god

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Thus says the Lord God: Cursed is the man who trusts in man, who seeks his strength in flesh, whose heart turns away from the Lord. He is like a barren bush in the desert that enjoys no change of season, but stands in a lava waste, a salt and empty earth. Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose hope is the Lord. He is like a tree planted beside the waters that stretches out its roots to the stream: it fears not the heat when it comes, its leaves stay green; in the year of drought it shows no distress, but still bears fruit. More tortuous than all else is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it? I, the Lord, alone probe the mind and test the heart, to reward everyone according to his ways, according to the merit of his deeds, says the Lord almighty.

Jer 17:5-10

Notes from Takasaki.

Spring happens earlier here. The wind is cold, but the sun is warm. A woman walking her dog saw us taking pictures of mundane things–plumb blossoms, tree bark, birds, and she smiled.

Food tastes different here. I get the sense that it’s messed with less, fewer preservatives. I feel that way because my body is reacting to it differently than the food back home. Apples definitely taste and smell better; more like they did when I was a kid. At least I tell myself that.

Trees are older, bigger. Forests seem more prolific when they’re cedars, bamboo. In the mountains, they reach out towards the sky, standing beside each other, confident, almost wise in their age. Trees beside the highways here have to be at least two hundred years old, maybe older. There’s a Shinto shrine here in Gunma we visited last time we were here, where there were cedar trees over 1000 years old. The oldest, now dead, was called the “Shogun of the Mountain”–and the trees descendants now fill a forest around the shrine. We’re going to be going to several bonsai nurseries in Omiya later in the trip, but today we’re going to one in Gunma that I suspect doesn’t see many western visitors.

I have always had a respect, a love, of trees. I have a hard time getting rid of trees in the back yard, so it feels like a forest in the very early stages. There are two feral maples by our fish pond that started growing the same year Dan and I started dating. They’re going to be ten years old soon.

The Old Testament reading today speaks about how one who trusts in God flourishes like a tree, branches outstretched towards the sky, roots running deep. While trees can survive alone, they thrive in an ecosystem that is diverse, full of life. When there is drought, the tree may have suffer but still thrives, still bears fruit, still produces seed, flowers. ln the Lenten season, we are like trees tested by drought. If our faith is strong, our suffering may not be as intense, we may not invest as much in acknowledging our suffering. There will be fruits, moments in our sacrifice that have inspiration in the moment. They may be subtle, like a glimmer of sunlight through the leaves of the trees, or seemingly supernatural, like the scent of flowers were none are present. Or they may seem in the moment fleeting, given pains we may feel, only becoming visible later.

I wish I could wander in the mountains, walk in the forests here. I wish I brought hiking boots so I could. Today, we settle or a mountain temple where, no doubt, there will be trees to see, to touch, to experience.

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6. Confession

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There are a couple of ways to make a confession.

If you’ve never made a confession before, or it’s been a long time since you’ve made a confession, you may want to consider taking some time, sitting down with paper and pen, and doing something similar to what is done in the fifth step of Alcoholics Anonymous.

“Make a fearless and moral inventory of ourselves.”

The first time I did this I wasn’t even 20 years old so there wasn’t much for me to really write about–given than I’m now almost 54 and when I look back there’s a lot more to the field than there was when I was 20!

A fearless and moral inventory requires courage. There may be things that we look back on that we don’t feel proud of. There may be things that, when we look at, we cringe thinking about how we behaved, or how we functioned.

Remember that the inventory that we’re creating isn’t meant to relive the experience. If you do feel badly about the experience, if you feel some shame or embarrassment about the experience, this is a pretty good indicator of a couple of things: firstly, you’ve changed as a person! You’re not the same person that you were, and the fact that you see the event in a different light shows that you’ve grown in your outlooks and values. Second, you have a choice now about what to do with those feelings you feel. You can try and forget what happened and move forward, or you can take the power that event currently has over you away. You do this by admitting to yourself that you’ve changed, that it might have been wrong even though at the time it felt right; you can admit to God that it was wrong, consciously. Talk to God in prayer, acknowledge that you’ve changed.

