June 27, 2013

I let my poet’s eye fall on my neighbours’ doors as I walked with my dogs this morning. A gloriously carved oak door with a wee peephole, a completely stained-glass door through which the shadows must dance in colour in the eastern light, doors open to screens to allow the rain-refreshed breeze, other doors closed tightly against street sounds and passers-by.

Who are my neighbours? The lady with the corgis, the dad who shares his love of cycling with his daughter tucking her into in a bike trailer, the recently-widowed gardener with flowers hanging over her fence. Their doorways offer a hint of their character, their hobbies, their fears.

Friends in High River have lost their front door. Water damage has shriveled and stained the friendly, bright red paint. Who knows what will be salvageable?

Thank God for friendship, I say, and generosity and compassion. Thank God for grief out loud. Thank God for the holy call to be neighbours.

Blessings,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

June 11, 2013

We got a letter from the mailman yesterday. A real letter, written longhand and signed. Imagine! Who ever heard of getting a letter from the mailman? Delivered by the mailman, yes, but from him?

Randy brought us the mail all winter. This spring his family chose to move to Kingston. He sent us a postcard from his new home. He wrote to Joan and me, saying thank you for time together, however brief (mail carriers move quickly!). He remembered that we had shared chocolates with him too.

This church is a place of welcome and hospitality, where each person is important. You are important. You matter.

Our mail carrier found sweets and welcome in your church. I trust you share that sweet hospitality too.

I send this letter with warmth as a reminder that you are cherished at the heart of God, and here in your church.

Blessings,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

April 30, 2013

Last night I went out for ice cream. Dairy Queen makes a soft ice cream cone that is like tasting clouds. The full moon was bursting through the sky to the east and the light was rushing out of the western horizon as fast as my ice cream melted in my cone.

There is so much in this life to be grateful for, to enjoy and to savour. In the midst of difficult global situations, mayhem erupting in cities and despair at hospital bedsides, there is still so much for which I am thankful. I’m not being selfish, it’s not an escape thing, or “there but for the grace of God go I”, or even about privilege. It’s the deep sense that in the verities and realities of existence, Love holds us, Faith guides us, Hope transforms us. It’s not magic. It’s not naïve. It’s real.

And so my prayer for you is that whatever travail confronts you, you know that you are loved. You are cherished. You are not alone. You are God’s beloved. 

May sweetness and light bring you delight.

Blessings,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

March 12, 2013

We are praying for you.

We always pray for you. During Lent, however, we are making a particular commitment to pray for one another.  

As we get acquainted, we become aware of the many ways those around us touch the city. In our congregation there are librarians and landscapers, a bus driver and a baby-group member, politicians and potters, artists and activists, researchers and reverends! Some of us are preparing for professions and others are retired. Some are mentors and others put their shoulder to the grindstone.

As we move about the city, remembering to pray for one another, we see the gifts of thoughtfulness, care, and spirit that keep us persevering in neighbourhoods, school boards, nursing homes, associations and friendships. The energy to maintain and nourish hope comes from a deep abiding place, and I for one could not keep on without it.

Or, as John Wesley said, “The best of all, God is with us.”

May the nourishment of prayer sustain you

the need to pray encourage you, and

the nearness of God hold you.

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

February 8, 2013

The last time I saw my friend Tom Faulkner we had tea near his home in Winnipeg. I asked him about his longtime practice of Sunday church attendance. “Catherine,” he said, “Sunday worship is the only time many of us have to sit quietly.” We talked about listening to familiar scripture stories, the relationships created in preaching a sermon, music that soothes and excites, and being called to prayer.

Your church provides a time for the regular practice of worship. It takes care and welcoming and study and practice. It takes people, love, and spirit. It takes a deep affection for the city you see pictured on our bulletin. It takes our energy and the Love of God. And it takes the prayers of neighbours who attend as well as those who are not able to, but hold the worshipping community in prayer.

After the Good Samaritan story this week we gathered for the Annual Congregational Meeting. We discussed study groups and music, family faith formation and budget investments, building security and repairs, and the pleasure of being an open and invitational spiritual home.  

Jesus tells the Good Samaritan story after someone asks him “Who is my neighbour?” The answer to that question is a Samaritan who went ‘way above and beyond what a person might do to help a stranger who was an enemy too. We are called to be neighbours and it is a sacred calling.

Thank you for your spiritual practice of holding our Sunday morning worshipping community in prayer. You strengthen us to be the neighbours this city needs. May we all have a moment to sit quietly and be open to God’s presence.

Blessings of quiet, intention, and love,

The Rev. Dr. Catherine Faith MacLean

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