Palestine Peace and Justice Pilgrimage 1

We arrive at Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv, nine of us pilgrims, tired but excited to begin our two week journey through Palestine. Our bus driver negotiates the checkpoints and country side to bring us the hour's journey to Jerusalem. We disembark outside the old city at the foot of the steep cobblestoned street that will lead us through the Lion's Gate, through more narrow stone streets to our guest house at Ecce Homo. Run by the Daughters of Zion, the name means 'Behold the Man', because the house rests above the place where Pilate condemned Jesus. 'Behold the city' would be an equally appropriate name, as the terraced roof offers breathtaking views of the Dome of the Rock and the rest of the city, looking out toward the Mount of Olives, and upwards towards the Church of the Sepulchre.

We have all come looking for something - a new experience perhaps, self-knowledge, a glimpse of a land we have heard so much about, wisdom about the political situation, hope for the world even. I don't know yet what I will find. But despite missing my children, jet lag, some anxiety and disorientation, I know I'm in the right place.

Working Faith

I recently had the opportunity to travel to Italy with a group of my high school students. We had spent months preparing for the trip and in every way it lived up to our hopes and expectations. We visited Roman ruins dating back thousands of years, the vastness of St Peter’s Square, medieval towns with narrow stone streets, and small family artisans whose work beguiled us.



We spent a few days exploring Florence, a city famous for its architectural beauty, its leather works, and its intellectual and artistic history. On Sunday night we decided to attend Mass at the Basilica di Santa Croce, the burial place of both Galileo and Michelangelo. We knew the mass would be in Italian, which none of us knew well, but thought that too would broaden our horizons.

Our footsteps echoed on worn tiles as we entered through a darkened side door just before the service was supposed to begin. To our surprise, the beautiful old Church was nearly empty, and our group of twenty almost doubled the congregation. A few chairs had been set up in front of the main altar, which we could now see was under construction.

Despite our weak language skills, the mass embraced us in its familiar rhythm, and I found myself sinking into prayer, surrounded by walls and sculptures that had greeted faith-seekers for centuries. But the construction scaffolding and empty Church reminded me that faith is not indestructible. It requires care, acknowledgement, even work.

Faith is lived in the real world. We build it with our hands reaching out toward each other. We strengthen it with every work done out of love, whether of stone, or speech or outstretched hand. Church buildings are metaphors, gathering places that help us remember who we are and where we come from, but even a beautiful basilica like Santa Croce will only last for so long.

The real church lives in the hearts of millions of people, each testifying to faith with actions large and small, living in compassion, forgiving in love, and building a kingdom of peace. Although I loved Italy, we will not be returning. Next year we visit an orphanage in Guatemala, a place full of living faith, equally under construction, but in no danger sadly of being empty soon. I can’t wait.

Ontario Catholic Schools and GSAs

I have never been prouder to be a member of the Ontario English Catholic Teachers Association (OECTA). This week my union took a public stand in support of new legislation that decrees that students have the right to have Gay-Straight Alliances (GSAs) in their schools, and, just as importantly, to actually call them Gay-Straight Alliances.

Previously, and under pressure, the Bishops of Ontario in conjunction with the Ontario Catholic Trustees Association allowed for ‘Respecting Differences’ Clubs to address general bullying, but forbade the use of the word ‘Gay’. Teachers were instructed to address their LGBTQ students as ‘persons of same-sex orientation’. (Now there’s a mouthful.) For many teachers, disowning the students’ right to name themselves as Gay felt like disowning the students themselves.

Naming matters. The issue of naming is biblical, ancient, fundamental. Abram becomes Abraham, Sarai becomes Sarah, and Saul becomes Paul, transformed in the experience of encountering the Divine. During the sacrament of Confirmation we invite the newly confirmed to choose a new name if they wish. We recognize their maturity, and their right to define themselves before God in the full dignity of their humanity.

History recognizes the importance of naming as well. “What’s my name?” Muhammed Ali cries. Those who name hold power, as every slave master knew when they bestowed names on their slaves’ children. To remove the right to name is to exercise control of the highest degree.

The new legislation also makes clear that the word ‘Gay’ refers to a person, created in the image of God. It cannot be used as an insult. The legislation supports teachers who refuse to allow their students to use statements like ‘that’s so gay’ as a put-down. GSAs proclaim that there are people here who will stand up against homophobia. They make it clear that our schools welcome and celebrate all their students in all their diversity.

GSAs will not provide an overnight cure for bullying and discrimination, but they allow us to publicly address the problem. Whatever the bishops may fear, they are not ‘hook up’ clubs, nor will they ‘convert’ our poor straight kids to a different kind of sexuality. Instead they provide support, solidarity and hospitality, just as Catholic schools should. LGBTQ students suffer discrimination and bullying far more frequently than any other group, extreme enough to lead to suicide in some cases. Like Christ, we must strive to walk with these, our most marginalized, and offer them dignity and recognition.

Surely the bishops recognize the affront against the dignity of life that has arisen in our refusal to name the sin of homophobia and address it in its specificity. GSAs provide one more tool we can employ to create Christian community and a discipleship of equals in the footsteps and example of Christ.

