Here we are inside Saint John’s Church, Ottawa, built in 1860 as a chapel of ease for the parish of Christ Church, Ottawa at the corner of Sussex and George streets, facing north. It was taken over by Bishop John Travers Lewis in the 1870s and later enlarged as the Bishop’s Chapel in the late Victorian period.

Its site was expropriated by the federal government, but the church happened to burn down in 1912. Consequently, the congregation of Saint John’s Church amalgamated and moved in with Grace Church at the corner of Elgin and Somerset streets, where they have been ever since.

We see the interior of the Bishop’s Chapel here as photographed by William James Topley in the 1890s. The Diocesan Archives acquired a copy of this image from the Topley collection at Library and Archives Canada years ago, but in 2019 as preparations began to renovate and restore 71 Bronson Avenue, an original sepia print of this photograph was discovered in a basement safe and brought by Sanjay Grover to the Archives for safekeeping.

Alas, no photograph seems to survive of the interior of this house of worship as originally built in 1860. We are standing in a later section built circa the 1890s looking north into the original part of the church. We can only guess as to the original 1860 layout. All pews in 1860, as here, may have faced north, with the altar and liturgical centre on the north wall, with the huge pointed window in the east wall bathing the interior with light. Sound confusing?  Yes, but at the mother church on Sparks Street, after all, the altar was on the south wall, and the liturgical west window was on the north wall.

Or maybe not. Perhaps the Chapel of Ease already was following Tractarian ideas by placing the chancel and sanctuary on the east wall, forcing members during the service to face the blinding light coming in the huge east window. Evidence that Tractarian notions were beginning to take hold here is evident in all the exposed beams and boards of the timber ceiling.

What is remarkable about this photograph is how visually striking everything appears, aided perhaps by the photographer’s flash and numerous electric lights. Our initial impression is one of bold contrasts, an impression created by the bold diagonals of the ceiling beams, the arrangement of boards in the ceiling in diamond formation, the striking band of trefoils on the upper walls, the bold band of stencils both below the band of trefoils and above the wainscotting, and the gilded words above the chancel window “Praise God in His Holiness.”

There is more than that to take in here. The eye goes on to note the pointed arches of the pew ends, the gleaming altar rail, the windows with a combination of stained and leaded glass to permit a maximum amount of light to enter the house of worship, the carved wooden panels on three sides in the chancel with painted insert panels, the prominent pulpit on the left side with the font in front of it across from the lectern on the right in front of the choir pews, with a large organ behind them, and perhaps a small choir vestry tucked in behind the large organ pipes. The hymn boards on each side echo the main reredos of the altar. The placing of the altar as we see it here may have been due to there being two entrances to the church on the west wall, one for people coming in from Mackenzie Avenue, and the other leading in from Sussex Street.

The Diocesan Archives collects parish registers, vestry reports, service registers, minutes of groups and committees, financial documents, property records (including cemeteries and architectural plans), insurance policies, letters, pew bulletins, photographs and paintings, scrapbooks, parish newsletters and unusual documents.

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The thing is, we understand power and strength; some people or organizations have the ability to control what is done, they are able to make things happen; that is power. And we quite understand how one’s followers would fight to prevent their leader, the symbol of their power, from being handed over to his enemies.

But we don’t understand power that refuses to act. We don’t understand a leader who has the power to destroy his enemies and yet forbids his followers to protect him and allows himself to be handed over to his enemies and killed. This doesn’t look like power to us, it looks like weakness. It looks like losing, making yourself a doormat for others to just walk right over! We miss the point.

There is a story told of an Emperor of Japan who was growing old. And it happened that there was a young ambitious prince who was sure that he could do a better job of ruling the empire, so he was plotting to assassinate the Emperor and take his place. Then, one day, the prince was summoned to meet with the Emperor in his private garden. The prince had to surrender his swords to the emperor’s guards as he entered the garden for his private meeting with the Emperor and he was filled with fear. Had his plot been discovered? Was the Emperor planning to execute him in the garden? But, as he entered, the Emperor greeted him warmly and suggested that they walk together. “But I am an old man,” he said, “and grow tired easily. Would you carry my swords for me as we walk?” So, they walked together, through the beauty and peace of the garden, talking as the young man carried the Emperor’s swords. And from then on, the prince became the Emperor’s most faithful supporter. Amazingly, as the Emperor used his power to put himself completely into the power of his enemy, he transformed the enemy into friend.