The hard part is admitting to another human being the nature of why you did what you did. But if you want that event to loose its power over you to make you cringe, to make you feel guilt, or shame–talking to another person, talking in the context of confession where you trust the person you are speaking to will 100% remove the power it has over you.

For this type of confession, it’s good to make an appointment with your priest, explaining what you’re needing to do, so you will have no issues of time.

The other type of confession is one that typically happens a lot faster. It’s one you make, having made regular confessions, where you simply need to explain in brief. It may only be one particular issue or anger. “I let anger get to me while driving again, and it affected me during my day in that I lost my temper.” In that situation, the confession may only take 5-10 minutes.

At the end of either type of confession, the priest will give you a penance. Typically, this is a series of prayers you need to say before the Blessed Sacrament, but can also include conversations about ways of overcoming challenges that lead to those behaviors you’re not feeling great about. “What can you do the next time you feel angry behind the wheel to help either reduce the time you’re angry, or make it so that it’s just a blip that you move on from almost right away?”

Here’s a graphic that has some good points about what to expect, and what you’ll need to know “liturgically” before you go. The priest will be able to help walk you through if it’s your first time, or if it’s been a while.

Church teaching tells us that reception of the Eucharist needs to be done in a state of grace, meaning that you don’t have any burdens on your spirit that might get in the way of the Divine Love you are about to receive through the Blessed Sacrament. That’s not to say that the Eucharist can’t be transformative, or that we may receive not feeling like we are in a state of grace. Rather, the church is telling us that to get the most out of the experience, we need to have a heart open enough to receive the abundance of love that is already so much more than we can comprehend. If we unburden ourselves to the best of our ability, we are able to take in as much of that Divine Love as we are able.

6. Confession

4. How to Pray in the Desert

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At that time, certain of the Scribes and Pharisees answered Him, saying: Master, we would see a sign from You. But He answered and said to them, An evil and adulterous generation demands a sign, and no sign shall be given it but the sign of Jonah the prophet. For even as Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. The men of Ninive will rise up in the judgment with this generation and will condemn it; for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and behold, a greater than Jonah is here. The queen of the South will rise up in the judgment with this generation and will condemn it; for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and behold, a greater than Solomon is here. But when the unclean spirit has gone out of a man, he roams through dry places in search of rest, and finds none. Then he says, ‘I will return to my house which I left’; and when he has come to it, he finds the place unoccupied, swept and decorated. Then he goes and takes with him seven other spirits more evil than himself, and they enter in and dwell there; and the last state of that man becomes worse than the first. So shall it be with this evil generation also. While He was still speaking to the crowds, His mother and His brethren were standing outside, seeking to speak to Him. And someone said to Him, Behold, Your mother and Your brethren are standing outside, seeking You. But He answered and said to him who told Him, Who is My mother and who are My brethren? And stretching forth His hand toward His disciples, He said, Behold My mother and My brethren! For whoever does the will of My Father in heaven, he is My brother and sister and mother.

Matt 12:38-50

When one enters the desert, understand that you are putting yourself to the test. When you put your focus to Christ, to prayer, to prayer unceasing, you will be tempted to stop, to be distracted.

Do not let the distractions hold you. If you become distracted, recognize this has happened, recognize it as a playful annoyance, and move beyond it. Return to your prayer.

You may experience thoughts that take you down a stream of ideas, and suddenly you are so far from your prayer that you have to start again. Do not despair! Return to the start, and continue. Do not condemn yourself. Prayer is a practice that can only get better the more you commit to prayer.

Begin with stillness.

Be consistent as much as you can be with when and how you pray. Aesthetics have to have a bit of a rule to live by. Let your heart and you conscience create your rule of life, your rule of prayer.

If you don’t know how to pray, or what to pray, start with that:

“Lord, teach me to pray.”

Pray the rosary.

