I learned today, (in this remarkable book), that the words economy, ecology and ecumenical all share the same Greek root, the word for ‘home’.

I find this fascinating.  Globally, it is clear that in many ways we have a fractured and broken economic system, a fragile ecology that is facing many challenges, and likewise a fracture ecumenism.

These are all related.  Economics is the way we choose to structure and order the world that we all share.  Ecology  is our effort to understand our shared environment: every life form, every eco-system, and the complex and beautiful relationships between them.  And ecumenism is our attempts to figure out how we as broken and divided members of the family of faith can live together, bless one another, and celebrate our diversity rather than cling to our divisions.

I  am convinced that as a society one of our biggest failings is our failure of imagination.  As we think about economics, the only question we seem capable of asking is ‘how can we make more stuff?‘   This is, after all, the definition of a growing economy.  The financial press is full of charts showing rates of GDP, and worrying about output and productivity and interest rates and bond defaults.   What if, instead, we chose to ask ourselves ‘how can we build a healthy and sustainable world, with freedom, peace and opportunity for all?’

Then we’d really have to start looking at our ecology, our economy, and our ecumenism.  Because we all share this oikos, this house, this world.

Last week I got to visit St. Andrew’s church, located in the heart of Barrie at Owen and Worsley. I was glad to visit the day they were celebrating “Healing and Reconciliation Sunday.”

Reconciliation is a concept that is very close to my heart.  It’s hard to  work your way around the churches of Barrie without realizing that there are some deep divisions on the family of God.   Some of these are recent rifts,  and some are centuries old conflicts that successive waves of immigrants have brought with them from the Old World.  Very often I’ll encounter groups who define themselves not so much by who they are, but by who they are not.

So it’s fitting to have a day set aside to think about reconciliation.  This is, after all, at the heart of the gospel we claim to follow: reconciliation between God and humanity, but also between fractured groups and individuals.   In 2 Corinthians 5, Paul reminds us that God has both reconciled us to himself, but also given us a ministry of reconciliation.  In 1 Corinthians 13, he highlights the primacy of love – something that has greater importance than any knowledge, gift or ability.   These and other verses framed the discussion of reconciliation presented at St. Andrew’s last week.

This was not purely a theoretical discussion.   The speaker admitted that the Presbyterian Church had suffered deep divisions in its recent past.  In 1925 the denomination split apart, with 60% joining the newly formed United church.  Congregations, missions, colleges and residential schools had to decide on which side of the divide they would belong. The speaker also took the opportunity to delve fearlessly into the church’s recent history with the residential school system.  This is obviously a large topic, and one which as a newcomer to Canada I’m still learning about.  It was good to hear the church recognize that in choosing to become an instrument of government policy in ‘civilizing’ aboriginal people, she had lost sight of her calling to love, understand and cherish the communities in which she worked.  It was also encouraging to hear about the work of the Truth and Reconciliation commission, and the various attempts that are being made to bring healing to past hurts.

I didn’t have much time to meet folks afterwards, but I did find it a friendly and welcoming congregation.  Lots of people greeted me on the way in and out.

All in all a good morning.  Reconciliation is not an easy topic.  It involves digging up past hurts and taking a long, painful look at our own behaviors and prejudices etc.   But despite that I’m convinced that it lies at the heart of the gospel, and I’m very glad to see a congregation deal honestly with the challenge of reconciliation.

As I travel around the city of Barrie and witness her different expressions of Christian community, I can’t help but think occasionally about the strange group of followers that Jesus gathered around himself.

You might think, especially if you read a lot of books on ‘leadership’, that Jesus would have had a certain type of person in mind to carry out his mission and vision.  Someone who could take orders, but also take initiative, someone passionately devoted to his cause, a quick learner but but also a willing subordinate.  And with this ideal in mind, he might have recruited a number of like-minded people who would quickly learn the roles he had in mind for them.

Strangely, Jesus chose to do something completely different.

We are told in Mark 3 that Jesus hand-picked twelve followers from the large crowds that were flocking to his message. So, given that he had far more candidates available than positions to fill, why on earth did he choose such a strange, conflicted bunch?

Let’s consider the political situation at the time.  Jesus spent most of his life in ‘occupied territory.’   The situation in 1st century Palestine might seem very familiar to an inhabitant, say, of apartheid-era South Africa, or Soviet-occupied East Germany, or even present day occupied Palestinian territories.

The Jewish nation he grew up in had negotiated an uneasy peace with her Roman overlords, but the threat of violent oppression always remained.   Just like in occupied France during the Second World War,  different groups responded differently.

