Ideas for Action

My name is Bryan Mwaka and I work on the Community Engagement Team in Edmonton. My story in Canada starts on January 24th, 2020, the day I arrived at Pearson International Airport in Toronto. It was from there that I got onto another flight that got me to Edmonton International Airport in the wee hours of January 24th. It was -30 degrees. 

So much of what I’ve been learning in my work is not new, but nevertheless illuminating. There is an incredible amount of power that someone’s story holds. There’s power in sharing our own story, but there’s also power through listening to others' stories. When we see ourselves reflected in the stories of others, it can have a profound impact on our feeling of belonging. So here’s my story. 

As a Christian growing up in the evangelical Midwest, I studied the New Testament much more than the Old Testament. Sure, I knew the stories of Moses, Ruth, Esther, Jonah and David, and I prayed with the Psalms, but I confess I have never read or studied the more “obscure” books like Leviticus. I saw it as a bunch of old laws that don’t really apply to me. Take for example Leviticus 25, much of it has to do with farming, land sale and ownership. I don’t own a house and have never farmed. 

As a denomination started by Dutch Reformed immigrants in 1857, the CRCNA is familiar with the immigrant experience. Like many immigrant stories, the migration journey for the Dutch was long and difficult, and the challenges did not stop upon arrival: loved ones were left behind, lives were lost at sea, many fell ill. Some were taken advantage of or lied to. Promised opportunities sometimes resulted in dashed hopes and dirt floors.

Fifty years ago I first met my future brother-in-law Don, an energetic and endearing Indigenous five-year-old adopted by my future wife’s family at birth. He was part of the Sixties Scoop, but that term had not yet been coined back then. His maturation into adulthood was very rocky, and he spent a lot of time in prison. In 2001, aged 34, he died tragically of a heroin overdose in a rooming house in Toronto. 

We are always looking to reduce things to the simplest and easiest form. We want the main points and Cliff Notes. We want to do that one action that will give us the greatest return on investment. Maybe that is why a teacher of the law asked Jesus what the most important commandment was. Instead of hundreds of rules and regulations, if he followed this most important commandment, the scales would tip in his favor. Jesus answered that the greatest commandment is: “Love God and Love your Neighbor” (Mark 12:29-31). Simple right?

We are living through an era of ecological devastation and climate breakdown, with its immense injustices against people and places for the short-term benefit of a few. Many of us have already been directly impacted, some of us haven’t yet, but all of us will be in some way. 

It’s a lot to process. 

How do we move the needle on climate action? According to Dr. Katherine Hayhoe’s new book Saving Us: A Climate Scientist's Case for Hope and Healing in a Divided World, the answer starts with meaningful conversations, and requires both the love to speak out and the wisdom to understand our audience. To help believers dig deeper into what these types of conversations look like, the Climate Witness Project hosted a virtual “Climate Huddle” on January 18th, 2022. 

The third Sunday in January is Sanctity of Human Life Sunday, and the Office of Social Justice (OSJ) is pleased to offer resources for your church to honor the day. Synod has encouraged Christian Reformed churches to commemorate the day’s significance (Synod 1981 and Synod 1995). OSJ would like to help churches commemorate the sanctity of human life in ways that are sensitive and mindful of the impact abortion has on society, our churches, and members of our congregations.

As the end of the year approaches, many of us long for peace between Israelis and Palestinians. Our hope and advocacy efforts focus on bringing an end to the occupation of East Jerusalem, the West Bank, and Gaza that began in 1967. At that time, small groups of Jewish citizens began to settle in the West Bank and became known as “settlers.” By 2018, according to Peace Now, the Israeli settlement population grew to more than 400,000 Israelis.