What does the Bible teach us about parenting? I mean specifically about parenting? Certainly all the basic love and kindness stuff applies, and Jesus does tell us that we need to become like little children, to have the big open faith that children do. But what about what to do when these little children are so cheerfully defiant I want to pull out all my hair? Or when their fights escalate to violence and bloodshed (ok maybe it’s not quite that dramatic—but there’s a lot of hitting and throwing)?

The story of Jacob and Esau does not exactly fill me with hope either, by the way. But I could totally see that happening at my house. The younger one tricking the older one to get what he wants. Sounds about right really. But it doesn’t tell us how Isaac and Rebecca managed those two as children. I bet she felt a lot like I do some days.

One benefit to the times we live in is that I don’t have to look very far to see others struggling with the same issues, and there are some resources to lend support. I am so fortunate to have a lovely network of friends who I may never see (thanks COVID-19), but I talk to just about every day, and they assure me I am not alone and that it is ok to wonder if your kids will survive to adulthood or fight to the death before they finish grade school. Who knew?

And can I just say out loud that lockdown for two kids in grade school is pretty much the worst. They were sick of each other after a long weekend; now they’re spending weeks at home with no company but each other? No wonder they are getting restless. I can’t blame them one bit! Unfortunately, I am also not the “cool” mom with all the activities and crafts and games. I run out of steam pretty quickly, so they are left to come up with their own fun, and some days it is not so much fun as it is taking turns torturing each other. But they’ll be okay, right?

I mean, there’s no birthright to fight over, they’ll need to make their own way in the world. Someday they’ll go back to school and spend time with other kids. I guess I just need to have a little faith. It’ll be okay.

The post Parenting In The Bible appeared first on Anglican Life.

Despite the COVID-19 pandemic dominating our lives throughout 2020, climate change remains a pressing issue for PWRDF and its partners, for Anglicans in Canada, and for the world.

In 2020, PWRDF produced a number of resources focused on Climate Action. The resources showed how climate change intersects with our partners’ work, from health and women’s empowerment to food security, emergency relief and more. We want to continue to promote those resources in 2021, and build on them with the introduction of a three-year education focus called “Creation Care: Climate Action.”

We hope to bring the perspective of how climate change is affecting the developing world and how it is being addressed. We know that we have much to learn from our partners and hope our volunteers will be able to take that learning to their parishes, communities, and families.

On the PWRDF website, our Climate Action page includes resources and education opportunities.

There are many exciting ideas in the works:

• We will be creating videos and study guides that you can use to lead discussions in your communities or parishes.
• We will offer webinars that focus on Climate Action as it relates to PWRDF’s work, including Food Security, Health, Women’s Empowerment, Indigenous Peoples, Emergency Response, Refugees and Engaging Youth.
• We will continue to encourage the use of the resources that were prepared in 2020 including the seven Climate Action Leaflets. Use them as bulletin inserts if you are worshipping in-person; read them at in-person or online services; or include them in online bulletins or parish emails.
• We also encourage using the worship resource “A Covenant for Climate Justice.” A Service of the Word and a Eucharist service are available to use in whole or in part. There is even a sermon to deliver or download the video to share with your community.
• We will share ways to get involved with the For the Love of Creation Campaign, including participating in advocacy and hosting climate change conversations.
• Go the pwrdf.org for more information.

May we during this life-giving season of Easter, take advantage of these PWRDF creation care and climate action resources. And may we live up to our baptismal covenant to strive to safeguard the integrity of God’s creation, and respect, sustain and renew the life of the Earth (BAS, 159).

The post Easter, New Life, Creation Care, Climate Action appeared first on Anglican Life.

Typical of Anglicanism, some of the promises are uniquely Christian. Yet others extend far beyond any one denomination or any one religion. I’m thinking especially of two of these: Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbour as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? 

