A Story for Christmas

Steve was getting ready for the Family Christmas... like always.

All of the cousins would be there: aunts, uncles; brother and sisters... Mother and Father, Grandmother and Grandfather...  husbands and wives of cousins, brother and sisters... a former sister in law who was divorced from his brother, but was still part of the family on Holiday Occasions (that wasn't awkward… except maybe for the new wife, the year that both John’s ex-wife and new wife made rum balls and everybody had to pretend the that new wife’s weren't better)

Oh, and naturally there would be 2 parrots, 4 parakeets, three cats, two dogs, little Tina’s Guinea pig (she takes it everywhere) and who knows? Maybe three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree!

If he had his choice he would be one of the Lord’s of Leapin'... leapin' out of there!

It wasn't that he didn't love his family or enjoy Christmas... he did love his family: his sisters, his really successful and popular brother; his brother’s ex-wife and wife; his brothers in law – his mother and father... nearly ALL of the cousins (especially little Tina with the Guinea pig)  But it was a long drive to Ottawa, the weather was always a problem this time of year, the highway around Kingston was murder... and.. and..

Well, he wasn't.. he didn't...  well, measure up well.

He didn't have a good job.

He didn't have kids... he didn’t even have a partner.

He didn't know how to act. 

The gathering used to be at his Grandparents place, they had this big old house in Ottawa.  And everybody would dress up....  but Steve didn't have a whole suit and had only one tie... brown shoes.  Brother John, he wore a tux... and danced with the aunts...  They would gather in the Living Room around the grand piano and sing carols... and if you didn't want to sing you were expected to go to the kitchen or somewhere else to converse.  Steve knew the first verse to most carols; John was able to sing O Come All Ye Faithful in Latin:  Adeste Fideles (all the verses).  Most years, Steve was asked to leave because he clearly was more interested in talking than singing.  A song sheet might have helped!!!  And what’s so wrong about wanting to sing Frosty the Snowman?

Eventually the gathering moved to Steve’s parents place.  Brother John, who lived in town and worked for the government, did a lot to help getting everything ready; Steve’s sisters had made special food... Steve was coming from far away, so there wasn't much he could do. He offered to help pay the caterer but Mom and Dad just laughed... nicely... (but it was still laughter).  That year, Steve took his meager savings and invested it wisely: He rented a tux.  And he got one of the girls at work to teach him to dance (a little).  This year: New locale and a new Steve – he’d be suave like his brother and he’d make his old Aunts swoon when he invited them out onto the dance floor.  He showed up ready for a great evening...   he could smell the mulling spices wafting down to the street as he walked from his car to the house... careful not to slip and spoil his beautiful tuxedo... he imagined the surprised look on everybody’s faces as he entered the house.. “Steve!” as they took in the tux (and the haircut)

“Yes, Steve... Steve, Bond”

If only someone had told him that the change in venue also meant that everybody was invited to come in jeans, casual clothes and Christmas Sweaters... so that those less resourceful wouldn't feel peculiar....

But now, THIS year... this year would be different.

Steve could never measure up gift wise. His sisters would buy him clothes with labels that Steve couldn't read (which is how they often ended up in the wash with his jeans... never to be worn again).  Last year, his brother bought him a Flat Screen TV, apologizing that it was only 42 inches (15 inches bigger than his old one).  Steve got his sisters bath salts and a Simon and Garfunkel DVD for his brother.  The Concert in Central Park may have been 30 years ago, but it was still good.  And affordable.

Everybody loved their gifts... but Steve knew that they didn't compare... he was tired of being a Shepherd when everybody else was a Magi.

This year... Steve got a bonus at work: $3,000.

Maybe not a lot to his brother... but a lot to him.

He thought about saving it...

He thought about paying off his student loans a little faster...

He thought about taking a little vacation...

He considered buying 1000 Lotto 649 Tickets...

But then he decided to buy presents for his family.

Presents like they bought him every year...

He went to the Shops at Don Mills and spent $300 on designer Vinegar for his sister, the wanna-be chef...

He bought a coat for his fashonista sister... at some Archaeology place that he’d never heard of... so it must be good.

He bought for his Mom and Dad... not sure what to get them, because up to now the only way he knew how to shop was to look for something in his price range, not something that might knock their socks off...  he wondered “WWJD”:  What would John do?... and as if channeling his brother, he bought his parents, his and her silk Pajamas and Velvet Robes.

And for John... his inspiration and his hero (his downfall and his nemesis)... his brother... an $800 bottle of wine! (you knew that John would be wine connoisseur).

Steve also managed to buy a few things for the cousins – a first for him – and spent a whole evening wrapping everything up perfectly.  Pink bows for the girls, Blue knots for the boys... and bubble wrap for the bottle..

The next morning he packed everything carefully and lovingly into his 2001 Corolla and started the drive to Ottawa... the smell of a Tim Horton’s Dark Chocolate filling the car... the sound of Christmas Carols filling his ears...and what surely must be “joy” filling his heart.

He would get to his parents about dinner time on Christmas Eve... time for a meal and then a Christmas Eve service with Mom and Dad... and the party on Christmas Day.

The party when he would finally fit in... he had the right clothes and nobody would look outside to see his car.  He knew the words to all the Christmas Carols (he had been practicing).  He would not be asking his aunts to dance, but he had gifts for them... gifts for the whole family... finally they would know how much he loved them... he would measure up... he would really be part of Christmas...

Driving along the 401, Steve saw a big pet shop in one of the malls... and was inspired.  He’d do something extra special that no one had ever thought to do before... he’d get something for little Tina’s Guinea pig... that’s love!  Remembering somebody’s pet... Brilliant.

He got off the highway, parked the car and all but skipped into PetSmart... checking the aisles until he found a tiny set of reindeer antlers, sized for a Guinea Pig.

Nothing says Christmas like a pet in plush antlers.

$11.95 and he was on his way...

Singing as he went out to his car...

Over by the lamp post..

Other lamp post.. 

Near the front of the store?  That can’t be right...

At the end of the row??

Steve looked for his car...  the one with an empty Tim Horton’s cup in the cup holder... the one with the Christmas Carols playing on the radio...  the one with $3,268 in gifts for everybody... the one with his salvation packed neatly in the trunk and back seat.

It was gone.

The police were too busy to come to the scene.

