Going Home

Happy Thanksgiving to all the Canadians.  We Canadians like to get a jump on what is after all, the beginning of fall and begin preparations for the winter to come.

Last week we were traveling and have now settled in to our home in Parkhill closing down the (summer) home in Prince Edward Island.  Making that transition always encourages me to think about where and what home is.  I am reminded of a resident of L’Arche, Daybreak in New Market Ontario.  I visited L’Arche for a few day one reading week when I was studying theology at Huron College in London Ontario.  One of the residents always greeted people with the question, “where’s your home?”  When I was asked this, it set me back a bit because it was not the usual, “where do you live” or “where do you come from?”  It was unexpected and also, I wasn’t sure what the answer was.

Where is my home is not something that is easy to answer such as where do I live?  I live in Parkhill Ontario as well as Eglington PEI but I am not sure that either place is truly my home.  Perhaps the cottage is more of a home but I not sure about that.  If I consider what actually constitutes a home it is a place where I feel I belong and where I can be accepted for who I am.  I can fall back on the cliché, ‘home is where the heart is’.  It is a cliché but there is a kernel of truth as there is in every cliché.  What place resonates with my heart.  I felt I had found my church home when I was at my first real experience of Anglican worship many years ago after looking for a religious home.   I knew in my heart, if not in my head (at least initially) that this was where I belonged.

There is also the sense of going or returning home when I have shuffled off this mortal coil.  I was listening to a program about a resident for aging convicts who were who were on parole after being imprisoned for many years.  The founder of the facility, who gave more than might be expected of anyone to people such as these, did everything possible to make the place a home for them and was able to comfort many who were actively dying by assuring them that they were going to their eternal home.  That is the sense that is captured wonderfully in the spiritual Going Home.  It is often thought of as a traditional “negro” spiritual.  However, it is actually a relatively modern addition to the genre with a student of the famous composer, Anton Dvorak who put lyrics to the Dvorak music.  The following link is a good rendition of the haunting song, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZ_2Xbvb0rQ.

The lyrics sum up, I believe the essence of what home is:

Goin' home, goin' home, I'm a goin' home;
Quiet-like, some still day, I'm jes' goin' home.
It's not far, jes' close by,
Through an open door;
Work all done, care laid by,
Goin' to fear no more.
Mother's there 'spectin' me,
Father's waitin' too;
Lots o' folk gather'd there,
All the friends I knew,
All the friends I knew.
Home, I'm goin' home!

Nothin lost, all's gain,
No more fret nor pain,
No more stumblin' on the way,
No more longin' for the day,
Goin' to roam no more!
Mornin' star lights the way,
Res'less dream all done;
Shadows gone, break o' day,
Real life jes' begun.
There's no break, there's no end,
Jes' a livin' on;
Wide awake, with a smile
Goin' on and on.

Goin' home, goin' home, I'm jes' goin' home,
goin' home, goin' home, goin' home!

The idea of home has come up a number of times in the last few days in things that I have been reading and listening to, which is not surprizing this seems to happen quite frequently.  I will close with one quote which is from The Cry for Myth by Rollo May:

The presence of a home, a place where one is listened to, where one can feel “at home,” is essential to healthy myth.  Many of our patients in therapy find that their neurotic problems are related to their never having had a home where they were listened to.

Blessing on your journey home.

So, Who is In Control?

A week ago, I had a reminder that any belief that I am in ultimate control of my life is an illusion.  Saturday of that weekend we experienced the beginning of the ice storm from a Colorado Low which had been predicted.  This prediction was unfortunately worthy of a Biblical Prophet being right on target.  The ice storm on Saturday was followed by a power failure on Sunday morning which lasted until Monday evening for us in Parkhill. 

All the plans for the weekend were cancelled, at least for us, including a 90^th birthday party in Grand Bend, church Sunday morning at St. James. Parkhill, and a tea and vintage fashion show at the Carnegie Library in Parkhill where I was supposed to provide mood music on guitar.  We were without the amenities and necessities provided by electrical power.  It is amazing how you don’t realize how much we depend on electricity until we don’t have it.  As it says in the song from the 1960ties, “Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.”

This experience is a reminder or perhaps it is a realization that we are not in control.  It is very easy for us to succumb to the illusion that we are in control of our lives. I went on retreat in he week after Easter to Apple Farm, a contemplative community in Three Rivers, Michigan.  I believed in my heart of hearts why I was doing this, hopefully for all the best reasons, and that I knew what I was getting into.  I knew in my head what I would be experiencing.  It is always more challenging in reality than in theory, I still had a fairly clear idea and knew it was my decision to do it.  In effect I believed I was ultimately in control of my destiny, even on a retreat.

However, the power failure made me face the reality that when you get down to the nitty gritty of life. Any idea that you are ultimately in control is just an illusion.  We have a need to believe that we can control what will happen to us.  We try as hard as we can to maintain that control.  And to a limited extent we are.  However, we consciously or unconsciously try to ignore the reality that our lives are actually ultimately out of our control. 

We try to do all we can to ensure that our lives will turn out as we desire; we will have good health if we eat right and exercise or at least not abuse our bodies.  We do the right things and we will be rewarded with the life we believe we want.  However, a relatively small thing like a power failure for 36 hours show us that we are at the mercy of forces that we cannot control. 

The only true constant in our lives is the voice of the Divine calling us to our true home with God our heavenly Father.  This might be the voice of the Holy Spirit or the voice of the Good Shepherd―yesterday was Good Shepherd Sunday.  We desire control because we are fearful of what will happen if we do not have control. 

