January 23, 2013

I got stuck in my own driveway this morning. Completely my own fault: I reversed into a pile of snow on the side of the drive instead of moving straight back.

The very first thing that went through my mind was: “Don’t spin your wheels”. I guess that mantra was embedded from Drivers’ Ed many years ago. I certainly know it to be true. But what did I do? You guessed it. “Just a little try,” I thought, “just a little.” Well, I was stuck thoroughly in seconds.

I do have a good shovel, and I have warm boots. So I began to dig.

And you may well guess what happened next. A kind neighbour brought another shovel from across the street, and together we released my tires from the snowbank. I drove forward, turned, and reversed straight into the street. Perfect.

You know that our theme this year is “Who is my neighbour?” I’m grateful to Colin for helping me dig out, and it was a pleasure to chat with him a few minutes.

I wonder what the astronaut Chris Hadfield thought when he tweeted the photo of Edmonton, with the snowy fields and river valley so well defined. You’ll find it on our bulletin cover. He may or may not have had any idea of the neighbourliness we give one another. Nor the love of God that inspires some of us to keep it up.

Blessings of neighbourhoods and grace,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

December 6, 2012

Outside, the thick layer of snow has made our front street quiet. The birds, the dogs, even the cars seem less noisy than they did the day before yesterday.

Inside, the Advent wreath at church holds a newly lit candle. Kindling it brings us to a gentle moment of prayer. In the midst of the seasonal bustle, Advent brings a quiet spirituality.

This gentle quiet can open us to hear the hard spiritual questions that confound us at this time of year. Is there a hurt lurking? Is there someone you need to forgive? Is there someone who needs you to pray for them? Is there anyone who doesn’t?

The deep spiritual practice of prayer can bring quiet into the bustle. It can be the reason for stepping forward toward healing. And it can be the grace to accept renewal, reconciliation, and release.

The quiet spirituality of Advent echoes softly with a carol:

      See, amid the winter’s snow, candles flicker, light is low.

      Listen for the angel song: peace and joy, awaited long.

      Bring your prayers and hopes and dreams,

      Offer love with all it seems,

      Time to let the grudges go. Sing a love song in the snow.

Gentle blessings of Advent to you,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

October 25, 2012

When they finally got the Temple up in Jerusalem, the story goes, it sounded as though Solomon had done the whole thing. He cut stone, paneled cedar, gilded with gold, and spoke the words of dedication. Other parts of the story list the tens of thousands of people who lifted the heavy stone, cut the trees, set the gilding, and showed up to sing hymns of praise to God. Either way you look at it, it’s a big job to get a temple built.

Building the Temple marked a culmination of desire: to have a place to call holy, where divinity could be met and faith could be understood. Funny thing, though, God didn’t set a limit to the threshold of holiness. People would argue for generations about where God could be found. In Jerusalem, outside Jerusalem; in a temple, in a place of nature’s beauty: people got hot under the collar about it.

I guess we do, too. That’s not just an archaic argument. Are you religious or spiritual?

I believe there’s not a necessary division between religion and spirituality. Religion without spirituality can be dull, rigorous and empty. Spirituality without religion can be self-serving, unfocused and ungenerous.

Put them together, though, and there’s lively worship, meaningful conversation and significant outreach. If I have anything to learn from Solomon’s ancient temple, it’s that I need a place to learn about God with trusted friends, and that God is wilder than any cage might contain.

Blessings of studied faith and surprising spirit to you,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

October 10, 2012

Thanksgiving in this part of the country is a transition time. We move from the warm golden-yellow world of early fall to the cool leaden-grey colours of late autumn. Activities that have begun are well underway. Sneakers make way for boots. Cotton pullovers get placed in the trunk and wool sweaters come out.

Thanksgiving is primarily a time of gratitude. We have paused to acknowledge the gifts of love, care and harvest that nourish us. We have given thanks to God, the source of that love.