Mall security drove him to the Police Station.

Paper work was filled out...

Sad pathetic looks were exchanged... Sad tidings were in store...

There was no comfort... No joy... 

Steve caught a bus into Ottawa.

Got in around 2 in the morning.

Slipped into his parents’ house and dissolved into the guest room.

In the morning, he couldn't bear to face his parents... or watch the hordes descend upon the house for Christmas breakfast... Christmas lunch.... finally, Christmas Party and dinner...  so he slipped out and went to church (it was affordable).

God hated him.

He’s blown it.

He would never understand Christmas

He would never be able to express his love in a way that his family would understand.

He would never fit in...  he should have taken the bus back to Toronto instead of Ottawa.

Then he heard the Christmas Story...  the one that we hear every year about a pregnant unmarried teenage girl, some confused shepherds, unbelievable angels and foreign visitors called Magi...  he heard about people who didn't fit in... he heard about a journey that was dark and bumpy.... he heard about things going wrong... he heard about gifts...  he heard about God revealed in a small, vulnerable child....

He spent most of the day at church... not because he didn't want to go home, but because he wanted to hear the story again (he seemed unaware that there is a take home version of the story as well)...  but he did make it to the party.

And at the party, Steve didn't take his cue from the Magi... and he didn't take his cure from the Shepherds.... he knew that he didn't have the wardrobe to be an angel...  he, instead took his cue from the child, the baby... Jesus.   

Steve dared to be naked and vulnerable....   He told everybody his story...  he laughed and cried as he told it... so did they....   and then, he went around and embraced his family... each one, even Tina once she put down her Guinea Pig with the Reindeer Antlers (the one gift that was not lost) ... one at a time and he would whisper to each member of his family what made each of them so special to him... and then he told them, “I love you”

He would probably have years when he was a Shepherd at Christmas again... he might even get to be a Magi one of these years – but nothing would ever compare to the Christmas that Steve dared to take the story seriously and become Christ-like himself... naked and vulnerable.  For the first time – Steve finally “got” Christmas

Whoever you may be this Christmas – I wish you Christ-Child moments… and a very fulfilling, eye-opening,  heart-warming season.

Merry Christmas

What and Why I Remember

When I was 16, I met RJ Cringan. 

Bob. 

He was my music teacher. 

He called m leather lips because I could play the trumpet for hours on end… he taught me to write music, encouraged me to write a musical, made music a part of my life.

Bob volunteered for the infantry in 1943.  Realizing that it takes months to train a soldier, but years to train a musician – they decided to take this musician and have him play for the troops… and so he led the Rhythm Rodeo and toured the bases in Canada and the UK playing for the men and women in service.  

It was Bob who had me play the Last Post for the first time.  It was for a school Remembrance Day ceremony.  He wrote it out for me in his unique musician’s hand;  I have it with me to this day - not that I need it… but it connects me to him.

I think that’s one of the reasons that we wear the poppy: It connects us to those who have shaped our lives… in ways we recognize and in ways that we take for granted.

After I played the Last Post, being a teenager, I decided to jazz it up a little… playing in the Music Room by myself, I would a few riffs, flatten a couple of notes, improve the melody and give it a better finish..  Bob heard me playing and told me to stop.  He was almost angry.

“Leave it alone! It’s not meant to be show stopper… it’s meant to be simple… it’s meant to mourn… and honour.”  

I never fooled around with it ever again.  I always play it the way he taught me.

All me to present some thoughts around Remembrance Day in a similar vein.

Simple.

My father was born in 1939; he didn't go to war.

I have never been called to serve.

My children have never been called to serve.

To those who have served, “Thank You”.

That’s all any of us who wear a poppy want to say. “Thank You”

The vets who wear the poppy are saying “Thank You” to the soldiers who stood with them, those who fell in battle and those who made it home… Thank You for your sacrifice;  Thank You for standing with me.

The rest of us are saying “Thank you”  to the men and women who have served and are serving: The families at home who worry around the clock;  those who will always remember their child, husband, wife, sister, brother, parent in uniform, because it was the last time they saw them.  The men and women who stayed home and worked new jobs and extended hours to support the country in times of war.  The men and women who came back and didn't know how to fit back into civilian life; the men and women who helped others come “home” and fit in.

 Remembrance Day is a time to mourn.  We mourn those who didn't come home.

We mourn those who didn't get to take us fishing, or see us graduate, come to our wedding… those who might be forgotten if not for one day a year when we remember those who have served.

We mourn those who have come back from active service, but are not the same people who left…  the pain and burden they bear is so great… too much for us to understand, sometimes too much for them to handle.    

We mourn lost youth, because everyone who has served has spent some of their youth on all of us.

We gather on Remembrance day to honour.  I don’t mean that we gather to cheer on the soldiers,  wave the Canadian Flag in victory or glamourize war.  

Honour.  Not imagine or cheer; not celebrate "Canadian" victory.

Most veterans that I know are the biggest advocates for peace:  They don’t want us at war, they don’t want their children at war.  They went to war because their community asked them to go and there seemed to be no other way - but they lived and died in hope that we might find another way.  We honour them as we try to find another way.

Some call them heroes.  I don’t think that they are.    Hero is a term that comes from ancient Greek mythology in which there are Gods, Demi-Gods and Heroes.    Gods are… well, they’re gods.  Demi gods are half human half god and Heroes are the humans who aspire to be gods.     The men and women that I know, who have been to war, never aspired to be gods.  
They aspired to be sons and daughters, husbands and wives, parents and grandparents, comrades and buddies, neighbours and friends;  their greatest desire was to come home and make it possible for all of us to be sons and daughters, husbands and wives, parents and grandparents, comrades and buddies, neighbours and friends.

I believe this to be true of nearly every soldier under any and every flag.

For the past decade, I have been the bugler at an IBEW community Remembrance Day service.   Some wondered why I would play at an Electrical Workers Union instead of a local Legion. Well, to begin with, they asked me.  Secondly, I admire the work that they do having veterans share their stories with school children and Finally, I admire the fact that many years ago, they opened up their Remembrance Day to veterans of any war, under any flag.  It's about the men and women who have sacrificed, not about the winning of a war.  On Remembrance Day, we recognize that nobody "wins" in war. 