The Zealots, for example, advocated violent overthrow of the unwanted invaders.  Some might call them freedom fighters, others would call them terrorists.   The Sadducees, on the other hand,  were consummate politicians.  They obtained positions of power under the new regime, ran government departments on behalf of the empire,  as well as being responsible for the religious life of the country.

Another group, the Pharisees were more separatist in nature, focussing on maintaining ideological purity against external threats.  And finally the Essenes were a kind of monastic movement, choosing to focus inwards on communal, ascetic, living.

And into this complex, politically charged environment, Jesus started to talk about a new king, a new empire, a new way of life.  And to spread his message, he recruited a ‘team’ consisting of some very weird characters indeed.

There was Simon Peter, the laborer.   A leader, a hothead, just as quick to rush into situations as he was to desperately try to extricate himself from them when they got difficult.

Alongside him was his brother Andrew.  Very different in temperament, he was a devout spiritual seeker and evangelist.

Another contrasting pair of brothers was also recruited.   James, the fanatic, the troublemaker and eventual martyr; and his brother John, who devoted his life’s energies to calling the fledgling Christian community to live in love and harmony.

Yet more contrasts: we see James and Jude, traditional Jewish names, but also Philip, a Greek name, and someone who is recorded as connecting the Greek community to Jesus.  A mediator, perhaps, who could stand up for the needs of a minority community.

In Nathaniel, we see a devout, observant Jew.  In Thomas, we meet a fatalist and a skeptic, and yet also someone who, once he found the proof he needed of Christ’s claims, would travel further than any of his contemporaries to spread the message.

Stirring things up even more, Jesus saw fit to recruit Simon the ‘Zealot.’

Today, he’d either be known as ‘Simon the Patriot’ or ‘Simon the Terrorist’, depending on how you viewed the Roman occupation.   One person who would definitely use the latter term would be another recruit, Matthew.

Matthew, the tax collector.  Matthew, the tool of the occupation.  Matthew the collaborator.  The guy who had made a tidy profit from working hand in hand with the military force that Simon had dedicated his life to overthrowing.

I’m sure Simon and Matthew had very intense conversations around the campfire at night.  Maybe Jesus had a sufficiently mischievous streak to send them out together when he assigned the disciples to work in pairs?

And then, finally, Jesus recruited his team’s accountant.

Judas Iscariot.

It’s very clear that Jesus never read a book on management theory.

Whatever he was looking for in followers, it clearly wasn’t bland uniformity.

Continuing with the Baptist stream, I attended First Baptist this morning.  This is located at the far east end of the city, and I understand that it has been around for about 12 years.

In short, I really liked it.  It reminded me of Erindale Bible Chapel, the church we attended when we were living in Mississauga.  The architecture, the relaxed, warm feel to the service, and the sense of family that the congregation exhibited all seemed pleasantly familiar.  I get the feeling that this is a group of people who genuinely enjoy getting together for worship on a Sunday.

Musically, the service was a mix – we sung some hymns to the accompaniment of an organ, interspersed with a couple of songs led by an enthusiastic praise band.

It’s no secret that I don’t usually enjoy sitting through sermons, but I did appreciate this one.  Not least, because the topic of the sermon was grace.  For some reason, this is a subject that we talk about surprisingly infrequently.

The speaker took half an hour or so to talk about several of the people that Jesus showed grace to: Zaccheus, the woman caught in adultery, the Roman centurion, and Simon Peter after his rejection of Jesus. It’s interesting to me how Christ’s grace to these people both challenges the assumptions of those around him, but also led directly to transformation in the lives of the recipients.

In the words of the song we sang at the end of the sermon, “your grace has found me just as I am…, forever I am changed by your love.”

I liked this church, and I’d be happy to recommend it to anyone living in that part of town.

I gave the Anglican church a bit of a break this week and tried out Heritage, which is apparently a ‘Fundamental Independent Baptist’ church.

My first impression was the outside of the building, which is a striking piece of antebellum architecture on Ardagh Road.  My second impression was how good the music was.  Heritage has an excellent pianist and and exceptionally strong choir.  The dynamics were expressive, the harmonies were tight, and the arrangements very well executed.

My third impression was that I was probably the only guy in the building not wearing a suit.  These places really ought to post a dress-code on their websites!