I am aware of a connection between transition and gratitude: the faith that expresses thanks is the deepening faith that can see hope despite difficulty, trust in the face of tears, promise even through betrayal. This is hard living, the living through change.

And change of course is what our bodies and spirits are poised to do. I know that there is some difficulty in your life, and I hope you take some strength from the fact that I pray for you. At church every week there are moments of prayer, spoken or silent, that connect to your circumstances. And while I would never talk about you without asking your permission, you are part of the unspoken prayers in the great communion of saints. You are a part of us: we are not alone.

May you know the blessing of God’s holy presence in the changes you face. And may you know that we are thankful for you.

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

September 20, 2012

It is another beautiful day, and I hope you have a spot to sit in a window and soak up the sun. I hope you can see the blue in the sky and the gold coming into the trees. I hope you have a feeling of gratitude in your soul that lifts you beyond your current burdens.

The North Saskatchewan River curves through our city and out through the parkland, flowing east and north to Hudson Bay. Walking the trail through Louise McKinney Park with my dogs Sunday, I was aware of the diversity of people I met and the pleasure I saw on people‘s faces. The movement of the river, dark and deep and cold, doesn’t speak of the variety of human concern it passes: logging in the mountains, hiking on the passes, industry on the flat land, harvesting downstream, and the footfall of ordinary Sunday afternoon strolls like my own. 

We cherish this lovely river valley, and the river’s journey connects us without our effort or thought. Similarly there is a love that holds us, connects us, and energizes us: I become aware of it in prayer. Somewhere, there is someone praying right this minute. The flow of blessing happens even when you and I are busy at industry, business, kitchen work, sleeping, or gazing out the window at the lovely afternoon.

I do hope the beauty of this season gives you inspiration. I deeply hope the presence of love fills your soul. And I draw hope that this love carries the burdens and heals the rifts in our human journey.

Blessings of light and love as we share the burdens of the journey,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

September 6, 2012

I appreciate recitations. When I find the pace of things heating up, reciting poetry can slow me down. When I get stuck waiting in a grocery line or in heavy traffic, a familiar passage can bring me patience - or at least distract me. One of my favourites is Matthew

11: 28-30.

 ‘Come to me,

  all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens,

  and I will give you rest.

  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me;

  for I am gentle and humble in heart,

  and you will find rest for your souls.

 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’

I love the part about rest. What I’ve been thinking about lately, though, is the yoke. Hmm. Oxen are yoked: two oxen, yoked together, pull heavy loads.

Perhaps Jesus is telling us that spiritual rest doesn’t remove the burden. We still live our lives, confronted by circumstances as well as events of our own making. We can draw a breath and rest because we can share our burden. And we, in turn, share his. We are not alone.

We do that for one another in a spiritual community, don’t we? We are given one another to help with our load. And we share burdens we would never know others carry, because of Jesus’ community.

One more thing: a good yoke fits smoothly. Good thing, that, because I know some of your burdens are pretty heavy.

Blessings of companionship as we share the burdens of the journey,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

July 26, 2012


When I look at your heavens,

the work of your fingers,


   the moon and the stars that you have established;


what are human beings that you are mindful of them,

mortals that you care for them?

from Psalm 8

These summer nights a person has to stay up really late to see the stars. The moon passes through its phases above us, and the thunderclouds roll across the evening skies with power and beauty.

No wonder our ancestors in faith attributed each vista of beauty and each uncontrollable power to God’s creative hand. I am overwhelmed sometimes by the natural wonders around me and awe leads me to praise. Or fear. Or wonder.

I don’t really think God is painting each sunset. But I do believe that God loves this world, and that it is God’s World, not mine. I am part of it and God is mindful of me. Wow. I have that in common with the poet who wrote Psalm 8.

So I am primed for praise. Ready to listen for God’s love when I am afraid. And open to God with wonder, sheer wonder, at the earth and our part as mortals walking around on it.

  

Blessings of beauty and awe to you,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean