Most of us can recall a moment in our own past when something that gave meaning and happiness to life seemed suddenly to have been taken away. Matthew’s Easter Gospel tells us, however, that early on that morning, the discovery was made that Jesus Christ was raised from the dead, and that this incredible, miraculous, life-changing news would turn that empty tomb into a profound sign of God’s love and transforming power to heal and restore and make all things new.

In the weeks that follow Easter Sunday, we hear in scripture how the appearances of Jesus after his death gave his followers a new confidence and conviction that the leader who they had placed all their hopes and dreams in would never be separated from them again. Their minds had been confused and their hearts broken. They had been devastated and paralyzed with grief and abandonment. Now, however, they were full of courage and faith. They were ready for the difficult task of sharing their Easter joy with others. Christ’s resurrection would change these men and women forever, and this miraculous and profound event would propel them forward in the days ahead.

My wife and I have been watching a British television program called “Long Lost Family” where family members are reunited after many years of separation and disconnection. In one episode, a man who had been adopted from birth, sat in a room waiting to be reunited with a mother he had never known and a family he had no idea he had belonged to. When they came through the door the expression on the man’s face was one of being reborn right on that very spot! It was an incredible scene as he learned that he had never been forgotten after all these years, never been unloved or unwanted, and now he was embraced and surrounded by a group of relatives that up until a few days before he didn’t know existed. You can tell that at that moment it was almost too much to take in. His heart was bursting with new life and a new sense of who he was and who he belonged to. It was clear that his life would never be the same again.

When I sat there and watched this moment unfold, it occurred to me that this is part of the joy and the overwhelming sense of love and transformation that comes to us at Easter. It is the glorious news that we have never been alone, that we will never be abandoned, unwanted, that we have always and will always be loved far more than we can ever imagine.

When I think about that family reunion on that television show, I also think about our congregations and our parishes as we gather each week as a family around the altar of the Lord. It is in these sacred gatherings that we are filled with the courage and love of Jesus and are empowered to bear witness to the presence of the risen Christ to those who experience the same situations of fear and doubt and abandonment wherever they may be.

In Matthew’s Gospel, the angel asked those who had gathered at the tomb to remember that Jesus had told them that he would rise again on the third day and soon the thoughts of abandonment and fear would turn to resurrection joy.

In this blessed Easter season, let us seek to express something of this joy and the transforming power of the resurrection, in prayer, song, sacrament and in our common life together. May we carry this good news with us and in us and through us as we journey together with our new bishop in the days and years to come.

Bishop Michael Bird is serving as diocesan administrator until the new bishop’s consecration on May 9.

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Le mercredi des Cendres, juste après avoir reçu le signe des cendres sur notre front, nous prions : « Accomplis en nous, ô Dieu, l’œuvre de ton salut. » Le salut est l’un des mots que les chrétiens entendent et utilisent fréquemment. Qu’entendons-nous par là ?

Pour beaucoup de gens, le salut semble signifier une sorte d’état futur où l’on est heureux, où l’on est au ciel, où l’on ne souffre plus. C’est là une description du salut en termes largement négatifs, qui met l’accent sur ce qu’il n’est pas plutôt que sur ce qu’il est. Entrer au ciel est une sorte d’assurance contre l’incendie, un sursis aux souffrances de l’enfer. Ainsi, de nombreux chrétiens se réfugient au ciel. Ils sont tellement préoccupés par le fait de s’éloigner de l’enfer qu’ils finissent par trébucher en arrière et tomber au ciel.

On pense que pour obtenir son billet pour le paradis, il faut croire en quelques définitions obligatoires, se comporter d’une certaine manière et suivre les règles qui nous sont imposées. Nous avons tendance à comprendre le péché essentiellement comme une désobéissance, une transgression d’un commandement. Comme nous risquons d’être punis pour cela, nous devons l’éviter et le regretter. On est loin de comprendre la repentance comme un mode de vie.

Le salut que proclame l’Évangile, pour lequel les martyrs sont morts et que l’Église enseigne depuis ses débuts, n’est pas un moyen d’atteindre une fin, une façon d’éviter la souffrance. C’est la fin elle-même. C’est la vérité de ce que nous sommes vraiment et de ce que nous pouvons devenir. Le salut est un trésor inestimable, une perle pour laquelle nous sommes prêts à tout abandonner. C’est un don de vie.

