Halloween -- What the Hell?

...for our struggle is not against blood and flesh but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. 

Ephesians 6:12 NRSVue

 So, I hardly ever go to Tim Horton's, and drive-throughs are against my religion, but we had a hankerin' for a coffee after a ramble on our first sub-zero morning of the Fall. In I go, where I'm standing in line beside a woman of about our vintage dressed in a shiny purple devil costume, complete with horns. I point up to the breakfast menu and say "I don't see any deviled eggs." And her response? A blank stare -- nothing, nada. C'mon, I thought it was moderately clever!

I continue to be gobsmacked by the relatively recent obsession with Halloween, and I say this as a father of three young children who on some years in the 1990s trundled through falling snow on the streets of Sudbury. It was all good fun, as it is now when we go out with two of our grandkids as they scramble for loot. Today, though, the decorations seem to be up well before Thanksgiving, as is the case with our next-door neighbour whose entire lawn has been covered with inflatable plastic figures which hiss for weeks. Even news broadcasts spend an inordinate amount of time chasing around to various locations where homeowners have created over-the-top displays. 

There are lots of skeletons, and a multitude of demons and devils, including the woman in the Tims. Strangely, there is an almost total disconnect from the origins of All Hallow Eve when the Celts recognized the "thin place" between this earthly existence and the invisible world. This likely predated Christianity but it was co-opted as the time to both recognize saints and acknowledge that dark forces were on the prowl. Jack-o-Lanterns warded off the evil spirits, because they were real, and so was Satan. 

Some evangelical churches are against Halloween altogether because of the sinister connotations but others have decided to join 'em if they can't beat 'em. They hold their own  “trunk or treat,” events in parking lots hoping to create a safe environment to draw crowds which might otherwise avoid religious institutions.

Who knows what's best. I'm not suggesting that we return to the not-so-good ol' days of fear of Hell. I do know that evil seems to be on the prowl in our world today, as reflected in the verse above. 

And I wonder how we got to this strange event we call Halloween...deviled eggs, get it? Deviled eggs!

The Perplexing Story of Buffy Sainte-Marie

 

When the news broke last week about a CBC investigation into the indigeneity of acclaimed musician, Buffy Sainte-Marie, we both felt dismay. It's not an overstatement to say that St. Marie is an icon in the Indigenous world and her influence and example has extended far beyond her music. We both uttered an "oh no" and initially wondered whether an 82-year-old deserved this after a lifetime of positive influence. 

I've since listened to and read a number of Indigneous leaders in various fields who have expressed their shock and dismay, admitting that they too are struggling to process evidence that St. Marie was not an adopted Sixties Scoop Indigenous child but the biological daughter of her American parents. For them so much more is at stake than for those of us who are part of the settler culture, including in Christian denominations which ere complicit in  colonizing and subjugating Indigenous persons and cultures.

Over the past few years there have more and more people who have been "outed" for claiming Indigenous background. Some have been investigated by Indigenous communities and individuals who followed up on what seemed to be suspect assertions. Often it has been the families of these "Pretendians" who challenge what they know to be false narratives. 

The pattern often includes claims of rising above adversity in disfunctional communities or adoption. Over time the story may take on additional detail and elaboration, even though the person also claims to have little background information which might bring clarity. The Indigenous community may change and even the region.

One of the issues with the Pretendians is that they have often taken away resources for education and advancement from Indigenous people. In Buffy Sainte-Marie's case, she received awards as an Indigenous person, as did novelist Joseph Boyden. 

Some people are angry with the CBC, decrying this investigation as another act of colonialism. Yet the appropriation of identity by anyone cannot be dismissed. It's a form of theft. What if the broadcaster had not acted on the information which was provided to them? Would that have been considered a cover-up?

 Most of the Indigenous voices I've heard have been measured, expressing grief while  recognizing that the truth matters. As author Michelle Good noted, while individuals may be accepted and adopted into Indigenous communities it doesn't mean that they are Indigenous by birth or biological lineage. 

It all makes me heavy-hearted, to be honest. I pray healing for all those who have been deeply affected by this news and that truth will be told. 