Pray the Jesus prayer.

Read scripture until your mind rests upon words or phrases, then close your eyes, allow the words and phrases to take you. This is the Holy Spirit speaking to you. It takes effort to know how to listen. Sometimes the voice will be clear, like someone is standing behind you, speaking audibly. Sometimes it will come to you in a remembering a past event and seeing an insight you may not have seen before.

Read scripture. Close your eyes, mentally see the image you have read, and slowly find yourself taking a place in the scene. You might be a protagonist, or you might be observing from outside. Watch the scene play out. Listen. The Holy Spirit will speak to you. Again, it may be forceful like a voice from someone sitting beside you, or it may be quieter, more subtle.

Journal your experiences. Better, select a spiritual director you can speak to about your experiences. A good spiritual director will let you speak, will share insights when appropriate, and will help you do deepen your connection in prayer to the Divine.

Pray without ceasing. Let everything you do be an act of prayer. Dedicate your work to Christ before you being, as you work. Dedicate the merits of what you do in your life to the service of Christ, and do so in discretion. Do it in secret–your Father in Heaven will know.

Push yourself to unceasing love. This is less an act of exertion and more a surrender to the gentle hand of God in your life. This is not to say one should not act with responsibility. Rather, it is a way of looking at the threads of one’s life to see the handiwork of God within the movements of others, our thoughts, and perpetual choices and outcomes.

Participate in the Sacraments.

Particularly, during Lent, making a good confession, which I will be examining in the next blog post.

4. How to Pray in the Desert

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At that time, Jesus was led into the desert by the Spirit, to be tempted by the devil. And after fasting forty days and forty nights, He was hungry. And the tempter came and said to Him, If You are the Son of God, command that these stones become loaves of bread. But He answered and said, It is written, ‘Not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.’ Then the devil took Him into the holy city and set Him on the pinnacle of the temple, and said to Him, If You are the Son of God, throw Yourself down; for it is written, ‘He has given His angels charge concerning You; and upon their hands they shall bear You up, lest You dash Your foot against a stone.’ Jesus said to him, It is written further, ‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God.’ Again, the devil took Him to a very high mountain, and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them. And he said to Him, All these things will I give You, if You will fall down and worship me. Then Jesus said to him, Begone, Satan, for it is written, ‘The Lord your God shall you worship and Him only shall you serve.’ Then the devil left Him; and behold, angels came and ministered to Him.

Matt 4:1-11

He goes into the desert, climbs a mountain, and begins to pray.

His focus in on prayer. Speaking, listening, through scorching hot days and freezing cold nights. Hunger and thirst start out life as nagging voices, but eventually manipulate how you think, how you feel. Why would anyone do this?

Fasting, as a tool, does two things. It helps one focus on the things of the spirit. But it also makes basic temptations more powerful, and can be an invitation to be tested.

When I followed another spiritual path, I would go out into the wilderness in the spring and fast for four days and three nights, no food or water. Not much movement or motion either. It wasn’t easy; your body rebels against you, hunger and thirst eventually disappear but are always in the back of your mind, nagging. Your body says it needs to leave this little space you’ve created for yourself to be still within, but your mind and spirit try to focus, try to pray. I wasn’t good at it. I slept most of the first fast, the second I left, found water, drank it, and returned, only to realize that the thirst I was feeling could not be satisfied with mere water from a stream. The third time, I experienced something frightening. In the midst of the early morning of my last day, voices came into my little tent, started talking to me, talking me into crying out in pain, anguish. I cried out “I can’t take the pain any more, please make it stop.”

My spiritual journey returned after many years to the Christian way that I’d learned as a child, then to new ways I’m happy to say I’m still learning as an adult Catholic. Even as a bishop, I still am learning and sometimes feel that those around me know far more than I do!

In making sacrifice of this world, we are opening ourselves to be tested. We shouldn’t be afraid of these–often we don’t know we’re being tempted until many years afterwards, only then does it make sense what happened.

