Date: Fri, 12 Jun 1998 18:55:56 -0400 From: Chris Ambidge Subject: *Integrator* files for 1997 INTEGRATOR, the newsletter of Integrity/Toronto volume 97-4, issue date 1997 10 08 copyright 1997 Integrity/Toronto. The hard-copy version of this newsletter carries the ISSN 0843-574X ==Contents== [97-4-1] INTEGRITY AND FIDELITY: Together at God's table / an account of the joint service on 17 September 1997, by Chris Ambidge [97-4-2] PILGRIM COMPANIONS / Sermon preached at the joint service by Paul Feheley, vice-president of Fidelity [97-4-3] WAYS OF PRAYER / by Sister Thelma-Anne ssjd [97-4-4] SHARING THE CROSS OF AIDS / an AIDS healing service sermon preached by Mark Emory Graham in 1995 >>More on the Integrity/Fidelity Eucharist<< [97-4-5] IN YOUR GREAT MERCY, HEAR OUR PRAYER / prayers written and led by John Gartshore [97-4-6] WE ARE WITH YOU IN THE SPIRIT / notes of regret from absentees, read out before the Integrity/Fidelity service >>Reactions from Participants and the Integrity/Fidelity Eucharist<< [97-4-7] THE SHAPE OF THE TABLE / by the Rev Patrick Yu [97-4-8] LEADING EACH OTHER TO THE "FULLNESS OF LIFE" / by Ron Chaplin [97-4-9] GOD'S LOVE IN ACTION / by Bev & Sam Moffatt-Schaffner [97-4-10] CELEBRATING TOGETHER WHAT WE SHARE / by Bonnie and Michelle Crawford-Bewley ======== [97-4-1] INTEGRITY AND FIDELITY TOGETHER AT GOD'S TABLE by Chris Ambidge On Tuesday 17 September, the celebrant and preacher at the monthly Integrity/Toronto Eucharist was the Rev Canon Paul Feheley. Paul is the vice-president of Fidelity, a group which advocates the traditional teachings of the church around homosexuality. That made the service something of a first. There were 22 people gathered for the service, which is about twice as many as usual, in recognition of the special nature of the celebration. Two had come into town from Ottawa. Three (that I know of) were members of Fidelity. News of the service had been publicised by postal and electronic mail, and we received messages from all over the continent from people saying that, while they could not be present physically, they would be with us in prayer. Those messages were read as the community gathered, so that the people in the pews knew that the community gathered was more than the eye could see. [Those messages are below, article 97-4-6] The liturgy itself was not out-of-the-ordinary. The pews were arranged in a semi-circle in front of the altar. We followed the lectionary for the previous Sunday, proper 24B, and used the inclusive-language liturgy developed by our host parish, Holy Trinity. Paul sat in front of the altar, wearing Integrity's rainbow stole, for the liturgy of the word, and from there he preached. [The text of the sermon and of the intercessions are both below, [97-4-2] and [97-4-5] respectively] We joined in prayer, in words written for the occasion. Then all of us passed the peace of the risen Christ, and circled the altar for the liturgy of the Eucharist. "We break this bread to share in the body of Christ / we being many are one body for we all share in the one bread" we prayed, and then administered the elements one to another around the circle. +++ This service was not the safest or easiest thing for either group. I am convinced, though, it was the right thing to do, that it was something the Holy Spirit called us to do. Last month, I quoted Ann Carlson: "When we talk of peace and community, we too often assume that they can be achieved only through victory, defeat or compromise. I think we need to expand our definition of peace. I can't be at peace with an enemy. I am not at peace while God is on my side and I view other faith community members as God's opponents. ... True peace may involve learning to live without God on 'my side', because God is bigger than that.". The Eucharist on 17 September was in that peace- ful spirit. The object was not to say "I am right and you are wrong, but rather, for people to come together worship God and celebrate our common heritage as followers of Jesus Christ. As Paul delivered his sermon, another image came to me: of children arguing upstairs, and Mum in the kitchen wondering what the fuss is about. Mum loves both children, and they love her; but during the dispute need her to "be on my side". Maybe we all need to get past the "it all started when he hit me back" stage, or think that the only way Mum can show she loves me is if I get my way (>and< my sibling has to apologise abjectly). I'm not trying to minimise either the very real concerns of or the differences between Integrity and Fidelity people; but I am advocating moving away from a confrontational "P wins, therefore Q loses" model of debate. These are hard questions, and one joint Eucharist is not going to answer them. But I hope that the contact made on 17 September will continue. ======== [97-4-2] PILGRIM COMPANIONS [the text of the sermon preached by the Rev Canon Paul Feheley, on the ] [occasion of the Holy Eucharist celebrated among members of Integrity / ] [Fidelity at Holy Trinity Church, Toronto, 17 September 1997. Canon ] [Feheley is the rector of St George's Church, Oshawa, and vice-president ] [of Fidelity.] = = = = = = = = In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Standing here at this time and in this place reminds me a little of being a mosquito in a nudist colony. You don't know quite where to begin. In a recent conversation with a bishop he told me of an article he had read about the revival of preaching. People were looking again to the pulpit for spiritual direction and guidance. The article mentioned that it is not just the southern Baptists who offer comments such as "Hallelujah" and "Praise the Lord" during sermons. People also feel they have a freedom that if the preacher is going too far in interpretation they can offer comments like "Help him, Jesus, help him". Whether at the end of this sermon you say "Hallelujah" or "Help him, Jesus" I'll leave to your discretion. I come this evening with the prayers of Fidelity and the members of the Advisory Board of my parish, St. George's Memorial in Oshawa. Last night I shared with them that I was coming to celebrate at this service and they asked me to bring to you their