I always write my Easter message with a sense of joy, expressing thanksgiving for our shared faith in the story of new life, resurrection, reconciliation, and our hope for peace throughout the world.

With faith unwavering, I write this to you with a heart joining our beloved siblings in deep pain. As you would know, in the early hours of February 28, at the dawn of Shabbat, a large-scale coordinated military attack by the United States and Israel on a number of cities and facilities within Iran began.

Those in Iran, and throughout Cyprus and the Gulf, across Israel, Palestine, Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria, are forced to face unprecedented threats of military violence.

As more and more innocents suffer, lose all hope, and die, I find my heart resting outside Jesus’ tomb, thinking of how Jesus himself longed for peace when he gazed upon Jerusalem, weeping from the Mount of Olives.

On Easter Day, in my own devotion, reflection, and prayer, I must intentionally enter a time of quiet, going about the day in prayer. On Palm Sunday, we cried “Hosanna”… Save us, Lord. Let us pray for a greater understanding of what it means to ask God to be faithful and rescue us all.

His answer is, and forever will be, the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let’s look to the tomb, wait for the stone to be rolled away, and cry with hope and joy… “He is risen!”

I wish you, one and all, a blessed, happy Easter.

+John, Central Newfoundland

The post The Hope Of The Resurrection In A Time Of Strife appeared first on Anglican Life.

As you read this, you might well imagine that the course around the Eucharist had many levels. It did. Now, rather than provide a précis of the course, I am going to choose here briefly to offer one theme that provided us with a foundation for some deeper understandings and an appreciation of who we might be as a Church today:
Unity.

Unity was essential in the early Christian Church for demonstrating Christ’s message to the world. During times of persecution, unity was seen as vital and non-negotiable, as Christians shared their lives and faced death together. Early Christians relied on one another, even across class divisions, wealth, and diverse cultural and religious backgrounds. They held a sincere belief in the Gospel message, which was first spread through oral tradition (word), and they found that gathering for the Eucharist brought Christ’s real presence into their midst.

Early Christians understood this, and they succeeded in creating a powerful testimony of one heart and soul in the Gospel. This was clear in their shared practices: radical generosity and common devotion to Jesus’ teachings, despite their different backgrounds. This unity wasn’t a forced conformity but a deep, Spirit-led bond rooted in shared purpose and love, which was crucial for fulfilling their mission.

The breaking and sharing of bread at the early Eucharist connected people to each other, to the Lord, to the community, and to God’s will for a mission of reconciliation with all people and all creation.

Let me leave you with these few features of the early Church for your reflection. May they bless you in your personal journey and in the vocation to which you are called within your local parish community.

Key Aspects of Early Church Unity:

1. There is no party spirit. All supposed “human strengths” or gifts, such as knowledge, spiritual power, and heavenly wisdom, are humbled before grace and love.

2. Christians identify with the suffering Lord and will suffer and sacrifice personally and for the sake of others out of love for him.

3. There is hope in the face of adversity and death because Christians believe that God has prepared a way and conquered death.

4. Christians will strive for unity in the Body of Christ. Ecclesia (or gathering with a common mind) is the highest value.

5. Christians love. The love of God is reflected in the ways they love others.

Let me leave you now with John 17:21, in which Jesus prays for future believers, asking that they “may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”

May Jesus’ prayer be fulfilled in us, this year and beyond.

The post That They May All Be One: A Journey Through The Eucharist appeared first on Anglican Life.

For those of us who love (or even despise) the Church, it’s not hard to find the same patterns emerging. There is no shortage of opinions and no trouble to be immersed in the turmoil of the troubled witness the lack of Christian unity brings.

Writing Christmas and Easter messages is hard for me.

On one hand, I absolutely love the central message of both: a God who loves, a God who dwells with us, and a God who goes beyond words to prove that love. A Saviour who brings hope of resurrection and new hope every day.

On the other hand, my ministry, indeed my relationship with Jesus, if it is to be authentic, brings me face to face, heart to heart with wounded people, at home wounded countries, starving children, oppressed women. Face to face, heart to heart with those who dwell in darkness.

Our God, our Jesus teaches us this: Words are not enough. He came from “There to Here” to be with us, trusting that his birth in time and his eventual self-giving of Life would teach us that very thing. Words are not enough.