And that is Jesus’s point; not to crush opposition, nor to destroy those who opposed him, nor even to force compliance but simply to change hearts, to transform enemies into friends.  That should not be any surprise to us since Jesus is the incarnation of the God who said, “I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked but rather that the wicked turn from his way and live!” (Ezekiel 33: 11)

Therefore, that is our point also, we who follow Jesus as our King. We simply do not get to use power in the ways that we have always considered normal and proper. Our point cannot be to destroy, not even to destroy those we consider evil in this world. Our point cannot be to force compliance, to make people be good. Who are we to do what God has refused to do?

Our point is to transform hearts, to love our enemies until they become our friends. And it will certainly take all our power and more to accomplish that. It is much harder than our normal use of power; after all, it’s not actually that difficult to compel obedience, or to destroy, is it?  But to change someone’s heart, to transform enemies into friends, that is hugely more difficult and takes immense strength, courage, imagination, and love; far more of all of those than we actually have, in fact.

So, we have to turn to Jesus, our King (which is really the central point in all of this!) and ask for his help. Then we find that we have all of his strength, patience, courage, and love, available to us, and what was impossible moments before becomes now not only quite possible but even huge fun. We find, often to our surprise, that we are able to trust even the untrustworthy, able to love even the unlovable, able to follow Jesus even into the most difficult places of our lives.  And, by the grace of God, sometimes we even see hearts changed, we see the love grow, and we see the Kingdom spread.

The Ven. Rob Davis is a retired priest of the diocese

The post Why a King? appeared first on Perspective.

I was just walking down Metcalfe Street, on my way

to the main branch of the Ottawa Public Library,

when I saw a woman wearing a shirt that said,

“Grow through what you go through”, illustrated

with some various vegetables, and I really

loved and love that quote, with a thought of

telling her how much I liked it, though we had already

passed each other by.

Then came a thought that it only

tells the what, but not the how. And I then realized

that the only way to get to the how is with support. Unlike

the idea that we are spoon-fed from birth in our Western society

that says that this is something that we must do completely

on our own, that no one is responsible for anyone

but themselves, that tells us the fantasy

(and the lie), of people who

achieve greatness

against all odds.

It does have a wonderful sound to it,

and it makes a gloriously heroic archetype for movies and

the stories of our lives, so I can’t blame anyone too much for believing it.

The only problem with it is that it is almost true, but not quite.

Where it goes wrong is when it speaks of people

achieving greatness against all odds.

But no one can achieve greatness against all odds.

No one can achieve greatness against all manner of adversity

without having at least one thing going their way, without having at

least one advantage, often hidden, which helps tip the

teetering scales of life in their favour.

No one can achieve greatness feeling the whole

world hates them and not having a supportive family

and belonging to a stigmatized, marginalized

group and having every other disadvantage

that one could possibly conceive of.

There has to be at least one person, one role

model, whether it be a parent, a teacher, a preacher,

or someone of at least some standing in society

who doesn’t think they suck, who believes

in them, and who helps shine a light

to light a path through the thorny

brambles and obstacles that

this world often throws our way.

With that then comes the actual possibility

of being able to “Grow through what you go through”.

Amen to that.

— James Andriulaitis is a writer and artist living in Ottawa.

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Library exhibit showcases Belong Ottawa artists’ talent

“We are put here to blossom…to sing”

St. Albans concerned about Centre 454 transition

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I find it striking that the pattern of the church year runs counter to the pattern of the earth’s seasons. As autumn begins, the earth yields its harvest and prepares for winter: a season of dormancy and rest before springtime’s new growth.

By contrast, our church and community life often moves from summer’s quieter pace —while still active in worship and service, we also make room for self care, spending time with loved ones, exploring new places, or resting in familiar places. And in the fall, we engage in a season of renewed activity, as the church year progresses through Ordinary Time toward the Reign of Christ, we turn again to planning, programming, and action.

