Blessed Are the Peacemakers

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

On Wednesday, our Advisory Board met for the first time in several months. In addition to the usual business of receiving reports on what the parish has been up to recently, we considered what sort of parish we wanted to be in the future. I laid out my own vision for the parish, which focuses on growing the 9:30 and Evensong congregations through strengthening the musical excellence at each, a vision that would require robust staffing in the form of two full-time musicians and, ideally, a full-time assisting priest. The challenge is to discern whether this vision isn’t simply my vision, but our vision. You have to decide whether it’s the direction we want to take, for the glorification of God and the edification of God’s people.

Discernment is a big thing for me. I don’t expect, nor do I even want, a “Yes, Father” culture, in which I badger people into doing my bidding, but a culture in which together we build partnerships that are transformational personally, institutionally, and community-wide. After all, this church isn’t my church, and in fact, it’s only your church insofar as you want it to be God’s church—that is, a place that reflects God’s active redemption of the world.

Thus, my job is not to get things out of you, or to get you to do things, but rather to help you discern who you are called to be and what you are called to do. It is my job to help you live into your individual callings, and to do everything in my power to equip you to become that person and to accomplish those things, with God’s help. The primary way I do this is by advocating for what St. Thomas’s needs to be most effective in pursuing its mission. But this advocacy isn’t worth anything unless you discern that the direction in which I’m pointing is a direction you’re willing to go.

The most I can offer, in essence, is an invitation to engage deeply in what it means to be a member of St. Thomas’s, or a neighbour in partnership with St. Thomas’s, or a friend who seeks some form of companionship or fellowship, religious or otherwise, alongside of St. Thomas’s.

If you count yourself among the people of St. Thomas’s, I invite you to share in the transformational mission of this parish. Through it, you will become a more intentional disciple of Jesus through the riches of the Anglo-Catholic tradition, and you will feel empowered to help St. Thomas’s flourish and thrive as a community of faith that works for the common good.

If you consider yourself a neighbour, I invite you to share in the transformational mission of St. Thomas’s as a community centre. If you do, you will feel empowered to use St. Thomas’s as a place of beauty and service, of neighbourly affection, and you will want St. Thomas’s to flourish and thrive as a centre of your community because you will feel that St. Thomas’s connects you to your neighbourhood in ways that you could not be connected without it.

If you are reading this letter as a friend of St. Thomas’s, my hope is that wherever you are in Toronto, in Canada, or in the world, you count St. Thomas’s as a meaningful part of your life, whether you get here in person or online often or not, and that you want to see St. Thomas’s continue to be that for you and others, because our mission is life-giving to you and to the world.

St. Thomas’s is already a source of spiritual nourishment, community engagement, and personal inspiration. But we could be and do so much more. As a parishioner, neighbour, or friend, I hope you see that St. Thomas’s enriches your own life and the lives of many others, whether they are fellow members, choristers, neighbours, university students, friends from other churches and communities of faith, or simply people who come in contact with some aspect of our buildings, our website, our music, our livestreaming, or even simply this weekly email. I personally am hoping that you will respond to this invitation in ways that will result, with God’s help, in the transformational life that really is worth living.

So, yes, I’m banking on the fact that there are a couple of people out there right now whom we need to recruit and equip if we are to make good on our potential for transformational growth. Whether any of this comes to pass comes down to the question: Do you think God is living and active at St. Thomas’s, and can we more effectively be the parish God is calling us to be if we take these steps? It is entirely up to you to decide whether such an investment in people would be worth the financial risk it necessarily entails, and if so, to do whatever it takes to make this vision a reality, trusting in God to take what we offer and use it to transform us and the world around us.

Yours in Christ’s service,

 

Fr. Nathan J.A. Humphrey
VIII Rector

Six Degrees of Separation

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

I love the 1993 film Six Degrees of Separation, after the play of the same name by John Guare. (Will Smith, Donald Sutherland, Stockard Channing, Ian McKellen—what’s not to like?) I won’t get into any movie spoilers here. But the title has come to mind frequently over the past several days. It really does seem at times that we are only separated by (at most) six degrees, and this past week I have been living at the intersection of multiple social worlds.

The most recent round began with the death of Her Late Majesty and an invitation to join a parishioner for prayer in the Chapel Royal at Massey College. My parishioner was preparing to fly to England to report on the obsequies. He was presented with ceremonial pouches of tobacco as gifts for His Majesty from representatives of certain First Nations tribes. My parishioner was charged with conveying these gifts to the Domestic Chaplain to the Sovereign and Sub-Dean of the Chapel Royal at St. James’s Palace. (For those of you keeping score, that’s four degrees of separation.)

On Thursday night, a colleague and I attended a choral evensong at Christ’s Church Cathedral in Hamilton, Ontario. The preacher was the former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams. I remembered then that when the Summer Olympics was held in London in 2012, much was made of the amusing “entrance” of the Queen at the opening ceremonies. What surprised me was that Rowan Williams was sitting directly behind Her Majesty. A decade ago, as I was even more of an ignorant Yankee Episcopalian than I am now, I remarked on this to a friend who was a priest in the Church of England. He patiently explained to me that the Archbishop of Canterbury, so long as he is in office, ranks first in precedence among the peers of the realm after the members of the Royal Family. (So that’s two degrees of separation.)

While it’s fun to play the six degrees of separation game in reference to famous people (hence, the popular parlour game Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon), I find that it’s infinitely more powerful when one discovers real-life connections that hold the potential of forging new relationships.

Case in point: While I was waiting at the Chapel Royal at Massey College, I was with a friend I met well over twenty years ago in Annapolis, Maryland. He had just introduced me to a grad student visiting from Oxford University, when along came another St. T’s parishioner. It turns out my parishioner and the Oxford student have known each other since childhood, having grown up together at the same church! As we conversed, the grad student mentioned a book that changed his life, the author of which just happens to have been in my freshman class in college, so I put them in touch via email later that day.

In the car to Hamilton, my colleague and I discovered that we both knew a former parishioner of mine in New England, whose stepson was a high school classmate of my wife. When we arrived in Hamilton, I greeted a brother of the Oratory of the Good Shepherd who has been that same former parishioner’s next-door neighbour for decades. And it went on and on like this. At that evensong, I met people in real life whom I’ve known for years only through Facebook.

We are all so connected. We often forget just how connected to each other we really are. This was particularly true when many of us felt so isolated over the past couple of years. The challenge, of course, is to go beyond mere connection, beyond the level of the parlour game, and to forge ever-deepening relationships with each other, both near and far.

While it’s always fun to make such connections, that’s only the starting point. We must want to be known and to know others in all their (and our) complexity if we are to continue to stretch and grow and learn. Communities flourish when they are outward-facing, always forging new connections that deepen over time into meaningful relationships. After all, in the Church, there’s only one degree of separation between any two people and our Saviour.

Yours in Christ’s service,

 

Fr. Nathan J.A. Humphrey
VIII Rector

A Rule of Life

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

In the afternoon on Tuesday, 20 September, God willing, I will be admitted as a priest companion of the Oratory of the Good Shepherd at their Professions Mass, which will take place at a retreat centre in Niagara Falls, where the brethren will be gathered for their provincial retreat. I will not be attending the whole retreat myself, as that is for the professed brothers, but will be joining them for a few things during their gathering.

Why am I doing this? For three simple words: rule of life. If you don’t know what a rule of life is, check out the website of Sacred Ordinary Days.

For my own part, I have been inspired to do this by the examples of Fr. David Brinton, OGS and Fr. Philip Hobson, OGS. Our former interim priest-in-charge, Fr. David, is the brother in charge of the Oratory in Canada, and Fr. Philip, who is also the regional dean for the diocesan clergy of this area, is currently in charge of the entire province of North America! (The other provinces are Europe, Australia, and South Africa.)

 

The Good Shepherd by Helen Zughaib

 

While one can write one’s own rule of life, I have felt called to adopt the rule of life that the Oratory of the Good Shepherd has drawn up for its priest companions because, as I told the brother in charge of the companions, I’ve already been living most of the rule for over a decade now. The specifics are these:

THE RULE OF LIFE FOR PRIEST COMPANIONS OF THE ORATORY OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD

I. To recite the daily offices of Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer and to celebrate, or be present at, the Holy Eucharist on Sunday and on three weekdays.
II. In addition to I., to spend thirty minutes daily in prayer and meditation.
III. To have a rule of almsgiving.
IV. To make a regular examination of conscience and make use of the sacrament of confession.
V. To make an annual retreat of not less than three days.
VI. To pray weekly for the Oratory of the Good Shepherd.
VII. To have in hand a definite course of study.
VIII. To report four times a year on the observance of this rule to the member of the Oratory appointed for this purpose.