Knowing this, Jesus fasts beyond what we understand possible. Something Divine is keeping His body alive, focusing, praying. Then, as his fast is about to break, old scratch shows up and tries to tempt Him in three ways.

Jesus no doubt is struggling with intense hunger and thirst. While that physical challenge exists, Satan is blind to the reality of Christ’s nature, much as we are often unaware of the Divine Presence in our own lives. Satan tries three times to tempt Jesus, each time failing, until finally Christ banishes him, “Begone, Satan!” Angels then come and minister to Him.

There will be moments in our prayer life where we experience these temptations, usually small, and seemingly insignificant. “I can pick it up tomorrow, I don’t need to worry about it tonight.” Then avoiding the practice becomes the practice, and we drift into spiritual coldness. It’s challenging as a working priest to find the time I’d like, and often I need to include prayer as part of my day, quietly, constantly. But I try and make time each morning and each evening to stand in prayer, in gratitude, before the Blessed Sacrament, to have even that small moment in time where I am with Jesus, present, real.

Take the small moments during your day, even five or ten minutes, and just be in silence, internally. Be still. Know God.

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2.

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In that time Jesus said to His disciples: You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt lose its savour, wherewith shall it be salted? It is good for nothing any more but to be cast out, and to be trodden on by men. You are the light of the world. A city seated on a mountain cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but upon a candlestick, that it may shine to all that are in the house. So let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. Do not think that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets. I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill. For amen I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot, or one tittle shall not pass of the law, till all be fulfilled. He therefore that shall break one of these least commandments, and shall so teach men, shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven. But he that shall do and teach, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.

Matt 5:13-19

I find myself awake very early again on a day that I’d rather be sleeping in. I find that in the last couple of years, my brain thinks of its own in the same way a heart beats. I wake up, and I discover to my frustration that it’s been working on problems or angles of looking at things without me, and like a neighbor who plays their music too loudly at odd hours, I’m woken up by the noise.

Some days, I wish I could just sleep like I did when I was 20. Stay awake until 1-2 in the morning, go to bed, sleep for eight, ten, twelve hours. My brain won’t let me do that any more. Come to think of it, neither will my knees or my hips!

The Lenten journey took me to an interesting place in the last couple of days. I found myself questioning a lot, found myself seeing more than I expected to see, and wondering how I got myself in this turn around. That’s what has me awake this early on a Saturday morning. I decided that I needed to go into the oratory, sit down, and pray about it, which lead me here to writing.

In writing a reflection, I go to the 1939 rubrics of the Roman Missal, go directly to the two readings, Old and New Testament, choose one, copy, paste, then start writing after I read the passage of scripture. Today, like a lightning bolt, the Gospel hit me like Our Lord speaking directly to me. I woke up asking myself, how do I convince people that loving in the model of unconditionality, gentleness, actually transforms people’s lives when their hearts are closed to that idea?

The path of this journey has brought me to a place where I find myself in the company of people who believe that the message of Gentleness won’t work; this is challenging for me because as a bishop, as a priest, as a support, as a human being, Gentleness is at the fiber of who I am as a person.

Again, Christ speaks to me in the voice of Saint Francis. I’m drawn back to my favorite story, where St. Francis recognizes that he must serve those whom he most fears–the lepers–because only in embracing those whom he fears will he find Christ most present.

Yesterday, I came home sad, in grief, thinking that the person I was wasn’t in line with the direction those I was traveling with were going. I thought that, perhaps I had been put in the wrong place. Maybe I’m not right to believe what I do, maybe I’m too enthusiastic, maybe I need to tone myself down, not be so energetic or enthusiastic. Maybe I’m pushing myself too much into the role of leader when I need to just not be noticed, blend in, stay safe. Maybe the best thing to do is just follow.

Then Jesus says to me: You are the salt of the earth. But if salt looses it’s flavor, how will it get it back? Once salt looses its essence, it is no longer salt.