On Remembrance Day,  I think about my father in law, who enlisted because he wanted to fly planes…  he had no idea what it would really be like…and it was horrific.  But he stayed.  1939 to 1945.  He doesn't talk about it much.

I think about family that served in the Navy and Merchant Marine; the Great Uncle who floated I the English Chanel for 24 hours and only complained that he got water in his watch.

I think about the Veterans that I have come to know over the years, the stories that they've told me and sometimes told ONLY me… I think that about the stories that they didn't tell me…  

I think about the young man who asked me to bless his sunglasses on his way back for a second tour in Afghanistan… 

And I don’t try to complicate any of it with debate; I don’t try to fancy it up with politics, agendas or even white poppies.  I just take this time to be thankful and to honour those who have given so much, by striving to find a better way to justice than violence.   

It’s the least that I can do.

I need a Sabbath!

Oh my God… I need a Sabbath.

Seriously. 

Don’t you?

I’m not talking about a day to watch Football (American or the Real Stuff); 

I’m not talking about a day of meeting some pietistic obligation (although who doesn’t love pie)… I’m talking about a day of rest.  

A day when the busy-ness of the world is put aside.  

A day to commune with the Divine and align myself with Divine will – however I may choose to express it.  A day of justice for the labourer, absolutely, but for now, I really need a day for just to think.

You see, my life is pretty busy.  I move from delight to crisis, from meeting to gathering; from obligation to opportunity at an alarming rate… And I’m missing things.

My government and some of my community are debating our need to take up arms in a foreign country.  And I don’t have  a considered opinion – not that I’m incapable of making a considered opinion; offering a nuanced response, but I don’t have to consider… the prerequisite for a “Considered Opinion”.    

Should we have boots on the ground?  

Can we send soldiers, but reasonably imagine them to be non-combatants?  

How does that work?   

Do I trust my government or the collective intelligence that identifies ISIS (or ISIL) as a serious threat to lives and security around the world… or is this another exaggeration of threat that allows my government (and others) to rally around the flag in time for an election?  Governments at war are nearly always able to win elections as long as there is a war raging.

I went to see “The Equalizer” last week with my wife.  We’d both had hard months… too much feeling helpless as people died or grieved in my community; too much injustice happening around me, leaving me feeling impotent and  frustrated, too much many demands on my wife and too much… well, just too much too much!!    As we watched the movie and cheered for the hero as he efficiently dispatched a variety of horrible, terrible people, we felt somehow appeased… the bad guys were defeated.  The fact that these bad guys had nothing to do with the concerns and injustices experienced in our lives didn’t matter to us… bad guys lost and we felt better.

Is that what we are doing as we go to war against ISIS?  Throwing up our hands over concerns about missing, murdered and ignored First Nations Women, giving up on Fracking, Pipelines and a responsible Energy Program; packing it on plans to address poverty…. I worry that I’m being pulled away from things that need and could benefit from my attention by something that is inflated and manipulated to maintain the status quo. 

I’m not discounting the deaths, the disregard and destruction of human rights that heralds the arrival and occupation of ISIS – but are my CF18s really going to make a difference?  

  (Weren't we supposed to retire those planes a decade ago??)

I need a Sabbath or two to think… to pray… to work through all of the nuance and obfuscation to find the best way forward.  I know that it sounds quaint to some, but I really do need to pray... not that I'm expecting a booming voice or some kind of mystical SIRI to answer my questions, but I don't have quick answers to deep questions and as I open up my worry, concern, hope and ignorance to that which I call Divine... answers begin to emerge.  

As a Minister, committed to Christ’s Ministry that I dare to call the Kingdom of God, how can I ever advocate for war?  I am glad that I don’t live in a Theocracy, it means that I can be a voice and not have to rule… so, if I’m to be a voice, how can I, as a Christian (never mind a Christian Leader) be for war?  Shouldn’t I always speak for peace, even if I’m ignored by my Government and community?

You see? I need a Sabbath or two to think… to pray… to know or to find a way to live with not knowing.

When I don’t get the time, I find that I take shortcuts and begin to follow “party lines”, falling behind and mimicking the words of those with whom I have agreed in the past.  But the past is no guarantee of agreement in the future.  I might have great allies in the fight against poverty, but that doesn’t mean that we agree on LGBTQ rights or the need for “boots on the ground”.  Without time to think, I start to automatically doubt everything word that comes out of my Prime Minister’s mouth and assume that those who do not want to go to war are “not supporting our troops!”.  Jingoistic short hand quickly replaces the results of consideration, imagination and integrity.

I need a Sabbath or two.... or three or four. 

Today, I read an Editorial in MacLean’s magazine by Emily Teitel that suggested that we need to stop blaming the culture of violence in sports for producing violent abuses and criminals and instead focus on the actual individuals who break the law and hold them responsible for their actions. http://www.macleans.ca/society/hate-the-player-not-the-game/ I read the words and nodded as I read, and by the time I had finished, because I quite like Ms. Teitel’s writing and often share her point of view, I agreed with her.

Then, I forgot to turn on the music in my car as I was driving and I started thinking instead… and as I thought about her words and the implications of her suggestions; my own experience and other things that I have read I began to disagree with her thesis.  When I wake up tomorrow, I might have a better idea where I stand on the concept of “rape culture” violent sport and personal responsibility… but had my radio been on when I got in the car, I might have simply agreed without true consideration. 
That’s why I need a Sabbath, I'm doing way to much agreeing without consideration lately (which might explain why I'm excited about the Leafs this season).

Many people imagine that the religious practice of Sabbath is no longer valid – we’ve moved on and only weirdoes and fanatics actually believe in these ancient dictums etched in stone my some cosmic finger onto rock thousands of years ago.  But in a world of 24/7 shopping and entertainment, in a time and place in which beasts of burden do not have to be allowed to rest nor fields to lie fallow AND I can watch a whole season of House of Cards on Netflix in one sitting… our need couldn’t be greater.   We all need a time out… to breathe, wonder… think… and notice.

I took some time out today to slow down… and as I sat down ignoring my own impulse to hurry off to the next thing, I noticed a man… a man that I know and love… a man whose life is crumbling around him.  He’s hurting and the world is rushing past him; people who love him are so busy that they don’t notice the hurt… When people who love you don’t notice your pain, it feels a lot like you’re not loved.   

