CONNECTING CHURCH & COMMUNITY

Music Revives My Soul

"For God alone mysoul in silence waits" 75 Feature Poetry

1511 The Language of Praise

April '21Bread in theWilderness

Publisher | Bishop Geoffrey WoodcroftEditor | Sara KrahnAccounting | Joy ValencerinaAdvertising | Angela RushLayout & design | cityfolkcreative.ca

Rupert’s Land News is published 10 times peryear (September - June) by the Diocese ofRupert’s Land, in the Anglican Church inCanada. It connects churches and communitiesfrom Portage la Prairie, MB, to Atikokan, ON,by offering news, events, opinions, and ideasto 4,000 readers per month. RLN is available ina variety of formats:Website • Facebook • Twitter

We also deliver timely news and informationvia a weekly email. Sign up here.

Advertising - RLN accepts advertising in ourmonthly magazine and our weekly email. Viewour rate sheet. To discuss advertising call(905) 630-0390 or email us.Editorial offices:Anglican Lutheran Centre935 Nesbitt BayWinnipeg Manitoba, R3T 1W6

RLN exists to explore issues at the intersectionsof faith and life. In doing so we solicit andpublish a range of opinions, not all of whichreflect the official positions of the Diocese.We acknowledge that we meet and work inTreaty 1, 2, and 3 Land, the traditional land ofthe Anishinaabe, Cree, and Dakota people andthe homeland of the Metis Nation. We aregrateful for their stewardship of this land andtheir hospitality which allows us to live, work,and serve God the Creator here.

RLN welcomes story ideas, news items, and otherinput. If you want to be involved in this mediaministry, please email the editor.

Contents copyright 2021 by Rupert’s LandNews. All rights reserved.

Cover: Nikaela Peters

2

CONNECTING CHURCH & COMMUNITY

3

Paying attention is a way of being in the world.It is a way of looking, thinking, feeling,speaking, touching. When we pay full attentionto something we experience a kindredness withthe nature of that thing (or person)—a closenessof being that can feel like respite, maybe evenlike freedom.

In thinking about how to introduce thisissue, I keep coming back to the idea ofattentiveness, and how we encounter momentsof it in our daily lives—moments that draw uscloser to ourselves, and closer to God. I stolethe title for the issue— “Bread in theWilderness” — from Thomas Merton’s book,because, honestly, I couldn’t think of a betterphrase to describe what I wanted this issue tobe; that is, meditations on forms ofattentiveness and praise. These forms “arebread, miraculously provided by Christ, to feedthose who have followed Him into thewilderness.” Merton is talking here about thebiblical psalms, and this issue certainly toucheson them. But it also touches on other less formallitanies of praise that are encountered in theeveryday—the religious language we findbathed in the world outside of Sunday worship.And by religious language I mean ways of beingthat bake attentiveness into daily life, and openup possibilities for praise.

Full disclosure: this issue is steeped inpoetry, lyricism, and imagery.

In our first feature, Donald Phillips speaksthrough the voice of Psalm 62, as he invitesreflection on the solitary nature of suffering.Then, we are treated to the luminous poetry ofa few lay wordsmiths, who offer lyrical balms onsuch subjects as the beauty of domestic labour,encounters on an overgrown path, and thegrace of God found in a single moment.

Photography, too, has a way of stopping usin our tracks, as we observe someone else’sperspective on light and shadow and welcome

it in conversation with our own. This issuefeatures two photographers: Kevin Grummett’sphotography is featured on pages nine and ten,and Nikaela Peters’ work is featured asscattered shots throughout the magazine.Grummett’s series is an ode to elegance caughtin the urban wilderness; Peters’ photographiceye captures what might just be a kind ofdomestic heaven.

Later on, my fellow pianist, Theo Robinson,writes about the joys of music-making in themidst of stress and loss. “Sometimes music isthe only thing that takes your mind offeverything else.” This line rings true to my ears!And so do the words and wisdom ofcontemplative singer-songwriter AlanaLevandoski. In ‘The Language of Praise,’ shecalls us to be more attentive in our worshippractices, and meditates on the idea of lateralpraise. “We find it in the Psalms,” writesLevandoski, “where the whole of enjoinedcreation praises the Maker. It is found in thehealings of Jesus. Spittle, soil, mud, praying toAbba, healing.” This idea of lateral praiserelates to my initial thoughts aroundattentiveness. To find a language for praise inour daily lives we have to pay attention to thoseunassuming moments encountered in oureveryday. We might find ourselves pausing overa messy breakfast table,or taking time to lie with asleeping child; we mightobserve a ray of sun as itplays on an overgrownpath, or sit down at thepiano to play our favouriteshow-tune. We might takea minute to give thanksfor a piece of fresh-bakedbread. In these moments,in the pause, we find theliving God.

