A number of years ago, I was privileged to represent the Anglican Church of Canada at an awards ceremony in Rideau Hall. The Imagine a Canada essay and art competition was organized by the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation, and young people from across Canada were invited to make submissions that contributed to the national conversation about reconciliation. Ten young people, ranging in age from 8 to 23, were award-winners, and it was very inspiring to listen to their voices and to see their art and compositions.
Half of the recipients came from Indigenous communities, and they had a keen awareness of the experiences of their people: a Nookmis (grandmother) who was sent to a residential school; limited opportunities in some reserves; factors that diminish mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health; the legacy of intergenerational trauma; racism; and the heroic struggle to reclaim lost language, culture, and wholeness. Without exception, and however grim the circumstances that informed their work, the art and essays conveyed vision and possibilities for the future. There was much truth and hope in what I saw and heard.
Easter reminds us that God is a God of endless possibilities, and that our vocation as an Easter people is to align ourselves with visions and possibilities for the future that are truth-based and hope-filled.
In Holy Week we commemorate the last days of Jesus’ life, where many disturbing moments of betrayal and denial—and the alarming tyranny of crowds—contrast sharply with exquisite moments, where the profound wisdom and compassion of Jesus is shared with his disciples.
After Jesus died on Good Friday, the disciples are unable to recall those exquisite moments, and they are swallowed up in the trauma of loss. After Easter, they start to piece it all together, and they see how everything led to the point where God made a definitive statement about life and hope. They saw how Jesus had been tortured and killed because he said God was compassion, and that being compassionate is the way to be close to God. They saw how Jesus had been raised, telling them that nothing is stronger than the love and compassion they had seen in him and learned from him. They were convinced that, in Jesus, God had fully revealed God’s nature, and had also shown people how to be fully human.
It is important to be prayerfully informed of the suffering of others, and to look to our hearts of compassion when we respond—checking our own tendencies toward denial. We cannot avert our eyes from the catastrophic violence in Ukraine because of its global significance. We are less conscious of major wars raging in Tigray, Afghanistan, Myanmar, and Yemeni, with thousands of deaths and millions of refugees. And there are approximately 18 significant and dozens of other conflicts on the continents of Africa, South America, and Asia, with a combined death toll in the thousands and refugees in the hundreds of thousands.
Seeing all this suffering, this violence that dehumanizes both combatants and civilians, is a vivid and urgent call to our hearts of compassion—a call to stand with all who seek peace and reconciliation. Now is the time to speak and act from the love of Christ. Now is the time to be fully human.
God gives each of us minds and voices, to recognize and truthfully name disturbing things, and to knowingly and unashamedly align ourselves with light, hope, and endless possibilities for the future.
Standing with those who seek peace and reconciliation
A number of years ago, I was privileged to represent the Anglican Church of Canada at an awards ceremony in Rideau Hall. The Imagine a Canada essay and art competition was organized by the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation, and young people from across Canada were invited to make submissions that contributed to the national conversation about reconciliation. Ten young people, ranging in age from 8 to 23, were award-winners, and it was very inspiring to listen to their voices and to see their art and compositions.
Half of the recipients came from Indigenous communities, and they had a keen awareness of the experiences of their people: a Nookmis (grandmother) who was sent to a residential school; limited opportunities in some reserves; factors that diminish mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health; the legacy of intergenerational trauma; racism; and the heroic struggle to reclaim lost language, culture, and wholeness. Without exception, and however grim the circumstances that informed their work, the art and essays conveyed vision and possibilities for the future. There was much truth and hope in what I saw and heard.
Easter reminds us that God is a God of endless possibilities, and that our vocation as an Easter people is to align ourselves with visions and possibilities for the future that are truth-based and hope-filled.
In Holy Week we commemorate the last days of Jesus’ life, where many disturbing moments of betrayal and denial—and the alarming tyranny of crowds—contrast sharply with exquisite moments, where the profound wisdom and compassion of Jesus is shared with his disciples.
After Jesus died on Good Friday, the disciples are unable to recall those exquisite moments, and they are swallowed up in the trauma of loss. After Easter, they start to piece it all together, and they see how everything led to the point where God made a definitive statement about life and hope. They saw how Jesus had been tortured and killed because he said God was compassion, and that being compassionate is the way to be close to God. They saw how Jesus had been raised, telling them that nothing is stronger than the love and compassion they had seen in him and learned from him. They were convinced that, in Jesus, God had fully revealed God’s nature, and had also shown people how to be fully human.
It is important to be prayerfully informed of the suffering of others, and to look to our hearts of compassion when we respond—checking our own tendencies toward denial. We cannot avert our eyes from the catastrophic violence in Ukraine because of its global significance. We are less conscious of major wars raging in Tigray, Afghanistan, Myanmar, and Yemeni, with thousands of deaths and millions of refugees. And there are approximately 18 significant and dozens of other conflicts on the continents of Africa, South America, and Asia, with a combined death toll in the thousands and refugees in the hundreds of thousands.
Seeing all this suffering, this violence that dehumanizes both combatants and civilians, is a vivid and urgent call to our hearts of compassion—a call to stand with all who seek peace and reconciliation. Now is the time to speak and act from the love of Christ. Now is the time to be fully human.
God gives each of us minds and voices, to recognize and truthfully name disturbing things, and to knowingly and unashamedly align ourselves with light, hope, and endless possibilities for the future.
The Rt. Rev. Shane Parker is the Bishop of the Anglican Diocese of Ottawa.
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