This Christmastide, I share with you my own desire to have an authentic relationship with my Saviour, and invite you to likewise invest time in self-examination, drawing back from the noise to let God find you and calm you down…, perhaps even to allow an image of you yourself in Bethlehem, reaching into the manger, lifting up that Holy Baby, and when he smiles at you, Give him your heart.

The post Words Are Not Enough: Finding Authentic Faith Amidst The Noise appeared first on Anglican Life.

I finished the article at the very end of the month. Things certainly changed in a hurry. Temperatures had dropped and the electric heat had been turned on to get the early morning chill out of my kitchen. It seems we have no choice these days but to live between extremes.

Back in early August, and a 39-degree morning, a friend who is a priest sent me a note in the form of a meditation, suggesting that when life gets full and demanding, it is a good idea to go outside and walk on the ground in your bare feet and listen to the Earth and let it bless you.

I am a “barefoot” advocate, and often walk on the dirt and grass in my yard to do just that: listen to the Earth in my heart. My friend’s note reminded me that it had been a while, because of the demands and busyness of my life of late. My feet touched the ground, and they began to burn. The sun was blazing. The heat was overwhelming. I heard the Earth in my heart, reminding me that it too felt vulnerable and tired. The Earth is trying to help us live; the Earth brought us into being.

Standing in the heat, I thought of a portion of Matthew 23:37: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones God’s messengers! How often I have wanted to gather your children together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn’t let me.”

The Earth is indeed on fire; climate change is just one aspect of that. Here is a short list of what I mean:

Fire of Climate Change: Where we continue to ignore all we have been taught about the fragility of our tiny planet.

Fire of Culture: Which insists that values must be discarded or changed to conform to how those in charge can access every inch of our lives.

Fire of Debt: Where people are told they deserve more, better, bigger, and longer. None of this is free, but it is readily available for a price. You don’t want to be left behind, or see people rubbing their new cars, cabins, and trips in your face… on Facebook.

Fire of Nationalism: After all we have learned through studies of world history, nations still defend their culture, religions, and desire for domination, justifying brutality and extreme violence because of a sense of superiority and power. Nations causing genocide, as the rest of the world looks on in silence as people have everything taken from them, are dehumanized, and then left to starve to death. #FastforGaza

Fire of Religion: Where ecclesial cultures protect structures of power, where people think they have a revelation of the divine denied to others, where buildings and tradition have become God, and love and respect are afterthoughts.

Toward the end of August, I once again stepped off my patio in my bare feet. The ground was wet with morning dew. I was wearing a sweater against the morning chill. I walked around my yard listening to the Earth. My feet became very cold.

To me, the Earth was saying, “I am feeling vulnerable and tired, but don’t be deceived. I am not at all helpless. The laws of nature can provide for life and balance for all. If humanity does not care to participate in that, and continues in your coldhearted ways of being, your time will end.”

To me, that was an invitation to become more intentional about the person I am. The Earth reminded me that it is time for all of us to look at all of the fires we have burning out of control, then decide what to do with them. The one fire that truly needs to be kindled, perhaps for the first time, is for us to realize how similar and interdependent we are, and how wonderful we could be together as people of generosity, who have realized what national borders, spiritual and cultural prisons, and selfish ambition have done to destroy our potential of fulfilling God’s dream for us all.

The post Barefoot Theology appeared first on Anglican Life.

The following is a brief, heartfelt reflection I wrote on the plane.

Sara Roy is a senior research scholar on the Middle East at Harvard University. In an article shared in the collection of narratives in Daybreak in Gaza, she reflects on a fundamental need to see parallels between the suffering of Jewish people and the present situation in Gaza.

Her perspective is that of one who has parents and family members who survived Auschwitz. Her parents made sure that the sharing of their narrative came with life lessons, the most important being: “The Holocaust is not a shield beyond which you cannot look, my mother and father taught me; rather, it is a mirror with which to reflect and examine your actions, a mirror you must always carry with you.”

That truth and wisdom have enabled many people, Jewish and Palestinian alike, to grieve in spirit, if not together, over the destruction of beautiful, vibrant Gaza and the West Bank, and the disablement of culture and any hope of secure, hopeful, and fruitful lives for the people who long for a home.