Living up to those promises can be a daunting task. Fortunately, there are people to whom we can look for inspiration or encouragement, who live out these promises either explicitly or implicitly, at times professing them, at other times, just living them. And once in a while, we can even offer support to those people and thus, in a small way, participate in their work or service. 

One such person is Bill Pardy. Bill was formerly the mayor of Pasadena, on the west coast of Newfoundland, and then worked for various agencies, including the United Nations, which led him to several countries in the world. He has ended up in The Gambia, a small, poor country in West Africa. 

Every day, Bill feeds many people with breakfast, and even more most evenings for dinner, and children all the day long. He helps people with food, medical assistance, school fees and sometimes accommodations. He supports about 10 children in school thanks to donations from the Humber Rotary Club in Corner Brook and assistance from other friends and family. He provides moral support to many more. He has two children living with him, a boy of 6 and a girl of 7, and at times another 6 year old. 

He provides basic medicines to many local people and is called upon to treat wounds on children and adults alike, sending the more serious ones to a local clinic. Local hospitals are so poorly supported, people often have to buy their own medicine or they go to him for dressing changes. 

Our Tuesday morning Bible study group here in Pasadena made a modest contribution to him. Bill spoke of this past year, and described some of the deprivation of this past year due to COVID-19, “with everything shut, there is no work and as a result, no money for anyone (here normally over 50% live on $1.25 per day). They did have a food giveaway early on where most families got a 1⁄2 bag of rice and about 25 kilos of sugar”. Another group, Our Community Cares Online Auction, will also raise money to support Bill and his efforts. 

In spite of the challenges, he was able to say, “overall, while it has been difficult it has been fulfilling.” 

To me, his actions epitomize loving your neighbour as yourself and respecting the dignity of every human being.

The post Living Your Faith appeared first on Anglican Life.

The sunrise service always began with the hymn, “Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!” That hymn was sung with such emotion, it always brought a tear to my eyes. After the long forty days and nights that Jesus spent in the desert, and the tortuous week of being judged and tormented, and the crucifixion itself, Jesus was finally free of his mortal body and was at last seated on his throne with his Father. His death and resurrection led to his greatest reward! Jesus had sacrificed everything for us! All his suffering ended in triumph!

Easter Sunday spent together with our family inspired us to celebrate all that our Lord and saviour, Jesus Christ, did for the whole world! His resurrection meant that we too, would be able to spend eternity with God the Father. Jesus died so that we could be free! The risen Lord means that we can break the bonds of death and ascend into heaven! 

This year, as with last year, we are unable to spend it together in the comfort of our church buildings. However, that “special feeling” that was created by our sunrise service is still attainable at home! Maybe we could get out of bed early on Easter Sunday this year to witness the risen Lord with the rising of the sun! Let’s all sing “Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!” in our houses and celebrate the joy that the resurrection brings to each and every Christian! Our circumstances don’t allow us to celebrate together this Easter, but our belief and commitment to our Lord and saviour hasn’t changed! Jesus Christ is risen! Alleluia! Alleluia! May his strength guide and protect you all your days!

Happy, happy Easter my friends!

The post Easter Joy! appeared first on Anglican Life.

According to Simpson, in 1665 a stagecoach arrived in Eyam, a small town in Derbyshire in the centre of England, between Sheffield and Manchester and delivered a load of used clothes from London for the local tailor. The clothes were picked up by the tailor’s assistant Alexander Hadfield, who died a few days later. It was apparent that he had died from the bubonic plague, caused by bacteria found on fleas and caught from rats, both of which were very common at the time. The black swellings or buboes, as they were called, were easily identifiable. This was only one year since the Great Plague of London, when nearly 70,000 Londoners, or 15 percent of the population, had died, so villagers were well aware of the dangers of this disease.

