Over the last few days, I have been hearing a few news articles about how the 15th March 2021 marked the 10th anniversary of the conflict in Syria. I will admit that the Syrian conflict has drifted to the back of my mind (like it probably has for most of the Anglican Life readers out there). Because I have never experienced war first-hand, it is easy to for me to forget about ongoing international conflicts, so I appreciated the recent coverage.

While I was out driving this evening, I happened to hear a radio interview with a Syrian doctor on CBC’s As It Happens. He was recounting all the horrible things that have happened in Syria, including the Assad regime’s use of chemical weapons and targeted attacks on hospitals and medical staff in “rebel” territories. None of what he was recounting was news to me. As the United Nations Secretary General, Antonio Guterres, recently said, “Syria has fallen off the front page. And yet, the situation remains a living nightmare.”

But what really struck me was when the doctor started talking about the future of Syria. He was clearly a man who loves his country and wants to see a bright future. He has continued to care for people over the last 10 years, as best he can with limited resources, despite constant threats to his life and freedom. Many of his hospital colleagues, including the accountants, have been jailed or killed, simply because they provide care to the “rebels”. 

Yet when asked about whether he thought the next generation of young Syrians were already “lost”, he was very pessimistic.

I don’t remember his exact words, but it was something along the lines of, “How can a child with no education contribute to the future of Syria”, “children with no education, who have seen their mothers killed, their fathers killed, who have been left as amputees, who are living in a refugee camp—how can they rebuild Syria”. It’s hard to argue with him on that point. When all a child knows is war, how can they envision a future without it?

A few years back, Canada made a push to get Syrian refugees to safety here in Canada. I know lots of faith groups that worked hard and pooled their resources to help Syrian families resettle and adjust to their new life in Canada. Yet, there are over 3 million Syrians living as unsettled refugees outside Syria and about half of the country’s population is understood to be displaced—just like Newfoundlanders who eventually want to come home, most of these refugees and displaced Syrians will want to eventually return “home” as well. Sadly, I expect that the “home” they return to will be very different from the “home” they remember; for many, it will be a new reality of destruction and trauma.

I don’t have any answers. All I know is that, like many conflicts that drag on and on, they can easily fade from memory. I can only hope is that this article has brought Syria and its people back in your thoughts for a little while. Our Syrian brothers and sisters will be facing hardship for decades to come, whether it be war or the challenge of rebuilding and healing. Please continue to pray for them. 

If you would like to know more about the ongoing conflict in Syria and its impact on children, check out UNICEF Syrian Crisis page at www.unicef.org/emergencies/syrian-crisis

For more information and resources on social justice, check out www.kairoscanada.org 

The post When All A Child Knows Is War, How Can They Envision A Future Without It? appeared first on Anglican Life.

In the first few months of 2021, the battle against COVID-19 turned a corner: there are now several vaccines being produced and distributed around the world. Sure, there have been some delays—pharmaceutical companies haven’t been able to produce at the rate that people and governments had hoped—but progress is being made and people are starting to get their jabs.   

But not everyone…there are lots of countries which haven’t yet received vaccines and won’t be vaccinating the majority of their population for quite some time.

According to ourworldindata.org, the top 10 countries in terms of COVID-19 vaccination per capita at the time of writing are Israel, United Arab Emirates, Seychelles, United Kingdom, Bahrain, United States, Serbia, Malta, Iceland, and Denmark. With a few exceptions, these are some of the most prosperous countries in the world—and even these exceptions still have decent GDPs (gross domestic product). In contrast, not a single dose has yet to make its way to Africa. And, although Israel is at the top of the list (per capita), hardly any doses have been made their way to Palestine.

This “vaccine inequality” is not a surprise. Every country around the world knew it was going to happen. The World Health Organization (WHO) even planned for it, by establishing (along with other partners) a program called COVAX to end the acute phase of the pandemic. COVAX will provide doses for at least 20% of each country’s population—as the WHO rightly says, “With a fast-moving pandemic, no one is safe, unless everyone is safe.”  

So, what about the other 80% that won’t get vaccines through COVAX? Many of the countries who need COVAX can’t afford to vaccinate even the tiniest fraction of that 80%. Is COVAX not going far enough?  Hard to say—the strategy needed to address the acute phase (supplying doses to vaccinate the first 20%) is probably different from the strategy needed to vaccinate the remaining 80%.

Regardless, even if COVAX provided doses for 50% of each country’s population, it still wouldn’t be enough. At some point, the world’s most prosperous countries need to step up and help.