I need Sabbath to notice the people in my life…

I need Sabbath so that the people I love will know that I love them…

I don’t know what I can do for my friend, I’m not sure how I can love him – but I am damn well NOT going to let his life go unnoticed because I was too busy.

I’m  not going to war because I was too busy to think of a better response.

I’m not going to shirk my responsibility to protect the vulnerable by putting boots on the ground because I was too busy.

I’m not going to forget my First Nations Sisters or my Brothers and Sisters whose lives are profoundly impacted by our Energy Policies because I’m too busy….

I’m not going to forget to be a living, acting, loving human being…. 

Because I was too busy being busy.

I know that I'm rambling now... but perhaps with a little Sabbath time, not just time to rest, but time to think, consider, look inside even as I look outside... I just might find some answers, some peace..

I'd say more, but I'm taking some Sabbath time, right now...  Love you later. 

Ice Bucket Challenge Round 2: The Detractors

A quick rant from my side of the fence, re: Ice Bucket Challenge detractors.

First, let me say, you have every right to your opinion and distaste for the Ice Bucket Challenge. 

I get it – it’s annoying and you wish it would go away. 

It will.  

But until it does, do you really have to keep criticizing it?

Allow me to respond to the three criticisms 

    that I hear most often (in order of frequency):

It’s an irresponsible Waste of Water

I live in Southern Ontario, which like much of North America is made up of neighbourhoods of people who wash their cars with water, fill buckets of ice to cool beer for outdoor parties, use fresh water in their toilets (and flush after only peeing), water their lawns, and carry around a variety of “designer” waters in plastic bottles.  I’m not suggesting that we should ignore water issues, but if everyone in Ontario reduced toilet flushing by one flush a day, we would save more water than has been wasted in all the Ice Bucket challenges thus far.   If all of us were to learn to drink warm beer and forgo the iced cooler at the cottage – just for the Labour Day Weekend – we would save more water than has been “wasted” on the Ice Bucket Challenge.  (I will grant that my math is intuitive.. but you get my point)

Should we be aware of water as a right for all humanity and a limited resource? Absolutely!  But let’s get our priorities straight and really address the issue rather than piggy-backing it to a desire to “dislike” the Ice Bucket Challenge.  If Maude Barlow wants to talk to me about it, I am listening – but I’m less inclined to take derision from someone who just finished watering their driveway.

(btw, please consider devoting time and money to getting water back into Detroit or the Gaza)  http://www.blueplanetproject.net/

Only 600 die of ALS in Canada in a year; there is greater need elsewhere.

Yes, that is absolutely true.  

In my life time, I’ve known six people with ALS– which is a particularly high number for most people (apparently).  I’ve personally known less than six who have died from breast cancer, but I don’t tell my friends that they should stop running, walking, shaving, wearing ribbons or donating money to breast cancer research and support because the numbers aren’t as high.  

I don’t recall people counting heads when Live Strong bracelets were making the rounds and declaring that testicular cancer wasn’t important because fewer than 400 deaths occur in the U.S. in a given year.  

I don’t suggest that we should ignore the horrific treatment of First Nations Women in Canada because there may be more woman dying elsewhere?  

I don’t suggest that people shouldn’t give money or support  to my church because it’s not as big as other churches.  

Size has nothing to do with it.  There are people suffering and dying and their deaths are no more palatable when they are in a large cohort.  Nobody is comforted by the fact that their mother was the only person to die of a particular disease this month…  

We need to embrace the philanthropic impulse wherever and whenever we can.  I would also suggest that  because ALS affects so “few” people, it is very hard for ALS to get on the giving radar; hard for ALS to raise money for research and support.  Who knows, with more money raised, maybe a cure in possible in our life time.  A cure that wouldn’t be found without the sudden influx of research dollars raised by the Ice Bucket Challenge.

The reality is that until a couple of weeks ago, most people were blissfully unaware of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, and barely knew Lou Gherig as an old time baseball player.  Those who were aware, didn’t want to talk about it, because it’s a bloody terrifying disease and nobody wants to hear about fears, impotence and sadness.    Silence provides NO support, raises NO money and leaves those suffering with the disease or those caring for someone with ALS isolated.   I had a call last week from the daughter of woman who died from ALS – she saw my Bucket Challenge and wanted remind me and thank me for the time we spent together over a decade ago as her mother faded away… and in that conversation our isolation was relieved.  Isolation even a decade later because nobody wants to share those sad stories… except they aren’t stories to us, they’re very close memories.    I’ve talked with a number of young people; I’ve talked to my son about ALS in the past 2 weeks, conversations that we’ve never had before and would never have had without the Ice Bucket Challenge... which leads to the final criticism:

People don’t know what they’re doing it for.

Maybe not everybody – but many do and others have just provided the invitation to learn more.   And, in spite of this ignorance (or maybe because of it), ALS Canada has raised $7,500,000 from the Ice Bucket Challenge (as of this morning – Aug.26) and have added tens of thousands of registered donors – people that they can continue to contact, educate and perhaps motive to support people with ALS in ways more “palatable” than dumping ice over their craniums.   Or maybe, some of these folks get involved and discover that they have the ability to help individuals and communities, but assess that there are communities with greater needs, and move to help other causes, become involved politically… who knows?  

Not me.  

What I do know is that the Ice Bucket Challenge has been an invitation to get involved in a small way… and it just might be a gateway charity for some who have never found the impulse, or been too overwhelmed by the need and number of charitable pursuits, that they have never donated, never volunteered, never tried to reach out.

Ultimately, I see the harm of the Ice Bucket Challenge as very minor, even if the annoyance is high for some.

I see a great potential upside, even if the full potential isn’t realized.  And honestly, nobody is asking you to participate if you don’t want to…  go back to cheering for your favourite sports team (you know the one whose Jersey you wear with such pride, even though it looks goofy) and relax, it’ll be over soon enough. 

Or, I could be wrong. 

als.ca

Ice Bucket Challenge

So, in response to a challenge, I dumped a bucket of cold water on my head.  I also donated $100 to ALS Canada  (   http://www.als.ca/   ) .  It’s kind of a fad right now… Everyone from Lady Gaga to Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster has posted videos of the downpours.

In the past couple of weeks, $15,000,000 has been raised in the U.S and in the past 4 days, over $130,000 has be raised in Canada with over 3,000 new registered donors.  