EDITORIAL

Lateral Praise

Sara Krahn is the editorof Rupert's Land News.

Photo: Nikaela Peters

4

Pastoral Note

Bread in the WildernessGeoffrey Woodcroft

Geoffrey Woodcroft,Bishop of Rupert’s Land

How much bread of heaven, manna—the foodof angels—rested on my plate this week? Did Ieven notice? Indeed, I am like those whoreceive manna, yet crave for more while thefood is still in my mouth (Psalm 78.30). As Iconfuse the bread of angels with the bread ofmy toiling, let me do my best to rehearse againthe story of the Hebrew people’s wildernesswandering.

Jewish and Christian Testament writersfrequently remind us of our duty to rehearse thegreat Exodus story in our communal prayersand proclamation, especially for the sake of ouryounger members; the story must remain animportant part of who we are becoming as aliving expression of humanity. The Exodus storyexposes much about human behavior, ourprofound hope in reaching a promised land,and also those darker things hidden so deeplywithin our core. As I rehearse the story, I payattention to my body and surroundings. What Iobserve of myself is shocking, for I am astubborn and stiff-necked person. I took a longtime to understand that wilderness wandering isa fact of my life—a paramount one—and I havebeen doing it since birth.

I find myself thinking about the bread ofangels in literal terms, deeply desiring thearoma, taste and soft, warm texture of freshbaked bread, so extraordinarily delicious that Iwill eat a whole loaf in one sitting. I also wonderabout my tendency to look toward science totell me what constitutes good food. Is ascientific understanding of food, or my ownunderstanding of food as a consumer, the samething as bread in the wilderness? Indeed, as Iexplore scripture more thoroughly and in thecontext of both testaments, I find both of myprevious thoughts selfish, consumerist, and

irrelevant to God’s story within humanity.Here I am, almost 60 years old, still

engaged in wilderness wandering, andwondering just what food God is putting beforeme today. In every wilderness I have travelledbefore, there has always been enough food formy physical well-being: people of the land andsea have taught that wisdom for thousands ofyears. Baring natural disaster, stupidity, and fear,there has always been enough. Today, as Inotice my years start to gather speed, I see adifferent kind of food, something I begin todevour with my eyes and soul. At first it appearsin remembered words: I am the bread of life . ..Taste and see that the Lord is good, happy arethey who are trusting in God. As I digest thesemorsels—this food for the soul—I hear theApostle Paul reminding me that I am becomingwhat I consume.

It is here and now, that I reckon with thesaints as they gather as one family of God fromcountless generations, timelessly sharingmanna. We huddle in the kitchen of the widowof Zarephath, and in the eyes of the psalmistsand of Nehemiah, we continually regroup withinGod’s journey. It is exactly here that Jesus takesthe bread and says it’s me!You are in me, and I am inGod, and God is feedingthe children with manna,the food of angels, Jesus’body broken for all.

5

Bread in the Wilderness

We all have periods in our lives when we feeltrapped and powerless—certain that anythingwe might try to say or do to redeem ourselves,or to correct a misunderstanding, will onlyworsen the situation. This could be a strainedrelationship with a friend or family member. Itcould be a serious misunderstanding with a co-worker who consequently has suspended orremoved their trust. Or, as a manager orsupervisor, it might be a situation where ourleadership has come into question and thosearound us begin to doubt our ability to leadthem in the work.

Whatever the cause, the result is the same.We find ourselves suffering an inner pain andanguish that refuses to be resolved by anexternal word or action, no matter how kind orwell-intended. The words we hear, or thegenerous gesture offered to us by another, actlike a temporary analgesic. Eventually, after it’s“credit has been deposited into our account,”

our “self-worth balance sheet” is still left inarrears. We are left feeling alone in an arid kindof personal wilderness—feeling impotent, andthreatened by external or internal hostile“voices”—or both.

When I am in this kind of space, I haveerected a kind of wall—like a plexiglass wall—through which I can see and hear the worldaround me but behind which I cannot touch orbe touched by others. I have retreatedemotionally and spiritually into a kind of silentresignation.

