Already and Not Yet

We are pleased to share with you this devotion from our Advent series.  May it bless you this Christmas eve.  

Being the Justice and Reconciliation Mobilizer for the CRCNA is a position that demands, “heroic rebelliousness, humility, compliance and gratitude for the opportunity.”* I recently started reading this tiny but mighty book called, Towards Braiding which basically wrote about my experience in this role of raising the profile of and improving the church’s relationship to Indigenous-Settler responsibilities. The book was written as a result of experiences in a different institutional setting though. 

“What do we want? Justice! When do we want it? NOW! What do we want…” I heard, as I walked through the heart of downtown Ottawa. The cries of a nation in uproar and disgust at yet another death of an innocent body; a person who continually had experienced disregard and distrust in a system where they were trodden on, discriminated against, and continually and systemically put at a disadvantage in this society.  

During Congress’ August recess, members of the Office of Social Justice and the Climate Witness Project prepared for a handful of advocacy meetings with legislators. I attended four of these meetings—two on the topic of immigration and two with the Climate Witness Project to discuss climate action.

This September, we will see a back to school season different from any before. For many students, after enduring online learning for over a year, they will return to classrooms, to playgrounds, and to spending time with new teachers and friends. 

A few years back, I sat at the feet of my oldest surviving Aunt. It was a family gathering and nearly everyone had gone home, only a few stragglers remained. My aunt sipped a beer and I waited for the reticence to fall away before posing my question. “Aunty, can you tell us about the residential schools?” I asked in a low steady voice. She sipped on her beer and glanced down at me, “they were okay.” 

“...but Aunty, I worked at the Truth and Reconciliation hearings. I heard all the stories...” my voice tapered off. 

I had the great fortune this past year to be invited to join the first cohort of Hearts Exchanged. I knew going into it that I would learn some new things, and that some of these things might be unpleasant. What I didn’t expect was that I would feel so many different things along the way. 

Amidst the wildfire of a movement that Black Lives Matter brought, Canadians were pushed to confront their colonial history and their treatment of marginalized communities, myself included. This past year and a half has been heavy. Heavy with grief and uncertainty. Heavy with shame. Heavy with responsibility. In the heaviness of it all, I am learning to hold it in sacred space. To lament. To sit with it. To experience it and to relate to others who experience it as well. 

Have you ever witnessed the loud street preacher or self-proclaimed prophet, standing atop a soap box on a busy street corner? Their message could span a wide range, from the spiritual warnings of the future, to past misdeeds of people, to current displeasures with systems or governments. A group of friends and I have recently walked by one such gentleman and his particular message was promoting angry retribution for people who have committed particular crimes.

At nine years old, I decided I wanted to become a journalist. It was the same time my brother Fred and I started delivering the Chicago Daily News. The newspaper was the third largest circulation behind Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times. Fred and I had twelve streets of subscribers.  We’d deliver the latest news of crime, sports, and advice from Ann Landers. My brother and I tied the papers into travel size and threw them on the porches of two storied brownstones or trekked into apartment building mazes to make sure seniors had their sacred crossword puzzles.