Le salut nous rend aujourd’hui la vision de Dieu, le don de la présence de Dieu, dont nous sommes censés jouir à chaque instant de notre existence. Le salut est simplement la participation à la vie de Dieu.

Le Carême peut nous aider à voir que le péché dont l’Esprit « convainc le monde » (Jean 16, 8-11) est bien plus que toute faute spécifique que nous avons commise ou que nous pourrions commettre, ou même que la somme totale de toutes ces fautes. Le péché est la condition humaine, l’état de séparation d’avec Dieu.

La repentance est une grâce de Dieu, un don du Saint-Esprit, quelque chose que nous ne pouvons pas « accomplir » par nous-mêmes. Pourtant, nous devons aussi faire notre part, nous devons y travailler, aussi dérisoires et insignifiants que nos efforts puissent nous paraître. Nous pratiquons une mort quotidienne, mourant à nous-mêmes afin de ressusciter avec le Christ pour une vie nouvelle. Nous ne pouvons pas le faire d’un seul coup. Mais nous devons pratiquer la mort et la résurrection à chaque instant de notre vie.

Lorsque la repentance devient pour nous une attitude spirituelle incessante, une façon de vivre avec Dieu, elle devient aussi notre façon de nous préparer à la mort. « Souviens-toi que tu es poussière et qu’à la poussière tu retourneras . » À ce moment inconnu et mystérieux où nous sommes appelés à franchir la frontière entre le temps et l’éternité, entre le ciel et la terre, et à rencontrer enfin le Christ, notre Dieu et notre Juge, que pouvons-nous faire d’autre que nous repentir ? Notre pratique quotidienne et patiente du repentir nous aura appris qu’en présence de l’amour infini de Dieu, nous n’avons rien d’autre à faire que de nous en remettre à sa miséricorde. Nous aurons appris que nous tous, saints et pécheurs, ne pouvons entrer au Paradis que comme le Bon Larron, par la miséricorde du Christ.

The post La repentance : le chemin du salut appeared first on Perspective.

Editor’s Note: Bishop Andrew Asbil of the Anglican Diocese of Toronto led a Canadian group on a pilgrimage with the Friends of Sabeel Liberation Theology Centre in East Jerusalem in late November. The Friends of Sabeel is an international and ecumenical response to the call of Palestinian Christians for solidarity.  “Happening Now in Palestine” gathers daily reflections by some members of the group – “stories, moments and insights that invite us to listen, learn and pray alongside those who travelled.”

The Rev. Dr. Christopher Brittain, Dean of Divinity at Trinity College in Toronto, was appointed in 2025 as Canon Theologian for the Anglican Diocese in Ottawa. After taking part in the pilgrimage, he shared this reflection, and he and the diocese graciously granted Perspective permission to reprint it.

The entire series can be accessed on the Anglican Diocese of Toronto website: https://www.toronto.anglican.ca/happening-now-in-palestine/

The first full day of the [Toronto] diocesan delegation’s visit to the Holy Land began, fittingly, on the Mount of Olives, where we visited the Princess Basma Centre for Disabled Children. Run by the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem, this amazing institution is dedicated to treating Palestinian children with disabilities. It also works intentionally to teach and empower parents to understand and better support such children. I was deeply moved and inspired by the experience.

“Basma” means “smile” in Arabic, and this facility was full of displays of joy: smiling children, smiling hospital staff and teachers, and smiling parents. While there, the delegation watched a video of a satellite program in Gaza that is run by the centre. In a small cardboard hut, a nurse and a therapist treat children with various disabilities in the context of what continues to be a war zone.

Watching this video, and hearing stories of how difficult it was for Palestinians living in the West Bank to access this care facility due to being denied the necessary entry pass for Jerusalem or due to checkpoints being closed, brought to my mind these words from the prophet Isaiah: “The infant will play near the cobra’s den, and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain” (Isaiah 11:8). The Princess Basma Centre offers one example of this image being lived out faithfully in a perilous context.

Later that afternoon, we travelled to West Jerusalem to meet with the biblical scholar and Jesuit priest David Neuhaus. Born in South Africa to a Jewish family, at the age of 15 Dr. Neuhaus was sent by his parents to a school in Jerusalem. He told us that, upon arrival, he saw that apartheid South Africa and Israeli society shared much in the way that significant portions of the population were treated as second-class citizens. Despite this impression, he became so attached to the region that he made it his home. After converting to Christianity and joining the Jesuits, he eventually settled at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Jerusalem.