This September, let us carry forward the renewal summer has offered. The prophet Isaiah reminds us that “those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength.” St. Paul, in the letter to the Romans 12:2, calls us to be “transformed by the renewing of our minds.” In this turning of the season, we are invited to receive God’s renewal and with wells refilled and strength restored, dive into the ministries to which we are called, with hearts and minds open to God’s transforming purpose, in and around us all.

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There’s More Here Than You Think There Is!  Artist Mary Pratt was renowned for her paintings whose subject matter focused on women’s work. In an interview, when asked about one painting of empty eggshells, she responded enigmatically, “Love me!  Love Me! There’s more here than you think there is!” In other words, look carefully.

We could say much the same about Saint Bede’s Church, Nolan’s Corners. It is shown here early in the 21st century, long after an addition was made a generation ago. At first glance, Saint Bede’s doesn’t seem to amount to much. It seems to be a very simple building. It certainly was small when built, being no larger than the red brick one room school nearby. Like it, it was built unassumingly of red brick. It was aligned with the forced road that ran past the front door, with no attempt at having its congregation face toward Jerusalem during their devotions.

There isn’t even any mystery as to the age of Saint Bede’s Church, as shown by the year 1886 on the date stone at the top of the narthex gable—a most unusual location, suggesting that it was altogether a last-minute notion to incorporate it. The side windows of Saint Bede’s Church did not have so much as a trace of stained glass in them when this photograph was taken, and the pews inside at that time were little more than benches with a back rail. Those who perceive that this is a very functional building indeed will not be surprised to see the very large, very practical burial ground extending out behind this small rural house of worship.

But once we understand the context in which Saint Bede’s was built, we see that something revolutionary was taking place with the building of this unpretentious house of worship. People from Nolan’s Corners went to Saint James’s Church, Franktown from the 1820s on. Saint James’s was a simple auditory box, with a Palladian window over the altar, and with a tower over the front door to proclaim that this was a church of the British establishment. When a church was built at nearby Smiths Falls in 1849, if larger, it too had the same temple form as the church at Franktown, albeit with pointed windows rather than round-headed ones, but still a tower over the entrance at the front to declare that it was a church of the British establishment.

Saint Bede’s was built 40 years after Saint John’s, Smiths Falls, and 60 years after Saint James’s, Franktown. It might as well have been 500 years. Unlike earlier churches, sharing a handful of traditional names—Christ Church, Saint James, Saint John and Saint Paul—Saint Bede’s stood out with the name of a major early English churchman. Whereas the earlier churches were built expensively in stone, Saint Bede’s was red brick in construction.

The towers signifying the British establishment had given way to a modest entrance porch, and the old temple form of earlier churches gave way here to steep gables and pointed windows proclaiming affinity with the mediaeval past. Where earlier churches featured a communion table on the same level as worshippers, there was a steep flight of steps up to the altar in Saint Bede’s, and the congregation looked up to a large chancel window high above the altar. The source for all this change was to be found in back issues of The Church Builder from 1866 to 1878 consulted by the local clergyman building Saint Bede’s.

The Diocesan Archives collects parish registers, vestry reports, service registers, minutes of groups and committees, financial documents, property records (including cemeteries and architectural plans), insurance policies, letters, pew bulletins, photographs and paintings, scrapbooks, parish newsletters and unusual documents.

The post Saint Bede’s, Nolan’s Corners — Lanark Deanery appeared first on Perspective.

I have been leading a group in the practice of Christian meditation for years. Like its sister practice of centering prayer, Christian meditation asks us to let go of images and thoughts about God and instead to give God our full attention in silence. People ask sometimes how one can justify this use or non-use of one’s time. With so many needs in the world, ought we not to be busy trying to meet them? A bumper sticker version of the question says humorously “Christ is coming again. Look busy!”

Our faith tradition proposes something quite different. The purpose of activity is rest. It’s hard to think of anything more counter-cultural, even in the Church, than this. Activity in any form that is not harmful is seen as self-justifying and true. Has there been any time when there was so much sheer activity as there is today, yet with so little real co-ordination and unity of purpose?

