Met Blog, the Bond Street Door

 From the desk of the Rev. Dr. John Joseph Mastandrea

I  BELIEVE …J’IMAGINE

It was a miracle and a wonder to hear the words proclaimed when the Olympic ballad sent around the Globe. A miracle it was because many might say that we are in an age of disbelief. A miracle, nonetheless as  the message of the song struck a chord in the hearts of millions. When many philosophers, politicians, sociologists are stating a message of atheism where the God factor is a grand blank, we find ourselves inspired and challenged to look inside ourselves as the question “What do I believe?” Stepping down from the Olympic podium and putting out the Olympic fire again for another season urges all of us to ask the question what do we believe as what do we take away from this milestone celebration of Winter Olympics on Canadian soil. I believe that for a moment time stood still and dozens of nations in the world arrived in Vancouver and were step outside the garments of first world, second world, and third world and were able to stand shoulder to shoulder as citizens of the world.

For people of the Christian faith we are reminded of the passage

John 3:16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

We are invited to open the way for a broader interpretation to include believe in the Christ for all nations, one of many ways in the pathway of faith. The Christ who is the anointed one that brings the spark and fire to the words “I believe and J’imagine”. The Olympic Athletes offered their time and their talents to believe in the spirit of teamwork in the moment. In the tragic death of the Georgian Athlete before the games began we mourned the loss of life as a community as people of the world, looking beyond our cultural identities and reminded that we are citizens of the world.

When we look at believe and imagine the theme of this years Olympics there was the invitation to take a look at the harder times that the world has witnessed in the past year and bring us to look at the brighter times. We were reminded that the words “O Canada” can and do ignite a wonder a passion for this beautiful land we call home.

From sea to sea and Harbour to mountain we take with us the gift to believe again and j’imagine once more.

February 22, 2010

From the desk of the Rev. Dr. John Joseph Mastandrea

A LOG ON THE FIRE

Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world. The forms may change,
 yet the essence remains the same. In this time of year when the daylight is growing we reach for another log on the fire of our hearth to push back the chill of the season. The chill that is the daily grind of life that invites us to look again at the inside and take our inventory to date of this point on the journey of the year. We have past the 1/8 mark in our annual  pathway around the sun. There is certainly forward momentum while also an invitation to take stock in the season of Lent. In church land we may observe Ash Wednesday. Where observe the ritual of repentance or turning around. There is a roadblock with this theme of repentance. The very word brings with it pragmatic baggage from older creedal formulas that have forged barriers and bars of caged ideas. Taking a second glance at repentance, I will name it as ‘letting go’. Easy to say, while complicated to engage. In the Ash Wednesday Service we invited participants to take a pencil and paper and write privately something that they wanted to let go. Perhaps a resentment towards a person, an event of guilt, an unresolved transgression or unnamed sorrow. People received Ashes on their forehead symbolic of the end of life while also point to the cycle of new beginning. Following this ritual participants were invited to tear there pieces of paper and place the fragments in a clay bowl. The fragments were taken outside of the church, burned and scattered to the four winds. The action provided an event of catharsis or letting go. Only if it were that simple, letting go can seem to take a lifetime. At every turn of life there are moments of holding tightly to the past. Letting go does not appear to even be an option. It is as if we are shackled to past memories.  Margaret Atwood  in her book Payback speaks of ancient balances. In the arena unresolved letting go we are confronted with a profound element of disharmony. At the core of this disharmony we encounter the heart of darkness or our deepest fears. Fears that are buried so deep they may as well lie at the bottom of mine shaft, only to surface seasonally.

Something happens and the collection agency of life arrives at our doorstep having retrieved from the bottom of the mine shaft the past shackled memory. What is one to do?

Let it go. In the language of certain realms of society this action can be referred to as amends. The first step is internal personally letting go of the broken past to enable the moment of emancipation and freedom to move forward.

In this season where winter wilderness is the backdrop upon we gaze we are reminded by the promise of the Groudhog that spring will come again.

Letting go is the spring in our lives. Light a log on the fire and bring back the spring.