The decision for Eyam townsfolk to quarantine themselves was initiated by their Rector, the Reverend William Mompesson. Although Mompesson reportedly had an uneasy relationship with his predecessor who still lived in Eyam, they were able to work together. (The predecessor was a Puritan and presumably a Cromwell supporter, who was replaced after the Restoration of the Monarchy.) When the two priests gathered villagers in the parish church and explained their plan to them, the villagers unanimously agreed to self-isolate, or quarantine, as a village, by establishing a 1-mile radius cordon, marked by boundary stones. Messages were sent to all surrounding villages and towns not to enter Eyam. Instead, Eyam villagers would leave messages in holes in the village boundary stones. Food would be left at the village boundaries and money to pay for food supplies left in bowls of vinegar, which was thought to disinfect coinage.

It was thought that Eyam had a population of as many as 800, but it was known that there were 260 deaths, or almost one-third of the population. Families had to bury their own dead. Elizabeth Hancock, for example, had to dig graves herself for her husband and then for six children who died within a matter of eight days, as other villagers were too afraid of contracting the plague to assist her. The villagers’ self quarantine lasted 14 months and stopped the spread of the plague to neighbouring villages and towns. 

Dr. Simpson says, “When I first read of Eyam and came across the Rev. Mompesson, I thought it must have been a Catholic parish, as Mompesson seemed  to be a continental name, and there were Roman Catholic villages scattered around England. But Mompesson’s wife was an early victim who died early in the quarantine period. That was when I realised that the Rev. Mompesson was a member of the Church of England, as Catholic clergy did not marry.”

Reflecting on this story, Simpson asks, “What lessons can we learn from our 17th century Anglican ancestors?”  First, they self-isolated extremely efficiently and did not appear to have broken their quarantine. Secondly the villagers acted self-sacrificially. They stayed inside their self-imposed boundary, knowing that although they might catch the plague, their actions would save many others. Thirdly, the inspiration for this noble action appears to have been religious, as the epidemic stayed within the parish boundary, though at great cost to Eyam. Self-discipline, self-sacrifice, and a faith commitment helped these villagers save others.

And so, as Bishop Graham Tomlin reminds us, our current pandemic may also be an opportunity for us as Anglicans “to sacrifice what we would normally like to do for the good of the whole.”

The post Anglicans Make Sacrifices During A 17th Century Pandemic appeared first on Anglican Life.

I love Europe, but our wedding coincided with both Brexit and migration crises. We decided to figure out something else. What’s like Canada and the northern British Isles? It didn’t take long for us to consider Newfoundland and Labrador, and we began a fevered phase of research. Stunned by the beauty we were seeing online, I texted to a friend that I’d never even looked at photos of St. John’s or the Avalon Peninsula. We also realized we could incorporate Europe into our honeymoon with an excursion to St. Pierre and Miquelon. We imagined hiking in Gros Morne, touring L’Anse aux Meadows, and perhaps biking across the island. I also dreamed of heading to Labrador, up to the Torngat Mountains—a landscape that couldn’t be more different from my native Florida. (OK, so that part of the trip was very unlikely. But I dreamt.) We became very excited.

We went as far as reaching out to the Rev’d Moses Tucker (now a priest in Lewisporte) to discuss the possibilities. I had met Moses during my year at Trinity College in 2006, and I figured he wouldn’t steer us wrong. He was also, at the time, the only person I knew in all of Newfoundland and Labrador. Moses left an extremely positive impression on me about The Rock. I still recall some of his explanations and jokes about the province. Why is the porch called the bridge? “Well, it connects your home to the world.” I’ve heard people joke that Newfoundland may one day attach propellers to the island, to head towards Ireland—but wouldn’t helicopter rotors be faster? “Well, we’ve always been a seafaring people.” Is St. John’s like Toronto? “Yes, we even have skyscrapers—but we put them on their sides and call them malls.”

Moses gave us a number of suggestions about when and where to honeymoon, but we didn’t get to use them. As fate would have it, my father wasn’t well enough to travel to our New York wedding, so we spent our honeymoon roasting in Florida’s July heat. It felt important to see family.