Mere activity – activity for the sake of activity – is simply diabolical – noise for the sake of noise, bustle for the sake of bustle. The Vulgate translation of Psalm 91:6 describes the devil as negotium perambulans in tenebris, “the business that prowls around in the shadows,” sheer mischief looking for a loophole by which it can make an entry. Dorothy L. Sayers wrote that “damnation is without direction or purpose. Why not? It has nothing to do, and all eternity to do it in.” George Macdonald, by contrast, described heaven as “the regions where there is only life and therefore all that is not music is silence.”

It’s a sad feature of our culture that so many of us have little opportunity for genuine interior repose and quiet, and we are reluctant to use it when it comes our way. Perhaps there is a fear that if we are deprived of the distractions, the noise, both literal and metaphorical, which is the condition of regular life, we might have to start paying attention to the disquieting suspicion that the very activity that so dominates life is largely pointless and self-frustrating. Noise can, in fact, make itself louder and louder in order to disguise its own futility.

The book of Genesis provides the pattern of rest. We are told that God blessed and hallowed the seventh day, because God rested from all the work of creation. There is a real sense, of course, in which God’s activity never ceases at all, since God’s creative act perpetually upholds and energizes the universe. Neither is the inner being of God dead or static. It is that unfathomable energy of life and love which is the Holy Trinity. But all this involves no change in God, no alteration or vacillation of actions. God is the unchanging ground of the changing universe. In God, rest and activity are reconciled.

Nevertheless, the truth that the anthropomorphic language of Genesis expresses is that God does not, so to speak, turn away in relief from the created world. God contemplates it and rejoices in it. God is not like the wage-slave who tries to forget work during the weekend break. God is more like the hobbyist who makes things and then takes pleasure in using them, or like the painter who can enjoy looking at a picture she has made.

In the Genesis story, the story of the first creation, it was on the sixth day of the week that God made man in the divine image and gave him dominion over the lower creatures. In the Gospel story, the story of the new creation, humankind was remade by God on the sixth day of the week, the first Good Friday, when Christ, the perfect man, died on the cross. And Christ rested in the tomb on Holy Saturday – the Great Sabbath – in the enjoyment of the work of the new creation. He saw what he had made and behold, it was very good. The consummation of the new creation comes when Christ lies at rest in the tomb, happy in the fulfilment of his work and awaiting his resurrection.

In Christ we have entered into the rest of God (see Hebrews 4:1-11), a rest that is not stagnation, inertia, or boredom, but perfect and unruffled life. Our full possession of this rest awaits us after death, but its foretaste is given to us here. We have already been made “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4). Our life is hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3).

So, what about meditation and other contemplative practices? In contemplative prayer, we are not strictly speaking passive but receptive. We are receptive of God’s own self-contemplation, caught up into God’s own life and energized by God. Thus, contemplation is the source and foundation of all truly Christian activity. Many great contemplative saints, outside their times of prayer, have been veritable volcanoes of activity. But that activity has been unified, coherent, vital, and totally concentrated on one object, the fulfilment of God’s will.

Contemplation is, therefore, the source and the end of Christian action. It is the end because our final destiny is to contemplate God in heaven. It is the source, because Christian action is simply the overflow of contemplation.

In Christ we have entered into the rest of God (see Hebrews 4:1-11), a rest that is not stagnation, inertia, or boredom, but perfect and unruffled life. Our full possession of this rest awaits us after death, but its foretaste is given to us here. We have already been made “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4). Our life is hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3).

The post On activity and rest appeared first on Perspective.

Depuis des années, j’anime un groupe de méditation chrétienne. Tout comme la prière centrée, qui lui est apparentée, la méditation chrétienne nous invite à laisser de côté les images et les pensées concernant Dieu pour lui accorder toute notre attention dans le silence. On me demande parfois comment on peut justifier cette façon d’utiliser – ou de ne pas utiliser – son temps. Avec tant de besoins dans le monde, ne devrions-nous pas nous affairer à y répondre ? Une version humoristique de cette question, sous forme d’autocollant, dit : « Le Christ revient. Fais semblant d’être occupé ! »

Notre tradition religieuse propose quelque chose de tout à fait différent. Le but de l’activité, c’est le repos. Difficile d’imaginer quelque chose de plus à contre-courant, même au sein de l’Église, que ça. Toute forme d’activité qui n’est pas nuisible est considérée comme justifiée en soi et authentique. Y a-t-il déjà eu une époque où il y avait autant d’activité pure et simple qu’aujourd’hui, mais avec si peu de coordination réelle et d’unité dans les objectifs ?