There are also several folk who disdain this new “fad”.   Celebrity Comedian Ricky Gervais wryly tweeted “Dear Celebrities, OK now that’s enough. Please stop pouring lovely fresh water over your heads” – Africa.    He’s got a point…  And yet, I think it’s a good campaign.

I have been minister/companion to  a small handful of people  as they struggled with ALS.  I have been there for the last breath of two and presided over funerals for another 4.  ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease sucks. It is a progressive neuromuscular disease that kills nerve cells and leaves victims paralyzed.   Rarely have I felt so impotent, as when I have watch once lively and vibrant people disappear into the living prison of a body that no longer responding to their commands.  I have seen the wit and intelligence behind their eyes and wished that I could somehow reach inside and let them free… but only death has been able to do that.   

So, for me, the bucket challenge has been a small way for me to actively share my grief and do a small bit of good.  The money donated/raised matters a great deal – but for me, it was also a brief memorial to lovely people who slipped away from my grasp.

I believe that part of the genesis of the “Ice Bucket Challenge” was to share with others a brief fleeting moment of what those with ALS experience… for a few seconds as the ice and water cascaded down my body, I felt a paralyzing numbness that is a unique feeling for me, but a ubiquitous experience for those with ALS.  If we seize on this moment, we can talk with each other about the experience and perhaps find a small window that leads to greater understanding of what our love ones are experiencing as the disease takes hold.   The conversation and engagement matter…  If the shocking cold were to only make people go to the website and discover that between 2 and 3 Canadians die every day as a result of ALS; if it would inspire people to go deeper into the website and discover the ways that they can support research and patients… then, it just may be worth all that water.

For now, I’m content that the ALS society of Canada is very happy with the response to the Ice Bucket Challenge; I’m content to have talked to 5 different people about ALS in the past two days;  I’m content that several of the youth in my community have been inspired  (it was one of them that challenged me)… and I’m content that so many people are recognizing the ALS society as an organization worthy of financial and volunteer support.

Or maybe, I’m just all wet….   

Israel and Palestine - I should keep my mouth shut

With this blog, I prepare to say good-bye to friends.

I will likely be un-friended on Facebook and invite the ire and contempt of those with whom I have been friendly for many years.

That’s how it goes when you talk about Israel and Palestine.

It happened with the United Church of Canada.  After almost a decade of trying to determine the best course of action; the best witness to offer, the United Church recommended a boycott on items produced in the disputed territories occupied by Israel and claimed by Palestinians.  Eighty years of good relations with the “Official” Jewish communities in Canada were forgotten as the United Church was called naive and/or anti-Semitic.   Other Jewish voices in Canada (e.g. Independent Jewish Voices) lauded the UCC for the support, and yet others damned the United Church for not making a bolder statement.   The United Church policy was not the way forward that I would have chose, although remarkably, it was the same policy as the Canadian Federal Government at the time (i.e. no loans or investment in the disputed territories).

Why did the United Church of Canada speak out, when they are silent on other issues around the world?  They had been invited to speak.  They had been asked by partners in Israel and Palestine to offer support.  They listened, studied and prayerfully took a stand.  Not the one that I would have taken, but a considered one.  It was not received with anything resembling unanimous approval by the membership of the United Church.  Some folks threatened to leave the church (a very few did); some clergy spoke out loudly against the boycott, at least one considered offering boycotted Soda Stream products for sale in the church… and pretty soon a number of clergy were no longer speaking to each other.

And so, if I have any wisdom, I would now shut up.

Had I the wit, I would keep my thoughts to myself, the number of my Facebook friends stable and my future lunch invitations secure. 

But I can’t.

Not that I can offer anything of great substance to the discussion, but allow me to point out a couple of things.

First, I know very little. I engage in Canadian main-stream media and get one story; I search out more information and witness on the internet and get other stories; I talk to friends and acquaintances who are there now or have spent a great deal of time in Israel and/or Palestine in the past decade and get even more stories.  The only consistent message is:  I don’t really know anything.

I admire Israel for their active democracy that supports the rights of women and the LGBTQ community; for their struggle to live safely and peacefully in a land that has not offered anybody security in thousands of years.

My heart aches for the Palestinians who live in the reality of the Wall that separates them from family, work, food and water.  I support every human beings right to live freely and securely.

I don’t understand all of the treaties, exceptions, condemnations, recommendations and necessities that created the context in which Palestinians and Israelis live and die today.

But here is what I do know:  The conflict going on at this moment is time is NOT the FIFA World Cup, even though many seem to be treating it so.  People all over the world take on Israel or Palestine like they are teams; cheering for their side to win and vanquish the other side.

But this is not a game.  

It’s one thing to cheer for Holland in the World Cup, admire the goals and over-look Arjen Robben’s flagrant bad sportsmanship, or cheer for Uruguay while making up excuses for Luis Suarez  biting other players.  When you are cheering for your “team” everything thing that they do right is “the greatest” and every infraction or penalty is an unfair call or justifiable when you consider what the Brazilians did in the first half!

But what is happening right now in the Gaza is not a footie match.  It is not a competition. It is living and dying human beings. 

“He shouldn’t have been there…”

“She should have minded her own business…”

“They’ve killed more than we have…”

“They started it…”

These are not valid excuses for the ending of human lives…. The ending of hopes and dreams and plans and futures.  It is not good enough to simply cheer your team on and imagine that they can do no wrong.  They can and they are… and as long as we treat this like a Football match, we will excuse anything that our “team” does in an effort to win the game. 

There is nothing wrong with conversation and criticism  of your own government, another’s government or, even, your “side”.  In the second World War, people were horrified by the bombing of Dresden by the Allies – it did not mean that they were suddenly Nazi’s or that they were withdrawing their support for the safety and freedom of England and Europe, it simply meant that they were still connected deeply to their humanity and could not let such an action go by without criticism or comment.  People need to be able to wonder out loud without fear that they will be shunned and excluded from the conversation.  We need as many people in the conversation as possible – we are trying to bring peace to a land that has not truly known a lasting peace in thousands of years.

And this is what else I know: There are thousands of Israelis and Palestinians hoping, working and praying for peace.  They are demonstrating and acting – but we don’t get to see that in the mainstream media very often because it betrays the image of this conflict as one in which “teams” can be picked and cheered for.   It makes for a confusing narrative and we like our news to be simple:  Bad guys attacks good guy and good guy overcomes.   But what happens when good guys and bad guys are working together???   That's going to be hard to report. 

