, to wonder. How will God show up in your life? How will circumstances in the world, in the community, in your world shift your patterns? What might that be indicating for you in this time and place? How can you gently hold these pieces as you move forward in life?
Peace,
David
January 10, 2024 Issue
LISTENING AND WAITING . . .
This week’s encounter with Scripture leaves behind the manger, magi, and mess, as we delve further into the season of Epiphany – exploring how the Holy One is revealed in the here and now. Amid the call of the disciples in the gospels to ‘follow Jesus,’ and the call of the young boy Samuel, a great deal of our prayer, formation, hymnody and expression comes out of a sense of vocation – listening and waiting for the Holy One to act in our lives, in the life of the church, and in the life of the world.
Since the earliest points of my own immersion in a faith community, I have been familiar with call, vocation, missio - the mission of the church, and I have been actively trying to sort my place within all of this.
I remember vivid walks on the tundra of Baffin Island as a child with our dogs, half praying, half singing, understanding to myself that was having an ongoing conversation with the Holy One. When I shared this with family, I was asked what the conversations entailed. In my five-year-old understanding, it was more emotion and a sense of feeling, rather than specific words or instructions. In essence, it was a sense that I wasn’t alone, I was in community, and that there was a purpose in my being, and a purpose in God’s being. I remember my father preaching about Jeremiah 33:3, and feeling secure that whenever I called upon God, God would answer.
As I’ve matured, accepted and adapted my vocation as a continuing process of dialogue with the Holy One within the world, full of other humans, creatures, and processes, I have continually tried to listen to the dialogue that I so vividly remember from decades ago. As I’ve matured, I’ve also recognized when my life has been too cluttered and chaotic to hear the voice of the Holy One, in nature, in the community, and in the community of faith.
No doubt, the world has changed, I have changed, and church and society have changed during this time.
I was reminded of this, this past week, as I watched the documentary, Manufactured Landscapes by Edward Burtynsky. This 2006 award winning Canadian documentary examines the effects of the human transformation of nature – with such things as the leftover refuse left by technology, large scale projects such as the three gorges dam in China, and other effects that have affected climate, human, flora, and fauna sustainability and health over time.
One image struck me, a gigantic pile of rotary phone parts in China. It shocked and saddened me that phone parts, some fifty to sixty years out of date, would be stockpiled in places where people were trying to live, work, and play. I thought of all the research, training, infrastructure and time taken to communicate over the centuries, and how this one example of a rotary phone could at once, create so much interconnectedness, frustration, anger, love, gossip, care, wisdom, learning, garbage, landfill, and destruction.
Many today would not be able to operate a rotary phone, and yet at one point, it was the pinnacle of communication throughout the world. That phone has given way to cell phones, smart phones, satellite phones, and video phoning.
Though not many of us believe that phones and modern communication can alone herald an encounter with the Holy One, there is is no doubt that all forms of communication, from speech, to written word, to leaders, to groups (including communities of faith), to auditory and video devices can communicate a message.
For me, exploring vocation is about an ongoing dialogue with self, with other, and with the Holy One about intention. How does one discern a call? How do you discern the voice of the Holy One amid all the other voices in your surroundings? Can you distinguish the voice of the Holy One from the voices of capitalism, government, greed, desire, justice? Do you ignore certain voices because they don’t seem attractive or engaging for you? Do you ignore other voices because of hurt and pain in your life?
Now, my journey and dialogue concerning vocation seems as arduous as ever. I am straining more and more to see where I can distinguish voices of respect, justice, learning, love, hope, action, reconciliation and redemption. I have found that these voices incorporate and encompass the voice of the Holy One for me. I have found this voice on city streets, in gardens, in places of worship, in places of deep despair, and in the beauty of all creation.
Where do you encounter the voice of the Holy One? Do you stop and listen? How does this call affect your life, and all your encounters?
Peace,
David
LISTENING AND WAITING . . .
This week’s encounter with Scripture leaves behind the manger, magi, and mess, as we delve further into the season of Epiphany – exploring how the Holy One is revealed in the here and now. Amid the call of the disciples in the gospels to ‘follow Jesus,’ and the call of the young boy Samuel, a great deal of our prayer, formation, hymnody and expression comes out of a sense of vocation – listening and waiting for the Holy One to act in our lives, in the life of the church, and in the life of the world.
Since the earliest points of my own immersion in a faith community, I have been familiar with call, vocation, missio - the mission of the church, and I have been actively trying to sort my place within all of this.
I remember vivid walks on the tundra of Baffin Island as a child with our dogs, half praying, half singing, understanding to myself that was having an ongoing conversation with the Holy One. When I shared this with family, I was asked what the conversations entailed. In my five-year-old understanding, it was more emotion and a sense of feeling, rather than specific words or instructions. In essence, it was a sense that I wasn’t alone, I was in community, and that there was a purpose in my being, and a purpose in God’s being. I remember my father preaching about Jeremiah 33:3, and feeling secure that whenever I called upon God, God would answer.
As I’ve matured, accepted and adapted my vocation as a continuing process of dialogue with the Holy One within the world, full of other humans, creatures, and processes, I have continually tried to listen to the dialogue that I so vividly remember from decades ago. As I’ve matured, I’ve also recognized when my life has been too cluttered and chaotic to hear the voice of the Holy One, in nature, in the community, and in the community of faith.
No doubt, the world has changed, I have changed, and church and society have changed during this time.
I was reminded of this, this past week, as I watched the documentary, Manufactured Landscapes by Edward Burtynsky. This 2006 award winning Canadian documentary examines the effects of the human transformation of nature – with such things as the leftover refuse left by technology, large scale projects such as the three gorges dam in China, and other effects that have affected climate, human, flora, and fauna sustainability and health over time.
One image struck me, a gigantic pile of rotary phone parts in China. It shocked and saddened me that phone parts, some fifty to sixty years out of date, would be stockpiled in places where people were trying to live, work, and play. I thought of all the research, training, infrastructure and time taken to communicate over the centuries, and how this one example of a rotary phone could at once, create so much interconnectedness, frustration, anger, love, gossip, care, wisdom, learning, garbage, landfill, and destruction.
Many today would not be able to operate a rotary phone, and yet at one point, it was the pinnacle of communication throughout the world. That phone has given way to cell phones, smart phones, satellite phones, and video phoning.
Though not many of us believe that phones and modern communication can alone herald an encounter with the Holy One, there is is no doubt that all forms of communication, from speech, to written word, to leaders, to groups (including communities of faith), to auditory and video devices can communicate a message.