L’activité pure – l’activité pour l’activité – est tout simplement diabolique : du bruit pour le bruit, de l’agitation pour l’agitation. La traduction de la Vulgate du psaume 91,6 décrit le diable comme negotium perambulans in tenebris, « l’activité qui rôde dans l’ombre », une pure malice à la recherche d’une faille par laquelle elle pourrait s’introduire. Dorothy L. Sayers a écrit que « la damnation est sans direction ni but. Pourquoi pas ? Elle n’a rien à faire, et toute l’éternité pour le faire. » (Dante, Divine Comedy. Purgatory. Introduction, p. 61). George Macdonald, en revanche, a décrit le paradis comme « les régions où il n’y a que la vie et où, par conséquent, tout ce qui n’est pas musique est silence. »(« The Hands of the Father », Unspoken Sermons, First Series, 1867)

C’est une triste caractéristique de notre culture que tant d’entre nous aient si peu d’occasions de connaître un véritable repos intérieur et le calme, et soient réticents à en profiter quand ça se présente. Peut-être craignons-nous que, privés des distractions, du bruit, tant littéral que métaphorique, qui est la condition de la vie ordinaire, nous devions commencer à prêter attention au soupçon inquiétant que l’activité même qui domine tant la vie est en grande partie inutile et frustrante. Le bruit peut en effet s’amplifier de plus en plus pour masquer sa propre futilité.

Le livre de la Genèse nous donne le modèle du repos. On nous dit que Dieu a béni et sanctifié le septième jour, car Dieu s’est reposé de toute l’œuvre de la création. Bien sûr, dans un sens bien réel, l’activité de Dieu ne cesse jamais, puisque son acte créateur soutient et anime l’univers en permanence. L’être intérieur de Dieu n’est pas non plus inerte ou statique. C’est cette énergie insondable de vie et d’amour qui est la Sainte Trinité. Mais tout cela n’implique aucun changement en Dieu, aucune altération ni hésitation dans ses actions. Dieu est le fondement immuable de l’univers changeant. En Dieu, le repos et l’activité sont réconciliés.

Néanmoins, la vérité que le langage anthropomorphique de la Genèse exprime, c’est que Dieu ne se détourne pas, pour ainsi dire, du monde créé avec soulagement. Dieu le contemple et s’en réjouit. Dieu n’est pas comme l’esclave salarié qui essaie d’oublier le travail pendant le week-end. Dieu ressemble davantage à l’amateur qui fabrique des objets puis prend plaisir à les utiliser, ou au peintre qui peut apprécier de regarder un tableau qu’elle a réalisé.

Dans le récit de la Genèse, l’histoire de la première création, c’est le sixième jour de la semaine que Dieu a créé l’homme à son image et lui a donné la domination sur les créatures inférieures. Dans le récit de l’Évangile, l’histoire de la nouvelle création, l’humanité a été refaite par Dieu le sixième jour de la semaine, le premier Vendredi saint, lorsque le Christ, l’homme parfait, est mort sur la croix. Et le Christ s’est reposé dans le tombeau le Samedi Saint – le Grand Sabbat – en jouissant de l’œuvre de la nouvelle création. Il a vu ce qu’il avait fait et voici, cela était très bon. L’achèvement de la nouvelle création survient lorsque le Christ repose dans le tombeau, heureux de l’accomplissement de son œuvre et attendant sa résurrection.

En Christ, nous sommes entrés dans le repos de Dieu (voir Hébreux 4, 1-11), un repos qui n’est ni stagnation, ni inertie, ni ennui, mais une vie parfaite et sereine. La pleine possession de ce repos nous attend après la mort, mais on nous en donne un avant-goût ici-bas. Nous avons déjà été rendus « participants de la nature divine » (2 Pierre 1, 4). Notre vie est cachée avec le Christ en Dieu (Colossiens 3, 3).