Michael Crummey & Sin Lurking at the Door

 

      And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. And the Lord had respect unto Abel and to his offering:  But unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell. 

And the Lord said unto Cain, Why art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him. 

And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.

Genesis 4:4- 8 King James Version

Michael Crummey is one of Newfoundland's and Canada's preeminent writers, a poet and a novelist. His interviews are always insightful and entertaining and often humorous. While we were staying on Change Islands NL in September he observed during a CBC chat that Newfoundlanders, including ex-pats, have a great love for their land and sea, even though that love is often unrequited by the harsh and unforgiving environment.

His novels have leaned toward historical fiction, including his most recent pair, The Innocents and The Adversary. Both are set on the north coast of the province, in some respects companions to each other, and while the cove and community are themselves fictional they seem to be not far, geographically,  from the place where I began ministry 40-odd years ago and to which we regularly return. 

Crummey and reviewers have observed that The Innocents is an Adam and Eve story with two orphaned siblings, a boys and a girl, who barely manage to scratch out an existence in an isolated cove following the deaths of their parents. And The Adversary could be characterized as Cain and Abel, with a relatively privileged brother and sister who end up in a grim feud with each other in the fishing village and coastal trade centre where they are raised. 

I was struck by how much scripture there is in The Adversary, King James Version phrases which are often employed as darts and missiles to be hurled both in context and out, alongside the vulgar and profane language of everday life. Along with this there is a stern Anglican character who is described as "lenten-jawed", which is brilliantly more evocative than "lantern-jawed." 

I was also intrigued by the presence of a small group of peacable Quakers in the village, seemingly the only people who offer an antidote to the vengeful spirit of the place, although even this is tenuous. I had never heard of Quakers in Newfoundland but I discovered through some online snooping that 200 years ago there were congregations in a number of outports and towns around the island, even though there are virtually none today. Crummey has done his homework. 

In the interviews and articles about these two books there hasn't been much said about this religious content in The Adversary. Perhaps Michael Crummey will tell us more about how this came about along the way. 

Oh yes, both books are artfully written and compelling, but they aren't pleasant stories by any stretch. Would I recommend them? Yes, but "sin is lurking at the door"  (NRSV), so batten down your emotional hatches. 

Unimaginable

 We got up this beautiful day with no real expectations for what we should do or accomplish. Because the temperature will drop in the days before us we decided that yard work would be in order, at least for a couple of hours. The most demanding aspect of the morning was waiting in the queue at the yard waste depot along with all the other homeowners who then jockeyed for position for the drop-off. On we went to the library and then the farmers market, where we chatted with vendors and people we know.

For the past few hours I've been pondering the unreality of the relative "peace, order and good goverment" which mark our Canadian experience (I'm not endorsing any political party here.) Today, as with most days recently, Ruth checked in with her sister in Israel. Anne and husband Herbby live in a "safe" part of the country yet their lives are fraught with danger, anxiety, and dread. In the past few days she has taken to donning noise-cancelling headphones to keep out the roar of military jets flying overhead and she leaves it to her husband to check the rocket app which warns people of the missiles which are still being directed at Israel by Hamas. Isn't it chilling that "there is an app for that"?  They are aware of the rising tensions in the West Bank which is only a few kilometres from where they live. 

They have oversight of Christian families who are in Israel as part of the ministry which is their employer and tough decisions are being made about evacuation to safer countries. Their  minstry compound in the country is housing displaced persons who fled the area around Gaza as well as cooking thousands of meals a day for their guests and others. They are doing their best to place their trust in God and to receive the gifts of the day. 

For us it is almost unimaginable, even though we can picture where they go about their daily lives.It seems surreal that we were in Israel a few months ago for a couple of weeks of exploration of the country from one end to the other with our loved ones, all without incident. 

Along with this personal news there is the bigger picture of the unfolding ground assault by Israeli forces into Gaza where thousands have already died, including hundreds of children. The loss of life is appalling and it will only get worse. 

We agonize over what is unfolding and wonder how we can make a difference. We will contribute to humanitarian aid for the desperate people of Gaza. 