For me, exploring vocation is about an ongoing dialogue with self, with other, and with the Holy One about intention. How does one discern a call? How do you discern the voice of the Holy One amid all the other voices in your surroundings? Can you distinguish the voice of the Holy One from the voices of capitalism, government, greed, desire, justice? Do you ignore certain voices because they don’t seem attractive or engaging for you? Do you ignore other voices because of hurt and pain in your life?
Now, my journey and dialogue concerning vocation seems as arduous as ever. I am straining more and more to see where I can distinguish voices of respect, justice, learning, love, hope, action, reconciliation and redemption. I have found that these voices incorporate and encompass the voice of the Holy One for me. I have found this voice on city streets, in gardens, in places of worship, in places of deep despair, and in the beauty of all creation.
Where do you encounter the voice of the Holy One? Do you stop and listen? How does this call affect your life, and all your encounters?
Peace,
David
December 20, 2023 Issue
KENOSIS . . .
He became poor that we may be rich
Loving the world and leaving his throne
King of all kings, Lord of all lords
Flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone.
(© Iona Community, 1989, in Love from Below Graham Maule and John Bell)
Happy Christmas!
Each Christmas, at some point or another, I sing this refrain, as I contemplate kenosis, the self-emptying love that Jesus gives, in our understandings of incarnation, crucifixion and resurrection. I know that this refrain is not the most inclusive in its language nor in its designation of Jesus, however, the refrain reminds me of the act of incarnation. The Holy One coming down, Light coming among us, Love coming among us in human form to journey with us.
Christmas is certainly a time for people to examine the narrative surrounding Jesus’ birth, and how that may affect us (and to what extent) in our lives. For me, this song reminds me of my belief surrounding the vulnerability of the Holy One. In the birth of Jesus, I see and honour the humility, the risk, the deep love that the Holy One has for all creation. I do not comprehend it all; I find myself listening to the narratives that are offered. Each year I try to immerse myself in questions so that I might better understand and live into the Love that is offered.
How is God born into this infant?
Why does the Holy One choose to take this risk, to be humble?
Will I make room, as the innkeeper did for Mary and Joseph with the Manger?
How do I continue to make room, and be a manger for God amid my travels?
How do I continue to make room for love in my interactions with others?
Do I offer a manger and a safe place for everyone I encounter?
This Christmas I am thankful:
I have found a place to be welcomed and safe, full of love and community in Kokanee and in the diocese of Kootenay
I have found a place to continue to work on humility and love, as I journey with others opening dialogue, learning and discovering.
I hold a place to be with the other this Christmas – newness of experience, newness of community, newness in my own journey of self-awareness as I take steps forward.
For what are you thankful this Christmas? How is your life open to the presence of the Holy One this Christmas? How do you make room for others to be with you in this season?
Peace,
David
KENOSIS . . .
He became poor that we may be rich
Loving the world and leaving his throne
King of all kings, Lord of all lords
Flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone.
(© Iona Community, 1989, in Love from Below Graham Maule and John Bell)
Happy Christmas!
Each Christmas, at some point or another, I sing this refrain, as I contemplate kenosis, the self-emptying love that Jesus gives, in our understandings of incarnation, crucifixion and resurrection. I know that this refrain is not the most inclusive in its language nor in its designation of Jesus, however, the refrain reminds me of the act of incarnation. The Holy One coming down, Light coming among us, Love coming among us in human form to journey with us.
Christmas is certainly a time for people to examine the narrative surrounding Jesus’ birth, and how that may affect us (and to what extent) in our lives. For me, this song reminds me of my belief surrounding the vulnerability of the Holy One. In the birth of Jesus, I see and honour the humility, the risk, the deep love that the Holy One has for all creation. I do not comprehend it all; I find myself listening to the narratives that are offered. Each year I try to immerse myself in questions so that I might better understand and live into the Love that is offered.
How is God born into this infant?
Why does the Holy One choose to take this risk, to be humble?
Will I make room, as the innkeeper did for Mary and Joseph with the Manger?
How do I continue to make room, and be a manger for God amid my travels?
How do I continue to make room for love in my interactions with others?
Do I offer a manger and a safe place for everyone I encounter?
This Christmas I am thankful:
I have found a place to be welcomed and safe, full of love and community in Kokanee and in the diocese of Kootenay
I have found a place to continue to work on humility and love, as I journey with others opening dialogue, learning and discovering.
I hold a place to be with the other this Christmas – newness of experience, newness of community, newness in my own journey of self-awareness as I take steps forward.
For what are you thankful this Christmas? How is your life open to the presence of the Holy One this Christmas? How do you make room for others to be with you in this season?
Peace,
David
December 13, 2023
Elusive Joy . . .
This coming Sunday is the third Sunday of Advent, where custom holds that we light three candles on the Advent Wreath and invoke prayer that is centred on joy. Each year in Christian communities during this time, prayers are said, action is taken, and candles lit to remind us of the ongoing work of the Christian community and the wider world in engaging in acts of justice that will bring joy to all of humanity. Usually during this time, my daily pattern of prayer focuses on joy in the following words:
Way beyond all journeying,
Truth behind all mystery,
Life within all living:
We praise you.
Salve for every soreness,
mender of every brokenness,
midwife of a better future:
We praise you.
Ground of all being,
judge of the nations,
conscience of the universe,
We praise you.
Maker, Redeemer,
confessor, companion,
befriender, inspirer,
God beyond all names,
We praise you.
These prayers acknowledge belief in the goodness, love, and joy that the Holy One offers to the world. These prayers reveal the response for Christians, which is praise. These prayers are perhaps insignificant or irrelevant to those who do not wish to walk in faith; I do not share them to demand a response, nor a following. I share to let others know how these prayers help to form each and every action of service and humility that followers of Jesus attempt to make.
This week in worship, themes of joy and love pervade. Scripture reflects the fulfillment of God’s love in the world, providing new life to all creation, and wholeness to all humanity. Yet, in the life of the world, there seems to be anything but new life and wholeness for both humanity and creation. Natural disasters still affect communities around the globe, increasingly due to the climate crisis. Continued conflict and unrest occur in Gaza and Ukraine; Political claims in Kashmir causing disagreements between India, China, and Pakistan affect those attempting to live out their lives in the region. So many are killed or abused in violent acts. So many die from the effects of poverty or mental health challenges. Power and privilege seem to hold sway in the halls of governments and communities, bringing blessing for those that already have much, and dismay for those that are wanting.
Sometimes I wonder how long will prayer and the recitation of Scripture be offered, proclaiming joy and love into a world of brokenness and chaos. The disagreements of individuals, the greed, oppression, and selfishness of humanity seems to break every story of hope love and joy that there is to offer.