Every wondrous sight will vanish, every sweet word will fade.But do not be disheartened,The Source they come from is eternal—growing, branching out, giving new life and new joy

SPIRIT ON THE ROOF

The night was Sunday December 27 where we put on our thespian hats and travelled to the Canon theatre to experience the timeless tale of Fiddler on the Roof. The story was inspired by the Book Tevye the Dairyman written by Shalom Aleichem’s originally written in Yiddish and first published in 1894. The character became best known from the fictional memoir Tevye and his Daughters (also called Tevye the Milkman or Tevye the Dairyman), about a pious Jewish milkman in Tsarist Russia, and the troubles he has with his six daughters. This time honoured tale has become iconic in the lexicon of literature in our society. The adventure of Anatevka spoke to all of us as we entered a village that was clearly an old friend. Tevye the dairyman was an old friend who we had walked with before, listening to his daily lament of a life faced with many challenges but also a life of deep devotion to God. His constant reference to the sometimes misquoted “when the good book says” reminds me that there are times when we forget the details but certainly remember the essence of the wisdom of forebears. In this account of Fiddler on the Roof unlike the traditional musical genre that ends in a Utopian denouement. There is a cold harsh warning of “leave now or suffer the consequences” for Tevye and the people of Anatevka in the early part of the twentieth century of Tsarist Russia. There is the reminder of cultural persecution a deeply rooted anti-semitism that forces the Jewish people of Anatevka in a pogrom to leave Russia and find a home elsewhere. The closing lyric “Soon I'll be a stranger in a strange new place, Searching for an old familiar face From Anatevka” echoes the sentiment as we step across a year and a decade we can frequently find ourselves searching for the familiar face and place in the midst of world crisis and society celebration. We are looking for the firmly rooted familiar moment and legacy learned by our forbears and friends these companions on the Road of life. We have an opportunity to take a second look at who we are and where have been.  As Barbara Brown Taylor states there is a lot to be thankful for…when we I do this, I generally decide that it is time to do a better job of wearing my skin”. Our skin is something we cannot change it is part of our DNA. Our skin is the more than an outer shell and mantle that we are born with it is the first moment of contact with the outside world. When palm touches palm in a gesture of greeting, consolation and compassion. Some tiny spark of energy exchange takes place. Some call it the God moment of spirit life where grip the hand, heart of hope that we offer to each other.

As we cross this threshold into 2010 remember we can try to take all the unfinished business with us, but we also need to look forward and find the fresh experience on the firm fareway ahead of us. No one knows what lies ahead in the bitter, the broken and the blessed. But as we look to insight of Tevye the dairyman as he reluctantly left behind the familiar face of Anatevka we leave behind the familiar face of 2009 and the meet a new year, a new decade and a new road.

December 18 Word for the Web

From the desk of John Joseph Mastandrea

It was on a cold December morning when hundreds gathered at the Corner of Front and Parliament Street. Each man, woman and child was clutching for warmth their warm beverage in one hand and clutching for courage and inspiration their Canadian Flag in the other hand. The flock of folk were all waiting in anticipation for the arrival of the Winter Olympic Torch. The fury and fire of the moment whipped all of us into a state of frosted frenzy. The word on the street came through the Herald of CP24 who proclaimed that the Olympic torch would be passing twice by the intersection. The first time heading east passing through a loop in the distillery district followed by a second time heading north on Parliament Street. The music of the Police Jazz Band the Coppertones ignited our enthusiasm. Dozens of people were gripping cameras with frozen hands  in expectation and anticipation of touching for a brief moment a piece of history, a moment in time. The prelude to the Olympic Torch Parade began with a Triumphal procession of Police Cruisers, Coca Coca Truck, the RBC truck, the Police Cyclists and finally the crescendo of waiting moment arrived. The Olympic torch passed once fast and furious and there was me taking clumsy candid photos. The Second pass of the Olympic Torch was profusely more productive. With the aid of my new found friend and Salvation Army leader, I was able to have photo taken of myself and one of the Torch Bearers, Senator Vivian Poy. To catch the Olympic Torch procession in motion was truly a remarkable moment. One person from the crowd exclaimed, “When are we going to get the Summer Games so we can wait in warmer weather?” There is something truly Canadian about waiting in the cold of night huddled together. There in the cold of the night and warm while we wait a thaw takes place between people who are strangers and through the spoken word something magical and miraculous is born. The gift of community comes to life.

On another night long ago we tell the tale of the star, the stable and shepherds and seraphim who proclaim the prelude of birth. On that night we hear that there were also people waiting in the cold of night. They were waiting in anticipation guided by the fire in the night sky and the hope in their hearts, that something would happen and a miracle and promise would be born. So we prepare again, waiting in the night and watching once more in the silent night. We are watching to feel the angel song invite again,  waking from our winter slumber and witness something truly mystical touching down into the deep of our being and urging us to take hold and walk from this time forever changed.  So we join the procession and the parade of the ages with the shepherds, the magi, the angels, Mary and Joseph and of course the child born Emmanuel. As we wait for the star in the night as we witness the miraculous in the Olympic torch let us find the fire again that warms the heart and soul in the frozen and frosty midnight. O Come let us adore…