Civic Duty and Christian Duty

Last Tuesday I had to report for jury selection at the court house in London, Ontario.  I had received a summons about six weeks earlier while we were at our cottage in P.E.I.  The timing was fortunate because we had planned to return to our home here in Parkhill on Thanksgiving weekend and the summons was to appear on the Tuesday after the Thanksgiving Monday―perhaps fate or the gods were at work in that. 

This was my first experience being called for jury duty and I had mixed feelings about it.  I am very aware that serving on a jury is very important in our civil system of justice.  So, I did not resent being called. However, it did cause some disruption because, as usual, I had scheduled a lot of appointments for the first weeks back.  The information I received advised that I could be involved for two weeks so I cancelled some things and rescheduled other.  It was an inconvenience but not a serious one.  It was not as if I had to serve on a jury and lose wages which some people could find to be a serious problem as it seems more and more people live paycheque to paycheque these day.  The compensation offered by the justice system is limited and no compensation is offered for the first 10 days and then a limited amount after that.

The process itself was quite interesting and enlightening.  When I arrived, and found parking near the court house―which wasn’t compensated for―I made my way to the designated court house.  I did receive mileage (kilometrage?) as I lived over 40 km away.  I sat in the court house with all the other prospective jurors and we had the opportunity to watch an informative video about the jury system and the importance of serving on a jury as a civic duty.  It was all very positive―rather too much so―with (presumably) actors playing people who had served and found it was the most significant experience in the lives.  It was also very informative about the process of jury selection.  After that we were given a live edition of how the system works by the court administrator followed by the judge who was quite informal and who actually had a sense of humor which went against my stereotype of judges. 

We went through a very formal taking of attendance by juror number, which was on the summons along with occupation―Anglican priest in my case.  We had to declare if we were retired or not.  I was somewhat undecided as clergy don’t ever truly retire―but as I decided I was receiving a pension from the Anglican Church I was officially retired.  The jury pool had 160 people and about 140 were in attendance.  As one other members of the pool said sotto voce, I wonder what’s going to happen to the ones who didn’t show.  I imagine there would be some follow up. 

We were then advised that there was only one trial scheduled that day―a civil trial which only requires six jurors―so the odds of being selected were quite small.  There were two jurors who were selected and were peremptorily dismissed without cause and one who tried to beg off for a what seemed to be a somewhat flimsy excuse.  The judge, to his credit, did not let him off without some hard questioning and then not until after the selection process was complete.   I was not selected in the lottery which used an actual bin with the juror numbers which was spun before each ticket was drawn.  I was not selected and had clarified earlier that if we were not selected on that day I did not have to return the next day.  It was unclear if I would be part of the pool for the two-week pteroid indicated.  However, that was not the case, so I and the others were set free.  I was tempted to break out into, “free at last, free at last, thank God I am free at last,” which, of course, would have been a drastic over reaction.  I felt somewhat ambivalent but, on balance, relieved I did not have to serve on the jury of the trial which involved the London Transit System being sued by an individual.  We were not made aware of any of the other details. We were told however, that we should declare if we knew personally any of the individuals involved in the case including the witnesses. 

The process raised for me the principle of what the duty of a Christian is to the civil system.  What do we owe to Caesar and what to God?  In this case there was no conflict of course.  However, that issue has arisen many times in the past and will in the future.   Where are we called to not render unto Caesar the duty of a citizen.  What is the role of the conscientious objector?  What do we do when our duty to God conflicts with our duty to the state?  Jesus was executed by the civil authorities who were administering Roman justice which was brutal an yet was very advanced for its time.  It was done with the cooperation of the Jewish authorities.  He submitted and did not call upon the armies of angels to defeat those authorities―but that is a whole other topic or many topics for another day. 

It was an interesting experience which I am glad I had.  I am not sure I would welcome a repeat with open arms but I perhaps I shall see.