There are Peace Groups, Businesses, Theatre Companies, Schools and more in Israel and Palestine where Israeli Jews, Christians, Muslims and others worth side by side with Palestinian Muslims, Christians and others to find hope and peace for their land.  And we make it harder for them, as we stand on the outside choosing sides, buying scarves and cheering for our “teams”.    We make it harder because we make it easy for our media to stick to the simple narrative.  Have you noticed how the coverage seems to be dominated by people opining from other countries?   If all of the coverage was coming from Israel itself we would hear a much more complex narrative –  and more people would be able to be part of the “conversation”.  

With more voices, we just mind find a way that hasn’t be tried yet… “And a little child shall lead them” a prophet once intoned.  He wasn't necessarily speaking of a child to be born in Bethlehem, but rather noting that the solution to unrest would come from a new place, a person from whom they had yet to hear… a child who had yet to be born.  When we scare, shame or intimidate people into silence we assure ourselves of hearing only the same old voices we always hear, and we kill the idea before it can even be heard. 

Had I been asked to draft the United Church of Canada’s policy on Israel and Palestine, I would have raised money for and sent people to support organizations in Israel and Palestine whose memberships are diverse: Bringing Muslims, Jews, Christians, Secularists and others together to share culture, hospitality, hopes, ideas and efforts for a just peace in and around Israel.  Those groups exist and, I believe, are the best hope for justice in Israel….   But then, I don’t really know much.

So, in my compassionate ignorance,  I pray for the people…the soldiers and civilians from both sides of the wall and the many sides of the issue.  I pray for the Leaders, that they might find a way that eludes me today, but may be clear tomorrow.  I pray for the real people:  Mothers, Fathers, Sons, Daughters, Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, babies, teenagers, men, women, elders, wise ones and fools and I commit myself to not taking a “side” but continuing to support and criticize the people that I love and for whom I pray. 

Filled with Pride - but keeping my mouth shut (almost)

I do this with great trepidation.

What have I to say about World Pride?

I have a great many friends who are included, engage and active in the LGBTTTQQ2SA * community - I belong there as well, but I belong from a place of comfortable privilege.  Sometimes the best thing that one can do from a position of privilege is to "shut up".  Not that one doesn't have insight or opinion; not that privilege has blinded one to reality, but speaking from a place of privilege can simply clutter the air and suppress the voices that need to be heard. 

So, perhaps I should say nothing. 

I have never had my life; my very self, questioned, oppressed or excluded.  When hurtful words have been hurled at me, I have had the option and privilege of yelling back, "Am Not!" without feeling a stab of betrayal; a death of self.  I have no idea what it is like to be marginalized in the ways that my brothers and sisters have, as we grew up together yet apart.

So, maybe I should just shut up and let others speak.

If you're listening to me, you might be missing the man or woman who wants to dance and celebrate who he/she is, maybe for the first time publicly... or hold the hand of another without fear... or quietly know that there is nothing "wrong" with being who you are...

You might miss the expressions of love that are so profound that they leave you speechless... and not just romantic love, but love of life and being part of the glory of Creation... expressions that may not have occurred to you as you live your life authentically.  Look around and see the love - don't waste time listening to m, instead hear the stories of struggle, hope, triumph now and triumph yet to come... be engaged with all of humanity, especially those who have come to bring life and light to our city with the gift of World Pride.

Don't listen to me.

Instead, hounor the journey that our whole community has shared since the Gay Day Picnic at Hanlon's Point in 1971 - a journey of Human Rights that step by step has affirmed ALL People's rights to emigration and immigration (homosexual immigration was illegal in Canada until 1978); equal protection and equal benefit of the law (sexual orientation was not included in the Charter of Rights until 1986); freedom "within" religion (the United Church of Canada first allowed the Ordination of openly gay and lesbian ministers in 1986... many other Denominations and Faiths  are still challenged); the right to serve in the military (1992); the right to marry the person that you love (Ontario, 2003; Canada, 2005), the simple right to be respected and protected as you are (Charter of Rights amended 1996).  Realize that each of these steps has come as a result of great effort, love and sacrifice by many people - some know, most anonymous... honour the journey and mabye become part of the next step... 'cause we ain't done. 

If you're readying my blog or listening to me, you might miss out on the stories of celebration that come from this wide and diverse community.  The insights, wisdom, public policy, art, philosophy, music, humour, writing, intellect and love... that have been anything but self-serving but rather a gift to the whole world. 

For too long, people of privilege have recognized and then co-opted the voices of the marginalized - patting ourselves on the back for raising awareness, and completely unaware that we are pushing the marginalized away from the microphones, out of the spot lights and into the shadows.  Seriously, why would you want to hear me talk about Susan Gapka, Brent Hawkes, Kamal Al-Solaylee, Gary Paterson or a million others, when you can hear them for yourself?  They don't need need me to speak for them, they need me to shut up so that they can tell the stories; share the wisdom, insight and love authentically without notes. 

So... why am I writing this blog?

Because i was asked to...  challenged, actually.

(I am such a sucker for peer pressure... it's a wonder that I didn't smoke two packs of cigarettes a day and jump of bridges constantly when I was 10 -  I guess that no one double-dared me)

I am pretty sure that my challenger will find this blog lacking... but I will count on his grace and forgiveness. 

Why am I blogging?

Because of the Kingdom of God.

Because of the interconnectedness of all Creation. 

I know that Creation sounds very anti-science.  It's not.  However we have come to be, referring to "Creation" is a recognition that we are all connected; that we are continuing to evolve together into a more beautiful complex reality.  We are often evolving in spite of ourselves, kicking and screaming the whole way, but we are also often evolving joyously moving with and to the rhythm of all that surrounds us.... kind of like a great parade.

The Kingdom of God sounds very patriarchal; after all it is run by a King.  It sounds very Imperial and has been used as an excuse to topple one empire so that another could take its place, all in the name of God.  I believe that Jesus had something better in mind when he told us that the the Kingdom was a hand.  The Kingdom of God is present when we recognize each other lovingly, graciously and compassionately as brothers and sisters: One family.  The image was provided as a rebuke or alternative to the Kingdoms that fed only the rich and protected only the powerful, edifying class and privilege as the status quo. Jesus was inviting us to dream bigger and live beyond what the government of the day was offering:  A time when we are lovingly one.