For God alone my soul in silence…waits. Itis not that I’m feeling hopeful for an encounterwith God; but rather, after frantically turningover all of my other options, my mind hascollapsed and accepted the futility of trying tofind fresh nourishment on my own to solve thisdilemma. I accept that I do not have thenecessary resources within me to redeemmyself or the situation.

“For God alone my soul in silence waits”(Psalm 62:1-9)

Don PhillipsPhoto: Nikaela Peters

6

Bread in the Wilderness

From God comes my salvation. This startsmore as a desperate mental conclusion than afaithful statement of belief. I begin to wait,even if indifferently, for something or Someonefrom outside myself to begin to supply what Ineed in order to regain my hope and strength.

God alone is my rock and my salvation, mystronghold, so that I shall not be greatly shaken.I begin to remember—to recall times in the pastwhen I have felt like this—when I have beenthreatened or disempowered to this degree.And I recall how God did provide sustenance;gave me strength; and caused me to see, tounderstand, and to move through the challengein a different and life-restoring way.

But as soon as this recollection of hopebegins to form, I immediately recall the depthsof my current wilderness. How long will youassail me to crush me, all of you together, as ifyou were a leaning fence, a toppling wall? Theyseek only to bring me down from my place ofhonour; lies are their chief delight. They blesswith their lips, but in their hearts they curse.

Even though I rehearse again the pain ofthe place I am in, something has changed. Ihave touched, or been touched by, a deeperand stronger Reality. It is not that I suddenly

have the solution to everything that is troublingme. Rather, I begin to realize that these presentthreats, failures, or fears are not able toeliminate or even shake the truth of what isemerging within me. For God alone my soul insilence waits; truly, my hope is in God. Godalone is my rock and my salvation, mystronghold, so that I shall not be shaken.

Gradually, what initially felt to me like abottomless pit from which I could not rise, startsto provide me with a solid foundation fromwhich to begin again. It enables me to gaindistance—to detach my very existence from thesituation that was consuming me, and toconnect me to the real Source of my life. In Godis my safety and my honour; God is my strongrock and my refuge.

From this restored position, I have becomestrengthened to re-engage. Indeed, thechallenge, threat, or difficult situation has notchanged, and it remains something to beworked through. But I have changed—or beenchanged! I have been freshly nourished by theSource of my life and been given fresh hopeand faith. And from that place of restorationand refreshment I can even affirm for others thetruth that has saved me—Put your trust in God

always, O people, pour outyour hearts before God, forGod is our refuge.

Don Phillips is the formerBishop of the Diocese ofRupert’s Land.

Path to the cabin on Bunny Point,MacKinnon Island

Austere, this path,

where webs break across my face,bare arms and legstenuous threads

as the body sifts particulates —

bits of twigs,snippets of grass,dandelion tufts and moth-wing dust,middens, feathers drift

then settleon the shelf by the window likelight filters throughtrees, leavesparoxysms of mirth in erraticpulsing patterns

God as near as the sunon my neck,naked warmth

as the spirit shifts propensities —

concentric ripples quiver on thesurfaceas something like a spearstrikes, joyclear to the bottom

- Kelly Milne

Oneing(a brief encounter with union)

I am pregnant with pausemy hands, palms up, palms downI wane and unfurland wait for the in pour

Orfor the very quiet unfolding of thingsfor a God who workssecretly and humblyin the wholly mundane

and what’s left when I askof the history of Us

are the shimmering remnantsof hot light illuminatingmorning roomsand your soft body, smallsettled into my soft bodyand my hands under waterand my knees in the kitchenand the flat stone in the shadowthat the darkness has not overcome

and everything is a gracewhere You wait sayingcome back to meand I wait sayingcome back to me

The bush burns but is not consumedThe sleeping grass shifts from its winterdeath

- Carla Worthington

7

The following poems are written bymembers of a Lenten poetry group fromthe parish of St. Margaret.

Photo: Nikaela Peters

Bread in the Wilderness

8

Bread in the Wilderness

Daywork 1962

You could tell mother had been a cleaning ladyjust by the way she dusted.In Plautdietsch, the Low German parlance ofour Mennonite heritage we call itDachwiesschauffedaywork.Domestic labourbegun as a young Mennonite immigrantin her teens,continued after marriagecleaningfor wealthy Engländer and Jewsin River Heights, Crescentwood,Riverviewor on avenues McAdam, Cathedral, Rupertslandthe fancy streets of the North End.