We have offered to host Anne and Herbby here if they need to exit for a few days of calm and reconnection with Canadian family. He is an American and their adult children live there but the tranquility of Southern Ontario might be a tonic

We continue to pray for them. We will pray for a situation which has no clear path to peace yet cannot continue in this wretched gyre of hatred and violence. 

David Milne & the Mystery Thing

 While browsing in the McMichael Gallery gift shop during a summer visit I came upon a beautifully illustrated book about the life and artistic career of Canadian painter David Milne. It was a companion for exhibitions of his work in Great Britain and the McMichael a few years ago and happily it was on sale for a fraction of its original price. 

I've admired Milne's paintings for a long time and we took in the McMichael exhibition in early 2019. When we visit the Art Gallery of Ontario I seek out the section with his paintings as well. Milne had a unique and identifiable style whether he was depicting the horrors of WW1 as a war artist, or during his time in New York City, or capturing the Canadian landscape in various locations. He was also a thoughtful writer who offered profound insights from his interior world and the world he observed in different settings.

                                               Wrecked Tanks Near Sanctuary Wood -- David Milne

One of the chapters of the book is 'The Mystery Thing': David Milne and Spirituality. It begins with describing his early life with a mother who loved being outside in the garden and instilled this in her children. She was also a devout Christian, and the family was Presbyterian until the merger of denominations which became the United Church. 

Milne grew up hearing and reading scripture and he committed large portions of the bible to memory. While in his adult life he wasn't conventionally religious -- there wasn't a lot about him that was conventional -- the editors of the book offer that "he saw his life journey through a biblical lens and quoted passages in interviews, conversations and letters". They go on to say: 

As I read this chapter I realized that my decades-long appreciation of Milne was expanding. My art history background, deep conviction that God is revealed in the two books of Scripture and Creation, as well as my Christ-focussed life, resonated with Milne's sensibilites regarding his vocation as a painter. Hey, he even spent lots of time in a tent!

 I appreciate that Ruth didn't roll her eyes as I pondered purchasing the book and even encouraged me to go ahead. I've found these insights about David Milne's motivation quite moving.

David Milne, Tent in Temagami, 1929, Collection of the Tom Thomson Art Gallery, Owen Sound, Ontario, bequest from the Douglas M. Duncan Collection, 1970. © The Estate of David Milne

Jesus Bids Us Shine

 

Jesus bids us shine with a clear pure light,

like a little candle burning in the night;

in this world of darkness so we must shine

You in your small corner, and I in mine.

Many of us have been stunned by the complete about face by the government of Ontario regarding the portions of the Green Belt lands which had been unilaterally removed from protection. It really is good news, except that it should never have happened in the first place. Premier Ford had broken his election promise to preserve the Green Belt and even declared it a scam. Then, as public pressure mounted and evidence of sketchy deals with developers emerged Ford became contrite and held a "my bad" news conference. 

This decision was followed by another huge surprise, the housing minister rescinding directives to municipalities, again without consultation, to open up areas for development which were not part of the short or long-term plans for those communities.

We live in Belleville and almost alongside an environmentally sensitive area known as the Bell Creek watershed. We can walk to this area from our home in a few minutes and do so a number of times each year. We have seen lots of wildlife in these woods, including Barred owls, and there are some huge oak and maple trees. A few months ago the Ford government arbitrarily declared that an area adjacent to this watershed could be developed, even though the city had no plans to do so and the effect on the ecosystem could be catastrophic. 

I continue to mull through what has happened as a concerned citizen who expects accountable government "for the people" and as a Christian who cares for the Earth. I think about attending a local rally on a raw day during the winter and realizing that a member of our congregation was there as well, barely recognizable beneath multiple layers of clothing. She distributed the signs in opposition to the development, including one which ended up on our lawn for months. 

We were the only household on our court to do so, even though we all live so close to a unique ecological area. We felt that our efforts were a drop in the proverbial bucket, even foolhardy,  but lots of drops eventually filled the tub which was sloshed over the premier's head to wake him up. 

Now, to address Highway 413, and Ontario Place, and the Science Centre, and ... Jesus bids us shine. 

Have a read of this excellent piece written last year about protecting Bell Creek

https://naturestuff.net/web/thoughts-on-the-bell-creek-watershed/

Hiraeth for our Planetary Home

 

To you, O Lord, I cry.