It doesn’t take much time sitting with others in dialogue, to realize that there is much injustice and pain in people’s lives, in communities, and in the wider world. At times I feel as though I am insignificant, and that the weight of injustice and oppression are too much to bear – perhaps there is little hope for humanity, for spirituality as an answer, for Christianity, and Anglicanism to end pain and injustice, and bring joy.
Perhaps we should all abandon hope, abandon working for change? Maybe we should disengage from hard conversations and learning? Maybe we should accept a dialogue that ignores injustice and focuses on personal fulfilment, enjoyment, or fantasy? Should we all immerse ourselves in capitalism and entertainment that believes if you get enough, you will be satisfied, life will be good, and become characters in a Hallmark story perhaps?
I never seem to be satisfied with these fantasies. Life is just not that simple. Even amid the incompleteness of this world, and of our lives, I believe we must continue to move forward. For me, this involves revealing the light, love, and hope of the Holy One where I see it in everything around me. As I immerse myself in my expression of spirituality, I am continually called to look outward, and respond in need to those around me, no matter who they are or what they believe.
This is why I continue to pray, to partner with others to address injustice, to learn from my mistakes, to light candles, to serve within the world, and to give thanks for those places and times where love, hope, joy, and justice blossom.
This advent, we are called to be peacemakers, not peace-breakers.
We are called to bring hope, not despair.
We are called to uphold justice and bring to light injustice and oppression.
We are called to forgive and reconcile, instead of bringing enmity, pain, and condemnation.
These acts will bring joy to others – enabling a more just society. We must engage and play our part in this narrative.
How will you clear a path this advent? Consider the mountains and valleys of your life.
How will you prepare the way?
How do you accept humility, and work to bring justice and joy?
Peace,
David
December 6, 2023
Anticipating Peace . . .
This coming Sunday is the second Sunday of Advent, where custom holds that we light two candles on the Advent Wreath and invoke prayer that is centred on peace. Each year in Christian communities during this time, prayers are said, action is taken, and candles lit to remind us of the ongoing work of the Christian community and the wider world in establishing peace as the goal and standard for humanity.
Yet with each passing December all I read of is more conflict; Wars, coups, racial violence, gender-based violence, and the rise of populism that makes me question whether peace can be an obtainable, sustainable goal for humanity at all.
I am ever hopeful – as an associate member of the Iona Community that works for peace and justice, daily I pray, read, learn, and try to model a life of radical peace, non-violence and justice for humanity and creation. It is hard work. In my reflecting each year, it seems that though so many are praying, offering policy and systemic change to garner peace, still peace eludes us at the personal, community, and global levels.
Others disagree. This past two months I have been slowly reading Yuval Noah Harari’s book Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind. In it, Harari remarks that the 21st Century is probably the most stable and peaceful of all other previous centuries. He offers statistics that global wars are diminishing, showing that in 2002 (one year after 9/11) 57 million people died, only 172,000 in war, and 569,000 in violent crime, while contrasting that 873,000 persons died that year by suicide (Harari, 411). He suggests that the decline of violence in the modern era is due largely to the rise of the state, which thus decreases individual violence due to feuds between families, communities, and clans. In short, he feels that the global community has the power to resist war, and actively puts pressure on countries that are warmongering, reducing their impact in the global community and restricting their economic base. Great in theory, and perhaps on a larger level it seems to be working, but it does not speak much to individual and community suffering in war, as noted most recently through displaced refugees of Syria, Ukraine, and Palestine.
Peaceful though this century may be, I still participate in Thursdays in Black, I observe the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women, I pray daily for peace in the world, peace in our communities and homes, and peace in our hearts.
This Tuesday I hope to attend the dialogue at the Mir Centre for Peace entitled The Wall Between. I recognize that daily, in both my personal and my public life, I can be vulnerable to micro-agressions, I can abuse my power and privilege, I can be guided by ego rather than shaped by humility that the Holy One models – and invites us to emulate. Perhaps in a pattern of constant learning, constant correcting, seeing my failures and fragility, I can become one who prays, acts, and lives peace. In so doing, I might enable others to come to places of peace and reconciliation.
So this week, light a candle.
Light a candle for Ukraine, Palestine/Israel and the Gaza Strip, for the Korean Conflict, South Sudan. Remember the work of peacemakers, including Gandhi, Bonhoeffer, Tutu and Mandela, Martin Luther King Junior, Quakers, Dag Hammarskjöld, The Red Cross/Crescent, Mother Theresa, Elie Wiesel, Malala Yousafzai, The United Nations and all those who tirelessly work for peace in our time, and for the health of individuals, communities, nations, and all of creation.
May we be people who hold:
This advent, we are called to be peacemakers, not peace-breakers.
Peace,
David
Anticipating Peace . . .
This coming Sunday is the second Sunday of Advent, where custom holds that we light two candles on the Advent Wreath and invoke prayer that is centred on peace. Each year in Christian communities during this time, prayers are said, action is taken, and candles lit to remind us of the ongoing work of the Christian community and the wider world in establishing peace as the goal and standard for humanity.
Yet with each passing December all I read of is more conflict; Wars, coups, racial violence, gender-based violence, and the rise of populism that makes me question whether peace can be an obtainable, sustainable goal for humanity at all.
I am ever hopeful – as an associate member of the Iona Community that works for peace and justice, daily I pray, read, learn, and try to model a life of radical peace, non-violence and justice for humanity and creation. It is hard work. In my reflecting each year, it seems that though so many are praying, offering policy and systemic change to garner peace, still peace eludes us at the personal, community, and global levels.
Others disagree. This past two months I have been slowly reading Yuval Noah Harari’s book Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind. In it, Harari remarks that the 21st Century is probably the most stable and peaceful of all other previous centuries. He offers statistics that global wars are diminishing, showing that in 2002 (one year after 9/11) 57 million people died, only 172,000 in war, and 569,000 in violent crime, while contrasting that 873,000 persons died that year by suicide (Harari, 411). He suggests that the decline of violence in the modern era is due largely to the rise of the state, which thus decreases individual violence due to feuds between families, communities, and clans. In short, he feels that the global community has the power to resist war, and actively puts pressure on countries that are warmongering, reducing their impact in the global community and restricting their economic base. Great in theory, and perhaps on a larger level it seems to be working, but it does not speak much to individual and community suffering in war, as noted most recently through displaced refugees of Syria, Ukraine, and Palestine.
Peaceful though this century may be, I still participate in Thursdays in Black, I observe the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women, I pray daily for peace in the world, peace in our communities and homes, and peace in our hearts.