Sara teaches that while there can be no assumptions that there are equivalents between the Holocaust and the present occupation, there are indeed parallels that must be acknowledged for the sake of understanding and peace—and for any hope for the future.

What might these parallels even look like?

Palestinians struggle to see any hope for the future. They cry for compassion and help. Many Jewish people have felt this from the past.
Palestinians cry out for human dignity: “Will not someone see that we, too, are mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, artists and poets, professors and lawyers, fishermen, builders, and workers?” Jewish people also have a narrative of such suffering. The narrative is important—essential, is it not? Palestinians too “are human beings with individual histories and stories that must be recounted by the living, not only buried with the dead.”

Sara speaks of her Palestinian friends and their children, who have always welcomed her as a Jew into their homes in Gaza, as being among those who are now being bombed.

It should break our hearts.

We pray God to help all people consider these words from Sara, who writes from a Jewish legacy and heart: “How can I not think of the innocents murdered in Gaza, alongside my relatives? Refusing any such association or bond, as I have been told I must do, is not only the end of Holocaust consciousness, it is the end of Jewish ethical history—shattering the mirror I promised my parents always to use.”

Plant this in our hearts, Creator.
Amen.

The post Reflections From The Sky appeared first on Anglican Life.

Every Lent and Easter, I do that which I know I should do weekly: self-examination and honesty. I always encourage fellow pilgrims to do something similar. Not all pilgrims are disciples, are they?

Part of being honest is to consider how my opinions and understandings don’t mean that I have proven anything to be true. The story of Jesus, for example, is embedded in a place and time that we all see and understand differently. Look at your understandings of ancient history, the time of Jesus, how Roman society moved from persecuting Christians to incorporating Christian ideas, and giving the humble Church a power that it could not imagine having. Is your Jesus young? Middle-aged? Old? Are his eyes blue, green, or brown? What is he passionate about? Why do you think that is so?

This Easter, I met Jesus through Hosamm al-Madhoum, who is a Palestinian child protection officer in Gaza. He was working with children at the Anglican al-Asqua Hospital shortly after it was bombed. He found a child whom he “deeply loved” and tried to speak with him. Children at the hospital usually came running with open arms when he would visit. He found Hisham, who had stopped responding to him. What happened? What is happening? This day, after about fifteen minutes of staring blankly at him, the boy fell into his arms and cried and wept and wailed like he never had before.

Hosamm wrote: “Cry, child, cry as much as you want. Cry until your cries reach the sky or touch a moving heart somewhere in this mad world.”

When I read this, I cried.

When I wrote this for you, I cried again.

When I wrote this, I stopped to pray that your Easter vision would be free to discover the pure essence of the love Jesus has for you, that you would encounter a Creator who sees us in our world as children who need to honestly cry because of what has happened and what will happen to us—a Creator who sent a child protector to hold out his arms to us and hold us while we cry as we never had before.

May his love find you, and may you live forever in him.

Happy Easter to all.

+John, Central Newfoundland

The post An Easter Reflection: Encountering Love appeared first on Anglican Life.

My first response was to assure her that my health was good. Then I said, “I have been in intentional intercessory prayer for the countries and people of the world who are suffering because of war and conflict. I have been doing that ever since the war in Gaza started. I am quiet on purpose fasting from abundant humour.” I continued, “I want you to know that my joy and love is still intact. I am fine.” Looking into her eyes I expressed my deep thanksgiving for the noticing. It meant so much.

Because this is a January article, let me ask you to think of the time when many of us engaged in personal and group discussions about New Year’s Resolutions. There was always hope of new starts, new commitments, and fresh qualities to our living.

Let me share a perspective about new plans and new beginnings from a Hiba Abu Nada, poet of Gaza:
(October 23) “We go to sleep thinking about very ordinary things, a university exam, buying a new piece of clothing, worrying about applying to a job – then suddenly the sound of the alarm changes, exams are cancelled, schools and universities are shut down, gunpowder blasts everywhere, Al Jazeera (News Station in Israel) turns red, we turn on the radio, Telegram, in our minds we start to reschedule all our plans. In Gaza, everything changes in an instant. Our newsfeeds are funeral homes/memorial services/obituary pages. We move from page to page as if walking through a square full of funerals packed side by side. God, the weight of these days.”