For fire has devoured

the pastures of the wilderness,

and flames have burned

all the trees of the field.

 Even the wild animals cry to you

because the watercourses are dried up,

and fire has devoured

the pastures of the wilderness.

Joel 1: 19-20 NRSVue

Not long ago I wrote a blog entry which included the recently coined term "noctalgia." This refers to our human sense of loss over the wonders of the night sky due to light pollution. Billions of us no longer have even an occasional glimpse of the Milky Way or constellations, or meteor showers. Scientists suggest that this has an effect on the sleep patterns of all creatures and diminishes our sense of wonder. 

There is another newer term, "solastalgia", which refers to our sense of loss brought about by climate change. This can take many different forms, including our perception of the changing seasons. I have strong positive memories of the crunch of snow underfoot from my childhood, an auditory experience which has all but vanished because we don't experience the cold which creates those conditions very often in our warming winters. Solastalgia can be a form of longing, or grief, or anxiety.  

These are newer terms but there is an old Welsh word, "hiraeth" which describes something similar. As you'll see below it is "a mixture of longing, yearning, nostalgia, wistfulness" which is related specifically to Wales but could apply more broadly to our longing and lament for a vanishing planet in terms of patterns and rhythms.

There are lots of passages in scripture which are laments, including a number of psalms. They invite us to recognize what has been lost and at times admit that human frailty and sin are the cause of a deep disconnect with God. 

Do we need to develop a deeper spiritual vocabulary for our sense of loss regarding Creation and our alienation from the Creator?  We are coming closer to the end of what may well be the hottest year in recording history, an "annus horribilis" when it comes to destructive weather events. Hardly a day goes by when we don't hear about yet another disaster which we can no longer describe as natural. 

 Could acknowledging our longing and mourning for our planetary home lead us to decisions which will heal the Earth? 

This lengthier description of "hiraeth" has been excerpted from Wikipedia 

Hiraeth (Welsh pronunciation: [hɪraɨ̯θ, hiːrai̯θ]^[1]) is a Welsh word that has no direct English translation. The University of Wales, Lampeter, likens it to a homesickness tinged with grief and sadness over the lost or departed, especially in the context of Wales and Welsh culture.^[2] It is a mixture of longing, yearning, nostalgia, wistfulness or an earnest desire for the Wales of the past.^[3]

The Cornish and Breton equivalents are hireth^[4] and hiraezh. It is associated with the Amharic-Ethiopian concept of Tizita, the German concept of Sehnsucht, the Galician-Portuguese saudade or the Romanian dor.^[5] A similar Scottish Gaelic term, cianalas, also refers to a type of longing or homesickness, often used in relation to the Outer Hebrides...

Etymology

Derived from hir 'long' and -aeth (a nominal suffix creating an abstract noun from an adjective), the word is literally equivalent to English 'longing'. A less likely, but possible, etymology is hir 'long' + aeth 'pain, grief, sorrow, longing'. In the earliest citations in early Welsh poetry it implies 'grief or longing after the loss or death of someone'...

Farewell to a Newfoundland Friend

 

 

                         Lewis Wheaton --Wednesday, May 6th, 1936 - Thursday, October 19th, 2023023

'Tis the season of our lives to hear far too regularly about the deaths of acquaintances, friends, and family members. In truth, having spent decades in congregational ministry that reality has existed for a long time and so often meaningful conversations rise up out of the past.

When we were in Newfoundland during September we visited a couple who were raising four tweens and teens in one of the five outports I served after ordination in 1980. We spent time in their home regularly then, and visited at least at dozen times through the decades, both there and in the various Ontario communities we lived in. Our children came to know them and appreciated their warmth and hospitality. 

They were vital people when we first met them yet we had to spend time with each separately during this recent visit, Julia in a nursing home because of a stroke, Lewis in the hospital because of a serious fall. They celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary in the summer but they were told that they couldn't be reunited in the nursing home because of their different medical needs. Aging and institutional limitations can be cruel. 

Lewis was lucid and ready for a chat when we visited him in Gander hospital, just down the hall from where our son, Isaac was born. We discussed the cod fishery this year, unusual sightings of tuna in the waters near their outport community, the blueberry crop, and his passion for hunting moose. 