Alors, qu’en est-il de la méditation et des autres pratiques contemplatives ? Dans la prière contemplative, on n’est pas à proprement parler passif mais réceptif. On est réceptif à la contemplation que Dieu fait de lui-même, transporté dans la vie même de Dieu et animé par Dieu. Ainsi, la contemplation est la source et le fondement de toute activité véritablement chrétienne. Beaucoup de grands saints contemplatifs, en dehors de leurs moments de prière, ont été de véritables volcans d’activité. Mais cette activité était unifiée, cohérente, vitale et totalement concentrée sur un seul objectif : l’accomplissement de la volonté de Dieu.

La contemplation est donc la source et la fin de l’action chrétienne. C’est la fin, car notre destin ultime est de contempler Dieu au ciel. C’est la source, car l’action chrétienne n’est que le débordement de la contemplation.

The post De l’activité et du repos appeared first on Perspective.

Leslie was the beloved wife of the late Ven. Gordon Worden, and loving mother of Rebecca Worden (Peter McCracken), Emily Worden-Kwok (Jeffrey Kwok), and Jessica Worden (former spouse Eric-Vance Bolling). She was adored by her grandchildren Zachary, Kaella, Sarah, Liam, and Kyle.

She had an adventurous life traveling and living in many places while she was growing up because her father was in the military and as an adult with her husband, who was an Anglican priest.

She was a talented musican from a very young age, and she played the piano, autoharp, accordion, and sang. She was a member of several different music groups and choirs. According to her family, “For Leslie, there was never a moment that didn’t call for a familiar or improvised tune.”

Her friend, the Rev. Canon Rhondda MacKay offered the homily at her celebration of life service, and recalled that “for many years, in parishes up and down the valley, Leslie’s ministry had been in church schools with her trusty accordion—eye to eye with the children.”

Leslie studied computer technology at Western University in London, Ont. Her training served her well later in her role as information technologist at Ascension House and the Archives, and while she patiently and generously helped many people sort out computer problems.

She was a dedicated volunteer for many causes including the Girl Guides of Canada, the Anglican Church of Canada, and the Ottawa Anglican Cursillo Movement. She was co-coordinator for the Anglican Church Women with her friend Marni Crossley.

Canon Rhondda MacKay said, “Her creative energy flowed in caring for others — in her work, in the guiding movement, and her advocacy for women in the church and beyond; as a warden, member of the altar guild and more in this church; in sharing her technical skills wherever they were needed; recycling for a good cause, but most of all through music.

Canon MacKay said, “People have remarked to me how Leslie sparkled. Leslie’s light sparkled for us as humble and caring service in all sorts of ways:

• in her devotion to her beloved family
• in the way she faced challenges with a positive spirit and hopefulness
• in her openness to learning new things
• in her gifts for and appreciation of music.

Her faith was important to her. “Leslie was a light on a hill — a positive presence,” MacKay said. “She constantly shared her light. That is what we celebrate today and hold onto as a life lesson.”

The family welcomes memorial contributions to The Hearts of Compassion Fund (that includes Belong Ottawa, Centre 105, Cornerstone Housing for Women, Ottawa Pastoral Counselling Centre, and the Refugee Ministry Office).

The post Remembering Leslie Worden: 1949 – 2026 appeared first on Perspective.

We live in a time where the world around us clamours with words of scarcity and fear – I will lead in reminding us of our story set in the abundance of God’s reign, offering hope in place of fear. As St. Paul wrote to the Colossians: “You need to remain well established and rooted in faith and not shift away from the hope given in the good news.”

Standing firm in the grace of God we move forward on this awesome journey of hope-filled faith, alive to the challenges which are, in truth, new opportunities to share the good news of God’s love with a world that is desperately seeking hope and meaningful purpose. Together with people of faith across our country and the world, we offer messages of hope, welcome and justice for all, a heart for reconciliation, and loving service in our communities, all “rooted and grounded in the love of God through Jesus Christ” strengthened by the Holy Spirit.

I am blessed to lead and serve as your bishop, and I offer my blessing to all of you as together we embark with energy and intention on this new stage of our journey in our Anglican Diocese of Ottawa.

The post A note of thanks appeared first on Perspective.