The term “rule of life” comes from the “regula” that monastics follow. The most famous regula is the one composed by St. Benedict in 516. It has endured for over a millennium and a half now, and is the basis for much of my own spiritual formation. The word “regula” means, literally, a straight piece of wood used in measuring things, that is, a “ruler.” A rule of life can help us measure our spiritual health.

A lot of people with whom I’ve worked in spiritual direction who have taken on some sort of rule of life often report feeling guilty for not keeping their rule with greater rigour. My response to that is that if the main thing your rule does for you is make you feel guilty, you are living by the wrong rule! A rule should not be onerous, nor should it be kept with scrupulosity. Rather, a rule of life is simply one more way to keep oneself accountable in living a Christian life.

Over the course of my life, having a network of accountability has been essential to my spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being. I need other people to keep me on the right track. I have medical, psychological, and psychiatric resources to which I can turn when I need to work on my physical and mental health, and I have a spiritual director or confessor to whom I turn to maintain my spiritual health. My wife and family are a part of my network of accountability, and I strive to serve the same role for them. The key lay leaders of this parish are part of that network of accountability, as are the staff and any who take it upon themselves to reach out and check in with me. I have learned over the years that defensiveness doesn’t do me any good, and so I try my best when faced with criticism to acknowledge and affirm what is true, even if the truth hurts, while still not submitting myself to the abuse of others. (So, for instance, if someone tells me I’m too nosey, I can ask Anne whether that’s true, and when she tells me that it is, I can apologize.)

My rule of life is simply one more way to live out my Christian identity from day to day. Over the coming months, from time to time, I plan on writing a little bit more on this topic, and I invite others in this community who follow a rule of life to share it in the Thurible, even anonymously if you like. I am hoping thereby to encourage everyone in this community to give some thought to what their own rule of life might be. There are lots of tools for discerning and crafting one, and there are, like the priest companion rule, ready-made ones out there to consider adopting. The Oratory of the Good Shepherd is now a part of my network of accountability, and I am pleased that I will be keeping good company with some very trustworthy priests.

Finally, I want to encourage everyone who has read this far and who is able to make it to St. Thomas’s in person to adopt more than a Sunday morning service as a part of an experiment in community life. Can you come to Sunday Mass and Sunday Evensong? Do so! Can you come to one Low Mass during the week, one Morning Prayer service, or one Evening Prayer service? Do so! Right now, we have about half a dozen people on average coming to Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer on the days I attend (Tuesday through Friday). On Mondays, we are trying to recruit a few people who can help us hold down the fort, since Fr. Shire and I both take our sabbath rest on that day. It is amazing what a difference it makes when just a few people gather in the quire of St. Thomas’s for fifteen to twenty-five minutes on average in the morning and in the evening. I have begun to see our Daily Office as the nucleus of this parish’s prayer life. I would like to see that nucleus expand! Attending the Daily Office or Low Mass even once in the week is a great encouragement to those of us who attend regularly, and I am convinced that our daily prayers are at the heart of what makes our Sunday worship so dynamic. I invite you to come and see for yourself how transformative something as simple as what we do every day can be, not only in your life, but for the life of the world.Yours in Christ’s service,

 

Fr. Nathan J.A. Humphrey
VIII Rector

God’s Office Hours

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

“Where can I find your office, Father?”

A year into my tenure at St. Thomas’s, that remains a very good question!

In August 2021, I wrote in this space of my nomadic existence, noting that “just as the Son of Man had nowhere to lay his head, so too the eighth rector of St. Thomas’s has nowhere to lay down his laptop. In plain English: I don’t have an office.”

I wrote that letter before we began praying the Daily Office of Morning and Evening Prayer in the quire of the church, and it wouldn’t be until the end of September that we resumed our regular pattern of Daily Mass in the Lady Chapel. Shortly after we reinstated the daily round of worship—so central to the identity of an Anglo-Catholic parish such as ours—a relative newcomer who had begun to show up regularly at Morning Prayer loaned me a DVD about a Trappist monastery in Rogersville, New Brunswick. The prior of that monastery spoke about why the Daily Office, the term used to refer to the round of prayer services each day, whether in a monastery or a parish church, is called the Daily Office in the first place. He said that he thinks of it as “God’s office hours.”

I have thought about that frequently when I take my place in the rector’s stall in the quire for Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer. I am attending “God’s office hours.” I am in God’s office.

And I must say, God’s office is much nicer than mine, which as of this writing still doesn’t exist in any one place. (Neither does God’s office, come to think of it…) When I think about it, I can picture at least six or seven locations that I consider my office.

During the week, I preside over staff meetings in the front parlour of the rectory and have other meetings, both one-on-one and group meetings, there. It is the most private place on campus where one can make one’s sacramental confession while still conscientiously observing Safe Church requirements, which are so important. (The door into the room is made up of glass panels, so one can see inside at all times.)

In the mornings and in the evenings, I can often be found at the kitchen table reading over papers and writing pastoral care cards and sundry emails. When I have a Zoom meeting, it is most often taken in the rectory’s second-floor study. Of late, I’ve also been co-working with Anne in her third-floor office in the rectory. When it’s most convenient, I will work in the Vestry or meet with people there.

But some of my best work takes place over lunch or “coffee” (in my case chai tea latte, as I’m not a coffee drinker). Just this past week, I sat down at a restaurant or in a coffee shop on different occasions with two parishioners, each of whom has been here for just about as long as I have; a parishioner who has been here for decades; a newcomer whose first Sunday was last week; and Eli, our sexton, with whom I’d been wanting to share a one-on-one meal for some time. Each one gave me a great sense of hope in the future of St. Thomas’s and reinforced the sense that God is doing a new thing here, rooted in the goodly heritage of which I am now privileged to be the steward.

Today, I presided over a memorial service for someone I never met in life. He died before I arrived, but due to the pandemic never had a proper Requiem. Later, I met with a couple who wish to be married here. And next week, I have three lunch dates: one with a gifted musician, one with a parishioner discerning the shape of his vocation, and one with a university student considering baptism! The week after that, I have a lunch here in Toronto with the vicar of All Saints, Margaret Street in London—whom I’ve known since he was a fellow in residence at St. Paul’s, K Street, in a program I started when I was there—along with clergy colleagues from a couple of neighbouring parishes, to talk about how we can support each other in our ministries. The next day, I will be meeting for lunch with a daughter of the parish who has had a significant ministry representing the Anglican Church of Canada in ecumenical bodies and the Anglican Communion, and the day after that, I will be lunching with a longtime parishioner who is a noted historian.

In September, I’ll be having lunch with another university professor, and later in the month making a pilgrimage with Fr. Walter Hannam to visit Fr. Brian Freeland on Holy Cross Day, before attending the celebration of new ministry for Fr. Eric Beresford at the Church of St. Mary Magdalene that evening. And at the end of the month, I’m looking forward to lunch with an eminent rare book librarian (emeritus)!

These get-togethers with clergy and laity, with catechumens and the affianced, with those who mourn, with those who are penitent, and with those who rejoice all have one thing in common: Wherever we meet, we are taking advantage of God’s office hours, seeking holy ground, seeking the good of the city, and looking for ways in which St. Thomas’s may flourish as a vibrant witness to the Catholic faith through music, outreach, preaching, evangelism, and pastoral care.

You, too, are welcome to be a part of this grand endeavour. I’m eager to sit down with anyone and everyone who is excited about the future of this parish, or who wants to discern where God is in their lives, whether you are in a time of sorrow, joy, or simply caught up in the daily grind of city life.

It’s easier for me to direct people to my office hours than to my office, because my office hours exist online: rector.youcanbook.me. Since returning from vacation, I’m conscious of the fact that I have quite a few emails to follow up on, so if you haven’t heard from me, I’m always happy to hear from you! And if you don’t see a slot that works for you, I reserve Fridays and Saturdays outside of my online scheduling system to accommodate those whom my regular office hours can’t accommodate, so don’t be discouraged if you don’t see something that fits. Over the next several months, if St. Thomas’s is to get where I believe God is calling us, I will need to have a lot more lunches and coffees (or, in my case, chai tea lattes)! Who knows? One (or more) of them might be with you.