When you travel into the city at night, the lights can be seen on the horizon from a great distance, if it’s cloudy you can see them as far away as Lumsden. A city doesn’t hide it’s presence, it exists. A lamp doesn’t get covered up when you need light, it’s put where it’s going to give the greatest amount of light.

How do we convince people that, teaching with gentleness, loving with gentleness, stretching with gentleness, works? By living it unapologetically. Christ knew that we were going to come to His teachings through our trauma, our pain, our histories, our lived experiences. He invites us to let go of the safety of that pain and all the ways of living we have heaped up around us that protect us from more pain, but keep us from being who we authentically are. He says to us: Love one another as I have loved you, love so completely that your mind, your heart, your body becomes Love. And while this is difficult for almost all of us to do fully, completely, when I open myself to the possibility, and embrace what it is I fear the most, I can see how people transform before me. Those embraced become our teachers, become our mentors, become the great window in which Jesus Christ is present.

Love one another as I have loved you.

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A Measure of “Equality”

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A person says, “I treat everyone equally.” They’re trying to convey that they don’t hold prejudices or make judgements about others. They’re trying to say that they don’t discriminate.

We may even hold this as a tenant of our own personal philosophy.

But do we all treat everyone “equally”? How, for example, do we define what equality is? What is the bar that we use to judge equality?

Take for example the province’s rehabilitation program for drugs and alcohol. Individuals from Regina must call and get into a wait list for a spot in a rehab in Moose Jaw. They must call daily to keep their spot and check in. Once their spot is open, they need to get to Moose Jaw to participate in the program.

If I were an employed individual with a vehicle, three square meals, and access to a telephone this would not be as much of a challenge as if I were an individual who was daily trying to think about where I was going to sleep without freezing to death.

The bar for equal in this situation is not just. It treats everyone equal provided they are able to reach a standard of equality defined by rigid fixed criteria that makes it harder, if not impossible, for an entire group of people with legitimate needs to be “equal”.

When we say we treat everyone “equally”, it is important that we examine what we’re really trying to say. Are we actually treating everyone equally, or are we saying that we will treat someone respectfully provided they meet a standard we may unjustly refer to as “equal”? Does our equality consider the diversity of circumstance, and that some people may have to work over and above what others may to achieve equality?

Saint Francis, recognizing that this practice was not only unjust, but a barrier between him and his full experience of God, did something radically different. He moved himself to the place where the most lowly, the lepers, existed. He made himself equal with the most vulnerable, the untouchables, and served them as if he were less than they were. Christ in the sacraments of the church makes it possible for us to meet the Divine on the same footing; they provide an avenue for us to meet Christ, acknowledge God’s presence within us, within all things, all people.

God’s calculus for equality puts us all on the same starting point. We, in our ego, move ourselves forwards or backwards, sometimes without considering that we may be moving ourselves closer or further away from God’s presence.

A Measure of “Equality”

Liturgy and the Liturgical Year

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During the last RCIA meeting, the question came up about the real presence in the Eucharist: is this really Jesus, or is it just a cracker and some wine/grape juice?

As Catholics, we believe that when the priest consecrates, at that exact moment, something changes the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. He is present in that physical substance–His IS that Physical Substance.

Jesus is also present in worship, in liturgy. When we take part in any of the rituals of our church, Jesus is there. He tells us that when two or more gather in His name, He is present.

He is also present in the moments of solitude when we pray.

This morning, I woke with trouble on my mind. Like the body of water the disciples were on, my mind raced like the boat that bounced up and down.

I prayed. I asked Jesus for help. In that moment, the voice that came back said not to worry, that He’d been helping for quite some time now and would continue to do so.

When we make the leap to move to the bow of the boat, wake Jesus, and ask Him to help, He will.

As we enter the first days of Advent, we have the renewed opportunity to connect with the stillness our faith can provide. Each day gives us the chance to move to the front of the boat, to connect with Jesus, wake Him from His slumber, embrace, quietly whisper, and listen. While the world shakes and drops underneath us from all four corners, take time this Advent to be still, to consider the Nativity, to find peace.