This Tuesday I hope to attend the dialogue at the Mir Centre for Peace entitled The Wall Between. I recognize that daily, in both my personal and my public life, I can be vulnerable to micro-agressions, I can abuse my power and privilege, I can be guided by ego rather than shaped by humility that the Holy One models – and invites us to emulate. Perhaps in a pattern of constant learning, constant correcting, seeing my failures and fragility, I can become one who prays, acts, and lives peace. In so doing, I might enable others to come to places of peace and reconciliation.
So this week, light a candle.
Light a candle for Ukraine, Palestine/Israel and the Gaza Strip, for the Korean Conflict, South Sudan. Remember the work of peacemakers, including Gandhi, Bonhoeffer, Tutu and Mandela, Martin Luther King Junior, Quakers, Dag Hammarskjöld, The Red Cross/Crescent, Mother Theresa, Elie Wiesel, Malala Yousafzai, The United Nations and all those who tirelessly work for peace in our time, and for the health of individuals, communities, nations, and all of creation.
May we be people who hold:
- Humility within humanity and creation
- Authenticity of self
- A Willingness to learn
- Eagerness to make reparations and reconcile
- Determination to keep on working, even when it seems that there is no movement.
This advent, we are called to be peacemakers, not peace-breakers.
- We are called to bring hope, not despair.
- We are called to uphold justice and bring to light injustice and oppression.
- We are called to forgive and reconcile, instead of bringing enmity, pain, and condemnation.
- How will you clear a path this advent? Consider the mountains and valleys of your life.
- How will you prepare the way?
Peace,
David
November 22, 2023
Thanks and Praise . . .
The new reality of life with Covid19 has been with us for a while now. This past week, I travelled to Castlegar to get my flu and Covid shots. I visited the hospital and followed proper protocol including handwashing and masking. These are pieces that were somewhat foreign in the life of the church and community four years ago.
So here we are. In the life of the church, we are on the cusp of a new liturgical year. This means shifting our readings and prayers to reflect the Reign of Christ, as we prepare for a new year – the season of Advent, as we ponder the mystery of the preparation for Jesus to come among us in at Christmas. It is an opportunity for those in the faith community to explore a pattern of life that brings us ever closer to the Creator.
For us as people that follow the Anglican tradition, our life in worship has shifted significantly due to Covid19. We stopped receiving the eucharist, we stopped worshipping in person, and we took all precautions to make the faith community and the wider community as safe as possible. With this came loneliness and disconnect, but also came new forms of worship and learning as we explored online studies and online zoom services.
The immediate and pandemic threat of Covid19 has now shifted; throughout the world, vaccines and protocols have shifted our reality such that public safety is no longer threatened in the same way. Life in all its fullness has returned, albeit in a world where we take medical mandates, vaccines, masking, and proper hygienic care much more seriously.
The time has come here in the parish of Kokanee to experience our life of faith in all its fullness as well. With consultation with the wardens and church councils, we are shifting our pattern of worship beginning in Advent. From Advent until Ash Wednesday (December 3 to February 14), the worship schedule will reflect in-person worship in both Kaslo and Nelson each Sunday. This will come with adjustments and challenges, as well as joys and new discoveries as we settle into a new rhythm and see what new wonders we will discover. It is a time for us to be intentional about being together, being with others, and exploring the life of faith that we so deeply cherish.
With this as well, we will be returning to the pattern of the use of the common cup in our Eucharistic practice. We are thankful for the opportunities we have had to modify our customs and practice to adapt to life while Covid19 was such a threat. I believe that the time has come for us to return to the foundations of our eucharistic practice, as we journey forward together. For me this means receiving the Eucharist in the bread and wine, using the common cup. It also means that if for some reason I am uncomfortable receiving the wine from the cup, receiving in one kind (the bread) means that I have fully received the sacrament. I understand this will be a shift from present practice. I would encourage any and all who may have questions to feel free to approach me – this continues to be an ongoing conversation of discovery. There has been much writing and reflecting upon Eucharistic practice over the last four years, and I would encourage you to look to the Anglican Church of Canada website for resources that reflect the diversity of challenge in addressing that painful time, and our faithfulness as a church community.
https://www.anglican.ca/faith/ministry/pandemic-times/theological-foundations-and-journeys-the-eucharist-and-sacramentality/
https://www.anglican.ca/faith/ministry/pandemic-times/theological-foundations-and-journeys-on-the-eucharist-and-the-life-of-the-church/
These articles reflect the diverse ways that the church throughout the Canadian context adjusted to life in the pandemic.
Again, Covid19 is no longer seen as a pandemic threat. The church in Canada and throughout the world over this last year, has begun to shift its practice and customs to a return to worship and ministry that reflect this.
These changes may be a challenge for us – that is why this period from Advent to Ash Wednesday is seen as a trial period. Late in January the church councils will reflect upon this new pattern and see if it is one that is life giving and can be a sustained approach to ministry moving forward.
Over these next weeks and months, I will be continuing my pattern of parish visitation and pastoral response, and I encourage you to be open with any questions, comments, discoveries or insights that you may have. Together, as the community of faith, we are called to grow and explore, such that we can continue to reflect the presence of Jesus in our lives and in this community which we so dearly love.
Peace,
David
Thanks and Praise . . .
The new reality of life with Covid19 has been with us for a while now. This past week, I travelled to Castlegar to get my flu and Covid shots. I visited the hospital and followed proper protocol including handwashing and masking. These are pieces that were somewhat foreign in the life of the church and community four years ago.
So here we are. In the life of the church, we are on the cusp of a new liturgical year. This means shifting our readings and prayers to reflect the Reign of Christ, as we prepare for a new year – the season of Advent, as we ponder the mystery of the preparation for Jesus to come among us in at Christmas. It is an opportunity for those in the faith community to explore a pattern of life that brings us ever closer to the Creator.
For us as people that follow the Anglican tradition, our life in worship has shifted significantly due to Covid19. We stopped receiving the eucharist, we stopped worshipping in person, and we took all precautions to make the faith community and the wider community as safe as possible. With this came loneliness and disconnect, but also came new forms of worship and learning as we explored online studies and online zoom services.
The immediate and pandemic threat of Covid19 has now shifted; throughout the world, vaccines and protocols have shifted our reality such that public safety is no longer threatened in the same way. Life in all its fullness has returned, albeit in a world where we take medical mandates, vaccines, masking, and proper hygienic care much more seriously.