Yours in Christ’s service,

 

Fr. Nathan J.A. Humphrey
VIII Rector

Feeding People’s Spiritual Hunger

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

It is a rare thing to be given a window into how others see and experience us, and James Yuan has given St. Thomas’s a great gift in his essay, a piece that stands in the great tradition of personal testimonies to God’s work in our daily lives. I am profoundly grateful to James for his honesty, humour, and vulnerability in sharing his experience of being a newcomer here.

As I told him, however, it’s not just his “newness” that we appreciate, but his “youness.” That is to say, each of us brings “ourselves, our souls and bodies” to life in community, with all our gifts and all our growing edges. Each of us is “simul justus et peccator”—a saint and a sinner—at the same time. And God’s attitude toward each of us is, as I’ve said from the pulpit, “I can work with that.” We often “have no power of ourselves to help ourselves,” as a prayerbook collect puts it, but God always has the power to work in us “more than we can ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20-21). God’s modus operandi in the world is to redeem. Thus, when we are honest and vulnerable about who we are, God gives us the grace to live into our particular identities in ways that are fully integrated with our core identity as human beings made in the imago Dei. As people who by baptism are adopted into the Household of God, and through lives of discipleship, we are given the grace time and again to discover what it means to live a life marked by forgiveness, faith, hope, and love. Our wills, when united to Christ’s will, cooperate so that what is lacking in us is brought to perfection through him.

Each of us, no matter how traditional or progressive, how orthodox or heterodox we may be in our theological outlook and commitments, has, as James puts it, a God-given “hunger for meaning and beauty.” I personally believe that this hunger is linked to the hunger for holiness, a word we don’t use much in this culture because it’s so often misunderstood. But Anglo-Catholicism is unashamed of the “beauty of holiness,” as the Psalmist puts it (cf. Psalm 96:9), for in it we find reverence, wonder, love, and praise. The meaning we find here gives us a sense of purpose and mission (though we sometimes find ourselves at a loss on how go about fulfilling “The Vision Glorious,” to borrow Geoffrey Rowell’s words).

I often like to say that Anglo-Catholicism has a high tolerance for eccentricity. But as James Yuan puts it, “Lukewarm tolerance, which says, ‘I will accept you in spite of these parts of you,’ heals nothing; the frightful questions remain open. Only a more radical attitude—we may call it love—moves the wounded spirit: ‘I will accept you the more for these parts of you.’ I have been endlessly surprised by the dedication of my friends and mentors at St. Thomas’s to this radical principle. They celebrated my eccentricities even as I struggled to suppress them.”

In his essay, James names something that will gladden the hearts of many of us, and trouble others. He writes with bracing frankness, “My queerness is linked with an intense spirituality, something I cannot explain, but which I also find in many of my friends in the queer community, though so many of them tell me how the Church, rather than feeding their spiritual needs, cast them out.”

This is Elephant Number One in Anglo-Catholicism, in this parish as with every other Anglo-Catholic parish I’ve ever experienced. And, as the recent conflicts over human sexuality at the Lambeth Conference demonstrated so painfully (see the articles here and here), we Anglicans too often forget that our “issues” have human faces. Personally, I take no issue with anyone who has strong opinions about the definition of marriage one way or the other, because there are legitimate theological and sacramental questions at play. The matter is hardly settled doctrine in the Anglican Communion, though many individuals and parishes have found their own sense of clarity.

Our own diocesan bishop has recognized that there are two opposing doctrines in this diocese, and while I might wish the “issue” didn’t exist, I certainly rejoice that some of the people who find ourselves at the centre of it still find the courage to say, as the Greeks who approached Philip in John 12:20-21, said: “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” And Jesus’ response, then as now, is, “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

I have conservative queer friends, some celibate, some in lifelong partnerships, who oppose any change to the meaning of sacramental marriage. And I have progressive friends whose lives make a compelling, if inconclusive, case for a more expansive view. As I’ve discovered over the past year, St. Thomas’s is no different from the rest of the Church in where we are coming from and where we end up. Sometimes it’s healthy for a community to leave some things unresolved. Sometimes it decidedly is not. For me, one way of discerning what is of God and what is not is by looking at how any proposed course of action enriches our discipleship and deepens our formation as Christians.

One of the things I love about our Anglo-Catholic tradition is that at our best, we follow Jesus’ lead and meet people where they (we) are. We want to see Jesus, too. At St. Thomas’s, I am hardly indifferent to the issues or stances that set us at odds as a community, both locally and globally, but I’m more interested in people. My litmus test is simply this: If Jesus would hang out with me, I should hang out with you. This doesn’t resolve the doctrinal disputes that many of us have. We have no Magisterium to settle any given matter. Nevertheless, I firmly hold that we are called to love and honour one another in our collective search for meaning and beauty, trusting that “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be satisfied” (Matthew 5:6).

What does this mean for the future of St. Thomas’s? I’d like to know the answer to that myself! A couple of years ago, when this and other hot-button topics came up in conversation with the Selection Committee, I emphasized that I am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, and my chief vocation is as a pastor and teacher, not an activist. This inevitably disappoints some people, but I believe that we first need to be honest about where we find ourselves today and understand our history before we can discern how we can be most faithful to God’s call to us in the future. Because of this, while I have my own views, I don’t have any personal agendas to push, and I tend to push back against the agendas that others occasionally try to push on me, whether from the left or from the right. I’m much more comfortable living in the reality of ambiguity than forcing some sort of resolution to any given dilemma that does not honour the dignity of every human being. So whatever we face, I am committed to facing it together, come what may.

I don’t know much, but I do know that God wants us to continue to bring “ourselves, our souls and bodies” to the font and to the altar, and to reach out to all people, especially to alienated and marginalized people, including marginalized conservatives, some of whom I happen to know are queer as three-dollar bills. (Paradoxes abound; assume nothing.)

 James writes,

Spiritual hunger, we often say, is there in everybody, even in those who don’t realize it. And fear and alienation—we less often acknowledge—are the normal feelings of outsiders to the Church, especially of outsiders as distant as I. Fear and alienation are usual. What feels unusual, sometimes miraculous, is not just that a love existed for me, as it does not for so many others like me, but that it reached me, as it does not reach so many others. I give thanks for my miracle, which I hope will be another usual thing some day for many others. 

Fear and alienation can also be the normal feelings of insiders, too, when we forget that “the truth shall set you free” (John 8:32). Sometimes, our fear of conflict, and specifically my fear of opening up a can of worms that’s best left on the shelf, can lead us to avoid the painful truth about where we are as a community, and when we do that, we can heighten the fear and alienation of anyone who might look to us for freedom from those shackles.

Ultimately, parish life is about reaching others with the love of Jesus, and allowing that love to break through all their and our defences, fears, and anxieties. I hope that St. Thomas’s will hold fast to its identity in Christ, that we will not be tossed to and fro like so many other parishes, but rather that we will focus on keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing: Feeding people’s spiritual hunger with food that satisfies. As we do, we will inevitably find ourselves feeding people’s physical hunger with real food, be they sandwiches on Friday or the Bread of Heaven that is both physical and spiritual. And if you have any ideas about how we can better welcome and serve others in Jesus’ name, I’m all ears.

Finally, if you have your own testimony to share, whether you want it published in the Thurible or not, I’d be eager to read it, or to talk with you, whether in person or via Zoom, preferably in air-conditioned rooms.

Yours in Christ’s service,

 

Fr. Nathan J.A. Humphrey

Message from the Interim Associate Priest: Low-Gluten Communion Hosts

St. Thomas’s now offers low-gluten communion hosts for those who have gluten allergies, sensitivities, or celiac disease. I am mindful that for those with celiac disease, there are often few options to participate in the Eucharist safely.

Sourcing hosts safe for consumption for those with celiac disease
These hosts are approved for liturgical use in the Catholic Church in the United States and Canada and contain less than 20 parts per million of gluten. They have been deemed safe for consumption for those with celiac disease.


Baking of the low-gluten hosts is done in a dedicated bakery using positive air pressure to create a room that is free of contaminants. The equipment used in production is also dedicated to low-gluten baking and is not used for regular altar bread production.