Liturgy and the Liturgical Year

Presence, Grace, Connection

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There have been times when I’ve felt God’s presence; at the words of consecration, He is there, sometimes loudly and lovingly, sometimes softly and nurturing, sometimes touching my pain, my grief, my sorrow, my frustration, my unworthiness.

Other times, I’ve felt the presence of God by His seeming absence from my life.

I experienced a very long dark night in which my grief was overwhelming. My cup runneth over with tears that I had no easy explanation for. Those around me simply did the best they could to compensate for my inability to function, and were unable to understand what was going on. I was so full of this darkness that I wasn’t able to react to what was going on around me except with tears, grief, pain, sorrow.

I reached for explanations beyond medicine because part of the philosophy of those I was running with was that medication was a sign of weakness, and we needed to be stronger than that. There was an expectation of needing to measure up, to “man up”, that I was very much aware of being unable to meet.

Looking back with clarity now, I know there were two components to what was happening to me–there was the very much medical imbalance of chemistry in my brain that was creating a recurring loop of sorts. There was also the diabolical component. When there is a weakness present, it makes it easier for those that want to take advantage to do so. The diabolical prefers to allow an individual to do the work on their own behalf, to feed on what is provided, and to stir the coals to keep the fire burning. In my case, this was what I call the three year dark night, although it may have been a longer or shorter time.

Looking back in clarity now, Jesus was beside me the entire time I was there. I was simply so focused on what was going on that I wasn’t able to see that the darkness of my life was allowed to go so far and no further. I loathed the idea of suicide and became even more deeply entrenched in my grief because of that. That was the bar that Christ lowered.

Why did I go through that dark night? What purpose could that pain have served?

The first thing it did was to lay the foundation for me to pursue my vocation. Had I not been in the deepness of that dark night I would not have come out the way I had. In many ways, the people around me didn’t believe for years that it was over–that may have been their own darkness no longer having a way to relate. I remember the almost frustrated way that people saw my sudden impulse to laughter, that wellspring of joy that simply couldn’t be released or sometimes controlled. They would ask, “Why are you laughing?” and I would respond “Would you rather I be crying?” I felt life again.

This was the presence of Grace in my life. I’d been shown a taste of hell, then very quickly lifted from it. Doors began to open, and when I walked through them, I was met with resentment from the people I ran with. “Why is he going to university? What does he think he can achieve?” “Who would ever consider hiring you?”

It didn’t matter. There was no resentment because I was free.

Keeping the connection with Christ was easy in the beginning because it was so pure, so present. I took steps to fulfill my vocation, doors opened for people who were supportive and showed me love. More, I was given a means to recognize trauma I’d experienced. It’s still taking time to work through, to heal. I’m still triggered by events in my life–moments that, in the past I would be punished for, or would push through in fear of the punishment are now met with empathy, compassion, and affirmation.

Prayer is the means by which we maintain the connection with the Divine. This takes the form of the formal prayers like the Mass, the rosary, reading with a mind to the Divine, cultivating silence and listening. Soon snow will be falling around us. When it does, and it’s falling softly and gently, go outside and listen. Things seem muffled. There’s a stillness even in the presence of the noises of the city. That’s what prayer is like, what prayer is meant to do. It’s the finding of stillness in the presence of the noise of the world. It’s not meant to remove the noise, but rather to exist along side the noise without dwelling in it.

That stillness is achieved in many ways. The simplest is quiet, repetitive prayer. Choose a short prayer, a simple prayer. Close your eyes and simple repeat the prayer in your mind, over and over. Do this for a short period to being, maybe 5-10 minutes. As the prayer becomes part of your inner dialogue, practice walking through the day repeating the prayer. In time, this becomes part of who you are. You will go to sleep in the prayer, stirring in the middle of the night with the prayer in your thoughts, waking with the prayer before you. Make the prayer a part of your being by repeating it constantly and consistently.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

My Jesus, mercy.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.