The time has come here in the parish of Kokanee to experience our life of faith in all its fullness as well. With consultation with the wardens and church councils, we are shifting our pattern of worship beginning in Advent. From Advent until Ash Wednesday (December 3 to February 14), the worship schedule will reflect in-person worship in both Kaslo and Nelson each Sunday. This will come with adjustments and challenges, as well as joys and new discoveries as we settle into a new rhythm and see what new wonders we will discover. It is a time for us to be intentional about being together, being with others, and exploring the life of faith that we so deeply cherish.
With this as well, we will be returning to the pattern of the use of the common cup in our Eucharistic practice. We are thankful for the opportunities we have had to modify our customs and practice to adapt to life while Covid19 was such a threat. I believe that the time has come for us to return to the foundations of our eucharistic practice, as we journey forward together. For me this means receiving the Eucharist in the bread and wine, using the common cup. It also means that if for some reason I am uncomfortable receiving the wine from the cup, receiving in one kind (the bread) means that I have fully received the sacrament. I understand this will be a shift from present practice. I would encourage any and all who may have questions to feel free to approach me – this continues to be an ongoing conversation of discovery. There has been much writing and reflecting upon Eucharistic practice over the last four years, and I would encourage you to look to the Anglican Church of Canada website for resources that reflect the diversity of challenge in addressing that painful time, and our faithfulness as a church community.
https://www.anglican.ca/faith/ministry/pandemic-times/theological-foundations-and-journeys-the-eucharist-and-sacramentality/
https://www.anglican.ca/faith/ministry/pandemic-times/theological-foundations-and-journeys-on-the-eucharist-and-the-life-of-the-church/
These articles reflect the diverse ways that the church throughout the Canadian context adjusted to life in the pandemic.
Again, Covid19 is no longer seen as a pandemic threat. The church in Canada and throughout the world over this last year, has begun to shift its practice and customs to a return to worship and ministry that reflect this.
These changes may be a challenge for us – that is why this period from Advent to Ash Wednesday is seen as a trial period. Late in January the church councils will reflect upon this new pattern and see if it is one that is life giving and can be a sustained approach to ministry moving forward.
Over these next weeks and months, I will be continuing my pattern of parish visitation and pastoral response, and I encourage you to be open with any questions, comments, discoveries or insights that you may have. Together, as the community of faith, we are called to grow and explore, such that we can continue to reflect the presence of Jesus in our lives and in this community which we so dearly love.
Peace,
David
November 8, 2023
Story and Song
Story and Song
I’ve been spending quite some time meeting people for the first time this past little while. In some ways I’ve been engaged, excited to share parts of myself, as I share with folks a little of my story, what makes me tick, the things that are important to me. With all this, I recognize that folk are only getting portions of me and my story – no one can get the full picture for it’s too soon. It takes time to get to fully know someone.
That is the challenge I face – it is not only too short a time to get to know an individual or a community, sometimes I lack patience in my excitement and wonder within community. I’ve found in the last little bit, that in the interactions and learning that occur when meeting people, sometimes I’m less focused on listening and more on telling, sharing.
It is a hard balance for sure. Have you ever been so excited that you seem to be bursting out to share some news? New friendships, new relationships in ministry sometimes yield that reaction. We become so excited about possibilities, thoughts, feelings that race inside of us that we scarcely have moments to breathe, to listen, to be present all around us.
I feel this way when I am engaging with a group about an exciting project. I also feel the same way when sharing an amazing meal, or an amazing conversation with people. I have to constantly check myself, and make sure I am taking the time to be present, to breathe, and to listen closely to what is happening in the present.
The gift of listening for me is a gift of wonder and privilege that one can share in community with others. When I take the time to ask a question, be present to the story, the song, the sharing that another offers, wonderful things happen. Have you ever been listened to, to be truly heard? How did it make you feel? I remember the times in my life where I’ve had someone’s complete attention, and I’ve been able to share a part of me. It felt so wonderful, and I felt truly affirmed and cared for.
We all have a story and a song. In the Scriptures, Jesus knew this, and took his time to listen and be present to those around him. Some of the most powerful moments in Scripture for me are where people encounter Jesus, and Jesus has their complete attention. In those moments I imagine that they feel as though they are being truly seen and truly heard.
In essence, I believe that is what each of us wants. We want our cares, our worries, our sorrows, our joys, our dreams and loves to be seen. We want to be affirmed, acknowledged and loved. We want a place for our story and our song in the wider community.
This week, as you are moving through life, consider the various conversations that will shape your time. Were you listened to? Did you listen well? Will you be fully present with those around you?
I hope that in these encounters you may experience love, joy, care and deep friendship.
Peace,
David
That is the challenge I face – it is not only too short a time to get to know an individual or a community, sometimes I lack patience in my excitement and wonder within community. I’ve found in the last little bit, that in the interactions and learning that occur when meeting people, sometimes I’m less focused on listening and more on telling, sharing.
It is a hard balance for sure. Have you ever been so excited that you seem to be bursting out to share some news? New friendships, new relationships in ministry sometimes yield that reaction. We become so excited about possibilities, thoughts, feelings that race inside of us that we scarcely have moments to breathe, to listen, to be present all around us.
I feel this way when I am engaging with a group about an exciting project. I also feel the same way when sharing an amazing meal, or an amazing conversation with people. I have to constantly check myself, and make sure I am taking the time to be present, to breathe, and to listen closely to what is happening in the present.
The gift of listening for me is a gift of wonder and privilege that one can share in community with others. When I take the time to ask a question, be present to the story, the song, the sharing that another offers, wonderful things happen. Have you ever been listened to, to be truly heard? How did it make you feel? I remember the times in my life where I’ve had someone’s complete attention, and I’ve been able to share a part of me. It felt so wonderful, and I felt truly affirmed and cared for.
We all have a story and a song. In the Scriptures, Jesus knew this, and took his time to listen and be present to those around him. Some of the most powerful moments in Scripture for me are where people encounter Jesus, and Jesus has their complete attention. In those moments I imagine that they feel as though they are being truly seen and truly heard.
In essence, I believe that is what each of us wants. We want our cares, our worries, our sorrows, our joys, our dreams and loves to be seen. We want to be affirmed, acknowledged and loved. We want a place for our story and our song in the wider community.
This week, as you are moving through life, consider the various conversations that will shape your time. Were you listened to? Did you listen well? Will you be fully present with those around you?
I hope that in these encounters you may experience love, joy, care and deep friendship.
Peace,
David
November 1, 2023
Saints and Souls . . . Scares and Surprises
Saints and Souls . . . Scares and Surprises
In the busyness of the season, it seems the bulk of society observes Hallowe'en in my context. Walking back and forth from the church today I observed all sorts of ghouls and ghosties, so many taking the time to observe this feast in Nelson. Did you participate? Have you seen lots of costumes, themes, and events?
For me this is a significant time of the year. In my spirituality I balance out the community festivities of Hallowe’en with an observation of All Saints and All Souls.
For me this is a significant time of the year. In my spirituality I balance out the community festivities of Hallowe’en with an observation of All Saints and All Souls.
All Saints is a time in the life of the church (Nov 1) where we remember and recall those who have shone the light and love of the Holy One in our lives. In every age, in every culture, there have been persons who through their very being – thoughts, actions, and writing, have shown others a part of the reality of the Holy One. We have shining examples from Scripture, from history, and from the local history of faith communities. Think and consider: who has been a light in your spiritual journey? How has this persons’ writings or example transformed you? Transformed the wider community?
All Souls is a time in the life of the church (Nov 2) where we remember and recall those who have died. We offer prayer, give thanks, and commend them to the nearer presence of the Holy One. It is a time of great grief and thanksgiving, a time of recalling moments, memories, and meaning, in acts of gratitude and adoration. Whom do you remember that has died this week? How do you shift your life of prayer to remember and recall those whom you have loved that have died?
With both saints and souls there are certain perspectives of both fear and festivity. Encountering those who shine the light of the Holy One in life can be both fearful and glorious. We fear the reality that they show about the disconnect between living life today versus how one is called to live in the light of the Holy One.
Remembering those who have died also brings feelings of both fear and gratitude. We are thankful for their lives with us for a time, yet we fear the reality of the grief of their loss, also we can fear our own mortality. These are the times when in grief and remembrance, fears and festivities come to the surface. We are scared to fear the pain of loss and grief; we celebrate with much gusto and festivity a life lived well in our midst.
All Souls is a time in the life of the church (Nov 2) where we remember and recall those who have died. We offer prayer, give thanks, and commend them to the nearer presence of the Holy One. It is a time of great grief and thanksgiving, a time of recalling moments, memories, and meaning, in acts of gratitude and adoration. Whom do you remember that has died this week? How do you shift your life of prayer to remember and recall those whom you have loved that have died?
With both saints and souls there are certain perspectives of both fear and festivity. Encountering those who shine the light of the Holy One in life can be both fearful and glorious. We fear the reality that they show about the disconnect between living life today versus how one is called to live in the light of the Holy One.
Remembering those who have died also brings feelings of both fear and gratitude. We are thankful for their lives with us for a time, yet we fear the reality of the grief of their loss, also we can fear our own mortality. These are the times when in grief and remembrance, fears and festivities come to the surface. We are scared to fear the pain of loss and grief; we celebrate with much gusto and festivity a life lived well in our midst.
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How do you balance fear and festivity in relation to your spiritual life? How do you balance fear and festivity in relation to your family, your faith community, and the wider world?
For me, there is no escaping the reality of both fear and wonder in this life. We are called to find a balance between the sorrows and the celebrations, the fears and joys. A full, balanced life is the acceptance of both grief and life, love and hate, pain and pleasure. In all things the Holy One dwells. It is our choice as to how we are to approach encounters both saintly and soulful. For me, (though not this year), I celebrate Hallowe’en with much gusto. I recognize the mirth and the blessing of the Holy One in this celebration. For me, I celebrate Saints and Souls with much gusto as well. I hold that in life, throughout all its winding and confusion, all its clarity and distinction, the Holy One is forever present. In the lives of those both living and dead, who have shown me the light of the Holy One and have imprinted their very being in my memory forever. |
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In your celebrations this week, may all your days be holy.
May you encounter saints, may you remember souls.
May you embrace the fear and the festivity knowing that you are never alone.
Blessings
David
May you encounter saints, may you remember souls.
May you embrace the fear and the festivity knowing that you are never alone.
Blessings
David
October 25, 2023
Soul Matters
Back in the late 1990s I explored the relation of soul to one's person – how an individual could conceivably be connected by various means: through place, community, song, food, experience, worldview, and the like. I’m sure you’re not foreign to the concepts: Soul Matters. We find persons and things that bring the experience of home to us. Soul food, soul music, soul friend, are examples, among others.
Living this close to wildness, with bears and wild turkeys frequenting urban space, surrounded by mountains and deep forest, brings me much peace, gives me feelings of home. The conversations I have shared with others contain hints of beauty and care that remind me of the goodness of humanity, the capacity for growth and learning, and the privilege of listening and being. The immensity of food choice, artistic expression, and musical genre show me that diversity and acceptance are tenets that are held by many in this part of the world.
I do recognize that I am viewing much of my surroundings with rose coloured glasses. It is the beginning days in this part of the world – and yet I feel at home.
Along with these feelings of home, and of connection of soul, I have been experiencing myriad emotions, and feelings. I have been resting with emotions as they come to me, and I’ve been exploring my links between emotion and experience, feeling and memory.
In the past two years I have completed a lot of inner soul work, as I have navigated various endings and beginnings in my life. With the assistance of a Spiritual director and a counselor, I have explored various ways to process my experiences. One such tool has been Brené Brown’s book Atlas of the Heart. At times, you see, I was fearful to explore deep within myself concerning emotions – which led to me closing myself off and living an inauthentic life.
Soul Matters
Back in the late 1990s I explored the relation of soul to one's person – how an individual could conceivably be connected by various means: through place, community, song, food, experience, worldview, and the like. I’m sure you’re not foreign to the concepts: Soul Matters. We find persons and things that bring the experience of home to us. Soul food, soul music, soul friend, are examples, among others.
Living this close to wildness, with bears and wild turkeys frequenting urban space, surrounded by mountains and deep forest, brings me much peace, gives me feelings of home. The conversations I have shared with others contain hints of beauty and care that remind me of the goodness of humanity, the capacity for growth and learning, and the privilege of listening and being. The immensity of food choice, artistic expression, and musical genre show me that diversity and acceptance are tenets that are held by many in this part of the world.
I do recognize that I am viewing much of my surroundings with rose coloured glasses. It is the beginning days in this part of the world – and yet I feel at home.
Along with these feelings of home, and of connection of soul, I have been experiencing myriad emotions, and feelings. I have been resting with emotions as they come to me, and I’ve been exploring my links between emotion and experience, feeling and memory.
In the past two years I have completed a lot of inner soul work, as I have navigated various endings and beginnings in my life. With the assistance of a Spiritual director and a counselor, I have explored various ways to process my experiences. One such tool has been Brené Brown’s book Atlas of the Heart. At times, you see, I was fearful to explore deep within myself concerning emotions – which led to me closing myself off and living an inauthentic life.