Things went a bit downhill when we got to the sermon, unfortunately. It began with the standard evangelical nonsense about how God demands that we give 10% of our income to the local church.  It bugs me when a church claims to hold the Bible in the highest regard and then jump through all sorts of hermeneutical hoops to arrive at this frankly untenable position.

The rest of the sermon was about the importance of giving money to missionaries.  However, it was based on 2 Corinthians chapter 8.  This chapter, of course, is  where Paul encourages the Corinthians to donate money to poor Christians in Jerusalem.   To claim that this passage is about missionaries, rather than the poor, is once again regrettably bad exegesis.

I don’t know why we do this, to be honest.  I’m all in favour of people hearing about Jesus, but I don’t know why we need to resort to guilt manipulation and a deeply flawed reading of the New Testament to make it happen.

After the service, a very intense gentleman decided to make me his personal evangelism project.  This happens to me quite a lot, and I’m not sure why.  Maybe I have some mannerisms that make evangelicals think that I’m not a ‘Real True Christian’, and decide that they have to convert me.  I try to listen politely, but I do find myself wishing that people would take the time to get to know me before they feel they can make sweeping judgements about the state of my soul.

So, another ambiguous experience.  I will say that I appreciate the passion and focus on telling others about Jesus that Heritage has.  I’m less comfortable with the sense of exclusivity that I got.  For example, during a short presentation by one of their missionaries we were told that the country of Poland is 90% Catholic – but only 0.1% Christian.

If I have any Catholic readers, I’d love to know how they feel about statements like that.  Heritage may not be as obsessively exclusive as, say, the Gospel Hall, but it’s attitudes like this that make me feel I have a long way to go in working towards reconciliation, understanding and co-operation among the churches in the city.

I spent last Sunday morning at St. George’s, another Anglican church.   As well as being Palm Sunday, the service was lead in part by Bishop George Elliot, the area bishop for York-Simcoe.

I liked the liturgical nature of the service.   Rather than listening to a lecture where the point of the talk is pushed in your face and reinforced with bullet points on the screen, the approach taken on Sunday gave us space to reflect on the Palm Sunday story.  Bishop George noted that most of us present were very familiar with the passion week narrative, and suggested that rather than rushing ahead, we take some time during the week to ‘dwell’ in the story, for example by contemplating the thoughts and actions of the minor characters.

We also had an opportunity to do this during the service by participating in a responsive reading.  Being part of a crowd yelling ‘crucify’ made me think about why we would be saying that.  I suspect that it’s very easy for us to see someone that society has condemned as a loser, as a criminal, or as an undesirable, and adopt that perception ourselves.  Even though the crowds in Jerusalem must have suffered under the unjust Roman regime, they were quick to accept the authorities’ condemnation of Christ.  It’s much easier to sidle up to power than to stand with the outcast.

One thing that concerns me about St. George’s is the demographic.  It seemed to me that the vast majority of congregants were retirees.  There is a lot I like about Anglicanism, and I think the Anglican approach to doing church has a several aspects that the postmodern, emerging generation may be looking for, but in Barrie at least it seems that they are not finding it here.

St. Paul’s is another church at which I’m not really an outsider, as this is my local parish church.

So rather than talk about this particular congregation, I think this is a good time to share some of my thoughts and observations about Canadian Anglicanism in general.

I grew up in the Anglican church, and over the years I’ve come to recognize a number of key strengths that the denomination has.

Firstly, the Anglican church prides itself on being a ‘broad’ church.  That is, it shelters a wide range of opinions and traditions under its umbrella.  I’ve attended Evangelical Anglican churches, charismatic Anglican churches, Anglo-Catholic congregations, even an incredibly moving ‘Goth’ Eucharist at St. Edward’s in Cambridge.

Secondly, Anglicanism is a global church.  The Anglican communion extends across the planet, with a particularly strong representation in Africa.

Thirdly, Anglicanism is a liturgical church.  The prayer book provides a common structure that can be used in any language in a vast range of settings whilst keeping our worship centered on Christ.

Fourthly, and perhaps surprisingly, I’ve found it to a be an innovative denomination.  Perhaps because the liturgy provides a solid foundation, it is possible to build all sorts of variations on top of it.  The Alpha Course, which has been used to introduce over 15 million people to the basics of the Christian faith, was pioneered at an inner-city Anglican church in London.

At its best, I’ve also found Anglicanism to be a respectful church.  I’ve had the privilege of watching the Church of England’s  General Synod in session, while it was debating some politically and theologically contentious issues.  In stark contrast to the atmosphere in the House of Commons, which meets just a few hundred yards away, I was very struck by the way that even those who held very strongly diverging views were able to engage with each other in a respectful and polite fashion.