How to request a low-gluten host
Low-gluten communion hosts are available upon request. If you require one, please inform the sidespeople prior to the start of the service. The low-gluten hosts will be kept in a dedicated pyx in a small bowl to prevent cross-contamination. When approaching for communion, please inform the priest that you require a low-gluten host; the priest will present the pyx to the communicant to open and consume.

What is celiac disease?
From the Celiac Disease Foundation: “Celiac disease is a serious autoimmune disease that occurs in genetically predisposed people where the ingestion of gluten leads to damage in the small intestine. It is estimated to affect 1 in 100 people worldwide, but only about 30% are properly diagnosed. When people with celiac disease eat gluten (a protein found in wheat, rye, and barley), their body mounts an immune response that attacks the small intestine.” This can lead to long-term health complications if left undiagnosed. Currently, there is no treatment apart from maintaining a gluten-free diet.

Approved for use
Low- or reduced-gluten hosts have been approved for use by both the US and Canadian Council of Catholic Bishops as they satisfy both the theological definition of bread that is appropriate for the Eucharist and tests for safe consumption by people with celiac disease so long as they are kept separate from the standard communion hosts.

The Eucharist is the sharing of Christ’s Body and Blood, which appear in the species of bread and wine. However, standard communion hosts can trigger symptoms for people with celiac disease, and consumption from the common cup can also trigger symptoms due to cross-contamination of gluten from the bread coming into the wine. By offering an option for people with celiac disease or gluten sensitivities, we are able to safely allow all to participate in the sharing of Christ’s Body and Blood.

Fr. James Shire

What We Ought to Fear: Idolatry

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

I hate looking at social media whenever a catastrophe strikes, particularly as it relates to gun violence in the United States. Such was the case this past week with the school shooting in Uvalde, Texas. But of course, like passing a car wreck, I can’t avert my eyes for long. At these times, I am tempted to give in to cynicism, such as represented by this sad-but-true post:

 
 

And it’s easy to feel righteous indignation in all sorts of directions. Blame conservatives. Blame liberals. Blame the United States as a whole!

At such times, I wish I could absolve myself from saying anything, but the public nature of my ministry means that I do not always have the luxury of withholding private opinions. I don’t consider myself a “political” priest. Nevertheless, I admire clergy who are able to speak to the events of the day while at the same time proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ. Most political clergy I know forget the latter in their pursuit of the former. Not so my friend Fr. Robert Hendrickson, rector of St. Philip’s in the Hills Episcopal Church in Tucson, Arizona, who regularly writes challenging and inspiring reflections on the ills of our society. His latest missive on this week’s topic may be found here. I commend it to you.

For my own part, I will express how grateful Anne and I are that we now live in a country where the chances of encountering this sort of violence are far lower than south of the border. But none of us is immune. In fact, a common fear I have heard in recent days is that the attitudes that enable such acts of violence are slowly creeping northward, like a spreading epidemic. I’m not sure how grounded in reality such a fear is, but I did read this past week a good definition of what exactly it is that we ought to fear: idolatry.

 
 

One of my friends posted a quotation attributed to another of my friends, the Rev’d. Dr. Leander Harding: “My definition of an idol is the god we make ourselves according to our own preferences in order to serve our own purposes. The idols always promise much, deliver little, demand more and more and deliver less and less, and in the end they always demand human blood—usually beginning with the blood of children.” In the conversation that ensued, another friend commented that Dean Harding has often preached that “Our god, or idol, in America, is personal autonomy without restriction, no matter the cost.” Dean Harding is no bleeding heart liberal. He happens to be in the Diocese of Albany, one of the most conservative dioceses in the Episcopal Church, and a former professor of a very conservative seminary.

 
 

This idolization of personal autonomy without restriction, no matter the cost, without responsibility or mutual obligation, is what I believe many of us who live in Canada fear most. It runs counter to the “peace, order, and good government” that I wrote about in my second Thurible letter after my arrival in Canada. Worse than that, it runs counter to everything we as people of faith stand for, as Fr. Hendrickson articulates so well.

So this is no time to pat ourselves on the back for not suffering from the same idolatry, because Canadians, while generally more polite, are not necessarily any more virtuous than any other citizen of any other country. We may in fact suffer from the same idolatry, but simply lack the extreme autonomy to carry it to its logical conclusion.

I have no answers, no suggestions, just a heart that yearns for national and international leadership, both religious and political, that can bring about the changes we need to renounce and repent from whatever idolatry grips our hearts, through God’s indispensable grace and love.

Yours in Christ’s service,

 

N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector

The “Great Belonging”

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

When my family and I moved to Canada last July, we left behind everything and everyone we knew, in the name of following God’s call. We invited the children into the decision-making process, but because they are not yet the age of majority, Anne and I ultimately had to make the choice together for all of us. We cast it as an adventure, and talked about the opportunity to meet new people and experience new things.

Anne and I anticipated that of our two children, Andrew, who is gregarious, fun-loving, and extroverted, would have no trouble making friends. But it was Margaret, the one content to keep her own company and be alone with her art and her animals, our typically atypical child, who made a best friend on her first day of high school. And then she made another friend. And another. While, at the same time, managing to keep friendships alive at a distance. As I write this, she is upstairs on a four-way FaceTime call with three of her friends from Rhode Island.

Andrew, too, has kept in touch with friends from the States, especially his best friend, Abbott, but he has struggled to find footing with his local agemates. Just this week, for the first time since moving, he invited a friend home. The boys have started walking to and from school together, and they have set a schedule for when and at whose place they will spend time together. As heartbreaking as it was to see Andrew lonely, it is correspondingly joyous to see his personality come alive again thanks to one local friend. We trust there will be more, but one makes all the difference in the world. Research suggests that this is true for us all: We crave connection, we crave belonging, even as we don’t always know where to find it.

 
 

Charlotte Donlon, writing in The Great Belonging: How Loneliness Leads Us to Each Other, posits that the opposite of loneliness is belonging. That resonates with me, because I’m in the business of encouraging belonging: to St. Thomas’s Anglican Church, in particular, but on a deeper level, I want to foster belonging to this church because I hope it will lead to what Donlon calls the Great Belonging—that is, the belonging that comes from God alone.

How intentional are we, though, about seeking out connection with each other, inviting others into the Great Belonging in which we ourselves long to be? How willing are we to be known for who we are? How much vulnerability are we willing to risk to show God’s love to each other and to those who do not yet belong to this community?

Whether the Great Belonging begins with belief in God or arises out of a desire to connect with other people, we all do crave connection. When we focus on what it means to belong, to be known, to befriend others, we are on the right track. A central part of our mission as a community of faith is to throw ourselves into belonging, and to invite others into belonging, that we may here, with God’s help, make a community that fosters that greater belonging by which we know that we are beloved of God, and which gives us the power to love others—all others—as God loves us.

Yours in Christ’s service,

 

N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector

"Like” It or Not

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

Anyone who has a Facebook account should know that one unstated goal of that benevolent overlord is to get the user addicted to collecting “reacts” (like, love, care, haha, wow, sad, mad).


Take, for instance, this post from Monday morning:

 

Three hundred and eight “reacts”! Impressive, eh? So addictive.

Part of the way Facebook enables this addiction is through its magical algorithms, which among other things serve up “Your memories on Facebook,” reminding one of old posts that got a lot of “reacts.” Occasionally, I’ll take the bait and re-post one, as I did a few days ago along with a commentary I wrote on a passage from the Gospel of John that’s been well received in the past by my (as of today) 3,289 “friends” and 593 “followers.” (The friend limit for a personal page, in case you were wondering, is 5,000. After that, Facebook recommends you create a “Public Figure” page. So by Facebook standards, I’m still a very private person.)

On Thursday morning, Facebook reminded me that five years ago, I posted a quote by Gerald W. Keucher, who wrote in Humble and Strong: Mutually Accountable Leadership in the Church, “Leaders must find ways of always being approachable so that those they lead can tell them the truth.” I very much believe this, which may be one reason why I have 3,289 friends and 593 followers on Facebook. (Ego has nothing to do with it, of course. I write this in all humility.)