He was almost legendary in his ability to navigate through the bush and on the water and he served as a guide for hunters from the US and the mainland for years. Because of his confidence and skill we had many adventures over time to islands and remote places, spotting whales and puffins, hearing about communities long gone. There was a semi-feral quality to him, a different intelligence and way of being which isn't common anywhere anymore.  As a young man he had worked briefly in a factory in St. John's but he would shake his head and say "you could plant me there, but I wouldn't take root." 

Lewis had a limited formal education but he was a life-long learner.  He avidly read about a variety of subjects and loved to discuss them. I found his enthusiasm refreshing and also a tad overwhelming at times -- he could talk for hours and he stated his opinions emphatically!

Lewis was the first person to express his convictions about the declining cod stocks, years before the moratorium in 1993. He was convinced that allowing the longliners and trawlers to mine the sea was a political decision, not based on good science or conservation goals, and he was right.

Julia and Lewis also had a huge vegetable garden, with hardy fruit trees and berry canes around the edges, and they helped us establish a garden at the manse. He would haul kelp from the landwash which he eventually rototilled into the rocky soil. Neighbours would shake their heads at the piles of rocks they picked out of the garden and their labour-intensive efforts to enrich the soil when it had become so easy to just purchase vegetables from a shop. Why work so hard?  Yet everyone admired the quality of their produce and often bought potatoes, carrots, and strawberries from them because they tasted so much better. They bottled and stored a winter's worth of what they needed. 

When we would visit through the decades, Ruth and I would often stand in the quiet at the edge of the garden, looking out to sea. It was a spiritual experience, downright Edenic, although created by the sweat of their brows.  

In a couple of days Lewis will be planted in the cemetery of the community he lived in most of his life. His obituary begins "Lewis Wheaton has gone to that eternal hunting, fishing and and berry picking land of the world beyond this world." 

I'm so grateful that we had a prayer together before we said goodbye in September. 

God, bring comfort to Julia and the family in the midst of their loss. 

Solidarity with Christians in Gaza

 

A woman covers her face at a special prayer service for the victims of an airstrike at a Gaza church, 

held Sunday at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the Old City of Jerusalem. Claire Harbage/NPR

The horrific attacks of October 7th on Israeli by Hamas,designated a terrorist organization by many governments,  let loose a cascade of violence which has rocked the region. Since 1400 Israelis, mostly civilians, were killed during the rampage, Gaza has been under bombardment by the IDF as part of the offensive to destroy Hamas. Sadly, thousands of Gazan civilians have died as a result, hundreds of them childrem.

The majority of the residents of Gaza are Muslims but there is a tiny Christian presence as well. During these past two weeks we've heard about a Roman Catholic church in the city of Gaza providing sanctuary for hundreds of people. There is an Anglican-run hospital which was hit by a rocket, source unknown, killing at least one hundred people. Another missile exploded in the compound of a Greek Orthodox church killing 18 people, all but one being Christians. 

Greek Orthodox Porphyrius Church in Gaza City

Late last week the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, arrived in Jerusalem for a solidarity visit with Christian leaders. He walked a delicate line in speaking about the conflict. 

Yesterday Christians in Gaza and Jerusalem offered prayers on behalf of Christian brothers and sisters whose lives have been disrupted catastrophically and for those who have been injured or died. 

We prayed for the region within our safe and secure worship service here in Canada yesterday and I hope we all continue to do so and consider how we might provide practical support for people who have run out of even the basics of daily living.

Here is the link to the United Church of Canada website for making a financial contribution to our trusted partners.

https://united-church.ca/social-action/act-now/humanitarian-crisis-middle-east

A Clarion Song for Justice

 

 Recently Sojourners magazine reposted a hymn written by Carolyn Winfrey Gillette, a Presbyterian pastor in the US. She wrote this hymn based on Micah 6:8 in 2012 after attending Bread for the World’s Lobby Day. I've seen her hymns over the decades and used them in worship during my congregational ministry days. 

This one speaks boldly and with clarity to many of the daunting issues we are facing in this moment, even though it was written 11 years ago.