Mother rarely took charge of anything,but when she reached for that rag,she was in control.With fingers wrapped round this humble tool

gentlyfirmly

pressuringfrom finger tip to shoulder

swipingat stove-top caked on solids and liquids or

flying,gliding

glissandoalong the piano keyboard

her etude symphonique.

Lifting gingerlythe delicate porcelain sculpture from the curiocabinetdigginginto the folds ofspecs of dust nowsettledreturning that icon of elegance to the spotlightto shine once morein that menagerie of wealth.Thenslapping her way down Venetian slatsensuring no remnant of powdery

embarrassment leap outat the motion of opening or closing.Lamp shades and bases, sentinels of lightatop end-tables requirespecial attentionlest bridge clubladiesroosting on the setteemid post-game flawless English, martinis andcigarettes, judgeher work.Lest she be found wanting.And when vacuumingthat awkward, clacking, whirring, wheezingtangled tangoed dancewith canister, hose and attachmentthe last chore before leavingendsmother, proud of her workcasts one last inspecting glance round thehouse,reaches forthe two dollars and eighty cents plus busticketsleft on the kitchen table,locks the backdoor behind her,and walksslowlyto the bus stopalonein the late afternoon,on a Thursday.Anotherday’s workdonefor her children.

- Leona Hiebert Rew,Tribute to my mother, Tina Hiebert

Photo: Nikaela Peters

9

Artist’s Statement:My work explores the relationship

between light and darkness withinfluences such as Ansel Adams and M.C.Escher. The exploration of images helpsme engage more deeply with my interestin ideas about beauty, simplicity andemotional connections. I use photographyas a means of self-expression. My goal isto use my camera to open an unexploredworld, a world of new relationships, andnew chances for new beginnings. I takepictures for myself to better understandmy reality, and to express myinterpretation of the world around me andto explore fragments of life as abstractforms. As well, I use photography as ameans to not just document the worldaround me but enhance it.

In this picture, I was trying to capture thestark beauty of a single red rose. This is

an iconic flower which, symbolically, hasmany meanings and interpretations.

Winnipeg experienced the coldest ever February 13 on record this year, setting a new record of-38.8 Celsius, with its old record of -37.8 C. set in 1879. I was looking out my window from my newapartment in the West Broadway Commons apartments (located on the former dining hall area ofAll Saints Church). I was struck by the stillness of West Broadway building tops. In that quietmoment, I took pictures of the chimney stacks with their plume of smoke. All the whilethinking of how lucky, and blessed, I am to be in a warm place on such a cold day.

10

Kevin Grummett is a father,and in retirement is anamateur photographer. Hetakes pride in providing thebest quality pictures possible.A graduate of the Universityof Manitoba Psychologyprogram, Kevin spent anumber of years in the socialservices and then slowlymigrated to computertechnology and library/archive studies. His goalsinclude voluntary simplicityand becoming a professionalphotographer. Kevin hasbeen recognized by ArtbeatInc., a Winnipeg non-profitcharity, for his volunteercommitment to teachingphotography and helpingartists with mental healthissues.

Taken from the downtown area of Winnipeg. This sunrise wasbreathtaking. I didn't use any filters or software enhancements for thispicture. This was as it looked that morning in the summer of 2020.

This picture was captured on achance encounter walking down

a street I walk down regularly. Onthis one particular day, a ray ofsun caught my eye. I looked up

and the sun was shining througha hole in the tree. It was a perfect

moment for the sun to peekthrough and I don't think I would

be able to duplicate it if I tried.

11

Community

It can be difficult to find peace amidst the busy-ness of life. For me, one of the guaranteedtimes that I have found peace is in Sundayworship. The joining of souls in commonworship, the saying in unison of prayers andcreeds, the singing of thought-provokinghymns, and the communion around the tablehave been a weekly resetting of my life for overa decade now. While each one’s experience isunique, the peacefulness found in worship is nodoubt a common experience for many of us.

For the last twelve months, we have beenengaged in worship using such tools as Zoom,Facebook Live, and YouTube, which haveallowed us to continue liturgical services andhave, perhaps, joined us in new community.That said, there is now a very different feel tothat time of worship. And, during these difficulttimes, we have all had to find new ways torevive our spirits and feed our souls outside ofour weekly worship and the standard litanies ofpraise.