 

In reflecting on that much-liked post, it occurred to me that there’s only so much anyone can do to make oneself approachable. Since the subtitle of that book makes clear that the author’s concern is fostering mutual accountability, I found myself wondering what responsibilities my parishioners and colleagues have when it comes to responding to my own attempts to convey that I am authentically approachable. Among other things, a specific type of courage is required: the courage to talk directly to me. I am always grateful to my parishioners and my staff members when they do, because it gives me an opportunity to thank them. I think this response surprises a lot of people, because they expect me to react badly.

In a very self-selective sampling, I’ve heard from a couple of parishioners that I’m doing well on this score. I keep encouraging emails and letters and cards to re-read when I’m discouraged or beating up on myself for what a poor priest (or husband, or father, or human being) I am. Here are a couple of examples. Once, a parishioner wrote, “I must say that you are a very unusual priest. In my experience, members of the clergy don’t like to be challenged, especially by lay folk! Whenever I have done so in the past, the reaction has usually been indignant, defensive or dismissive. (Not that this has ever deterred me. 😉).” Another wrote, “Though you have your own opinions about things, you accept influence…you’re inquisitive and a learner…you’re skilled at repairing relational rifts…you’re openly human and don’t pretend to be otherwise...you admit missteps and apologize.”

On the other hand, when I read these things, I always tell myself, “Don’t believe your own press.” Doubtless others have a more negative assessment, most of whom are probably inclined to keep that opinion to themselves, or only share it with other people who may or may not pass along that assessment to me. (Triangulation is a persistent challenge to clear and direct communication that parishioners, lay leaders, staff, and clergy all have to deal with as a fact of living in community.)

Further, I’m painfully aware that my sermons and Thurible letters could (do?) verge into a sort of passive-aggressive way of addressing conflicts I’m caught up in without actually speaking directly to the specific people concerned. My writing is how I process the challenges of ministry, and I hope I do so in a way that is transparent and helpful, but I could be deluding myself, even as I write this very sentence. Thankfully, I never entertain thoughts of self-doubt.

Believe it or not, I’m anxious when I write these things that people will think my congregation is really screwed up. But don’t worry: it’s not you, it’s me. You may think I’m being facetious, but I have to say I’m thrilled by how low-drama this parish has been. (I’ve probably jinxed myself. Thankfully, I’m never superstitious.)

Five paragraphs above, I wrote that when people share their concerns with me directly, I thank them. To be perfectly honest, this is true most of the time. Those times that I have reacted defensively or otherwise are always damaging to relationships, and I always come to regret them deeply, especially when there’s no apparent way to “fix” them. Inevitably, I end up confessing them to my spiritual director. It’s important for me to admit this because I am sure some of my readers can recall with vivid clarity behaviours of mine that I’ve conveniently forgotten. What can I say? I’m a work in progress, and I’m grateful for your love and prayers.

It should also be noted that I try not to thank people who just want to abuse me. One of the dictums I aim to live by is, “Never be available for abuse, but always be available for reconciliation.” You’ll hear a sermon on this someday, no doubt. “Like” it or not, it’s one of my homiletical chestnuts.

Yours in Christ’s service,

 

N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector


The Ritual Reason Why

The service booklet for the High Mass has undergone a redesign that is in its “beta testing” phase. Is the font too small? Are there other suggestions you would make to render the booklet more user-friendly? This version is subject to revision (and reversion to previous layout conventions), so your feedback over the next few weeks is most welcome.


The eventual goal is to have a booklet with all the parts of the service necessary for a newcomer completely unfamiliar with our traditions and musical settings to be able to participate fully without first learning how to be one of the “in crowd” that knows that “this is just the way we do things here.” The way we do things may indeed remain the same, but we are in the process of removing all barriers to full participation. Feel free to identify what’s missing. (We already know that some music graphics are still needed, for instance.)

Once we have a satisfactory template for the High Mass, the style and formatting changes will be applied across the board to all our liturgical publications. This will take some time, and we welcome your participation in this process as we aim to be as hospitable as possible to those who cross our threshold or join us via livestream.


Evensong Experiment

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

Easter is right around the corner! God willing, I will not contract COVID-19 during this time, as I am planning to travel to Israel for my first-ever pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the Holy Land from Easter Wednesday, 20 April through Saturday, 30 April. I will be back with you on Sunday, 1 May. My return on the first of May will coincide with the reinstatement of in-person Evensong & Devotions. In Eastertide, we are trying an experimental new time, moving Evensong from its pre-pandemic time of 7 p.m. to a post-pandemic experimental time of 3 p.m. 

The staff and I had been thinking about keeping Evensong at the new hour that it’s been on Zoom, namely 4 p.m. But the cathedral has resumed its Evensong services at 4:30 p.m., and for several reasons we did not want to be in direct competition, chief among them the desire of some people to attend both evensongs, as well as singers who might be able to sing at both the cathedral and St. Thomas’s.

Over the course of several conversations, the options we considered were:

1. Schedule Evensong at 4 p.m. despite the conflict with the cathedral.

2. Revert to the pre-pandemic time of 7 p.m.

3. Schedule Evensong at 5:30 or 6 p.m. for a slightly less stretched-out day.

4. Try something altogether new, such as a mid-afternoon Evensong with various brunch options tied to it to build community.

Having ruled out the first option, we considered simply going back to doing things the way we’ve always done them. But based on pre-pandemic attendance numbers alone, 7 p.m. was not thought to be a good time. We aren’t sure if the low attendance is due to the time or not, so the only way to test that hypothesis is to experiment with a new time. Going back to the way things were is the path of least resistance, but we recognized we had an opportunity to determine whether a different approach might yield better results on several fronts, among them staff morale, musical quality, and attendance. Several people have expressed to clergy or staff over the years that they would go to Evensong were it not so late, with various issues being cited as the disincentive (driving at night, conflict with mealtimes, other schedule conflicts, etc.).

In the end, the clergy and music staff gravitated towards a 3 p.m. experiment in Eastertide as our Plan A to see whether there is a way to build a renewed Evensong community. If it falls flat, we will go to Plan B, which would be to try it at 5:30 or 6, and Plan C would be to return to 7.

Here is some of the thinking behind our Plan A:

Evensong & Devotions at 3 p.m. would be convenient for those attending morning services, particularly High Mass, who could go out to brunch in the neighbourhood and/or go shopping, visit the museums for a couple of hours, or what have you, before returning for early Evensong at 3. In this vision, people would not even have to go home or move their cars. Restaurants in the area might be willing to offer specially priced brunch or lunch offerings for St. Thomas’s parishioners to incentivize extended fellowship between the High Mass and Evensong. Three o’clock also seemed the earliest time possible to allow choir members a reasonable lunch break before returning for rehearsal.

Should this time prove a success, it might be appealing for seniors and others who do not drive after dark in winter. Likewise, it might appeal to university students and those who have morning or evening work commitments on Sundays but are free in the early afternoon. As an experiment in Eastertide, we can test what difference the time makes, if any, on various demographics.

Once it is possible again, the Friars Guild might be re-built around a soup-and-sandwich offering (at a price that would cover expenses) after High Mass, with opportunities to socialize until 3 p.m. Various activities and meetings could be built in, hopefully of a fun and recreational nature, that would foster community and give people an opportunity to connect. University students, young adults, seniors, and others might have demographically targeted fellowship and educational opportunities scheduled in this period, and parents with young children could have an extended play date at the parkette playground, or in other areas onsite that are conducive to parent socializing in a safe atmosphere for children. Other onsite food options, such as booking an inexpensive lunch caterer or a food truck from time to time for special events, also came up in the context of a Brunch-Fun-Evensong sequence.

For these and other reasons, we decided to try a 3 p.m. Evensong tied to the vision sketched out above, starting on 1 May. By Pentecost on 6 June, we expect to have a sense of whether we need to consider 5:30 or 6 p.m. Depending on how things turn out, we could even end up with a seasonal time change, with Evensong at 5:30, 6, or 7 p.m. when clocks “spring forward,” and changing to 3 p.m. when clocks “fall back.” The point is that we will not know what works best until we try it!

Since experiments involve the risk of failure, it will be important for everyone concerned to provide full and frank feedback on the advantages and disadvantages of the various time slots under consideration. We have already received a few very well-reasoned rationales for reverting to 7 p.m., as well as some enthusiasm from various quarters to the proposal above.