               O God, You Call for Justice

AURELIA   7.6.7.6 D   ("The Church's One Foundation")

O God, you call for justice—for goodness, never greed!

You seek a world of fairness where all have what they need—

Where all have food and water and homes in which to thrive,

Where all have hope and laughter and joy to be alive!

 

O God, you call for kindness instead of keeping score;

You seek a world that welcomes the hungry and the poor.

Lord, where there is injustice may we work to protect

The struggling ones, the voiceless that others would reject.

 

You call us to walk humbly, for we are not our own;

We all are poor and needy; we need the grace you’ve shown.

May we respond to others reflecting what you give—

Compassion, kindness, justice— so all may gladly live.

 

O God, may our great nation seek justice, as we should,

and work with dedication to seek the common good.

We’re blessed to be a blessing; may we within our law

Seek justice and compassion that reaches out to all.

 Biblical Reference:  Micah 6:8 Tune: Samuel Sebastian Wesley, 1864.

Alternate tune:  ANGEL’S STORY  7.6.7.6.D  (“O Jesus, I Have Promised”), Arthur Henry Mann, 1888.

Text: Copyright © 2012 by .  All rights reserved. 

A complete list of the hymns by Carolyn Winfrey Gillette, many with peace and justice themes, can be found at www.carolynshymns.com  

https://www.seattletimes.com/nation-world/from-shootings-to-hurricanes-pastor-turns-news-into-hymns/

Rev. Carolyn Winfrey Gillette, co-pastor of Overbrook Presbyterian Church, sings one of her hymns as her husband and co-pastor, Rev. Bruce Gillette, listens in their office at Overbrook Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia. (David Maialetti/The Philadelphia Inquirer via AP)

Paying Attention to Medical Assistance in Dying

 On Wednesday of this past week there was a discussion in the Canadian House of Commons about the proposed expansion of eligibility for Medical Assistance in Dying. Originally the law was to have changed as of March 2023 to broaden access for those living with a mental disorder. This was an understandably controversial proposal and the decision was made to postpone until March of 2024. Wednesday all parties agreed to reconvene the special joint committee on MAID to provide further oversight. This after a failed effort by a Conservative MP to repeal access to MAID for those whose sole underlying medical condition is a mental disorder.

I was struck by how little media attention Wednesday's discussion received. As you may know, I support MAID, but not unconditionally. The concerns for the most vulnerable including those who are disabled, those with cognitive impairment, those who are living in poverty, those who can't access adequate health care, and those living with mental illness, are all real and deserve our attention as individuals and communities of faith.

 Every life is precious to God, no person is an inconvenience or disposable. The ready provision of hospice and palliative care is vital to ensuring dignity to the end of life. Yet I've concluded there are still times when MAID is merciful, and individuals deserve to make their own choices. While we have developed the medical technology to prolong life, there are times when quality of life has declined to the point where persons don't want to go on any longer. 

Over the past few years, beginning before the legalization in 2016, I've read fairly extensively regarding MAID. I've led study sessions, I've encouraged folk to respond to government surveys. There are times when by our societal unwillingness to explore the ethical complexities of MAID frustrates and disheartens me. And as people of faith this is vitally important. 

Simply censuring MAID is not the answer. So, we must continue to ponder, enter into prayerful and respectful  conversation, and respond so justice and mercy are served. 

Take Me Outside -- for God's Sake!

“I don't think it is enough appreciated how much an outdoor book the Bible is. It is a "hypaethral book," such as Thoreau talked about - a book open to the sky. It is best read and understood outdoors, and the farther outdoors the better. Or that has been my experience of it. Passages that within walls seem improbable or incredible, outdoors seem merely natural. This is because outdoors we are confronted everywhere with wonders; we see that the miraculous is not extraordinary but the common mode of existence. It is our daily bread.”

The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays ― Wendell Berry

 I went to the gym this morning, a good day to do so because the forecast calls for rain throughout. It may not be the best ending for Take Me Outside Week in this neck of the woods, but we've experienced some fine days over the last seven and made sure we did some exploring. https://takemeoutside.ca/tmoday/2023resources/

Two of our grandchildren were with us last weekend and we spent a few hours rambling around a gem of a Conservation Area to the north of Belleville. They love being outside, and we love exploring with them. One got a soaker in the river and didn't care, the other climbed trees and scared her grandparents. On one stretch of a trail we all kicked through the leaves to make the quintessential noisy swish of Autumn. 