Even outside of COVID-times, there aremany ways that we can find peace and praiseoutside of Sunday worship. For me, it hasalways been through music; especially, playingthe piano.

I first started learning how to play the pianowhen I was three years old. Granted, it wasn’tmore than banging on a few keys while learningrhythms and sounds; but I have never been farfrom a keyboard since. I was taught through theRoyal Conservatory of Music and progressedalmost to the end of grade 9. There was talk ofgoing on to be a concert pianist, but myteachers were too serious and my memory wasterrible. They wanted me to memorize ten-pagepieces and all I wanted to do was play and singalong to my favorite Disney theme song.

For years, I would spend hours playingeverything from Bach to Bryan Adams, ScottJoplin to church hymns. As a geeky introvert,playing the piano was how I would beat awaythe stresses of the day.

Music Revives My SoulTheo Robinson

Photo: Wesley Tingey

12

Community

Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize that Iwas experiencing this kind of catharsis—I justloved to play. But when I would have a roughday at school, I would close the doors to theliving room and play song after song after song.A couple of hours would pass and I would feelbetter.

I learned to play other instruments as well,such as the flute and various percussioninstruments (the timpani were my favorite). Butmy true skill lay with the piano, and so it was tothe keyboard I that always returned.

It never really occurred to me that playingthe piano was a way of reviving my spirit until afew years ago. During my clinical pastoraleducation training (CPE), I was doing myplacement at St Boniface Hospital. This was at atime when I was juggling a full-time job, parttime school, and my first church placement as apostulant with hopes to be a priest in theDiocese. Not only that but I had a partner andtwo school-aged children at home who alsoneeded my love and time. To say it was astressful period would be an understatement,and even Sunday morning worship could notguarantee the peace for which I sought.

In a conversation with my CPE instructor, wetalked about stress management and she askedwhat I did for self-care with regards to dailystress. I thought that I wasn’t doing much forself-care but upon further discernment, Irealized that playing the piano brought mepeace and calmed my spirit.

The chapel at the hospital had a piano, andso, I decided that before my class I would playone song to reduce my stress and calm mynerves. I was amazed at the change in my soulbefore heading off to do visits or go to class.

But I shouldn’t have been surprised. When Ithink back on my teenage years of playing, I cannow recall the peacefulness that would comeinto my soul as I played.

Now, I enjoy playing for my family and,especially, my partner. Whenever everyone isfeeling stressed, all I have to do is play theirfavorite hymns or songs and a feeling of calmwashes over the entire household. Sometimes,listening to me play even helps my children tofall asleep.

Music is a very powerful force of nature andit is a universal language of the soul. Sometimesmusic is the only thing that takes your mind offeverything else. Losing yourself in the words orthe notes is just as much a litany of praise as isbeing pulled into a well-delivered sermon. Evenas I write this reflection, I have the beautifulsounds of an orchestra playing in my ears. As Ibegin my liturgical preparation, I listen to SteveBell. As I write my sermons, I listen to classicalpiano. Music has that way of bringing peace tothe soul and, as it turns out, getting the creativejuices flowing. As the popular saying goes,“Music is life. That’s why our hearts have beats.”

Theo Robinson is theincumbent at St. Michael’sAnglican Church in VictoriaBeach, a pastor in theInterlake Regional SharedMinistry with the LutheranChurch of the MNO Synod,and a spiritual carepractitioner in health care.Follow him on Facebook andInstagram and check out hisblog attjrobinson.blogspot.com.

13

COMMUNITY

“Kreative” Ministry at St. Thomas, Weston

At St. Thomas, Weston, creativity is spelled witha “K.” Last February, as COVID-19 was still afaraway rumour, an idea was born at St.Thomas, “Why don’t we invite ourneighbourhood in for a meal together?” Havinghad some success with an after-school programfor neighbourhood children called, “KreativeKids,” the folks at St. Thomas found themselvesdrafting plans for a community meal that wouldgive youth a chance to get some workexperience, give food-insecure neighbours afree meal, and provide a chance for the church-folk of St. Thomas and the people of Westonand Brooklyn neighbourhoods, to get to knoweach other. “Kreative Kitchens” was born.