Who knows what curve life will throw at us.  And that is reality.  The illusion is that we can control our lives and keep ourselves safe from those things.  However, our true security is in God.  It is in the voice of the Good Shepherd calling us to our true home, our spiritual home.  That is the home which is always there for us.  That is where we are loved unconditionally for who we are and not what we accomplish.  That is where there is a room that is truly our and where we are always welcome.

Blessings on you journey.

Remembrances of Hero's PAst

I want to begin with a note of clarification from last week’s edition.  In discussing my struggles with my shoulder, I mentioned that to add insult to injury I was unable to drive my new car.  To clarify it was a reflection of not having the pleasure of driving my new car due to the condition of my shoulder.  I should have added that I was very grateful that I had Lorna to drive me to all my appointment that have had to attend for treatment.  I am able to do some of the driving now but continue to appreciate sharing it with Lorna, especially the longer trips (she does have some reservations about my driving ability at the best of times but more so now with the physical challenges).

This week I want to reflect on Remembrance Day.  I have served as the chaplain for our local chapter 341 of the Legion since I came to Parkhill as Rector of the Anglican Church.  It has been a tradition that the Anglican priest serve that function.  When I retired from parish ministry I thought I should retire from that position as well.  My resignation was not accepted so I still fulfil the chaplain’s duties on Remembrance Day.  It has always been one of the most meaningful duties I have had as a parish priest. 

Usually the services on Remembrance Day involve an assembly at the local high school in Parkhill followed by the service at the cenotaph at the eleventh hour.  There is a lunch at the Legion for members which is followed by another service at the cenotaph at Lieury, a nearby community which is not marked only by a road sign, a few houses and a playing field.     The services this year did not follow the usual pattern as Remembrance Day fell on Saturday.  Consequently, the assembly at the high school was held on Friday.  I have always been very impressed with the amount of effort that has gone into these assemblies each year.  They are often different in focus but always done with sincerity and much planning and well executed by the students.  This year’s edition was undertaken by the grade nine students with the results being heartfelt and heartwarming if not as polished as other years when senior students took the lead. 

An interesting, if rather sad note, one of the Legion members noted that when he was in grade nine at the school the grade nine cohort numbered 240.  That would probably have been in the 1970’s.  Now the total student enrollment in the school is less than 200 and has been dropping for years.  The school has had the specter of closure hanging over it for a while and will probably close in the next few years unless something changes.  That would be a significant loss to the community.

The Remembrance Day services were moving as usual.  The weather was cold but with no precipitation and all went well.  I do find the day to be moving important in the life of this community and Canada.  When the day falls on a week day the children from the elementary schools (there is a Roman Catholic school in town) attend which swell the numbers.  The were noted in their absence this year but the ceremony was well attended by the communities in both places.

The final part in the Remembrance Day events was a concert to commemorate Remembrance Day by the South Huron Community Choir under the direction of Richard Heinzle.  This choir is based in the neighbouring community of Exeter.  The concert was entitled ‘Be At Peace’ an was comprised of a variety of compositions and included pieces preformed by the hand-bells.  The guest artist was wonderful oboist Katrina Lisa Liddell.  We attended with two friends from our church in Grand Bend and it was a moving, inspiring evening.  

We will remember them.

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 

The Evolution of God

Lorna and I have arrived at our cottage in P.E.I. and have settled in, hopefully for the summer.  It is a beautiful early summer day so I will have to think about actually getting out to enjoy the beauties of this corner of God’s world—which I don’t do often enough.  We had a relatively uneventful trip and were able t visit some friends on the way and almost visited a few more; unfortunately a miss communication prevented it. 

It is rather an adjustment getting to a different place and settling in for a while.  Lorna and I seem to have two somewhat different lives—one in Parkhill and one in P.E.I.   There are different church communities in each place as well as different residences.  We have different neighbours and different routines.  However, despite these differences there are many aspects of both lives that are similar.  I am still writing my News and Views on Monday morning and Lorna is out gardening—although she does a lot more of that here than in Parkhill.  She just popped in to the bunkie which is my retreat to say hello.  It says a lot that I need a retreat from the cottage.  But it is nice to have my space—don’t even suggest I should call it a “man cave”.  It is completely different. 

One question which comes to mind this morning arises from these similarities and differences.  IS there a different God in each of these places?  On one level the obvious answer is, “Of course not”.  However, we have different worship services here—we use exclusively the Book of Common Prayer with the traditional liturgy and music.  But that is really no indicator.  I think that the environment—in the broadest sense does influence how we perceive God and the image that we have of God. 

I am currently reading A New Kind of Christianity by Brian McLaren.  He was one of the presenters at the Haden Dream and Spirituality Conference which I attended before coming to the cottage.  He presents some very thoughtful ideas about how to understand the bible.  I think they are very good ideas but then they articulate much of how I think about the bible. 

McLaren proposes that we should look at the bible as a story of God’s people which had an evolving and maturing understanding of God, “I begin to see how our ancestors’ image and understanding of God continually changed, evolved, and matured over the centuries.  God, it seemed, kept initiating this evolution” (99).  He compares the danger of freezing our understanding of God as presented in printed word i.e. books, texts and concepts with the idea of freezing our concept of God in graven images.  Books houses in seminaries, images and books but our understanding of God cannot be frozen and stop at that. 

It makes sense to me that if God intended that nature should evolve, which I believe is God’s intention, that our understanding of God will also evolve as we have evolved.  God’ revelation did not stop at the book of Revelation.  The human race along with all of God’s creation can continue to reveal what God’s intention for us is; unless we destroy ourselves in our hubris.

In closing I would hope that you will keep yourself open to what God is revealing to you of God’s intention for you. 

Blessings on your journey.