Our conversation with Dr. Neuhaus was challenging—not only due to his blunt description of the injustices imposed on Palestinians, but also because he highlighted ways Christianity is sometimes used to reinforce such acts. More than one of us sat up straight when he declared, “The Bible can be vicious poison.” His point was to emphasize the ways in which scripture is frequently used in narrow and self-serving ways to justify injustice and violence. His concern was particularly with how the Bible is employed as a weapon by some in the State of Israel to justify the displacement of Palestinians from their land.

Yet, even as Dr. Neuhaus criticized the treatment of Palestinians by the State of Israel and by the aggressive settler movement in the West Bank, he also acknowledged that “anti-Semitism is real.” That this terrible reality continues to fuel the crisis situation in Palestine is tragically poignant in the wake of the news of the [Dec. 14] attack on a Hanukkah celebration in Australia.

When asked where he sees signs of hope, Dr. Neuhaus soberly suggested there were few positive signs for the future in the Holy Land. Instead, he finds encouragement by looking to the past: “It’s not always been like this.” He reminded us that until around 1936, Jews, Christians and Muslims in the Holy Land lived as neighbours and in peace. Remembering that the present conflicts and atrocities don’t define what is possible in Palestine and Israel, he suggested, can nurture a prophetic imagination.

These words echoed what one of the leaders of Sabeel, the organization hosting our visit, shared with us. He suggested that faith in the empty tomb is not something that encourages us to pray, “Lord, Lord, great are my problems!” Instead, we are called to pray, “Problems, problems, great is our God.”

Although this was only the delegation’s first day of encountering the struggles of Palestinians in the region, it was already clear to everyone in our group that we were going to be deeply impacted by what we were witnessing. Later that evening, this realization began to sink in as we were walking through the Christian Quarter of the Old City. Some in the group decided to get a small tattoo on their arm to mark this profound moment in our lives. Whether it was visible or not, we had already recognized that this trip was going to change us permanently.

The post Looking to the past for a vision of peace in the Holy Land appeared first on Perspective.

Time, then, is also a gift we receive from God and, like many gifts, we mostly take it for granted. Like gravity, time is simply reality as the seconds continue to tick by. When we do notice it, it is often because we notice a lack of time – we resent the speed at which good things pass; we are anxious about having enough time to do the things we need to do; we worry about wasting time and saving time and spending time. But the truth is that a day is a day is a day, no matter who or where or how you are. There is, in fact, no wasting or saving or spending time. Time passes no matter what we do or don’t do and God’s work unfolds around us and within us.

This is not, generally speaking, our orientation to time. We are expected to manage our time, making the most of each moment and proving ourselves in control of our lives. Time, after all, is money. Time is a limited resource. Somehow, we are expected to simultaneously regret the passing of time while also hurrying on to the next thing. In the midst of all this, it can be difficult to remember that, in fact, time is not ours to control. We live in God’s time, created and gifted to us by the Source of all we have and all we are. Our time, and all time, is in God’s hands and is in service to God, not us.

In the Gospel according to Mark (4:26-29), Jesus offers this parable:

The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.

This process — planting, waiting, watching, and finally, harvesting — unfolds in time and requires discernment on the part of the farmer to understand when these various steps need to take place. Neither delaying nor rushing will do any good. No steps can be skipped. The time it will take is, simply, the time it will take, and so the farmer must align their activities according to God’s purposes in God’s time. Participation in the kingdom, it seems, involves an awful lot of time and patience which are two things that often seem to be in short supply. This is where Advent comes in.

Advent calls us to enter into a season of deliberate, holy waiting. We count the weeks and days to Christmas but resist the urge to jump ahead to the festivities, focusing instead on the in-between time – waiting not just for Christmas but for the unfolding of the kingdom of God. Like the farmer in Jesus’ parable, we wait and watch for the ripening grain, signs of God at work in the world around us and an invitation to us to join in the harvest.

Christmas will come soon enough. There is no rushing it nor delaying it. We can neither waste the time nor save the time between now and then for the time will pass no matter what we do. So accept the Advent invitation to live, right now, in God’s time, attentive to the kingdom that Jesus proclaims is already near.

The Venerable Rhonda Waters is Incumbent of St. Helen’s, Ottawa

The post Some Advent thoughts on time appeared first on Perspective.