But.

Having said all that, since emigrating to Canada, I have to admit that I’ve frequently found myself disappointed by the Canadian Anglican church, and I think that she has several critical weaknesses that must be addressed.

Firstly, like many immigrant churches, the Canadian Anglicans have too often seen themselves existing to preserve a certain cultural heritage.   Anglicans have been described as ‘the Tory party at prayer’, and there is some truth to this accusation.  If Canadian Anglicans see their raison d’être as protecting conservative English social values, they will miss their greater calling.

Secondly, I’ve noticed a lack of connectivity.  In my childhood it was common for all the churches in the Diocese to come together at the cathedral for special occasions such as Easter, and for individual parishes to co-operate at a more local level. I’ve rarely seen this type of inter-church engagement in Ontario.

Ultimately, I worry that Canadian Anglicanism is suffering from an identity crisis.  In a multicultural environment it can no longer content itself to be the ‘official’ church of English immigrants. With an aging demographic it seems unsure whether to continue to offer what is expected from an older generation or to attempt to awkwardly reach out to a younger one.  And by trying to keep disparate groups of people happy, it runs the risk of losing sight of the key strengths that I’ve outlined above.

I feel that Canadian Anglicanism may be in the process of missing a great opportunity.  There are an increasing number of people who don’t want to have religion spoon-fed to them with power-point slides and slick lecture-hall presentations.  They have grown up with the ambiguities of a post-modern world, and are used to being surrounded by diversity of opinion and behaviour.   They understand that the quest for truth can be complex and ambiguous.  And they know that ultimately truth is experienced, not just taught.

To this emergent generation, the Anglican church could offer her global breadth and diversity, her experiential liturgy, her historical depth, her willingness to engage and wrestle with complex issues in a grace-filled and respectful environment.

She could.  My question is – will she?

I was less of an ‘outsider’ this week, as I’ve visited Emmanuel a number of times, and know quite a few members of the church.  In general I’ve also heard the church spoken about favourably by others around the city.

The first thing I noticed about Emmanuel is how incredibly well organised it was.  Everyone, from the parking attendants to the Sunday school workers to the sound engineers were doing their job with a practiced efficiency.  The service finished with a heartfelt extemporaneous prayer exactly one hour and ten minutes after it started.   The audio-visual were flawlessly executed, the musicians landed their openings perfectly, and the congregation sang enthusiastically and on-key.

The second thing I noticed about Emmanuel was its use of carefully controlled emotionalism.  The entire service is engineered to elicit a certain emotional reaction.  Writing this a week later I remember far more about the delivery of the sermon than the content.  I recall that the subject was Paul’s letter to the Colossians but I remember much more about the preacher’s style.

He told moving stories.  He showed us a picture of a truck nearly falling down a canyon.  His voice rose and fell, sometimes he was warm, sometimes impassioned.  He called us ‘friends’ a lot.  He came out from behind the lectern and reached out a hand to the audience, urging us to accept his point.

And, as far as I could tell, the whole congregation was listening with rapt attention.

It’s at times like this that I realise that I don’t really get evangelicalism.   Part of my goal during this journey is to understand the church in Barrie, and this requires understanding her practices.  Pretty much every church I’ve been to does the following:

• Sing together.
• Drink Coffee.
• Some form of prayer.
• Listen to a sermon.

Sometimes other rituals such as communion or confession are included.  Now, to a certain extent I understand the sacrament of communion.  My spirit is refreshed and I leave the Eucharist feeling like I’ve encountered some of God’s grace.  And I find myself wondering if the sermon is something of an evangelical sacrament.  Just as it wouldn’t be a catholic Mass without communion, perhaps  it’s not a proper evangelical service without a sermon.

It’s clear to me that the point of a sermon, however, is not education.   A university lecture is accompanied by textbooks, tutorial groups, practical sessions and tests, and operates in conjunction with these other teaching tools.  Furthermore, it’s structured – you know before you start a course what the curriculum is, what the prerequisites are, and generally you choose your subjects based on your interests or goals.

But I’ve yet to see a church where the sermon curriculum is published so congregants can see which ones they can skip because they’ve already covered the material.  Furthermore there’s little allowance made for the self-directed learner, who might want to read the material rather than listen to it, or remedial classes for those that are struggling with the material, or any evaluation mechanism to determine whether students are grasping the topic.

So I’m left with the conclusion that a sermon is about inspiration, not information.