With the onset of COVID-19, KreativeKitchens and Kreative Kids were combinedunder the umbrella, “Kreative” and the mealprogram quickly grew to regularly serve over 60families. Now, St. Thomas regularly feeds over200 people per week. As the need increasedand word of St. Thomas’ work spread, fundingand help came from all over. Community grantscame in, a former resident of theneighbourhood started delivering a weeklyshipment of Maple Leaf hams, Peak-of-the-Market shared vegetables, and members of thecommunity who do not regularly attend St.Thomas started to show up to volunteer. By thetime I joined the parish in the fall, theWednesday night meal-program was a thrivingoperation and, in a time when this pandemichas taken away so much of what used tocharacterize church-life, had become a hub ofparish energy and Spirit work.

The Kreative meal-program did not set outto be what it is today. Yet an attention to theneeds of the community and an honestassessment of the resources of St. Thomas,created an opportunity for this parish to be ableto respond to the extreme changes that thispast year has brought to the world. But God isat work in this world, and we often only find outthe plan in retrospect.

Over this past year, an idea for a mealprogram morphed into an emergency responsefor a food-insecure neighbourhood wracked byCOVID-19. As the year progressed, the parishhas discovered that while table fellowship hasbeen largely impossible in the sanctuary, it hasspilled out in the parish hall in all sorts of life-giving ways. Several families who found St.Thomas through a free meal, have found a homehere in our community, contributing regularly toour worshipping life together online. On AshWednesday, 29 households from the meal-program took home ashes and liturgies andtuned in to the online service we streamed. Priorto the pandemic, St. Thomas was lucky if it got29 people on a Sunday morning at all!

A year into the ministry of Kreative hasemphasized the hunger present in the parish ofSt. Thomas. While people are hungry for food,they are also hungry for community and forencounters with the living God. When thisprogram was dreamed up in early 2019, therewas faith that since Jesus liked to meet peoplethrough meals, he might just meet folks throughthese meals too, and that’s exactly what hashappened. For in the work of feeding,fundraising, and meeting our neighbours, wehave all met Jesus, once again inviting us to thetable saying “Come.”

If you would like to learn more about gettinginvolved with the Kreative meal program, orwould like to support this ministry, request ameal, or get involved, you can check us outonline.

14

VIA MEDIA

The Language of Praise:how we sing is how we see

Alana Levandoski

In the old Newtonian paradigm, we perceived abilliard ball universe. A closed system machinethat was predictable. That paradigm was so set,that we didn’t even bother to ask which billiardcues were hitting which balls.

Now that we live in a post-Einsteinianworld, we know that energy is more complex,more openly interconnected, and less blunt.

As children of the Christian household,many of us have begun to see through thiscosmic lens, but in doing so, our sense ofdevotion can be thrown off kilter. A shift musttake place, if we are to recapitulate into deeperlove, and a lived experience of the presence ofthe Lover.

This shift must include our worshippractices.

To begin, I acknowledge the beauty shiningthrough our Christian tradition. This sufferingbeauty that I find in Jesus is what keeps me onthis path.

However, it must be said, that through theinfluence of Augustine’s personal shame, andastute theological capacity, which mixed thecocktail of Manichaeism, Platonism, and oneversion of Christianity, we’ve landed up in aspiral of homogenization that has had direeffects at the level of culture, language, species,and ecosystems.

It could be argued that scientificmaterialism is the result of two things. One, theunderstandably desperate need to be rid of the“church and state.” And two, Christianity’sinfluence on language itself. Baked into our verywords is the notion that we are separated fromGod, and that the flesh is rubbish.

This notion has had a hidden influence onthe view that we live in a mechanical universe,and that we ourselves are machines.

I remember once hearing a Christian lecturerwarning of an uprising of “neopaganism.” And itwasn’t until I experienced deep healing in nature

Photo: Nikaela Peters

15

VIA MEDIA

that I realized this may have been what he wasworried about.

Part of my journey has been to not only stepback, but also journey through, my Christiantradition. To reconcile areas that hurt me. Tonotice the rich beauty when I see it. To confessthe Church’s many sins. To heal in my body, andmy broken heart.

This has not stopped me from goingbeyond my Christian roots into my pre-Christianheritage. To see the beauty and the hardshipsand colonization of my Celtic and Slavicancestors. To begin seeing through their eyes.

Today, the hubris of technocracy andgeoengineering pose a grave threat to ourplanet. But any design that divides the fielddoes. Even the design of worship.

How we sing, is how we see.Worship is how we tell the story of our

relationship to God. But behind the shape ofthat story, is the story of our relationship toeveryone, and everything else.

