As I said in my last post our Study Group this year is on Liturgy. Here is a link to the text of my first presentation. Each week we have a short presentation followed by a lively discussion.
The high school I attended was where the rural indigenous teens were bused. Every day they had to get on a bus before 7am for a 40 minute ride to the school. Classes started at 9am but they had to come extra early because the bus driver had another route to attend to closer to the school. They also had to wait at the school as the bus drove the closer kids home and then picked them up around 4pm. This means their school day was roughly 7am to 5pm. In comparison my day was roughly 8am to 4pm. There was a part of the school that was “theirs”. No one but “the Indian kids”, as we ignorantly called them, went there before school, at lunch, or after school. And I mean NO ONE. The rest of us were either scared, anxious, or so unfamiliar with those kids that it never really occurred to us to go there. Don’t get me wrong, there was never any violence there. No “others” who may have inadvertently wandered into that part of the school were ever harmed or abused in any way. As I recall I walk...
So... I have no idea who will read this, if anyone, however I'm going to write it because I need to. Ten years ago I sat with Wendy Faye as she received the difficult diagnosis that she had triple negative breast cancer. We were both gutted, overwhelmed, scared, confused, and all the other emotions that have no names. WF, as WF, faced it with grace, determination, courage, faith, and a fair amount of grit... ok a lot of grit. I watched her go through the suffering that can be chemotherapy. I witnessed her endure the pain of surgery and recovery. I beheld the life sucking, energy sapping treatment that is radiation. She came out the other side with life changing physical issues. But she came out the other side. For a time. All of that treatment, pain, suffering gave her, gave us, another two years. Then that vicious disease returned with a vengeance and once again I became a witness to the last few months of her life. Now... almost 7 years after her death... Now... It's my turn...
This past Tuesday I was honoured to be asked to come to St. George's Round Church in Halifax and preach on the Festival of St. Michael and All Angels. It was a grand occasion full of wonderful music and glorious liturgy. The link to my sermon is found by clicking HERE Sadly my recorder got left home so I did not get an opportunity to put up the audio. Your comments and feedback are valuable to me.
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