Here, in this place, I am reminded every day that soul matters – there are things of the heart – things that each of us equate with our understanding of home that need to be explored, for us to become the best of who we are meant to be.
What do you associate with soul work?
Do you have soul food? Soul music?
What worship brings you home?
Do you have a soul friend?
Do you have a soul mate?
Explore life and be thankful for the blessings that surround you each and every day.
Be present to those around you
Be present to those things that open up your soul.
Peace,
David
What do you associate with soul work?
Do you have soul food? Soul music?
What worship brings you home?
Do you have a soul friend?
Do you have a soul mate?
Explore life and be thankful for the blessings that surround you each and every day.
Be present to those around you
Be present to those things that open up your soul.
Peace,
David
October 18, 2013
The Thinness of the Air
This week I gather with the clergy and bishops of both the Territory of the People and the Diocese of Kootenay. It is the first time in over three years I have gathered in retreat and reflection with colleagues. I am gathering at one of the spaces that I have longed to be immersed in for some time.
The Thinness of the Air
This week I gather with the clergy and bishops of both the Territory of the People and the Diocese of Kootenay. It is the first time in over three years I have gathered in retreat and reflection with colleagues. I am gathering at one of the spaces that I have longed to be immersed in for some time.
Long ago, when I was a young person in the Diocese of Niagara I heard a description of ‘thin spaces’ by William Bothwell, then Archbishop of Niagara. He told of his pilgrimage to Iona at the beginning of his ministry in the church. His description of the ‘thin place’ or liminal space intrigued me, and I had sought to walk that pilgrim road as well, at some point in my life. At the same time, my interactions with other youth and persons in the church led to conversations about Sorrento - in a kind of mystical, Avalon feeling of Arthurian Legend. I came to believe that my traveling there might elicit some major revelation and faith step in my life as I experienced the thinness of the air and the community around me.
As I grew and matured in ministry, I came to hold on to the music and liturgy of the Iona Community as a place to call home, a way in which to continue to form and inform my walk with Jesus as a priest of the church.
Liminal spaces, or thin spaces, are spaces where there is little distance between heaven and earth. Little distance between one and the Holy One. This numinous space has always been a yearning for me. I have found throughout my ministry that I have been longing to get to both Iona and Sorrento - in the hope that I would experience the Holy within these liminal spaces and come down from the 'mountaintop experience' profoundly changed.
I had the privilege of spending a week in Iona in 2017, and this week, I have finally spent time at Sorrento. In both these places I have found a transformation in my life. I have found a deeper understanding of who I am, and how I am formed in my faith journey. In both places I journeyed at different points in my life, with different joys, and sorrows, accumulated over my life of living and being.
While I had the opportunity to climb Dun I several times, and I have had time to walk the beach at Sorrento - these places, though thin, were not the liminal spaces for me. Instead, I found that the places that were most liminal were the conversations I have had with fellow believers.
For me, thin spaces, liminal spaces are where in dialogue with others, I have found the space between heaven and earth to be very close. Friendships, blossoming relationships that explore matters of faith in holy dialogue, help me to experience the Holy One in profound ways.
Where do you encounter thin spaces in your life?
Where is the space between you and the Holy One most profound?
Does this occur only in geographic spaces? Is it a state of being?
Can it be a holy conversation that you may have with another?
Is it through a holy dialogue? Is it with a loved one? Is it with a stranger?
These are a part of my contemplations this week
Blessings
David
As I grew and matured in ministry, I came to hold on to the music and liturgy of the Iona Community as a place to call home, a way in which to continue to form and inform my walk with Jesus as a priest of the church.
Liminal spaces, or thin spaces, are spaces where there is little distance between heaven and earth. Little distance between one and the Holy One. This numinous space has always been a yearning for me. I have found throughout my ministry that I have been longing to get to both Iona and Sorrento - in the hope that I would experience the Holy within these liminal spaces and come down from the 'mountaintop experience' profoundly changed.
I had the privilege of spending a week in Iona in 2017, and this week, I have finally spent time at Sorrento. In both these places I have found a transformation in my life. I have found a deeper understanding of who I am, and how I am formed in my faith journey. In both places I journeyed at different points in my life, with different joys, and sorrows, accumulated over my life of living and being.
While I had the opportunity to climb Dun I several times, and I have had time to walk the beach at Sorrento - these places, though thin, were not the liminal spaces for me. Instead, I found that the places that were most liminal were the conversations I have had with fellow believers.
For me, thin spaces, liminal spaces are where in dialogue with others, I have found the space between heaven and earth to be very close. Friendships, blossoming relationships that explore matters of faith in holy dialogue, help me to experience the Holy One in profound ways.
Where do you encounter thin spaces in your life?
Where is the space between you and the Holy One most profound?
Does this occur only in geographic spaces? Is it a state of being?
Can it be a holy conversation that you may have with another?
Is it through a holy dialogue? Is it with a loved one? Is it with a stranger?
These are a part of my contemplations this week
Blessings
David
October 11, 2023
A Snail’s Pace
One of the greatest blessings that came out of the pandemic for me was the intentional slowing down and reassessment of my life and priorities. Amid that, like many others, my life became disjointed and changed due to constant shifting and pivoting to health and workplace changes as the provincial government set out its various mandates. One piece in particular, was the regular visit and connection with my parents who live in Ontario. The pandemic shut borders, and shifted our freedoms in many ways, to help keep society safe. I used to visit my parents every two years, assist on their farm with the lambing, and reconnect through the sharing of story, experience, and love.
Perhaps your story with loved ones in other locations is similar. Annual visits turned to zoom meetings, phone calls, and the grief of disconnect in person. I longed to see them, to help them, and I worried about how they were coping. Issues of connectivity and bandwidth meant that zoom conversations weren’t always possible – so we began to rely on phone, and old-fashioned mail.
This has continued, especially over the last two years. I have found that I have adjusted my expectations, and, I have found a new rhythm in my life – monthly letters to/from my parents, as well as a weekly phone call.
This now has shifted once again, as I am now getting settled into the Kootenays, and so much of my previous life – community, faith community, culture, and geography has changed. With this, my friendships have shifted, relationships that were once closer have become distant due to geography, and new friendships and relationships are forming through my immersion in life in both Nelson and Kaslo.
My communication has become slower. I am trying to be thoughtful, intentional, and deliberate in communication with friends and family – albeit at a snail’s pace. In fact, I have adopted a pattern of sending two postcards a week to different friends and family, sharing brief stories and encounters of life here in the Kootenays. I am keeping a daily journal recording feelings and memories and instances of note, that help me to process all the changes that are occurring. I rely less on social media, and more on intentional communication and intentional interaction.