Finally, on the topic of risk, I’m aware that the pandemic is always the wild card. As Toronto appears to be facing a sixth wave, all decisions are necessarily contingent on public health advice. For now, we are following the plan of the Diocese to go to “Green Stage” on 27 April, with the first Sunday being 1 May, when we will return to in-person Evensong & Devotions at the new experimental time of 3 p.m. Your prayers during this (latest) liminal time of uncertainty are certainly most welcome!

 

N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector


 

Don't Allow Satan to Sabotage Holy Week

“La plus belle des ruses du Diable est de vous persuader qu’il n’existe pas!”
The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.
—Charles Baudelaire, 1864

On the day before Palm Sunday, it has been my custom to gather all the altar servers and musicians and give a little “pep talk” prior to launching into Holy Week rehearsals. I picked up this habit from a mentor way back in 2006. Recently, a colleague whose first Holy Week is upcoming at a major Anglo-Catholic parish in the United States asked me for a copy of my remarks, which he had remembered hearing at some point. Uncharacteristically, I’d always delivered them extemporaneously. Reflecting on this fact, I decided the traditional audience for these thoughts is too narrow, for what I have to say applies not only to the clergy, acolytes, and musicians who bear the primary responsibility for carrying out the liturgies of Holy Week, but to all of us who will be participating in them, whether in person or from afar.

My basic thesis is this: No other week in the Christian year is more spiritually powerful than Holy Week, and as a result, no other week is as spiritually dangerous to us. At the risk of sounding absurdly like Dana Carvey’s “Church Lady” character on Saturday Night Live, who is always insinuating that Satan is personally lurking around every corner, I believe with all my heart that there is nothing that Satan would like better than to sabotage your Holy Week.

 
 

Now, if you want to understand “Satan” as shorthand for the powers of evil and darkness that beset us, that’s fine. Be however sophisticated or simplistic you want to be when it comes to the metaphysics of it all. But do not discount the reality and impact of evil.

While God’s modus operandi in the world is to redeem, Satan’s m.o. is to destroy. Just to be clear: God and Satan are not co-equal forces. That’s dualism. Holy Week demonstrates above all else that God is far more powerful than sin and death. But that doesn’t stop sin and death from trying their best to do their worst.

What this does mean is that if there’s a way that you can be ensnared, distracted, or otherwise derailed, the odds of a spiritual onslaught happening in your personal life are highest, I’m sorry to say, this week. This does not mean we should be paranoid. Rather, it means we should do our best to heed the warning we find in 1 Peter 5:8-9, “Be watchful, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour. Resist him, steadfast in faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters throughout the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering.”

But how to be vigilant? Well, first of all, ask for God’s grace to cut each other some slack. Resist the temptation to judge each other and find each other wanting. As Paul teaches us in Ephesians 4:32, “be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.” If there’s one thing that will trip us up, it’s hard-heartedness. Many of us enter into the events of Holy Week at a parish with such a high reputation for excellent music and liturgy with unrealistically high expectations of ourselves and others. If we make a mistake, or others make mistakes—move on! Don’t beat yourself up over it, and don’t hold it against someone else.

And if you find that you have sinned against someone, admit it. Say you’re sorry. Ask for forgiveness. “This isn’t rocket surgery,” as a friend of mine likes to say.

 If there’s one thing that Satan would love to introduce into your life this week, it’s personal drama. Opportunities to feel injured and resentful will present themselves with convenient frequency. They are bait. Don’t take the bait, or rather, ask God to reveal these things for what they are. At the risk of sounding like Admiral Ackbar in Return of the Jedi, remember: “It’s a trap!”

The only drama I want to see or participate in this week is the drama of Jesus Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection. That’s the only drama that counts, because that’s the only drama that means anything. It’s the only drama that matters.

So any drama of our own must be deposited where it belongs, at the foot of the cross. And if you need to, avail yourself of whatever spiritual, physical, medical, psychiatric, or financial help you need this week. Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you’re struggling. It’s fine to be human during Holy Week; you are not expected to be any more or less than who you are. Grace abounds, especially when we commit ourselves to having each other’s backs. We need to stand in solidarity with each other as we remember the One who lived and died in solidarity with us. Because what we are doing is not simply remembering, but participating in those very saving acts themselves.

Many people nowadays are deluded by a false dichotomy when it comes to what is true and real versus what is spiritual and metaphorical. But reality is more than meets the eye. Ask any particle physicist. The mysteries of Holy Week will transform us for the better, if we cooperate with God’s grace in doing so. But just as easily, we can let evil sabotage us, and through us, distract others from the power that Holy Week holds.

So Holy Week is a dangerous week precisely because it holds the greatest promise for encountering God. If I sound like a kook, I hope I haven’t been used as a tool in tripping you up. Every year, I am hesitant to express these thoughts because I’m not generally a paranoid guy. But we are talking about reality here. And I would be remiss in my responsibility as a priest were I not to point out that we are not simply play-acting. Holy Week at its best is an encounter with a reality that is more real than we ourselves are.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk™.

 Yours in Christ’s service,

 

N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector


Note from the Rector and Wardens

  1. The parish mask mandate will be lifted on Wednesday, April 27. After that date masks will be strongly recommended but optional, unless public health regulations dictate otherwise.

  2. We will offer a reception with food and drink immediately following the Easter Vigil on Saturday, April 16 (see the notice in this week’s Thurible), at which masks are strongly recommended except when eating and drinking. Thereafter, circumstances permitting, coffee hours may resume, provided we have volunteers to coordinate them!

  3. The common cup at communion will be restored as of Maundy Thursday, April 14. As has always been the case, communicants may choose to receive communion in one kind only. As per the Diocese, the prohibition of intinction, wherein the communion wafer is dipped into the chalice, remains in force. The only change is that all will now again have the option of making their communion in both kinds as of Maundy Thursday, as the Spirit moves each member of the Body of Christ, in accordance with their own conscientious discernment.

Yours in Christ’s service,

 

N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector

 

Lorne J. Swan, Rector’s Warden

 

Jessica J. Nee, People’s Warden


The Common Cup: How Safe Is It?
The Diocese recently provided this helpful information in an email to clergy:

Those who prefer to make their communion in one kind may continue to do so. Those who are comfortable and eager to return to making their communion in both kinds can be reassured by the science referenced in this article, written by the Rev. Michael Garner, an epidemiologist and priest of the Diocese of Ottawa. Additionally, the Bishop’s Committee on Healing Ministries has updated its brochure on safe liturgical practices, which includes sharing the common cup. As previously stated, however, we anticipate that many people will choose to make their communion in one kind for some time to come, and that is perfectly understandable and acceptable.

Letter from the Rector and Wardens & Liturgical Notes

Letter from the Rector and Wardens

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

In recent days we, your Rector and Wardens, have come to consensus on a few key questions, which may be summarized in three points:

  1. The parish mask mandate will be lifted on Wednesday, April 27. After that date masks will be strongly recommended but optional, unless public health regulations dictate otherwise.

  2. We will offer a reception with food and drink immediately following the Easter Vigil on Saturday, April 16, at which masks are strongly recommended except when eating and drinking. Thereafter, circumstances permitting, coffee hours may resume, provided we have volunteers to coordinate them! (See below for further details.)

  3. The common cup at communion will be restored as of Maundy Thursday, April 14.


In addition to these three announcements themselves, we thought it would be helpful to provide some sense of what motivated these decisions.

Corporation began discussing our options when the Diocese of Toronto announced on March 23 that we will be moving to the “Green Stage” on Wednesday, April 27, with “the removal of all COVID-19 restrictions, except the vaccine policy for staff and volunteers.” The memo continues, “On that date, across the Diocese, the wearing of masks becomes optional, all parishes may resume the informal sharing of food and drinks (e.g., coffee hours) and may once again offer the Common Cup in the Eucharist.” This date aligns with the Provincial lifting of mandates in higher-risk settings.

Most significantly, in the announcement, the Diocese also makes the provision for an early move to the Green Stage on Holy Saturday, April 16, “for those parishes that are eager and ready to do so.” Because we know that some of us are indeed eager to see restrictions removed, the clergy and wardens engaged in prayer and discussion concerning this early option, considering in particular whether we want to make our Easter celebrations mask-optional. The conclusion we came to was that while we were indeed eager to do so, not everyone was ready for us to do this.