By our fruits we are known.One of the most devastating results of

“Augustine’s cocktail” being at the root of ourorthodoxy, (quite possibly more than Jesushimself), is the ensuing centuries of persecutiontoward the indigenous perception of animism.That this view is “idolatrous.”

I do not think the early Christians saw it thisway.

Let’s draw attention to the ways in whichChristian worship has historically overlooked itsown idolatrous behaviour.

Studying the roots of Christianity’s arrival inmy own ancestral heritage, (Scottish, Polish,English), I began to research the 43AD Romaninvasion of Britain.

First, I was struck by how likely it was thatthe very first introduction of Jesus to the BritishIsles might have been in whispers, from foreignslave to local slave, in the shadows of a Romanoccupied mine.

Next, I was struck by how long it took Rometo conquer the Britannic tribes, and that thesiege on the Temple of Claudius, among manylong-fought battles, was led by the matriarchwarrior Boudica.

The foundations of the Temple of Claudiusare found under Colchester Castle today, and inthe 4th century, it was renovated for Christianuse.

There has been a misunderstanding of theintent of the gospel writers, who wrote in theagonizing aftermath of war that resulted in thedestruction of the temple in Jerusalem. If thegospel writers were bringing Caesar down byraising up the Kenotic One, by raising up thepoverty of God in Jesus, this was quicklyinverted when worship spaces were erected.

When Caesar dies, he becomes a god. Youerect a temple in his name. You worship hisperfection. You declare him victorious. And youpraise him “for” things. Not “with” things.

Imagine if praise was with all else, instead offor all else. We might not have even had the“doctrine of discovery” if we had been praisingwith, instead of for.

It fascinates me to no end that the Templeof Claudius, the very location where Britishtribespeople were crucified, became thefoundation for one of the first buildings inBritain to be converted to Christian use.

Here is the hidden idolatry of our tradition.We have been on the journey of Truth and

Reconciliation, awakening out of a paradigmwhose roots lie in the unhealed wounds of ourown heritage. When Roman uniformity firststepped onto British soil and saw my ancestors,they called them “savages.” And they sawacquisition. Then, when the closed systemorthodoxy of our Christian tradition set in, theCeltic Christians and Druids were labeled“nature worshippers”.

If nature is sacred, you can’t own it. Betterto theologize justifications for our plundering.

But notice wherever there is the moststunning beauty within the Catholic tradition—the Rhineland Mystics, Julian of Norwich,Thomas Merton, Bede Griffiths, etc. What theyhave in common is this mystical understandingof the connectedness of all things. Theincarnation.

Thomas Merton said “for the world andtime are the dance of the Lord in emptiness.”

16

VIA MEDIA

To see the fruits of anti-matter theology, justsink beneath the surface of your day, and let ourliving planet show you her fissures. Sit in silencewith God-who-would-be-whole, and hear theagonizing, impossible stretch of unfathomablelove.

Aside from the underlying need to justifyobjectification, these fruits come from agenuine fear of conflating Creator withCreation. But that fear is rooted in binaryseeing.

Wisdom teacher and Episcopal priestCynthia Bourgeault says that Christianity is “aternary swan in a binary duck pond.”

From a ternary perspective, the self-emptying of Creator into Creation is not difficultto perceive. We can have both WalterBrueggemann’s “scandal of the particular,” andthe scandal of the web of the incarnateuniverse.

How about lateral praise? We find it in thePsalms, where the whole of enjoined creationpraises the Maker. It is found in the healingsof Jesus. Spittle, soil, mud, praying to Abba,healing.

Our early ancestors, and indigenous healerstoday, would never attempt a healing withtheir own small egoic self. Neither did Jesus.They were situated as part of a great complexwhole, that joined in with whole-making.

Poet farmer Wendell Berry says, “there areno unsacred places, there are only sacred anddesecrated places.”

If our worship could reflect that deepertruth, and move beyond the idolatry oftriumphant Caesar Jesus, it might shape us intoa second naiveté of union with God-who-is-in-all-things.

Nothing less than a seismic shift in how weperceive the Sacred in all else, even in thestones, will evolve Christians out of this growtheconomy death spiral of domination,objectification, and triumphalism.

We have to be willing to see the inertidolatry inside our own worship, and getvulnerable enough to sense our tender,beautiful, inner longings for fruit, that wouldbring a cacophony of life.

Alana Levandoski is a songand chant writer, recordingartist and music producer, inthe Christian tradition, wholives with her family on aregenerative farm on theCanadian prairies.