In retirement, or perhaps I should say semi-retirement, I have had more time these days to sit and reflect upon my 41 years of ordained ministry, and I have thought a great deal about the times when I have endeavoured to discern God’s call to the best of my ability and the times when the busyness and the distractions of my life and work have prevented me from listening carefully for the leading of the Holy Spirit. The work of Christian discernment involves the intentional carving out of time in our schedules for prayer, meditation, the reading of scripture, and listening for God’s voice in the voices and conversations we have with trusted colleagues, spiritual directors, mentors, loved ones and friends. We also must be prepared at times to hear such a call in the life or voice of a stranger or someone we disagree with. I pray that we will do all these things to discern who will offer leadership as the 11th Bishop of Ottawa.

As I write this article, news has just been released that Bishop Sarah Mullally, the Bishop of London in England, is to become the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury, and her appointment is yet another sign of the transforming and restoring work of our God who is so often full of wonderful surprises! In welcoming Bishop Mullally to this new ministry, Bishop Anthony Poggo, the Secretary General of the Anglican Communion invited the churches of the global Anglican Communion to pray for the archbishop-designate that God might grant her wisdom and discernment, as she seeks to listen to member churches, encourage mutual support and foster unity. May we in the Diocese of Ottawa also be granted this gift of discernment in the days ahead.

We are putting together some prayers and liturgical resources to offer the members of our Diocese in preparation for the episcopal election and we will put them on the website under the “Episcopal Election 2026” heading.

In the meantime, I offer one of my favourite prayers for the church from the BAS [Book of Alternative Services:]

O God of unchangeable power and eternal light,

look favourably upon your whole Church,

that wonderful and sacred mystery.

By the effectual working of your providence,

carry out in tranquillity the plan of salvation.

Let the whole world see and know

that things which were cast down are being raised up,

and things which had grown old are being made new,

and that all things are being brought to their perfection

By him through whom all things were made,

Your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.    Amen.

The Right Reverend Michael A. Bird brings over four decades of pastoral and episcopal leadership to the Anglican Diocese of Ottawa. Since completing his tenure as the eleventh Bishop of Niagara, Bishop Bird has served in the Diocese of Ottawa in a variety of roles that reflect his steady and thoughtful approach to ministry.

In 2018, at the invitation of Bishop John Chapman, Bishop Bird became the Incumbent of the newly formed Parish of the Valley—a regional ministry spanning multiple congregations across the Upper Ottawa Valley. He also served as Archdeacon of Pembroke and, during a period of medical leave, was appointed Bishop’s Commissary, providing oversight and continuity at the diocesan level.

These experiences have given Bishop Bird a strong familiarity with the Diocese’s clergy, congregations, and administrative structures. He understands the regional and pastoral dynamics of ADO and has earned the respect of both lay and ordained leaders through his collaborative and steady presence.

Currently residing within the diocese and engaged in part-time ministry, Bishop Bird is well positioned to serve as administrator during the episcopal transition. His prior leadership within ADO, combined with his episcopal experience and understanding of diocesan governance, provide a solid foundation for this interim role until a new bishop is elected and installed.

The post Listening for God’s voice in a time of change appeared first on Perspective.

Même lorsque l’impensable se produit et que la mort survient, nous en parlons par euphémismes. Les morts ne sont pas morts, mais « décédés ». Nos établissements funéraires sont des « maisons » ou des « salons » conçus pour paraître aussi banals qu’une bibliothèque ou un centre communautaire. Les funérailles sont devenues des « célébrations de la vie ». De plus en plus, le corps du défunt n’est plus présent, car après tout, la présence d’un cadavre est quelque peu déprimante lors d’une célébration de la vie.

On suppose souvent que les personnes ayant de fortes convictions religieuses devraient être capables d’affronter le moment de la mort sans crainte, que pour elles, le chemin à traverser est révélé et clairement balisé, qu’elles savent, grâce à leurs écritures sacrées et à leurs enseignements, ce qu’elles doivent s’attendre à trouver de l’autre côté. Cela peut être vrai pour certaines religions, mais ce n’est pas le cas du christianisme. Il n’existe pas de « Livre des morts » chrétien. Comme l’humanité tout entière, comme le Christ lui-même, nous aussi, lorsque notre heure viendra, nous devrons entrer dans l’obscurité de l’inconnu en ne comptant que sur Dieu.