So many of us eagerly await the day when we can see each other’s full faces, when we can worship unhindered by our N- or KN-95s! But we decided not to pursue the option of making services mask-optional for Easter. Why wait if we are allowed to do so early? It came down to this simple fact: Easter is the pinnacle of the liturgical year. As such, we desire to make our Easter services as accessible as possible, keeping in mind those among us whose health might be vulnerable or who might feel unsafe attending if others are unmasked. Though this feels to some of us restrictive of our individual freedoms, and we would certainly act otherwise were the decision left to our own discretion, we must take great care as a community to protect our vulnerable and to provide the widest possible path to the Sacrament. This type of caring for one another is very much in line with St. Paul’s teaching in I Corinthians 11:33, “So then, my brothers and sisters, when you come together to eat, wait for each other.” This apostolic teaching reflects our emerging understanding of the value of accessibility in the life of our parish, so that as many people as possible may take part in our life of worship and service in faith, hope, and love.

At the same time, we recognize that we have a deep longing to celebrate Christ’s Resurrection with special festivity. To this end, thanks to Michelle Mayers-Van Herk, we will keep the feast with a joyful reception after the Easter Vigil in the Parish Hall! As there will be eating and drinking, masks will be strongly recommended, but not required. To make this reception a reality, however, we will need volunteers to help put it together. If you are interested in helping in this way, please email the Easter Vigil reception coordinator Michelle Mayers-Van Herk at michelle.mayers-vanherk@tdsb.on.ca. If you are interested in helping or coordinating future Sunday coffee hours, including on Easter Sunday itself, which as of this writing remains unclaimed, please make that fact known by emailing office@stthomas.on.ca.

As for the common cup, on April 14 we will celebrate Maundy Thursday and the institution of the Lord’s Supper. Although the Diocese has formally authorized early restoration of the common cup as of the Easter Vigil, it seemed more Biblically, theologically, and liturgically appropriate to us that we should begin offering the common cup a few days earlier than that, in accordance with the Lord’s instructions when he instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper. Should the Diocese express that anticipating the restoration of the one bread and one cup ought not to happen on the liturgical commemoration of its institution, we will of course comply with that judgement. As of this writing, however, we are taking full responsibility for this decision, as it aligns with our Anglo-Catholic tradition as well as the unified witness of the Anglican reformers who insisted that the cup ought not to be withheld from the people.

As has always been the case, communicants may choose to receive communion in one kind only. As per the Diocese, the prohibition of intinction, wherein the communion wafer is dipped into the chalice, remains in force. The only change is that all will now again have the option of making their communion in both kinds as of Maundy Thursday, as the Spirit moves each member of the Body of Christ, in accordance with their own conscientious discernment.

We always welcome your thoughts and reflections as we continue to strive with God’s help to live into the mind of Christ at St. Thomas’s, as our collective discernment shapes our common life. Your knowledge and wisdom continually helps us to nuance our policies and make important course corrections, and we need you to join us in ensuring that all things are done “decently and in order,” as the Apostle teaches us in I Corinthians 14:40. We thank you for your ongoing support of St. Thomas’s through the heartfelt generosity of your time, talent, and treasure, and we encourage your fullest possible participation, whether in person or via livestream, in the celebration of those mighty acts whereby God gives us life and immortality through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

Yours in Christ’s service,

N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector

Lorne J. Swan, Rector’s Warden

Jessica J. Nee, People’s Warden

 

The “Ritual Reason why”: Holy Week

Palm Sunday

The Palm Sunday liturgy marks the beginning of Holy Week, the most important, significant, and powerful week of the Christian year. Palm Sunday commemorates Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, which in turn is the prelude to his arrest, trial, death, and resurrection.

The liturgy consists of two distinct and contrasting parts. The Liturgy of the Palms reflects the excitement and joy of the people celebrating the arrival of the King. So we participate in a joyful and exuberant procession from the “Mount of Olives,” so to speak, and the church building itself in a very real sense becomes our Jerusalem for the coming week. The second part of the liturgy is the Mass of the Passion. There is an intentional and stark contrast between the Palm Liturgy and the sombre Mass of the Passion. This Mass sets before us the events that we shall be commemorating in the week ahead. At the heart of the Mass is the solemn recitation of the Passion narrative.

It is important to realize that these liturgies of Holy Week are not merely commemorations, but—through their reenactment in our time and space—they make possible our participation and renewal in the saving events themselves. Palm Sunday inaugurates Holy Week. The heart of the celebration of the Paschal Mystery, that is, the death and resurrection of Jesus, is in fact one continuous liturgy on the evenings of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Saturday – Easter Eve (The Great Vigil). Together known as the Triduum Sacrum (“the Sacred Three Days”), from these liturgies all others flow. We urge your full participation in the Triduum, which becomes the very vehicle of our own deeper conversion to the mystery of our redemption in Jesus.

Maundy Thursday

The liturgy of Maundy Thursday has several points of focus. First, it commemorates the institution of the Holy Eucharist by Our Lord and the Last Supper as the primary means of his being with us and of our ongoing participation in the Paschal Mystery, his own death and resurrection, by which we are saved. Second, it commemorates the sign of the “new commandment” (in Latin, Mandatum, from which the word “Maundy” is derived), “that ye love one another, as I have loved you,” acted out in the Lord’s washing of the disciples’ feet. Third, it initiates the commemoration of the Lord’s trial and passion, which will culminate in the liturgy of Good Friday and which is dramatically brought home to us in this liturgy in the stripping of the altars at the end of this liturgy. Fourth, it initiates the watch with the Lord present in the Blessed Sacrament at the Altar of Repose, which is transformed into the Garden of Gethsemane.

Maundy Thursday begins on a note of celebration and gradually descends to the desolate emptiness of the stripping of the altars. This liturgy is but the first part of the Triduum, a unified threefold liturgy that continues through Good Friday and Holy Saturday and that culminates in the Great Vigil and First Mass of Easter. Our participation in these three days, comprising one great liturgy, is not merely a commemoration; it is, in fact, the very means of our participation in the saving events themselves. When we participate with open minds and hearts, we find ourselves renewed by grace in these eternal realities of our redemption.

Good Friday

The liturgy of Good Friday is exceptional in many ways. The solemn prostration of the Sacred Ministers before the bare altar at the opening of the liturgy is unique in the Christian year and immediately draws to mind the solemnity and austerity of the day. At the heart of the first part of the liturgy is the solemn chanting to ancient tones of the Passion narrative of Saint John’s Gospel.

The Solemn Collects recall the very earliest forms of the prayers of the people when the Deacon bids the Congregation to pray for the needs of the Church and the world in a moment of silence. Thus the Church brings such needs to the very foot of the cross at the liturgical hour of the Lord’s death. The Veneration of the Cross dramatically reminds us that the Lord’s sacrifice of himself on the cross this day is an eternal yet present reality. We are invited quite literally to place ourselves, our needs, and our own sins at the foot of the cross as we physically express our gratitude for Christ’s sacrifice.

This day and Holy Saturday before sundown are the only days when the Eucharist may not be celebrated. Communion is administered instead from the Reserved Sacrament. Communion, as we know so powerfully from the Maundy Thursday liturgy, is the principal means of our own “com-union,” union with God in Christ; so we are one with him at his death in this most powerful way.

This liturgy ends bluntly and sadly, and we wait for what we know, with hindsight, will be the Miracle of Miracles, which we will celebrate with great solemnity and joy at the Great Vigil of Easter.

Easter Vigil

The Easter Vigil is the most significant liturgy of the entire Christian year. This is the Christian Passover. The sights and sounds with which we are surrounded are as ancient as the Church herself. The liturgy has four distinct but interrelated parts:

1. The lighting of the new fire from which the Paschal Candle is lit and which, gradually dispelling the darkness of the church, becomes the sign of the new light and life of Christ’s resurrection. The Exsultet, sung in celebration of the Light of Christ, is the most ancient hymn of the Church, and it has always been regarded as a great honour to be chosen to sing this hymn of praise, sung but once a year.

2. The recitation of key passages in salvation history from the Old Testament, which tells the story of God’s saving deeds for us and points towards his full, perfect, and sufficient saving work in Jesus Christ.