We live in a world where much conspires to insulate us from the cold, harsh realities of the hungry, oppressed victims of violence. Let’s not fool ourselves about where we live either. Western corporate society is constantly pressing us to be self centred. Western corporate society is also constantly trying to convince us that all we need can be purchased: from them.

Religions are not exempt either. There are literally thousands of denominations in North America who are registered charities, each one of them proclaiming that they are “right.”

Having read that, please let me bring you back to Gaza in hope that your heart will be touched as God desires it to be touched.

Hiba Abu Nada wrote a series of poems. There is not enough room here to share them all, but here is a sample from her diary. It is entitled I Grant you Refuge. She writes the first lines of the verse as if God, or someone trying to provide for others who have nowhere to go. The verse then turns to a prayer:

“…I grant you and the little ones refuge, the little ones who
Change the rocket’s course
Before it lands
With their smiles.
I grant you, and the little ones refuge, the little ones now asleep like chicks in a nest.
They don’t walk in their sleep toward dreams.
They know death lurks outside the house.
The mother’s tears are now doves
Following them, trailing behind every coffin.
……Have mercy. Spare me a little while.
For their sake, I’ve learned to love my life.
Give them a death
As beautiful as they are.”

I first read this passage while travelling back to our diocese on an airplane from Toronto. My tears flowed and the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart.
I didn’t care who noticed. In fact, I hoped someone would and ask: “Are you alright?” so I could talk about death, cruelty, beauty, and meaning.
No one asked.
I prayed on that aircraft: “O Lord, help me to love my life, because of them in Gaza, and those in my own diocese and community.”
As I write this article for you, and as you begin this new year, I pray for you new revelations of the joy of living lives of love and compassion.

Hiba Abu Nada and her family died in their home on the evening of October 20, 2023 in an Israeli airstrike shortly after she wrote these words in her journal.

The poem quote is from Daybeak in Gaza, Stories of Palestinian Lives and Culture
Mahmoud Muna, Matthew Teller, Jayyab Abusafia and Juliette Touma Editors.
Published by Saqui Books,2024.

Please consider reading this book.

The post Living Lives of Joy and Compassion appeared first on Anglican Life.

This person lovingly asked if I was okay, because I seemed different. I wasn’t carrying on with the same energy; the funny facebook posts were gone. “Are you okay Bishop John? Are you sad and tired? It turned into a deep conversation. I thanked them so much for actually noticing, and coming to talk with me. I explained that I was okay, but yes I was burdened. Ever since the Gaza Conflict began, I had entered a time of intentional intercession, for Gaza, and for the dozens of other countries where war was stealing life, peace, hope, and light. My joy, I explained, has not abated, but I have been fasting and praying in diverse ways because that is what I have felt called to do and become. This article is the first time I have given voice to that.

I hope to receive some healing and release during Advent this year. During the season, our Diocese will be led by the devotions and letters from the Very Rev’d Richard Sewell, dean of St. George’s College in Jerusalem. Richard’s weekly devotions are honest, poignant, challenging, and brave. When I asked him to collaborate with us, he responded with a resounding, “Yes! How can I serve your Diocese?” His was a deep joy, because he knew we had not forgotten them in Jerusalem and throughout the land of the Holy One.

His devotions entitled “Love, Hope, Peace, Light,” began with a question rather than a proclamation. If you haven’t read these words, they are available and will be ever present on our website.

Friends, Christmas is a reminder of the gift of total love. How I long for the day when every creature of Earth will walk in love. Christmas is a call to discover possibilities of real joy, through sober, intentional reflection. We might say “look up and have hope!” In Gaza, and other places, “Look up!” means a bomb or missile is approaching.

Christmas is a call to have hope. Never relinquish hope. As Dean Richard says: “Yet, in the desert, God makes ‘a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert’ (Isaiah 43: 20). Advent hope, unlike optimism, does not promise that everything is getting better, but promises that God is with us whatever our circumstances. Do not ask us to be optimistic, but we are staying hopeful.”

May your Christmas Season be filled with hope as you grow in love, understanding, and deep peaceful joy.