Hide me in Your Wounds.

Presence, Grace, Connection

An Open Letter to the Queen City Pride membership ahead of the 2024 AGM.

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I need to preface these words by saying I’ve only heard one side of the story. However, I trust my instincts as someone who has experienced trauma that I hear these words from someone who has very clearly experience trauma as well–as that, I believe I have heard the truth and speak only to what I have heard. Before receiving a very polite letter, Mirtha attended a meeting where she was treaded abusively and demeaned.

I want to being by saying that I feel very odd being a bishop, and having an overall sense that there aren’t a lot of people that see me as being relevant, or making a significant contribution to the 2SLGBTQIAP+ community. If people don’t think you’re relevant, you’re able to say things a little more freely than if you had to watch your words.

I pray these words will have meaning.

Yesterday, Regina had a fairly intense wind storm that made it difficult, even the day after, to navigate the streets of our city. Now we have to clean up the mess on our streets so that we can move forward.

Human beings in conflict will often engage in ways that are much the same as the storm we had yesterday. They speak in a “stormy” way. They do this because they are impassioned, energized, and not always thinking clearly about the choices of words or the impact and outcome those words might make. In speaking with force, they inflict damage on the person they speak to; damage that is deeper, more painful, more significant. When it comes from a group of people focusing their force on a person, that intensifies the damage they do one hundred thousand fold.

When people make mistakes, it is our duty to be gracious, to forgive, to try and empathize and understand: but that does not negate the need or call for justice, the need to recognize when and individual has been treated badly because impassioned people speak to them with force. It becomes problematic when those people are so called “community leaders”.

When it is “community leaders” that do this, rather than acting in compassion, rather than acting in compassion towards the most vulnerable, they loose their right to call themselves leaders. They in turn need to be brought to be accountable for their actions, questioned as to why they did not see it necessary to offer an apology; offering a way forward without resolution is gaslighting.

I have been a part of Regina Pride. I was a member long before it meant anything to the people on the current board. We focused on creating events that were within our means and skillsets. We counted on others in the community to contribute their events, and in doing so, presented a festival that was truly community based. We recognized and respected each other’s ability and used the skills we had, rather than get angry or upset because an individuals skillset didn’t meet what we believed was required. That is a toxic behavior. That has no business in leadership or organization.

What has this got to do with me, a bishop?

The individual who was treated this poorly by so called community leaders is a member of my worship community. It is my job as a bishop to advocate for the people in my community who are suffering and experiencing unacceptable treatment by those who should know better.

So I say to the current board of Queen City Pride:

Shame on you. Shame on you.

It’s time for the current board to step aside, to let people who are more in tune with dignity, compassion, and love take a role in leadership. You have thought too long about grants and bursaries. It’s time the board starts thinking about human beings rather than economics.

This is the message of St. Francis, of our Lord Jesus Christ. Human beings are worth more than dollars.

There is an AGM happening on Monday.  I won’t be attending as I don’t see it’s part of my purview to step into an organization that is political and out of touch with the community it proports to serve.  However, you may be.  You should be! Use your voice to demand apologies are made, that people are accountable, that the organization returns to its roots of what it should be:  not just a festival, but also advocating for the rights of the people who are the most vulnerable.  Ask the current board how they can justify their position when they treat one of their own, a respected elder of our community, with such disregard and disrespect.

You have to stand up to say the right thing, no matter dangerous, no matter the consequences.  Right is right, even if no one is right. 

I hope my words moved less than 100km per hour.

Mirtha, I love you.

An Open Letter to the Queen City Pride membership ahead of the 2024 AGM.

28, 29, 30, 31.