Trust

Solid rock this life, and air
Fingers and toes scrape granite cliff, ever rising
Forget there’s a rope, cling, grasp
Too close, too hard, too tense, too high
But then

Wings
Blue sky
Pale distant horizon
Look out
An ant tumbles, catches, crawls away unhurt
Elegant move
Nothing but breath, rock, sky, possibility
Arm swings, foot holds, heart sings
Up

Trust the rope
Trust the Belayer
Trust

Eliminate Abortion: Make Poverty Illegal

The pregnant teen in my office cries from desperation, fear. Her hands knead the edge of her skirt. What to do?

No woman wants to kill her unborn child. No woman wants a painful medical intervention and years of trauma. Abortion is not a murderous choice, it’s a desperate action by someone hiding their face in an impoverished, oppressive corner, where they dodge the stones in the hands of their accusers. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

Fear, desperation and rejection cause abortion. It’s simple really. Eliminate poverty, discrimination, sexism and desperation, and abortion will disappear. The irony is that the pro-life agenda buys into the pro-choice agenda by acting as if abortion were some sort of clear-headed, unemotional choice, separated from a painful, fear-filled reality. It isn’t.

It’s time for the pro-life movement to become truly pro-life. Laws making abortion illegal simply aren’t enough. Making poverty illegal would be more effective. It’s time to embrace the beatitudes, and recognize that the poor and suffering need justice. In a world of love and peace, the most vulnerable amongst us will be protected. Young women will know they can have their unexpected children, safe from the stones of poverty, social ostracism and rejection.

And their babies will be born into a community that will truly recognize the dignity of all, beyond every mistake, past every fear.

On the Mountain

Jesus stood on the windswept mountain and said, 'Love your neighbour'. And then, in case he wasn't clear, 'Love your enemies'. The crowd mumbled, muttered, wondered. So he went on, 'Do onto others as you would have them do onto you.' And his heart asked, 'Do you hear me? Can you see me? Because I mean it... love them all...'

Despite age
Despite eye colour
Despite language
Even mute
Legless
Two-headed
Bearded
Beardless
Tall
Short
Purple skinned
Gay
Lesbian
Trans
Married
Single
Divorced
Sick
Well
Fat
Thin
Rich
Poor
PEOPLE

And knew we wouldn't do it, not often enough. But loved us anyway. And showed us how.

Planting Seeds: Why the Nuns are Right

We sit in the living room of the tiny apartment, old paint peeling on the walls, sipping tea, and listening with our ears and with our hearts. The year is 1970-something, a time of political unrest in Quebec, but nothing in proportion to what our host family have left behind in Vietnam. They are ‘boat people’, escapees from poverty and oppression, striving to make a new life for themselves in Canada.

I listen to the teenage boy, the only one who really speaks English, as he describes his journey and the family’s struggle. I don’t remember his name. There are younger siblings who fiddle at our feet, giggling at us visitors.

I am roughly sixteen years old, finishing my last year of high school in Quebec, and I am in this room with two of my classmates because of ‘Ma Soeur’, the little sister of the Congregation of Notre Dame who teaches my senior religion class. She has made it clear. Like Jesus, we need to learn from the world. Like Jesus, we need to be made uncomfortable with our comfortable lives. Like Jesus, we need to reach beyond ourselves and our Church.

I learned a lot from Ma Soeur and from the other Sisters who ran my Catholic high school. I learned that you need to live beyond the rules, that you need to reach for love, and that if you have gifts they must be shared. I learned that hard work brings rewards, and forgiveness brings bigger ones. I learned to go to the source, and listen to the story of the people. I discovered the blessings hidden away from brand names and shiny boxes, in the hopes and dreams of the outsiders and the forgotten.

So when I read last week of the Vatican’s scathing condemnation of the LCWR, the largest organization of nuns in North America, I was speechless. Without consulting the sisters, the Vatican appointed a bishop to reform the statutes of the LCWR. It condemned the sisters for spending too much time with the poor and oppressed, and not enough time on issues of sexuality and reproduction.

What is it that these sisters are doing? They are running hospices, caring for the poor, advocating for the oppressed, teaching the young, and leading the way through prayer and action to a just and compassionate society. They are educated, contemplative, and prayerful. They live lives of solidarity and peace. They work, write, and speak out against oppression. With informed consciences, they are shining light on the darkest parts of both society and the Church. And that is the problem.

The Catholic Church does not appreciate anyone outside the hierarchy showing leadership. The report against the nuns reminded them that the Bishops are the ‘authentic teachers of the Church’. In other words, how dare these women speak truth without the men’s permission?

I think of that afternoon in the little Quebec apartment. I think of ‘Ma Soeur’. I don’t know now what happened to any of the people there. I don’t remember what my friends and I wrote in our report for class. And sadly, I didn’t stay in touch with the family we met. I regret that. A few months later I moved on to CEGEP then University, then off to Africa to see more of the world.

But a seed had been planted by Ma Soeur and her sisters through the experiences and knowledge they shared with me, and the people they introduced me to. That seed took root and could not be dislodged. I learned something about hope, relationship and justice that year. I learned about possibility and solidarity. I learned that you need to speak up when you see an injustice.

I see an injustice now in the way the Vatican is treating the sisters. They are right to care for the poor. They are right to be concerned with systemic injustice. They are right to comment on political oppression, whether the men who think they are ruling the Church like it or not.

I hope and pray that the Vatican realizes that the nuns are doing exactly what Christ calls them to do. I hope and pray for reconciliation and justice. But mostly I hope and pray that the nuns don’t back down. There are seeds to be planted. There is hope to grow. Go nuns.

And, ‘Ma Soeur’, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, this is long overdue. Thank you.