+John, Central NL

The post A Season of Hope Amid Global Struggles appeared first on Anglican Life.

Remember back in time with me. Every September, English teachers made you write an essay: “What I did on my summer vacation.” Here’s mine, sort of.  Actually, it is a reflection, and a few questions from what I focused on and learned during my summer holidays.

In July, for the first time in years I was very intentional about shifting my focus and energies. I knew it was time for a break. One of my shifts was to leave social media behind for the whole month and stay away from the cell phone as much as possible.

I discovered that I was actually set free to pay attention to what my heart has been saying for quite a while: “You need to be faithful in seeking balance for your life and vocation.”

I have been faithful in withdrawing three times every day for quiet time and reflection. Many people meet me in the results of this daily process, as I have also been faithful, twice a day, in sharing prayers that come from this time aside.

On my break, I chose to come aside in a different way. It was my intent to focus on music, exercise, conversation, good food, getting back to nature, and a bit of romance too. I am here now to share some observations and a few questions with you.

My wife and I were enjoying a sunset walk around the boardwalk at Cobbs Pond in Gander. By the time we reached the final stretch, eventide’s still, magical, holy time of fading light had descended. We were walking and holding hands. It was a tender moment for sure. Just to our left, I noticed a couple sitting in a park Gazebo. They were across from each other. The lady was looking at the man. He was looking at his cell phone. She was in shadow. His face was illuminated by the light from his screen.

The next morning, while out for a stroll I noticed a man walking a dog. Doggie was pretty happy; you could tell by the wagging tail, and energetically doing what dogs do. Guy was on his cell phone, oblivious to both sidewalk and his pet. A little later on, I saw a teenager on a pedal bike heading up the road with no helmet—on a cell phone.

We went to a nice restaurant. Across from our table there was another couple. Their menus were in front of them, unread. Both were engaged with their cell phones.

It gets better.

We left Walmart one evening and headed for the exit in our vehicle. A woman was walking in. She was in the middle of the parking lot road, taking her sweet time browsing on her cell phone. She was completely oblivious as to where she was, or the fact that a line of cars was trying to get through. I was at the lead of that line. I crawled along patiently right behind her, not wanting to startle. I’ll be honest with you: I really wanted to blow my horn.

I am pretty sure that you have a tablet, laptop, home computer, or a smartphone. You are probably using Facebook and/or other social media accounts. Assuming this is so, let me ask you my first challenging question: Have you ever found yourself ignoring someone who is trying to hold a conversation with you, a friend or family member who may even be in the same room as you, because you are totally engrossed or distracted by something on your device?

Another question: What’s up with that? Or: What on earth are we allowing to happen with the relationships that may be ours, because we are constantly gravitating toward a totally different energy and space?

We live in a time when people are really feeling alone. Part of the growth of that phenomena has come from relationships with “virtual reality.” Throughout society, folks are being bombarded by constant possibilities of meaningful contact through making and reading social media posts, really short videos, memes, rant and roar groups, and by posting every symptom or opinion that affects us in the hope that someone will think that what we have to say (or our life experience, wealth and vacations) is awesome enough to share with the whole world. The other side of that, of course, is that we hope someone out there will care and understand our hurts and worries and desire to be wealthy, and on vacation anywhere but here.

You can find pictures of sumptuous meals alongside of posts expressing deep concern over not being able to buy food for the kids. Folks showing off their awesome travels alongside of people who cannot pay rent or find a place to live. What kind of community is that?

Either way, the reward is most likely not mutual conversation, but you just might get a “like”, a heart, or a thumbs up. Or get an “I feel for you” or “I’m Jealous!” We are searching for something to show that someone is paying attention. At least these responses are “something.”

More and more I am convinced that we all need authenticity in relationship, and solitude. See if this fits for you: We live in a time when people are really feeling alone.

We live in a time when people are desperate not to be alone.

We live in a time when people need more time alone.

Let me unpack this:

It seems to me that most of us feel that if we are not constantly trying to engage, respond and comment quickly online, something is wrong with us.

