Manitoba poem
Rhonda Waters
September 19, 2017
Eleven members of the Church of the Ascension community in Ottawa (seven youth age 14–22 and four adults) spent a week at the Sandy-Saulteaux Spiritual
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Eleven members of the Church of the Ascension community in Ottawa (seven youth age 14–22 and four adults) spent a week at the Sandy-Saulteaux Spiritual
This summer, my family and I attended a production of The Merchant of Venice at Bard on the Beach in Vancouver. While the content of
The story of Thomas, asking to see the Risen Christ for himself, always makes me think of the axiom that you shouldn’t hold back from asking a question because, if you need it answered, chances are that someone else does, too.
Of the many distressing developments in the civil life of our world, the rise of “alternative facts” is one of the most upsetting.
I love to read, but reading for my own interest and pleasure often falls victim to my busy schedule.
On November 20, I joined in the celebrations to say farewell and thank you to the dean of Montreal, Paul Kennington, as he returns to London.
Do you remember the first time you hosted your parents or other significant elders around your table?
When I first moved away from home, one of the first things I did was attempt to find a new church. I knew I wouldn’t
Church attendance has its seasons, just like everything else. Some communities only open their churches in the summer, when the cottagers arrive from their city homes – which means that some city churches find themselves suddenly emptied out.
I was one of the people moved to tears on the floor of General Synod when the motion to amend the marriage canon failed to achieve the required two-thirds majority in the House of Clergy.
The other day, I heard an interview on CBC’s The Current with the philosopher James Garvey. He was talking about his work on the impact of marketing techniques used in the context of public political and ethical debates.
It is hard to believe that my family and I have been living in Ottawa for three months already! Our home is (almost completely) organized.
Just a couple of short weeks ago, my front lawn was covered (again) in snow. It felt like winter would never end and every casual conversation included a complaint about the insult of snow in April.
I love weddings. I love working with people as they prepare for their life as a married couple. I love helping them choose the readings that will speak God’s Good News to them on their wedding day.
I am in the midst of a move. I’m in the awkward time of needing to work in my office, eat in my kitchen, sleep in my bedroom, play in my living room, but also needing stuff to be in boxes.
There are 168 hours in a week. We are awake for roughly 121 of them-and those are very busy hours.
One of the great themes of our faith is that of call-the belief that God actively calls individuals into particular ways of life.
When Jesus was born, the angels sang and the star led, not just because he would grow into a great and good man, but because God, Godself, had entered the realm of flesh and blood and bone and brain.
It feels strange to write a Christmas column before Advent has even begun-especially a Christmas column that is going to be published before Advent has even begun.
I did not grow up in the kind of Anglican church with elaborate liturgical practices. Rather, I grew up in an Anglican church that was frequently without a priest, and so relied on a dedicated group of volunteer laypeople to plan and lead Sunday worship. These were wonderful people-but they were not liturgists. They were very busy mothers and teachers and doctors and farmers and many other things as well. And yet, Sunday after Sunday, someone was ready to stand and lead us in prayer, ready to offer their thoughts on the readings, ready to hold us together in the presence of God for that one, holy hour.
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