Cela ne signifie certainement pas que les chrétiens ont été exempts de spéculations sur ce qui se passe à la mort. En Orient comme en Occident, il existe des récits de « révélations privées » et de visions de la mort et de l’au-delà. Certaines images de la mort, du jugement, et en particulier les descriptions effrayantes des tourments de l’enfer, sont devenues si populaires et si ancrées dans l’esprit et l’imagination des gens qu’elles sont devenues pour beaucoup une vérité évangélique.

Il est toutefois important de se rappeler que ces efforts pour scruter l’inconnu ne font pas partie de l’enseignement universel de l’Église chrétienne. En tant que produits de l’imagination et de la piété humaines, nous devons faire preuve d’une grande prudence et d’un grand discernement dans la manière dont nous les recevons et les transmettons aux autres. La même prudence s’impose en ce qui concerne les expériences de mort imminente, les récits de personnes qui ont subi une mort clinique mais qui ont ensuite été réanimées.

Dire que nous ne pouvons pas savoir ce qui nous arrive après la mort ou comprendre l’éternité qui nous attend, ne signifie pas qu’aucune lumière ne nous a été donnée pour pénétrer les ténèbres au-delà de notre existence terrestre. Mais cette lumière n’est pas celle de la raison, mais celle de la foi. La foi n’est pas l’acceptation passive de certaines définitions ou formules prononcées par une autorité quelconque. Il s’agit plutôt d’une reconnaissance intérieure que ce qui nous est enseigné est la vérité même qui a été semée dans notre âme et que nous pouvons déjà expérimenter, même si c’est « de manière obscure, comme dans un miroir » (1 Corinthiens 13, 12). C’est l’expérience des deux disciples sur le chemin d’Emmaüs, dont le cœur « brûlait » en eux lorsque le Christ leur parlait, même s’ils ne savaient pas encore qui il était.

Avant tout, la foi est une question d’amour. C’est l’assentiment donné dans le cœur, notre for intérieur, le centre de notre être. Comme l’écrivait au IVe siècle le grand Père de l’Église grecque, saint Basile

Lorsque nous contemplons les bienfaits de la foi, même maintenant, comme si nous regardions un reflet dans un miroir, c’est comme si nous possédions déjà les choses merveilleuses dont notre foi nous assure que nous jouirons un jour. (Saint Basile, De Spiritu Sancto 15, 36 : PG 32, 132)

Croire aux  « choses merveilleuses » que Dieu nous a préparées pour l’éternité signifie croire qu’elles sont vraies non seulement d’une manière générale – comme un fait historique – mais vraies pour nous, qu’elles sont une réalité présente pour nous, qu’elles deviennent la forme et le modèle de notre être.

De cette manière, nous pouvons commencer à voir que ce que nous appelons la mort et ce que nous appelons la vie sont deux aspects d’une même réalité. La mort n’est qu’une extension de la vie. Notre mort est un moyen pour nous de sortir des limites de notre petit moi, de « perdre notre vie » et de nous étendre dans l’infini de la vie du Christ. C’est ce mouvement constant de la vie vers la mort, et de la mort vers la vie, qui nous permet de « passer » et d’entrer dans l’éternité chaque jour de notre vie terrestre.

De temps en temps, nous cessons d’être absorbés par nous-mêmes et nous nous souvenons de Dieu. Nous pouvons le voir pendant une fraction de seconde dans la beauté de la nature, dans un visage aimé, dans une œuvre d’art. Nous pouvons l’entendre dans une grande musique, dans le chant d’un oiseau ou dans le bruit de la pluie. Lorsque nous nous souvenons que nous sommes en présence de Dieu, chaque fois que nous l’apercevons, nous réalisons qu’il n’y a pas d’autre « endroit » où nous préférerions être. Notre esprit est silencieux et clair, notre cœur est en paix, notre corps est détendu et nous sommes remplis de joie.

C’est l’espace spirituel dans lequel nous nous trouverons au moment de la mort, lorsque nous aurons tout laissé derrière nous et que nous nous tiendrons devant Dieu, les mains vides, conscients de notre pauvreté totale, ne comptant que sur l’amour.

Si nous amenons chaque action, chaque pensée, chaque sentiment et chaque souffle en présence de Dieu, si nous nous abandonnons à lui, cela devient pour nous une entrée dans l’éternité. Nous entrons dans la présence divine au cœur de toutes choses. Nous prenons conscience de chaque instant et nous apprenons à le laisser passer. Nous nous jetons dans les mains du Dieu vivant et nous apprenons à mourir.