Think of the examples I just shared with you. I watch people at stop signs, in supermarkets, watching television, and while walking and talking to others. In several provinces I have watched people at checkouts engaged with their phones while the cashier was ringing in their purchases. Here are real people, interacting with trade and commerce: a great opportunity to be real. I have seen one or both intentionally ignoring each other in favour of getting this done while engaging with cell phone posts and messages. Give most of us a few free seconds, and we will grab up the phone or tablet and “check something.” 
No one wants to be alone it seems.

When was the last time you listened to a full song, read a poem from a book, drew a picture, or even had an awesome daydream? When was the last time you created something that came from you? Why not take a pencil and paper and just draw something? Even stick people have character!

When was the last time you looked into your heart, or the heart of someone you love?  When was the last time we looked inward instead of outward?

These are the places where God is waiting to have conversations with you.

Jesus reminded us that we need quiet, refreshment, and solitude.

Throughout the Biblical narrative quiet surrender of body, heart, and mind brought closeness to the Holy. Psalm 46 is a call to reflect on the works of God in History and in the lives of each person. “Be still and know that I am God.”

Jesus’ taking times to be alone is constant in the Gospels. In the wilderness he prepared to begin ministry. In remote places he prepared for difficult situations. It’s how he cared for his soul while receiving strength and clarity. It is how he taught his disciples to live. Are we not followers or at least students of Jesus?

I have been reminded of these things and I wish to share them with you.

Solitude is essential for having conversations with yourself. In solitude, the Spirit is able to help us rediscover the joy of (and challenge) of simply being with ourselves, and discover that we are real and important.
Perhaps then we might even become more attentive to the people who are actually part of our lives. With the Creator’s help we may be amazed at a fresh journey where people are able to tell the story of their lives to others who actually listen with the intention to understand and know the joy and sorrow, success and loss. wealth and poverty that our lives are made of. Surely loving conversation and generosity around these things can be more than two sentence comments or loads of pictures about how good or bad we have it shared on Facebook or Instagram.

If you have questions about how society is being affected by “online life” or Artificial intelligence, please take time to contact Queen’s College and have a chat with Dr. Joanne Mercer or Rob Cooke. They are leading the college through some important discussions in this area, and would be glad to have a conversation with you.

There is much more that I want to write about this. For now, I promise myself and you that I will continue to withdraw daily for prayer, that I will pray for people, and be present for others. When I meet you, I’ll put away my phone, look into your eyes, and breathe along with you.

Let me leave you with this:

As we move into another fall season, I pray that we will make a commitment to creating and visiting sacred spaces. These spaces, should be wherever you are with someone else. A dinner or lunch table, supermarket checkout lines, while watching a movie with a loved one, the car, the garden, or while you are out for a walk.

May these become holy places of conversation, friendship, attentiveness and healing.

Creator, give us each an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works. Amen

The post Time To Get Connected appeared first on Anglican Life.

These descriptors certainly correlate with what is happening in the Church over the past number of years. For many “Church” still has some significance, if only because of memories of days long past. For others, “Church” still means “Ekklesia”—that is a deep spiritual connection that calls the people of God “Church”, as opposed to the building. And for others, there is no meaning at all.

We have been meeting throughout our Diocese of Central Newfoundland to have brave conversations about present realities around sustainability and mission. Church buildings are closing at an increasing rate, and to be honest, it feels like death. Many of our faithful are discovering that the people of God are being challenged to renew their faith, and to find strength to let go of places that that have spoken of holiness, comfort, and permanence. Others are angry, grieving a cultural loss and are not quite ready to hear or receive the Spirit’s comforting, directing call to the community.

Easter calls us to look at an empty tomb. For many, it was a place of resolve, comfort, and permanence—a place where Jesus was placed.  The tomb is empty. Jesus walked out of it and headed for wherever people were.

Jesus is, even now, wherever the people are. If we listen we can hear his voice, inviting us to “Come follow.” We can choose to bravely embrace this resurrection, and we must. There is a message emerging among us as we face the challenges of our time. 

The spirit is not rebuking us because we have done anything wrong.

The Spirit is not saying we can fix things if we come up with a strategic plan.

The Spirit is not saying that we  have to try and save what was.

The Spirit is saying “Come follow me, Come rediscover new heights of love and hope, for I have so much more to offer you in the future.”
Have a blessed Easter,
+ John, Central Newfoundland
Easter 2024

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