3. These lessons lead in turn to the rites of Christian Initiation, or in years when there are no candidates for Baptism, always includes the renewal of our own Baptismal promises, by which we all reaffirm the faith and reality of our own baptisms. Baptism is the means given by God to share in the death and resurrection of Jesus, by whom we are saved; the death and resurrection of Jesus is the climax of God’s saving work. Here, at the very heart of the celebration of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ (the “Paschal Mystery”), the newly baptized throughout the Church are brought into that very saving event themselves. If you have not yet been baptized, we invite you to inquire of a member of the clergy to explore whether God is calling you to baptism into the family of the Church.

4. The celebration of the first Mass of Easter begins with a dramatic opening and in startling contrast as darkness gives way to light, death to life, despair to joy—all communicated in the powerful and joyous words, sounds, smells, and actions of the Mass.

(Images: AdobeStock licences)

The Common Cup: How Safe Is It?
The Diocese recently provided this helpful information in an email to clergy:

Those who prefer to make their communion in one kind may continue to do so. Those who are comfortable and eager to return to making their communion in both kinds can be reassured by the science referenced in this article, written by the Rev. Michael Garner, an epidemiologist and priest of the Diocese of Ottawa. Additionally, the Bishop’s Committee on Healing Ministries has updated its brochure on safe liturgical practices, which includes sharing the common cup. As previously stated, however, we anticipate that many people will choose to make their communion in one kind for some time to come, and that is perfectly understandable and acceptable.

Holy Week Will Transform Us

Dear People, Neighbours, and Friends of St. Thomas’s,

This first year at St. Thomas’s has been an extended exercise in comparative liturgics. The differences between the Book of Alternative Services (BAS 1983) and the Book of Common Prayer (BCP 1962) of the Anglican Church of Canada make for fascinating study, at least by people who like that sort of thing. As I’ve mentioned before, the BAS is a sort of “New and Improved” version of the Episcopal Church’s Book of Common Prayer (BCP 1979). They were approved only four years apart, after all, and the family resemblance is striking.

While there are some big differences that could be enumerated, it’s the little things that catch my attention. Take, for instance, the prayer at the beginning of the Palm Sunday liturgy, which inaugurates our Holy Week observances:

BCP 1979 (United States)
Assist us mercifully with your help, O Lord God of our salvation, that we may enter with joy upon the contemplation of those mighty acts, whereby you have given us life and immortality; through Christ our Lord. Amen.

BCP 1983 (Canada)
Assist us mercifully with your help, Lord God of our salvation, that we may enter with joy into the celebration of those mighty acts whereby you give us life and immortality; through Christ our Lord. Amen.

The main difference is that “contemplation” has been replaced with “celebration.” Here one can see a deliberate choice on the part of the Canadian liturgists to emphasize the active side of corporate prayer, and to use a word that naturally pairs with “joy.” (It also raises the question, to my mind at least, of what we mean when we say that we “celebrate” the Passion that is read on Palm Sunday, not to mention Good Friday.) I imagine “contemplation” was considered too passive and private a word to describe what we are supposed to be doing in Holy Week.

But—aside from dropping the old-fashioned vocative “O”—the real subtlety is in the verb tense: “whereby you have given us life and immortality” versus “whereby you give us life and immortality.” At first glance, this may appear to be a distinction without a difference. But I think the difference is between what it means to engage in the contemplation of past events versus participation in a present reality.

So one might express it this way (don’t worry, we will stick with the given language in our liturgies): We ask for God’s help that we may enter with joy into our participation in those mighty acts whereby God has given and continues to give us life and immortality.

Whichever way one parses this prayer, I believe its purpose is not only to petition God’s help, but to make an implied promise: That if we enter with joy and intentionality into the mysteries of Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection, we will find new and eternal life. In short: Holy Week will transform us.

So that’s the promise I would like to make to you: Whether online or in person, if you enter into our liturgies with a sense of participation and receptivity, God will use Holy Week to change your life, forever. And God will do that again in a new way next Holy Week, provided you approach the celebration and contemplation of those mighty acts with an open mind and an open heart next year, as well.

Holy Week is the most powerfully life-changing, transforming, and converting week in the Christian year, if we allow it to work in us that grace that God wants to work through the paschal mystery of Jesus Christ. In the most intense, intimate, and unsentimental way imaginable, we are invited to share in Christ’s suffering and death so that we may have some share in his resurrection life in the here and now, as a foretaste of that unending life in him that Jesus promises us.

This is something to get excited about, or at least it should fill us with great anticipation, even if we’re not the excitable sort. Whatever else you may be planning on doing between April 10th and April 17th, if you can arrange your life so that you are with us, either virtually or (circumstances permitting) in person, you will not regret it.

Yours in Christ’s service,

N.J.A. Humphrey+
VIII Rector

 

The Ritual ‘Reason Why’

I have a shelfful of liturgical manuals. They are full of opinions on how to execute beautiful and meaningful liturgies. My favourite title on that shelf is a battered old copy of The Ritual ‘Reason Why’. First published in 1866 at the dawn of ritualism within the Anglo-Catholic movement, I have the “New and Revised Edition” of 1919. From time to time, I shall provide a ritual reason why I do what I do, particularly if I realize that it raises questions.

You may have noticed that in Lent the form of confession appointed for use at the High Mass has been different from the usual one found in the Communion service in the BCP. It is taken instead from the form appointed for Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer in the same book. The reason I decided to do this is that I hoped it would catch our attention, that it might make us contemplate what exactly we think we are doing when we confess our sins corporately. It also occurred to me that the majority of Anglicans no longer encounter the confession appointed for use at the Daily Office, even if they are in the habit of praying Morning Prayer and/or Evening Prayer regularly, because it is often omitted. And those of us for whom the Office is not a part of personal devotional life won’t have encountered it at all, at least not in action.

But the prayer itself is a particularly powerful one, with some of the most poetic language in the prayer book: “erred and strayed thy ways like lost sheep…followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts.” We confess things done and undone. And, in the throes of a pandemic, we admit that “there is no health in us” and that we are “miserable offenders.” With regard to those last two phrases in particular, I want people to get hung up on those words, perhaps even be offended by them. They are omitted in the traditional language version of the Daily Office in the BCP 1979 (cf. 41-42 & 62-63) and are nowhere to be found in the BAS 1983. Is it because these are overstatements? We have some health in us, don’t we? Or is it because such language is no longer “relevant” to contemporary Christians? (Who wants to be miserable, let alone an offender? We’re not that bad, are we? We can think of some people who are, but surely those words could never apply to us, right?)

For five Sundays a year, in the context of High Mass, I hope that we will all contemplate what it is we are doing and why. Not that we don’t do that on the other forty-seven Sundays (sometimes forty-eight, in a leap year). But I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who hasn’t, from time to time, rattled off the General Confession and received Absolution and given it nary a thought.

I recognize I’m on thin ice with a particular liturgical sensibility, which I respect, regarding the integrity of rites as they have been handed down to us. When it comes to the Low Mass, at least, I do everything by the book—except I maintain the changes already in place upon my arrival. I’d be happy to do it strictly by the book. But I have no idea what apple cart I might be overturning.

All of this is to say that the BCP and the wider Anglican tradition contains great riches, some of which have not been taken out of the treasure house for a while. You may have also noted that there is no blessing at the end of Mass, but that it has been replaced by a benediction. This is taken from the final words of “A Penitential Service” in the Canadian BCP 1962 (cf. pp. 611-615).

Ultimately, the real ritual “reason why” behind everything is the notion that what we do in corporate worship is meant not to point to itself, but to God’s action in Christ Jesus. Since we don’t (I hope) come to church to worship the worship, but rather to worship God, I do hope I can be pardoned for occasionally doing things that catch our collective attention. My intention is not to distract or annoy (though these are always risks), but to point beyond what we are doing to the reality of the mystery to which all liturgy and music points, and in which, at its best, all of our worship participates: the paschal mystery.

As always, I invite your rebuttals and refinements to my thinking. I am teachable. I’m even reformable, believe it or not. I try to demonstrate through these little written items that you can talk to me about anything that’s on your mind, even if it’s a difficult conversation, because I’d much rather know what you think and feel—and consequently get to know you in all your wonderful and horrible particularity—rather than be left in the dark. And woe to me if I cause anyone to stumble! While I will make myself unavailable to be abused, I assume that people intend to act in good faith and have the common good in mind. In this spirit, I offer myself to you, knowing that you will also encounter me in all my wonderful and horrible particularity. But I hope that together we will learn what it means to speak the truth in love and live in authentic community. At least, it’s worth trying, with God’s help, don’t you think?