Be Careful for Nothing

Saturday, we arrived home from our trip back from the cottage in P.E.I.  We arrived fairly late Saturday night but were able to make it to church at St. John’s by the Lake in Grand Bend (thanks be that it was not a 9:00 a.m. service).  The epistle appointed for the day was Philippians 4: 4-9 which begins “Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I will say, Rejoice.”  Whenever I hear that passage I cannot help but hear the beautiful aria from Handle’s Messiah play in my head.  I do restrain myself from breaking into an attempt to sing it out loud, at least in public.

One of the beautiful aspects of the Messiah is that the text is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.  In the NRSV the next verse is ‘Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God’.  The words that come to me however, are from the KJV, ‘Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God’.

For me, "Be careful for nothing" resonate much differently than “Do not worry about anything.”  Putting aside the beauty and poetry of the phase” Be careful for nothing”, the phrase has a deeper and more profound resonance and meaning.  It is interesting that Word prompted ‘be careful’ and suggested I might use ‘careful about’, or carful with, or careful of’.  None of those are appropriate which is not surprizing but then either is ‘do not worry about anything’. 

‘Be careful for nothing’ does not mean that I should not take care or be careless―even though I’m sure Lorna would agree, if asked, that I can be carless about some things at times.  I understand it to mean that I should not let anything interfere with my giving thanks to God in all things.  I do not say that I give thanks to God for all things.  I am not able to go that far but, rather, I try and give thanks to God in all things.  The trial and tribulation and slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that life presents to me are not necessarily sent by God in my theology.  They can be a challenge and sometimes overwhelming, but I give thanks that God is with me on my journey in the good times and the not so good times and even when times are downright bad. 

Therefore, on this (Canadian) Thanksgiving Monday, “Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.”

Where's Your Home

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” T. S. Eliot

Tomorrow, we are heading back to our other home in Parkhill, Ontario.  I am not sure whether my home is in Parkhill or here at our cottage in Prince Edward Island.  It does seem that I do have a home in both places; a foot or a heart in both camps.  This has its advantages and its disadvantages of course.  To reflect on the statement by Eliot, it does give me a great deal in my ongoing exploration of myself and my discovering who God’s created me to be which will enable me to know the place where I started. 

Whenever I think of “home” I am reminded of my visit to L’Arche Daybreak in Newmarket one reading week while I was studying theology at Huron University College.  One of the residents met me and asked the question that, as I later found out, he asks everyone he meets, “where’s your home.”   This made me stop in my tracks, figuratively and literally.  Of course, asking someone where they are from or where they live is a common why of making conversation when you meet someone.  However, “where’s your home” is an entirely different matter. 

So where is my home?  My answer to this question contains a rather big dose of irony.  Perhaps that is to be expected because questions like this and others dealing with the soul seem to always have irony in the soul.  It seems that finding that place where we started, as Eliot proposes, is really the answer to where your true home is.  You started at your true home and your exploration will involve finding out where that place is.  Therefore, you will not know where your true home is until you reach it at the end of your journey.  You have to make that exploration and after all that, you discover that it was where you left.  Your true home is with God, or the divine, or whatever name you want to give it.

Looking at my exploration so far, it did not often seem that I was travelling on a journey of exploration that would lead to my true home.  There were times when it seemed that perhaps I was on a path that would lead me there.  However, other times I seemed to be completely lost and had no idea what my destination was or even that there was one.  It had more of a feeling of a maze with many dead ends and wrong turns than a labyrinth that had a definite path to follow.  Admittedly, walking the labyrinth seems to take you away from the centre just as you approach it.  But you always know where the centre is. 

Ironically, looking back I can see a definite path my life has taken although it has been anything but a straight and narrow journey.  I do seem to be getting closer to the place where I started and can see glimpses of my true home.  I am also beginning to know in my heart that I will see it again for the first time.  That is what sustains me in those days when it does seem as if the destination or my home is receding into the distance as it does on the labyrinth walk when you approach the centre and then turn a very sharp corner and travel away from it.  However, I am beginning to realize that this too is part of the exploration. 

Blessings on your journey,

Greg