According to the Government of Canada, it has secured up to 400 million doses have been secured—our multi-vaccine strategy has been very effective, to the point of significant excess. Assuming every person in Canada receives 2 doses, that leaves roughly 330 million doses that can be shared with the rest of the world. But, as we all know (and have been hearing), Canada likely won’t be sharing any of those surplus doses until all the Canadians that want a vaccine have received one—the rest of the world will need to wait for our leftovers.

So, what to do about it? Well, you could let your rage get the better of you: rip your copy of Anglican Life into shreds, then go do the same to your phone book. Or, as an alternative, you could send an email to your member of parliament to let them know your thoughts.

However, I think it equally important that we all recognize that COVID-19 vaccine inequality is merely a symptom, not the disease. The real problem is that we live in a largely unjust society—until we do a better job of treating others as we would like to be treated, acute instances of inequality will continue to arise. Now, that’s not to say that we should stop treating the symptoms of our unjust society—programs like COVAX will keep developing countries from being devastated by COVID-19 (much like supplemental oxygen might keep a COVID-19 patient from dying). But the world must also come together to find large-scale solutions to social injustice.

When faced with the challenge, the world united to develop COVID-19 vaccines in less than a year. We can achieve great things when we really put our minds to something.      

For more information and resources on social justice, check out:
www.kairoscanada.org 

The post We’re Treating the Symptom, Not The Disease appeared first on Anglican Life.

In the lead-up to the recent Electoral Synod of the Diocese of Eastern Newfoundland and Labrador, each of the candidates was asked to prepare a video speaking to the question “In light of these times, and the emergent challenges facing our Diocese, what would be your priorities and vision as Bishop?” 

As part of their videos, several of the episcopal candidates spoke to the need for reprioritization and change, with a call to ministry and mission.  I couldn’t agree more. 

It’s no secret that many of the parishes in the Diocese of Eastern Newfoundland and Labrador (along with the Diocese itself) are in financial difficulty. And the same is true of other dioceses right across the country.  The balance sheets have been showing poor health for a while, and the COVID-19 pandemic has accelerated the decline. 

It seems to me that a lot of this poor financial health comes down to duplication.  The duplication within the church around us is staggering. Duplication of buildings. Duplication of worship. Duplication of planning.  Duplication of programming. Duplication of administration. All that duplication means a lot of waste—not just wasted treasure, but time and talent too.

We all play a part in this duplication, myself included—I live directly across the street from a church that I have never set foot in it for worship or prayer.  It’s Roman Catholic… but surely I can nip across the street for prayer without turning my back on the Anglican church.  

It isn’t the duplication itself that bothers me—it’s the waste (remember, this column is about social justice). Take a quick look around, and you see injustice and hurt everywhere. Seniors in the cold, looking for change on street corners.  Parishioners not able to enter churches because of poor accessibility. Immigrants unable to find work because of systemic racism. Not enough free mental health services to go around.  And these are just local issues.

Now don’t get me wrong, the Anglican Church in Newfoundland and Labrador is doing some great things with programming and partnerships at both the parish and Diocesan levels.  But just think of how much more we might be able to do if we freed up time, talent, and treasure by reducing duplication.  

I don’t want to perpetuate the myth that combining parishes and closing buildings is the only way to reduce the duplication (goodness knows there are enough people who think this already), but it certainly is one of the most obvious ways. I suspect that most of us can’t go for a Sunday drive without seeing two or three congregations in a 30-kilometre radius, each with its own building but offering essentially the same worship and sense of community (and likely not collaborating much with the congregations around them).  

We all have to compromise and sacrifice to reduce this duplication, whether it be deciding to close our building to join another congregation or deciding to not open a parish clothing bank because someone else is already doing that really well (maybe even secular group—gasp!).  This compromise and sacrifice must be made at every level and in every parish and congregation.  

Personally, I don’t mind worshipping in a cold warehouse with all the rest of you if that’s what it takes to make better use of our time, talent, and treasure.  With the money we’ll save, we can hire a bus to pick up people for in-person services and activities.  And, we can still have programming to serve our neighbourhoods and communities based upon their unique needs (certainly, we’ll have a lot more time, talent, and treasure to dedicate to that when we aren’t constantly fundraising to pay the heat bills). If we bring us all together, then perhaps it might be an acceptable luxury to spend a bit of money to heat our warehouse, especially if we could find a way to open the space up to the under-heated and under-housed at the same time.

Anyways, let’s not be afraid to compromise and sacrifice to reduce the duplication—we can achieve more by working together. 

For more information and resources on social justice, check out www.kairoscanada.org 

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