And yet Newfoundland and Labrador were still on our minds—the province had wormed its way in. We even decided to bring a dash of Atlantic Canadian style to our street in Rochester, painting our home’s exterior “100 Mph Red.” The choice offered stark contrast to the drab, landlord-driven palette on a street that straddled working class neighbourhoods and pretty intense poverty. The colour was so brilliant that it cast a crimson hue on our neighbours’ home in the afternoon sun, spilling into their kitchen and calling to mind The Martian Chronicles. Many neighbours complimented the choice, noting the improvement over the horrid hues previously found on the home: a muddled brown with trim we called “Painter’s Tape Blue.” One passerby asked if it was legal to paint your house that red in Rochester. The question was serious.

A few years later, life found us immigrating to Canada and settling in Nova Scotia, where Kate could study for a master’s degree at Dalhousie University while I looked for work. (Once again, we decided to average our preferred destinations of immigration, Canada and Scotland, as New Scotland). Part of my excitement in moving to Nova Scotia was the opportunity to see and know Newfoundland, with the ferry only four hours away. And then we would make it to Labrador, as well! And having met people here from Newfoundland and Labrador, that trip felt both inevitable and important—a chance to encounter the kindness we’ve continuously experienced from Newfoundlanders here and also see a place that, I think, many Canadians don’t bother to understand.

Of course, it’d have been hard to go while Kate is studying—Cape Breton seemed a more reasonable destination in her first summer break—but after graduation, of course! Come the summer of 2020, Newfoundland, here we come!

Sigh. With the Atlantic bubble, that may have been possible—even COVID-19 has struggled to break the connections that seem to run so deep in Atlantic Canada. However, Kate became pregnant in the summer, rendering the prospect of a long ferry voyage unattractive. So, we stayed closer to home.

All of this finds me writing a love letter to a place I’ve never been to, which is a very odd feeling. And yet, I can’t help but believe that I do love Newfoundland and Labrador, and Kate feels the same. On the day that 100 new cases were announced in the province, I told Kate and she audibly gasped—something I’ve witnessed very rarely from my wife. Newfoundland and Labrador have been in our prayers during the pandemic—everyone there, as well as the church. We were both deeply saddened by Bishop Geoff Peddle’s death last year. I think often of people I’ve interviewed by phone in St. John’s, Churchill Falls, and Rigolet. We feel connected, in relationship, even from this distance.

My friends, I know I will see you soon—that our now-growing family will join you in worship, laughter and, I’m told, fish kissing. Until that time, know that you all remain in our prayers through the pandemic and beyond. And please keep us in yours. As I write this in early March, the birth of our daughter, our firstborn, is but weeks away. She will need prayers as she enters our beleaguered world. And yet, I also know she will be blessed—to be born in this place we call Atlantic Canada, where the people are decent enough to look after one another, to concern themselves with the well-being of the aged and the sick, and to imagine that we weather storms best when we batten down the hatches together. As we’ve all learned in the last year, not everywhere, not everyone, is like this. We feel very lucky.

Matthew Townsend is the editor of the Anglican Journal. He and his wife Kate (and daughter-to-be) live in Dartmouth, N.S.

The post Newfoundland and Labrador: So Close­—And Yet So Far appeared first on Anglican Life.

Yet, living with the various levels of COVID-19 restrictions over the last year and into the foreseeable future has made living life even harder than normal for all of us. Of course there is the virus itself which, when contracted, has been making people very ill, and in too many cases has been fatal. There is the economic suffering that has been widespread, and that has negatively affected every form of business and employment. There is the community suffering. Even when in level 1, the restrictions—to be kept to physical distancing without being able to touch another and draw close in conversation—this is not normal, and we suffer because of it. There is the suffering of families living apart at greater distances and not being able to travel to visit and connect. And there is the collective societal suffering of not knowing what our future will be while not only still working through the pandemic, but also in the long reaching aftereffects. This is just to name some of the areas of our COVID-19 struggling. 