Hermit Pete, , , , Leave a comment

At that time, Jesus said to the crowds of the Jews: Which of you can convict Me of sin? If I speak the truth, why do you not believe Me? He who is of God hears the words of God. The reason why you do not hear is that you are not of God. The Jews therefore in answer said to Him, Are we not right in saying that You are a Samaritan, and have a devil? Jesus answered, I have not a devil, but I honor My Father, and you dishonor Me. Yet, I do not seek My own glory; there is One Who seeks and Who judges. Amen, amen, I say to you, if anyone keep My word, he will never see death. The Jews therefore said, Now we know that You have a devil. Abraham is dead, and the prophets, and You say, ‘If anyone keep My word he will never taste death.’ Are You greater than our father Abraham, who is dead? And the prophets are dead. Whom do You make Yourself? Jesus answered, If I glorify Myself, My glory is nothing. It is My Father Who glorifies Me, of Whom you say that He is your God. And you do not know Him, but I know Him. And if I say that I do not know Him, I shall be like you, a liar. But I know Him, and I keep His word. Abraham your father rejoiced that he was to see My day. He saw it and was glad. The Jews therefore said to Him, You are not yet fifty years old, and have You seen Abraham? Jesus said to them, Amen, amen, I say to you, before Abraham came to be, I am. They therefore took up stones to cast at Him; but Jesus hid Himself, and went out from the temple.

–John 8:46-59.

Again, I must apologize for not keeping up. It’s been a week. And every year, I look at the numbers of the posts and say to myself “I’ve done something wrong. It can’t be this far ahead. I must have missed a day.”

But I haven’t.

Today is Passion Sunday, the beginning of the strange period of Lent. Today, I covered the crucifix and the statue of the Blessed Mother with purple cloth; the curtains that usually are pulled back to reveal the mural of the life of Christ behind our altar today remained closed. I left the lights turned off over the pulpit and the altar. At home, my husband came into the oratory and helped me to cover the icons behind the altar. I removed the Blessed Sacrament from the monstrance that usually sits on my altar and replaced it with the crucifix, covered in purple. Some icons are exposed still–I need more purple cloth.

During this period of time, when I say the Office or pray Mass, I always tell myself that the coverings don’t really make much of a difference, but by the end of the first or second day I realize I miss them as much as I miss the alleluia. Parts of the Mass today were omitted.

When I was following the Medicine Wheel path, I would go out into the wilderness and fast. It wasn’t isolated–we were supervised, checked on, and on the fourth day without food and water we were called back in for ceremony and a feast to break the fast. On the first day, I’d usually sleep most of the time. I remember feeling cold, tired. Not hungry or particularly thirsty. By the middle of the third day, I would begin to feel achy. And cold. I slept. On the morning of the fourth day, I’d wake up and look at the sun, pace, and wait for people to come. I always thought it was later in the day than it was, and I’d wait…and wait…and wait. When my friend came to bring me and the others back in, there was a sense of relief; sometimes tears, sometimes laughter, and then the feeling of water moving down my throat, splashing in my stomach, the feeling of the cells of my body beginning to rehydrate again.

We are in the Passiontide of Lent. While the images we hold sacred, that give us hope and inspire us are covered, in a weeks time on Palm Sunday, we will be rejoicing and celebrating Christ’s entering Jerusalem: The King of Glory. Four short days after that, we will be experiencing the agony of the Passion, the silence at the end of Good Friday, the anticipation before the Easter Vigil, and the Vigil celebrating the resurrection when the bells shall ring out, the icons and images will be revealed again.

In the coming week, it’s important to pray for those we love, those who have passed, perhaps even those who have yet to come. It’s important to think of those closest to us who give us joy, to experience gratitude for the miniscule in our lives, like a glass of water. It’s important that, in our suffering and fasting, we unite our pains, our sorrows, our terrors, our anxieties with Christ’s passion.

In the week before Palm Sunday, reach out to a loved one you haven’t spoken to in a while. Take a little less food. Make time for prayer. Praying the Rosary in bed will often allow you to fall asleep before finishing: these are spare part prayers. Think of them as prayers that may have been omitted by others that are now being completed by you.

Spend time in silence, with scripture. Even if it’s just five minutes of the day.

28, 29, 30, 31.