Given the near-ubiquity of this style of doing church, this must be what a large number of people actually want.  Maybe for most people listening to this style of motivational, inspirational speaking for 45 minutes every Sunday makes them feel better prepared for their week, more focused, or more connected to God?

I want to understand this dynamic as I try to understand the church in Barrie.  So help me out!   If you’re a regular churchgoer, tell me why the sermon is an important part of your church experience.  Let me know why it appeals to you, and what you feel its benefits are.   Is it an essential element of church, or just an important one?

I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

This morning’s church was Calvary Community Church, located just outside the city limits on 5/6 sideroad.

I’ll get straight to the point  – I liked this one.  There are quite a few things that this church is getting right.

In no particular order, then:

I liked the decor.   The outside is ‘classic North-American church’, with pillars and a spire, but the inside felt more like a nicely decorated house.

I liked the mix of people.  There was a good range of ages and backgrounds represented this morning.

This might be my personal bias showing, but I liked the Pentecostal feel.  The worship was heartfelt and led by a competent group, and the  congregation felt quite happy responding with a lot of ‘Yes, Lord‘s and ‘Amen‘s.

The sermon lasted the best part of an hour, and I even liked that.  It’s not that common to find a speaker who can take quite a lot of theological material, deliver it in a very accessible fashion, and manage to keep the whole message both cohesive and pastoral.   I  heard from my ‘agents’ in the Sunday School that the same material was covered during the children’s ministry.  My agent was also pleased to report that her questions and contributions to the discussion were received respectfully, which has certainly not been the case in every church we’ve visited.

The message was anchored in Mark 11.  In the Old Testament, God’s presence was found in a specific physical structure, the temple.  But after Christ, his presence is now in humanity, enabling us to be God’s agents to one another, and for God’s ministry of reconciliation to work through us.

After the service it took a while to find someone to talk to; like many close-knit churches visitors can easily feel like outsiders.   But I did get to ask my standard questions about both this particular congregation and God’s work in the city.  This church, I was told, is learning to be more outward focused; learning to move into the community  rather than expect the community to come to her.   Furthermore, I got a strong sense of a desire to serve the city in both spiritual and practical ways.

This is definitely a common theme I’m seeing in nearly every church I visit.  Regardless of the specific ministries they are engaged in, there seems to be an awareness that the church in Barrie is being called to serve the city, and especially the under-privileged, in gracious, practical ways.

——

Finally, I found the video that was used to start the service pretty funny:

So, if last week’s experience left me feeling a little like an outsider, my visit to Bethel Community Church this week was the complete opposite.  I’m sure at least 10 people introduced themselves to me or my wife and welcomed us to the church.  This is definitely one of the friendliest congregations in town.  We even got to meet some readers of this blog, who had some very complimentary comments to make.

As an aside, my goal here isn’t to create an official ‘church directory’ for Barrie, but I expect that when I’m done this will become one of the most comprehensive descriptions of the congregations in the city.

The service at Bethel was another fairly typical Evangelical one.    The usual pre-service music, opening songs, greetings and announcements, and then what I thought was the sermon.

As it happens, Bethel likes its sermons, and generously provides several of them during the morning.   First we had a kids-oriented discussion about communion.  Unlike most Anglican churches where children are brought into the service from Sunday school to take communion, at Bethel they get given a talk and then sent out before it starts.  And whereas some churches I’ve visited have emphasized communion as a celebration of our participation in God’s family, the focus here was on encouraging the children to ‘make a decision for Christ’ at some point in their later lives.

After the kids were dismissed we had the second sermonette of the day, again about communion but this time focusing on the need for reconciliation with each other before we seek reconciliation with God.  I liked this bit; the speaker urged the congregation to take time, even during the service, to seek out others with whom they had disagreements before they ate together.

After communion another guy got up to give what I thought were going to be closing remarks, but actually turned out to be the main sermon.   The subject was ‘tithing’, and I’ve already reflected a little on this talk here.

Finally, just in case we didn’t get the point, after the last song yet another leader stood up to give a mini-message re-iterating the main speakers point.

Bethel is currently in between pastors, and so going through all the usual pastoral search committee fun that that entails.  This also means that a visit now may not be 100% representative of what the church would feel like in six months time – pastors like to stamp their character on a church fairly soon when they arrive in my experience.

I’d heard good things about Bethel from other folks in the city before I visited, and my impressions were of a warm, friendly, welcoming congregation that’s in the middle of a transitional phase.   I wish them all the best as they figure out the direction they are going in.