                                                         Paddling on the Moira River -- Ruth Mundy

During the week the two of us went to another Conservation Area and had a somewhat less boisterous ramble with a contemplative quality to it. Yesterday we canoed a favourite stretch of a nearby river and got close to a mature bald eagle which took to the air from a perch high in a dead tree. We did all this before we were aware that this is Take Me Outside Week!

I love the quote by Wendell Berry and I've used it often. I would also affirm the contention of theologians through the ages that God is revealed in two books, the other being Creation. When we are in the natural or created world we are opened to a prayerful way of being which can both soothe our souls and stir us to action.

I notice that today, Friday, is suggested as a day of reflection, so, as the needed rain falls we can ponder what it means to be Groundlings, connected with the Earth, or Turtle Island. When you get a chance, take yourself outside -- for God's Sake!

 The beauty of the trees, the softness of the air, 

the fragrance of the grass, speaks to me. 

The summit of the mountain, the thunder of the sky, 

the rhythm of the sea, speaks to me. 

The faintness of the stars, the freshness of the morning, 

the dew drop on the flower, speaks to me. 

The strength of fire, the taste of salmon, 

the trail of the sun, and the life that never goes away, 

They speak to me. And my heart soars.

My Heart Soars -- Chief Dan George

                                                                    Autumn Sky -- Ruth Mundy

Noctalgia & the Heavenly Heavens

 Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee

All through the night;
Guardian angels God will send thee
All through the night.
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
I my loving vigil keeping,
All through the night.

While the moon her watch is keeping
All through the night;
While the weary world is sleeping
All through the night.
Over thy spirit gently stealing,
Visions of delight revealing,
Breathes a pure and holy feeling,
All through the night.

Traditional Welsh Carol 

The heavens are telling the glory of God,
    and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.

Day to day pours forth speech,
    and night to night declares knowledge.

There is no speech, nor are there words;
    their voice is not heard;
 yet their voice goes out through all the earth
    and their words to the end of the world.

In the heavens he has set a tent for the sun,

which comes out like a bridegroom from his wedding canopy,
    and like a strong man runs its course with joy.
 Its rising is from the end of the heavens
    and its circuit to the end of them,
    and nothing is hid from its heat.

Psalm 19:1-6 NRSVue

A couple of weeks after our return from Newfoundland in late September I heard a wonderful piece on CBCs Radio's The Current (here I go again) called 'Noctalgia' for the loss of dark skies. The three guests, Aparna Venkatesan, Roland Dechesne, and Dani Robertson, were from California, Alberta, and Wales, respectively. All are involved in pondering the disappearance of the night sky due to light pollution around the world.

 We'd just spent two weeks on Change Islands in the north Atlantic where an important aspect of our visits is enjoying the Milky Way in a place where there is very little light pollution. We have noticed that more people on the cove where we stay have installed security lights and wondered why. And during this stay the nights were overcast and we didn't have a single experience of visible planets, or that milky swath, or the Northern Lights. We experienced  noctalgia, a variation of nostalgia, using the Latin "nox", which is night, to describe the sense of loss and grief when the night sky is no longer a part of our lives. 

All The Current guests were thoughtful, but I was particularly intrigued by Dani Robertson who lives adjacent to the only Dark Sky Sanctuary in Europe and is the Dark Sky officer for Wales, with a job description which says, "I protect darkness." In the interview she says: 

It's one of the very few places left where total natural darkness still exists. So I can see that from my bedroom window. And essentially it's literally just across the sea from me. And the skies are so bright. They're so bright, the stars so bright that the Milky Way, it can cast a shadow. So when I'm stood on the beach and I'm looking up at the night sky, the light from the Milky Way casts a shadow on the ground. 

                                                                            

                                                                                         Ynys Enlii

 Ynys Enlli, the island which is the sanctuary( also known as Bardsey Island) was once home to monks and is called the "island of 20,000 saints". It is the legendary burial place of Merlin. I wonder if the brilliance of the night sky was part of the spiritual experience of the monastic life. 