So, with respect and a sense of responsibility to Creation and the Kingdom of God, I speak out on the occasion of World Pride 2014, not to hog the mic... but to add my voice in harmony to the songs being sung.  I speak up so that I am NOT withdrawing from the beauty and love that is being revealed all around me at World Pride, but participating.  I speak up in thanksgiving for our ever-evolving diversity (Creation continues, yeah!!), believing that it is always best to start with love and let the understanding grow from there.
I speak up simply to say "I love you, too" to whomsoever may be listening. 

Deep down, I think that all human beings simply want to "belong" - to community, to family, to God, to Creation... by speaking, I am saying that "you" belong and "we" belong together:  One amazing family. 

But enough from me... listen to my brothers and sisters.  I am proud of them all. 

*LGBTTQQ2SA  is an abbreviation used to represent a broad array of identities such as, but not limited to, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual, transgender, intersex, queer, questioning, two-spirited, and allies.   It should also be noted that this year's Pride Parade will include Asexuals as well. 

So, now that we've voted...

So, my dear friends,

It is done.  

The (chose one:  Evil One, Hero, Meh) has triumphed and the pollsters were wrong.  There will be much hand-wringing and tea leaf reading in the backrooms of our political parties in the coming days, but by and large, it’s done.

We have had an election and a great many of us are, no doubt, patting ourselves on the back for having done our civic duty; lived up to our responsibility, honoured our ancestors and voted.

And now, we will watch how things unfold and get ready to start complaining about broken promises; how politicians can’t be trusted and our profound need  for SOMETHING for which to vote.

As if that is the sum and total of our civic responsibility; our political debt.  

We vote. 

It takes about 4 minutes and involves being told what to do and where to put things.  

Kind of like becoming a father.

However…like fatherhood, our responsibility does not end at conception*.  Our ancestors did not fight, struggle and die so that we might have the right to ONLY vote, they endured and overcame so that we might have the right and responsibility to be heard; to affect change; to serve.  Yesterday we gave these people a mandate, so the real question is “What are you prepared to do?”  (yes, that is cinematic allusion to The Untouchables). 

Will you write to the person that you just sent to Queen’s Park?

Often?

Will you check in and follow what he or she is doing? 

Will you bring your concerns to her/his attention? 

Will you take the time to encourage your elected member of Provincial Parliament to hold fast to her/his ideals and integrity; to keep “fighting the good fight”  even when it seems like victory can never come? 

We need to parent our politicians: Keep in touch; give them support; expect much of them and give them the understanding and resources that they need to serve well. 

Call your MPP and explain,  “I’m giving a report to the people of my Local Action Committee and I’m wondering what the government is doing about poverty and what can we do to get involved at the local level?”

Write a letter thanking your MPP for supporting a bill that keeps class sizes small, or let him/her know that class size is NOT your top priority, but assistance in the classroom is. 

Request, “ Our local Hockey Association is having a banquet and we thought we could share some of the things that the Government is doing for our kids and their safety in sports… could you give us some information?”

Send off an email, letting your MPP know that Transportation Infrastructure will always be an election issue for you and then let her/him know what you think.

Ask, “I’m giving a report out our church next Sunday and we’re curious about new initiatives to support  the LGBTQ community… “

If you have an interest or a concern, share it with your MPP, and expect a response.  It may not be the response that you expect, but it can open a dialogue and begin to affect change.  It can also assure our elected officials that the electorate cares, continues to be engaged and is prepared to support people of integrity and vision.  Nothing corrupts integrity or clouds vision as quickly as reasonable people turning the channel. 

If you are so inclined, why not consider running for office?

Will you get involved in political party,  pay your dues and demand to be heard? Do the work and slowly, but surely, find yourself in a position to affect policy?  Get frustrated, run screaming out of meetings, and affect change?  (Maybe we should serve decaf coffee at our meetings, after all... sure don't want Seli yelling and screaming like that again)

Our civic duty did not end yesterday.  It never ends, as long as we desire to live in civilization…  and I remain hopeful that one day, soon, we will live in a civilization.

*if you came down here expecting diagrams or explicit instructions, my apologies.  I just wanted to take a moment to wish all the fathers reading this, “Happy Father’s Day”… and  thanks for doing more than just voting. 

I am going to vote.

I am going to vote.

Let me begin by saying, I’m not happy with the choices that I am begin offered in this Ontario Provincial Election.  (feel free to substitute "not happy" with "Frustrated" "Furious" "Fed Up" "Foaming at the Mouth" or any other appropriate "F" word)

Let me also acknowledge that I have a number of friends who may “decline” to vote.  Some will do so by presenting themselves at the polling station and declining (an official act and “vote”) and others will simply not turn up.  At least one person who will be declining has put more hours and effort into political and community work than I can imagine – far more than I have ever dedicated.   I respect and sympathize with him and with those who will not vote.

But I will vote.

I am angry at the corruption, arrogance and stupidity evident in all three of the “major” parties.  I wish for a time when parties did not simply do what they needed to do to be elected, but actually stood for principals and platforms, giving people the opportunity to choose.   Currently, voting is much the same as cheering for a favourite sports team:  they all play pretty much the same game, we just want our hands on the trophy that we might declare ourselves “winners” in the moment, with little regard to how this elected government may shape the future and support the people.

But I will vote.

I tire of the endless “conspiracy” theories that try to depict leaders as evil geniuses (geniuii?) set on destroying all that is good and pure.  Contrary to political rhetoric, neither Goldfinger nor Valdemort are running for office.  I don’t care from which secret cabal came this or that party’s platform – I want to talk about the platform.  Yes, I do think that our leaders should be sober and responsible citizens, but other than that, I don’t care about their personal lives.   I weary of this type of electioneering.

But I will vote.

I will vote because when “reasonable” folks like us don’t show up to vote, the zealots win and take power.  The National Front in France, Jobbik Party in Hungary, Golden Dawn in Greece, the Tea Party in the U.S. and some choices here in Canada scare the hell out of me.  (I decline to name the ones in Canada, so as not to alienate any of my friends… at least those also in rehab).  These parties prey on the most base fears of the populace and bully those who present compassion as a virtue and policy – after all, compassion costs money and we’re tired of wasting money on “those” undeserving people!  The only way to defeat these people, is to vote for an alternative and deny them the power of making decisions for the whole community.   I am afraid that declining doesn't get that done.