Thankfully, in the midst of all this suffering and uncertainty, there is light and hope. And you don’t have to go very far to find it. It is within you. The Easter hope of life in Christ, of life in love, is within you waiting to be discovered or rediscovered, and then lived out of. This larger life of love is your deepest truth and reality—it is your deepest identity. It alone will set you free from your suffering and bring you into the light of a new day filled with new love and hope. 

Realizing this hope is best done with the company of others. My friends in the Parish of the Resurrection’s Addictions Recovery Groups regularly refer to the importance of “people, places, and things.” If the company we are keeping, or the places we are going, or the things we are doing are not deepening loving connection and hope, then we need to hang around with new people, in new places, doing new things—whether virtually or in person. A healthy church (and there are healthy churches out there!) that is open to, and is leaning into a deeper love and hope would be worth finding and participating in. It could help bring you more hope and deeper love in a COVID-19 restricted world.

The post Easter Hope In A COVID-19 World appeared first on Anglican Life.

In January, we faced the reality, and indeed the acceptance, of same sex marriages in our churches.

In February, our thoughts quickly diverted to a major snow storm which created a state of emergency, when all activities ceased in both churches, schools, and businesses.

Also, early 2020 saw us coming to accept the new Mission approach; and other aspects of the church that have evolved in making church life more family friendly.

Since we had over abundance of seat capacity, Rev’d Jolene Peters arranged to have some of the pews removed from the back of the church. The added space was designed to accommodate a fully equipped play area to occupy young children while parents could now be more at ease to participate in worship. This new step was complimented with an invitation to arrive half an hour before service commences, to come together for a cup of tea or coffee.

However, by the middle of March, the coronavirus secured a passage across the Atlantic Ocean. This necessitated our place of worship to resort to a lockdown which lasted for six months.

From then until September 20th, Rev’d Jolene conducted services online through social media. But Anglican Life still remained constant, which enabled us to continue spreading our news to neighbouring parishes. More importantly, it enabled us to share our 160th anniversary in a new and different way.

With Dr. Fitzgerald’s strict, but kind guidance in this once in a lifetime occurrence, we felt a generous degree of control over the virus in our province. Thus permission was granted to return to church on September 20th, 2020. It was granted by strictly continuing to embrace the new normal—frequent hand washing, social distancing, and mask wearing.

The post My Anglican Life Ministry appeared first on Anglican Life.

This is what worries me when I hear people compare the end of the pandemic to Easter. Yes, we all need the hope of resurrection and new life. Yes, when this is all over, there will be much to celebrate. But even when alert levels are over, many will be uncomfortable gathering in large groups. Our lives and habits will have been so disrupted by the changes of the last year (and more) that it is far too naive to imagine a day when bishops can lift all the restrictions and the churches are miraculously filled again in all their glory. To compare that kind of scene to Easter is not just to be unprepared for what a full reopening will look like, but also to miss the point of the first stories of Easter.

“These people are both cheering and weeping at the building of a new temple…”

As the Gospels tell it, the Easter story is full of confusion, of women so afraid because of what they had seen that they’re afraid to tell anyone. It’s a story of not believing Mary Magdalene and having to go see for yourself. It’s a story of hiding away behind locked doors because you’re afraid that you might be the next to end up on a cross like Jesus. But into all of those stories of fear and doubt comes Jesus, to reassure us that he has not left us, and that he is strengthening us for important work.

When I imagine the reopening of churches after the pandemic, I think of the story of the laying of the new foundation of the Temple in the Book of Ezra:

‘But many of the priests and Levites and heads of families, old people who had seen the first house on its foundations, wept with a loud voice when they saw this house, though many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping, for the people shouted so loudly that the sound was heard far away.’ (Ezra 3.12–13)

Some will be overjoyed to be back in community again. Others will remember the way things used to be (that favourite Anglican trap!) and long for bygone days that may never return. It can be easy to lose hope in the face of such mixed reviews, but remember the Easter hope that is there, even in Ezra’s time. These people are both cheering and weeping at the building of a new temple—the sign of God’s presence in the midst of the community. That is what we celebrate at Easter: the presence of a God who is always with us, who breaks into our stories of fear and doubt, and strengthens us for the work ahead of us.