In some ways I feel the excitement that I once had as a young boy – choosing stamps and postcards, writing my experiences, and hoping those on the other end will read and enjoy. In these actions I have learned much about myself – my need for connection with those that have helped to form me; those that make a difference in my life, those that I pray for and with on a constant basis.
How have you been affected by changes in life? Have you gained an important skill or rhythm since the pandemic? How intentional do you pattern your life to stay connected with your loved ones, your faith community, your neighbourhood? What have you learned about yourself during this time?
These are some of the thoughts that I explore at times when I try to keep my self-imposed snail’s pace. In this rhythm I find I learn more and become more open to the presence of the Holy One in my midst.
The next time you get a handwritten letter, a post card, or even a phone call, think of the care and time someone has afforded you. You are valuable to them. They value your love and your presence in life. Explore your emotions; sit with the news they share.
Peace
David
A Snail’s Pace
One of the greatest blessings that came out of the pandemic for me was the intentional slowing down and reassessment of my life and priorities. Amid that, like many others, my life became disjointed and changed due to constant shifting and pivoting to health and workplace changes as the provincial government set out its various mandates. One piece in particular, was the regular visit and connection with my parents who live in Ontario. The pandemic shut borders, and shifted our freedoms in many ways, to help keep society safe. I used to visit my parents every two years, assist on their farm with the lambing, and reconnect through the sharing of story, experience, and love.
Perhaps your story with loved ones in other locations is similar. Annual visits turned to zoom meetings, phone calls, and the grief of disconnect in person. I longed to see them, to help them, and I worried about how they were coping. Issues of connectivity and bandwidth meant that zoom conversations weren’t always possible – so we began to rely on phone, and old-fashioned mail.
This has continued, especially over the last two years. I have found that I have adjusted my expectations, and, I have found a new rhythm in my life – monthly letters to/from my parents, as well as a weekly phone call.
This now has shifted once again, as I am now getting settled into the Kootenays, and so much of my previous life – community, faith community, culture, and geography has changed. With this, my friendships have shifted, relationships that were once closer have become distant due to geography, and new friendships and relationships are forming through my immersion in life in both Nelson and Kaslo.
My communication has become slower. I am trying to be thoughtful, intentional, and deliberate in communication with friends and family – albeit at a snail’s pace. In fact, I have adopted a pattern of sending two postcards a week to different friends and family, sharing brief stories and encounters of life here in the Kootenays. I am keeping a daily journal recording feelings and memories and instances of note, that help me to process all the changes that are occurring. I rely less on social media, and more on intentional communication and intentional interaction.
In some ways I feel the excitement that I once had as a young boy – choosing stamps and postcards, writing my experiences, and hoping those on the other end will read and enjoy. In these actions I have learned much about myself – my need for connection with those that have helped to form me; those that make a difference in my life, those that I pray for and with on a constant basis.
How have you been affected by changes in life? Have you gained an important skill or rhythm since the pandemic? How intentional do you pattern your life to stay connected with your loved ones, your faith community, your neighbourhood? What have you learned about yourself during this time?
These are some of the thoughts that I explore at times when I try to keep my self-imposed snail’s pace. In this rhythm I find I learn more and become more open to the presence of the Holy One in my midst.
The next time you get a handwritten letter, a post card, or even a phone call, think of the care and time someone has afforded you. You are valuable to them. They value your love and your presence in life. Explore your emotions; sit with the news they share.
Peace
David
October 3, 2023
I'm Here!
Well the time has come; I’m finally here. In the Kootenays, sharing in life and ministry with the parish of Kokanee.
It has been a momentous journey that has led me to be with you. I am thankful for the generosity and welcome that you have offered, and I am excited to explore what it means to be a follower of Jesus here in this place with you.
Throughout my ministry I have had the practice of writing weekly reflections, that merge the development of my own spiritual journey with the weekly encounter of Scripture, community life, and world events.
I'm Here!
Well the time has come; I’m finally here. In the Kootenays, sharing in life and ministry with the parish of Kokanee.
It has been a momentous journey that has led me to be with you. I am thankful for the generosity and welcome that you have offered, and I am excited to explore what it means to be a follower of Jesus here in this place with you.
Throughout my ministry I have had the practice of writing weekly reflections, that merge the development of my own spiritual journey with the weekly encounter of Scripture, community life, and world events.
So it begins. For me the sojourn from the North Atlantic to the British Columbia Interior has been a process of letting go and embracing. It is about releasing the superfluous while holding on with all ones being to that which is essential: compassion, love, being, creation.
So many things are new to me here, and yet I experience the familiar in the liturgy, interactions in the faith community, familiarity in music, prayer, warm smiles and faces.
This is a transition time for me, and indeed for all of us, as we adjust to a new rhythm in autumn, as well as a new rhythm in ministry as we move together, and I lead you.
I will be taking my time to listen, learn, visit, and be with you, so that together we may explore how this parish of Kokanee will grow - deeper into the ministry and love of Jesus.
This fall in particular, I will be trying to contact each of you, to learn more about who you are, what brings you joy, and how you are an integral part of the parish, whether in Nelson, Kaslo, or surrounding areas.
My plan is to be present in Kaslo on Wednesdays each week, visiting folks and preparing for ministry. Other days I will be in Nelson, with a focus of ministry preparation and afternoon visiting with parishioners. If you’d like to receive a visit, have a chat on the phone, or share a coffee/tea, please reach out and I’ll make it happen!
Peace be with you, as we journey together
David
So many things are new to me here, and yet I experience the familiar in the liturgy, interactions in the faith community, familiarity in music, prayer, warm smiles and faces.
This is a transition time for me, and indeed for all of us, as we adjust to a new rhythm in autumn, as well as a new rhythm in ministry as we move together, and I lead you.
I will be taking my time to listen, learn, visit, and be with you, so that together we may explore how this parish of Kokanee will grow - deeper into the ministry and love of Jesus.
This fall in particular, I will be trying to contact each of you, to learn more about who you are, what brings you joy, and how you are an integral part of the parish, whether in Nelson, Kaslo, or surrounding areas.
My plan is to be present in Kaslo on Wednesdays each week, visiting folks and preparing for ministry. Other days I will be in Nelson, with a focus of ministry preparation and afternoon visiting with parishioners. If you’d like to receive a visit, have a chat on the phone, or share a coffee/tea, please reach out and I’ll make it happen!
Peace be with you, as we journey together
David