So, I will vote.

As powerless as I often feel when it comes to politics (i.e. my voice is not heard; my vote doesn't matter), I notice in today’s paper that one of the leaders has just flip-flopped on policy.  I won’t say which leader, but he  (oops) has apparently changed his mind on LRT in Ottawa.   Why did he do that?  Somehow, the voices of individuals have risen to the point that he knows that he has to change his plans to garner their votes… and he needs their votes.  With every flip-flop and policy contradiction, I recognize that the electorate does have power.  It’s not as direct or as immediate as we would like, but there is power, otherwise the politicians wouldn't bother even lying to us.  So, we need to be increasing skeptical, even as we try to avoid being cynical.  Push for the truth – don’t just give up.  Flip-Flops happened for a reason.

So, I will vote.

I am trying to take an evolutionary view of politics.  Although I believe in the “Big Bang”, I am more acquainted by experience with evolution:  Slow.  Not always predictable.  Before we run, we walk; before we walk, we crawl… before we crawl, we need to pull ourselves out of the slime.  That may be where we are now, trying to pull ourselves out of the slime of many of our current politicians and I may not get to see the responsible compassionate government that I pray for, any time soon…. But if I give up; if we give up, then we stay in the slime and never walk. 

So, I will vote.

I am tired of the personal attacks.  The sleazy, outrageous lies told to discredit leaders and candidates.  However, I am reminded that Thomas Jefferson’s supporters accused President John Adams of being a hermaphrodite with "neither the force and firmness of a man, nor the gentleness and sensibility of a woman." Do, I need to talk about how remarkably offensive that is on so many levels?

In 1876, Democrats accused Republican candidate Rutherford B. Hayes of shooting his own mother, and stealing the pay of dead soldiers while he was a general.  

It does not take much of a memory or imagination to recall the things said about John A. MacDonald, Nellie McClung, Tommy Douglas, Barbara Hanley, Daurene Lewis, Gladys Grace May Strum,  Pierre Eliot Trudeau, Joe Clark, Mobina Jaffer… most of which were entirely baseless and cruel, having little to do with policies or future, but simply a desire to defeat a foe and win an election.   But from those horrible times, Canada becomes an independent nation, a Charter of Rights is established, Compassionate Programmes becomes National Institutions, and much of what we value and cherish today comes into being.   The personal attacks continue to disappoint me, but they will not stop me.  (btw, if you don’t recognize some the above names, look them up… it’s worth the time)

So, I will vote.

As for corruption, at the risk of depressing you, dear reader (or sounding like a keener OAC student ready for a final Canadian History exam),  let me remind you of the Pacific Scandal in 1870,  the Great Waterways Railway Scandal or 1910, Ontario Bond Scandal of the 1920s, the ever-popular  King-Byng Scandal in 1926, the Duplessis Orphans, Tunagate… and dare I mention, Patti Starr?   Corruption is not new.  It should not be tolerated or simply excused as the "Way of the world", but it should also not be enough to make us disengage.  

I know more than a few candidates who are bright, committed and compassionate, only wanting to serve the people of their communities.  It often seems that after being elected, the bullying and corruption of our system leads the to abandon principles and give up on ideals – “It’s just the way things are done” they are told…  That’s why our politicians need our attention and support AFTER they are elected, not just when they are running.  So that they know that they are not alone when they in the long halls and dark offices where ideals go to die… they need to know that it matters to the electorate that they remain people of integrity and compassion.

So, I will vote... and try not to disappear off the radar the day after the results are in.

Finally, I will vote because I can.  I am humbled when I see men and women risking their lives to vote for the first time.  I simply cannot look at the women in Afghanistan baring their inked forefingers to declare that they have decided to make their voices heard, their hopes and dreams available to the community and their love active… and decline my vote as if it were not something worth doing.

I want better…

I deserve better…

But, I will vote, at least until it gets better.

Doug cried.

So, it's been a very long time (over 4 months) since I've written.
I hope that you're well.
Find work?
Look at you - you've lost weight... love your hair.
The blackout/ice storm sucked, eh?
Did you have a good New Years?
Valentine's Day all that you had hoped for?
How 'bout them Raptors!

I've been busy with life... lots of life - commitments, responsibilities and changes... more about those in later blogs- the reason for my coming out of hiding, is that I need to respond to a few words by Rex Murphy.
You can find these words on Youtube   http://youtu.be/2t6KvIpyWAk
In the editorial, Rex Murphy has some rather pointed words about Rob Ford, as so many do these days.   After reciting the long list of perceived offences, Rex suggests that the worst of it has been that Rob has made his brother Doug cry.

I’m sorry, Rex wants me to feel sorry for Doug Ford?

Rob made him cry?

He’s been nothing but a loyal brother standing up for his embattled brother?

Excuse me – but Doug Ford was an elected member of City Council and assumed a responsibility to the people of Toronto and his riding.    I’ll have no tears for Doug.

Rob Ford would appear to be an addict, full of shallow bile and ignorance -  a man incapable of taking care of himself in public or in private.- in short, a pathetic figure. 

But somebody has helped him hobble along to where he is today.  

It sure wasn't me.

Somebody has made it possible for Rob to NOT take responsibility for his actions; somebody has exaggerated the attacks on poor Rob and tried to cast him as victim rather than criminal.

And that somebody is NOT an addict.  

That somebody has assured the public many, many times that he’s never seen Rob take drugs, hasn't seen Rob drunk in years, hasn't seen Rob drink… has assured us again and again that Rob is fine and in control, if only the media would stop picking on him.  That same somebody has routinely lied to us all and vouched for, not only his brother, but his menagerie of odious companions - reminding us that Rob is a man of the people and just being loyal to good people.    

And that somebody is Doug Ford.

I will not shed a tear for Doug.  Doug has lied to me far too many times.  Doug has supported Rob in a reckless irresponsible manner… Doug has been as big a bully as Rob… and he has no addiction to blame for such disgusting and duplicitous behaviour.

Rob made Doug cry? 

Good.  It's about time that somebody did.