Rebuilding the Temple was not an end in itself. Neither was seeing Jesus alive after the Resurrection. They were important next steps towards the bigger purpose. Rebuilding the Temple allowed the people of Israel to return to their work of being God’s people in the midst of the world—a kingdom of priests through which all the nations would be blessed. Seeing Jesus allowed the first disciples to return to their work of proclaiming the Good News that in Jesus, God was finally putting the world to rights. Returning to our churches will allow us to return to our work of mission—of being God’s people in the world, of sharing the Good News of the Resurrection, and of letting the world know that the Kingdom of God is already breaking into the world, right in the midst of us.

The post Twenty Four Hours After You’re Symptom-Free appeared first on Anglican Life.

When Mary Magdalene and Mary, the mother of James, visited the grave of Jesus on that first Easter morning, they didn’t fully plan on how they would anoint the body of their Lord. They had the proper spices which were needed to fulfill the Jewish rite of anointing but had no idea how to access the body. How would they remove this massive stone? It’s almost like an afterthought as they rushed to the graveyard at first light. Perhaps other followers of Jesus would be there and together they could roll away the rock? The stone was very large and would require superhuman effort, but they needed to honour their dead master no matter what. What they certainly did not expect was a resurrection.

Isn’t that just like God? Rolling stones when it is least expected. To flip the old expression, the two Marys in the Gospel were so earthly-minded that they were no heavenly good. But aren’t we like that too?

This past year has been like living behind a massive stone in many ways. COVID has blocked our lives and sealed us up in our bubbles. There were times of release when restrictions eased but once again that stone rolled us right back into our tombs of self-isolation and fear. Who will roll away the stone for us?

That is why there is Easter. God rolls away the stone sealing Jesus in the tomb. God does something completely new and unexpected in raising Christ from the dead. Jesus’ resurrection means that you and I will be raised to a new life as well—you and I are transformed when we see the risen Christ standing in our midst.  

And where is the risen Christ? Well, according to the Gospel of Mark he was already ahead of the disciples going to Galilee. The risen Jesus had work to do and was waiting on his followers to join him. It’s the same for us today. Isn’t Jesus present when we offer to deliver groceries to a family in isolation? Or when we pray for and provide support to our frontline workers? Or when we take the time to call another person who is lonely or scared during this lockdown? In all of this and more, God is removing stones of fear and isolation, because Christ is risen and present through us—the Church.

I’d like to share an Easter poem written by Andrew King, a retired Church worker from Oakville, Ontario who writes poetry based on the Lectionary on his website, A Poetic Kind of Place. This poem is called “To Galilee He’s Gone” based on Mark 16: 1-8:

We saw where the body of Jesus was laid,
laid within the tomb.

And we asked
who will roll the stone away,
who will roll away the stone.

We heard the angel: “Christ has risen:
behold his empty tomb”.

And we asked
where to go to find him,
now that he has gone.

The angel said he’s going ahead of you:
to Galilee he’s gone.

And we asked
what he’ll do in Galilee
in the place we know as home.

The angel said you’ll find him where new life
lifts hearts of those in tombs.
So we asked
to be those who serve him,
who show that life has won.

We find him risen feeding the hungry,
risen among the poor,
and we meet
him among the friendless
and bringing the homeless home.

Thus we say, today, in our Galilee,
pointing to the empty tomb:
see where God
is rolling the stone away,
is rolling away the stone.

Copyright © 2015 by Andrew King

Let those stones continue to roll. Happy Easter!

The post Rolling Stones appeared first on Anglican Life.