Le révérend chanoine Kevin Flynn est le pasteur de la paroisse St-Bernard-de-Clairvaux

This text in English is available online in the October issue of Perspective: ottawa.anglicannews.ca

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The passage goes something like this: as Jesus enters the village, the lepers being deemed unclean keep their distance while crying out “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” Jesus tells them to go show themselves to the priests. While on their way they are healed, made clean. When the Samaritan notices his healing, he turns back to express his gratitude, falling at the feet of Jesus and giving thanks. What a perfect reading for celebrating Thanksgiving. Expressing gratitude brings with it a blessing.

Two things strike me. First the other nine did nothing wrong. In fact, they did exactly as they were told, and they received the blessing promised them. As lepers they were outcasts isolated and alone. Not only were they healed but they also received the blessing of being re-integrated with family and community, neither of which they would have had being deemed “unclean.”

Second, the one who turns back is affirmed by Jesus for returning to give thanks. Recognizing things that we are thankful for, grateful for brings with it another blessing. Blessed a second time? So, what does the man who returned receive? The blessing of healing, as did the other nine, and also the blessing that comes from naming blessing, giving thanks, expressing gratitude.

Have you ever noticed just how powerful it is not only to receive blessing but also to name it and give thanks for it? Maybe you’re at dinner with family or friends, and someone says, “This is great. This time, this meal, with all of you. Thank you.” And in seeing and giving thanks, the original blessing of the meal is somehow multiplied, you’ve been blessed a second time. Being aware and naming how we are blessed and voicing gratitude is wholly another blessing.

Gratitude draws us out of ourselves into something larger, bigger than we could imagine. Gratitude is a powerful emotion as it frees us from fear, releases us from anxiety, and emboldens us to do more and dare more than we’d ever imagined – even to return to a Jewish rabbi to pay homage when you are a Samaritan because you’ve realized that you are more than a Samaritan, or a leper, or even a healed leper. You are a child of God.

Our world is filled with trouble. The troubles are easy to name. At the same time our world and our lives are also filled with blessings, for which we can voice our thanksgiving, our gratitude: families that care for each other; governments and councils that are far from perfect yet strive to work for the benefit of others; relief agencies that tend to the afflicted; those on the front lines putting their lives on the line at home and abroad; good neighbours supporting each another.

As we near Thanksgiving, I invite you to think of different things for which you are thankful, grateful. For me of late it is fresh water, the privilege to go buy food to name two. Family and friends to name two more. As you become aware the things that you are grateful for in your life, find opportunities to name them out loud. What if one such opportunity is when someone you know well asks “How are you?” you respond “I am grateful for …”

This world is full of challenges as well as blessings for which we can express gratitude for. Which will we focus on? Truth be told, there is a time for lament, cries for justice and activism. But given that we live in a culture filled with trouble, imagine the breath of fresh air that comes with voicing gratitude. Maybe today, this week, this month, we can be heralds of blessing to the people in our lives, giving voice to the powerful words of gratitude and thanksgiving.

The post The blessing of thanksgiving appeared first on Perspective.

This is what the community of Christ Church Bells Corners (CCBC) decided to do this summer. We have joined a growing number of church communities from across the world who have launched a ‘Forest Church’ as a unique expression of our faith tradition that takes place outdoors.

The Diocese of Norwich (U.K.) defines Forest Church in this way; “Forest Church is a type of outdoor worship and spiritual practice that emphasizes connecting with nature and finding spiritual meaning in the natural world. It’s a contemporary movement with roots in Christian traditions that highlight nature and creation, like Celtic and Franciscan approaches, and aims to engage with God through the natural world.”

On the last Monday of each month, 15 to 20 people have gathered at one of three different NCC trails to worship and share Holy Communion. We have been joined by newcomers who have heard about Forest Church through social media (including a young man who had never been to a church service before in his life), fauna (including an amazing encounter with the Barred Owl seen in the picture above), perplexed onlookers, trees and wildflowers.

We gather first in the trail parking lot and ensure that we have bug spray and water and hand out bulletins. We then chat about existing shared knowledge about the trail that we are about to embark on. We don’t pre-plan where our altar will be but discuss as a group what makes sense in light of the temperature and the abilities of those who have gathered on any particular evening. We adapt as we go (even if it means stopping because someone finds a rare wildflower, pausing the Eucharistic prayer on account of the beautiful snakes curling around the bullrushes, or taking a different path because someone knows that there are nesting owls that we might catch a glimpse of).