Robertson has written a book which I now covet called All Through the Night. It took me a few days to wake up to the title, which is also the name of a 19th century Welsh Christmas carol. Was that lovely hymn the inspiration for the book title? Ruth and I both know the hymn and I've been whistling it since then. I don't think it's in any of our United Church hymn books, so why is it part of our musical repertoire? 

As many readers will know, I do feel that experiencing the night sky is a gift from the Creator as well as a necessary part of the balance of the natural world. And while I do live with a degree of noctalgia I will always savour the moments when the "heavenly heavens" are revealed. Now folks, look up, look way up...

https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2023/feb/23/ynys-enlli-bardsey-island-off-welsh-coast-designated-dark-sky-sanctuary

Deep the silence round us spreading,
All through the night;
Dark the path that we are treading,
All through the night.
Still the coming day discerning,
By the hope within us burning,
To the dawn our footsteps turning,
All through the night.

Star of Faith the dark adorning,
All through the night;
Leads us fearless toward the morning,
All through the night.
Though our hearts be wrapped in sorrow,
From the home of dawn we borrow,
Promise of a glad tomorrow,

All through the night.

Jane Goodall & a Higher Power

 I listened to an interview with Jane Goodall on CBC Radio's The Current earlier this week and I'm grateful I caught it. 

In her early twenties Goodall headed to Africa to visit a friend and with the goal of working with animals. She was young, by her own admission somewhat naive, and untrained in this sort of work. Fortunately she was mentored by Dr. Louis Leakey who arranged for her to do research with chimpanzees in what is now the Gombe Stream National Park in Tanzania. That research changed the way we regard primates despite the resistance of established scientists, all male, or course.

Today Goodall is 89 years old and is a global conservation ambassador who speaks 300 times a year bringing a message of hope despite the bleak realities of climate change, habitat loss, and the decline in biodiversity. 

The interview by host Matt Galloway was all worthwhile but became intriguing near the end when Jane spoke of her sense that her life's work became a calling (my term, not hers) which sustains her even in old age when her relentless schedule can be exhausting. She identified stories of hope, including the re-greening of the sulphur-scorched Sudbury region in Ontario, where we lived from 1988 to 1999 while that rehabilitation was taking place.

She also spoke of a sense of higher power (again, my term) at the conclusion of the interview. I found this quite moving. I found the transcript which includes these thoughts, but they were left out of the news piece about the interview. Why, I wonder. Are we that leery of people speaking about God, in whatever form, that those musings must be expunged from the reporting? She wasn't being a religious zealot. For many of us it is our belief in a Creator which sustains us and motivates us in working for a better world. 

Here are Goodall's closing exchanges with Matt Galloway, for the record. Thank God for Jane Goodall.

JANE GOODALL: Well, first of all, I'm I'm driven because I care passionately about the environment, the forest, the animals. I care passionately about children. You know, I've got three grandchildren. Grown? No, but presumably two of them anyway, will probably have children. And what a world to be born into. And then, I don't know, it feels as though I'm given this strength, but I can't answer that question because I don't know. I just have to feel it comes from somewhere, whatever is out there. And it's interesting, isn't it, that so many scientists are now saying there is intelligence behind the creation of the universe? My mother said to me when I was growing up, Well, you were born into a Christian family, so you would worship God. You might have been born in Egypt, you'd be a muslim, you'd worship Allah and so on. She can only be one God by whatever name you call him, her name it, whatever. And so this intelligence behind the universe is just another word for that, that whatever it is, you know, I mean, what is it? None of us know. And some people just deny it. I can't. I just because it feels so strong for me.

MG: Then that gives you the drive to do the work you do.

JANE GOODALL: And it gives me the strength. You know, sometimes before a lecture, I'm so tired and, you know, and to the night before, my voice is failing. And I think, well, for pity's sake, help me. And it comes. It's strange, but three times and I've really got scared by this. On one of these occasions when I'm really tired, I've actually looked at myself giving a talk and it's scary. I think I've got to get back into my self to know what I'm saying.