With an opening prayer and a reading from scripture we enter the trail with intentions to observe the space around us and to walk together in fellowship and friendship. When we find a place to create an altar (usually at about the half-way mark of our walk) we prepare the elements and circle around to participate in the rhythm and ritual of our tradition. After the meal is shared, we head back and conclude with a closing prayer, blessing and dismissal.

The origins of Forest Church are often attributed to Bruce Stanley who is author of a book entitled; Forest Church: A Field Guide to Nature Connection for Groups and Individuals in which he provides an overview of an emerging trend that began in the U.K. in 2012 to take Christian worship outdoors. My own introduction to Forest Church happened when I met the Rev. Stephen Blackmer at the Re:Generate Fellowship Program through Wake Forest Divinity; a program that brought together church leaders interested in creation spirituality, environmental concerns, and food justice. Stephen created the Church of the Woods, a ministry connected with Episcopal Church of the United States that defines 106 acres of wild woods and wetlands in Canterbury, New Hampshire as an outdoor church. Today, Forest Church communities connect together through a Facebook Page with close to six thousand members from across the world.

Bells Corners is often referred to as an ‘island’ due to the community’s three-sided boundary created by the Stony Swamp Conservation Area of Ottawa’s Greenbelt. The fourth side of the suburb is Highway 417, stretching across the north end. This unique boundary has influenced the context and culture of Bells Corners since its inception in the early 1800s and continues to influence the use of community space today. During the COVID pandemic, the many NCC pathways that are accessed via Moodie Drive became a place of safe refuge for outdoor community gathering and connection. For parishioners at CCBC, the surrounding path network has been a place of spiritual connection for many years, and so the thought of using these lands for outdoor Anglican worship was an exciting idea that pulled together 16 individuals for the initial brainstorming meeting. Each service has been an amazing opportunity to use the richness of our tradition in the midst of creation.

Originally our team committed to four Forest Church services beginning in May and we have now extended to six services by adding September and October to the calendar (with hopes and prayers that we will not hit the 39-degree temperature we experienced at our July service). All are welcome at Forest Church and information can be found on our website: https://christchurchbellscorners.ca/forestchurch/. We promise it will be sacred, imperfect and beautiful and that together we will worship God, share bread and wine, and pray together.

For a bit more inspiration, here’s a link to Wendell Berry’s reading of his poem ‘The Peace of Wild Things.’

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Churches in our diocese will celebrate Pentecost 50 days after our Easter Sunday celebrations, wearing red, to signify the tongues of fire that first rested on all the disciples on the first Pentecost. The Holy Spirit will help us as he reminds us the good news of Jesus’ resurrection. We celebrate the resurrection of Jesus each Sunday in our churches, and we are sent out to love and serve the Lord. Even while the climate crisis rages, communities of faithful Christians can join their neighbours celebrating in the month of June with weddings, and barbeques, and canoe trips! Rejoice in the good weather, the gardens blooming, and the sun shining.

June 15, 2025 is Father’s Day. The Holy Spirit, who dwells in every Christian, offers gifts to children and fathers. Does your father demonstrate love and kindness, goodness and faithfulness? Rejoice in the power of the Spirit in your father’s life. Rejoice in the lives of those men who have been father-figures to you. Again, our churches might celebrate the men in our congregations who are fathers with a BBQ, and certainly in the prayers on Father’s Day.

The month of June is National Indigenous Month, when we celebrate the cultures, languages, knowledge, histories, and traditions of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis. June 21, 2025 is our National Indigenous Day of Prayer. Within the Collect for that day, we pray, that empowered by the Holy Spirit we may be strengthened and guided to walk toward justice and wholeness.

During June 23 to 29 the Anglican Church of Canada will join for General Synod, at RBC Place London in the Diocese of Huron, and elect a new Primate. The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, will empower those who vote to elect one of the candidates: National Indigenous Archbishop Christopher Harper, Bishop David Lehmann, Archbishop Gregory Kerr-Wilson, or Bishop Riscylla Shaw. May the grace and wisdom of the Holy Spirit guide the minds of those who vote.

The Holy Spirit dwells within us, guiding and teaching us; the Holy Spirit is a course of wisdom and revelation; the Holy Spirit is our comforter, and giver of good gifts. In our weakness, the Holy Spirit helps us. While the news around us is frightening, the Good News gives us hope. As we gather during the month of June, let us celebrate with trust in the leading of the Holy Spirit.

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