greetings. Early this morning after Matins my Lay Reader inquired "Why are you going there?" In trying to answer his question, and perhaps yours, I should begin with saying what this celebration of the Eucharist is not -- we can then talk positively about what this night is for. I do not believe that the night is about convincing each other. You and I, through books, speeches, sermons and courses, have heard often about the what and the why the other side believes. It has not convinced us nor will this commemoration of the Lord's Supper. There is also a temptation which we all need to avoid -- that is to pull out biblical verses and have a duel with them to see who can outlast the other in biblical righteousness. Each of us may want to look, and act, as if we have a golden tower of truth around us which is impregnable, strong and mighty. At the other end of the spectrum is a willingness to sacrifice everything for some sort of compromise. None of these positions are consistent with a faith in Jesus Christ. A blindness that says this is the only way or a false unity not based on truth will never stand the test of discovering the mind of Christ. I'm still haunted by my Lay reader's question -- "Why are you going there? " One of the images that helps us arrive at an answer comes from the film "Baptism -- a Sacrament of Belonging". In the movie a young Mexican boy is the only survivor of a house fire that kills his family. As an orphan, horribly disfigured by the fire, he moves from village to village until he stands at a fence outside an orphanage. Through the chain link he sees boys and girls playing and laughing and desperately wants to belong to that community. The priest in charge talks with him and learns of his story and then goes into the orphanage and shares it with the other children. The priest asks if they are willing to accept him and they cry "Oh, yes ... oh, yes, Father." They all nod in agreement. The priest brings the boy in and places him before the community. There is a stillness and silence and then finally one boy moves. He says to him "you are my brother" takes him by the hand and moves into the community. It is an image we can both learn from. The truth, I believe, is that at times both you and I have acted in a way that says you are not my brother or my sister. We've been far too content in leaving someone outside because they do not think or act or believe as we do. This Eucharist is about saying we are brothers and sisters. It is as if we are removing bricks from our towers so that we can stretch our hands through and reach each other. This night is about celebrating what we share together within the diversity of the church we love. Tonight, the challenge we all face is to answer the question from Mark's gospel where Jesus says to Peter "Who do you say that I am? " Jesus had heard the generalisations but now he needed to hear if they, the disciples, had discovered the truth. Peter's answer shows the convictions and depth of his faith. His words and language are not ambiguous. He names Jesus the Christ. You and I need to have a greater care and sensitivity about the language we use and the names by which we call each other. Instead of struggling to see if we are worthy to bear the name Christian we always want to quantify it somehow. "He's a liberal catholic." "She's a conservative Christian." "She's a revisionist." "He's a fundamentalist," and on it goes. We never use these descriptive words in a complimentary fashion but rather to downgrade and diminish the other person. Jesus wanted Peter to speak plainly, honestly, and with conviction. He can expect no less from us. Think of the language and the names that by which we call each other. No sooner is that high moment of the confession of Peter achieved than a debate begins about what that means. Peter rebukes Christ. Christ rebukes Peter. Among the disciples Peter must admit that he is wrong and learn from this confrontation with Christ the true and honest way. You and I both know that we are right in our thinking of what the church should do regarding all the questions about homosexuality. I wonder if we have the same conviction to admit that we could be wrong. How far are we prepared to risk our understanding of the truth? How open are we to hear the voice of the Holy Spirit speaking to us? Too few of us are prepared to risk. We think our goal is victory, when it must be the pursuit of truth. You and I owe God and each other a commitment to be open to hearing and seeing new truth, to risk our deepest presuppositions to know, believe, and understand that our thinking can and should be altered to the mind of Christ. In an address to the clergy of our Diocese, John Westerhoff, an American Episcopal priest and teacher told the story of an invitation he had to go to Ireland. Twenty Protestant and twenty Roman Catholic people gathered for a conference in a border town. They came from all walks of life, clergy and lay, men, women and children. Westerhoff had been invited to lead the worship and prepared a number of worship services and addresses. When he got there he discovered that he couldn't use them because they had come from a Protestant text. In consultation with the people he wondered if he could read Biblical passages, but they couldn't agree on which version of the Bible to use. A compromise was struck that he could tell Biblical stories. After a number of days at the conference he told the story of the woman touching the hem of Jesus' garments. Not long after that an elderly Roman Catholic monk came and sat on the floor and then a young Protestant child came. The child leaned over and gently stroked the face of the old monk three times. "Nothing happened" he said, "nothing happened." Everyone was confused until the young boy said "my father said that if I touched you I would die but nothing happened." Amidst a multitude of tears the old monk hugged the young boy and said "yes, everything has happened and everything has changed." Where are you in this story -- sitting on the side looking in or sitting on the floor being prepared to risk? A few years ago the composer Dan Schutte wrote a piece that had been commissioned by Dignity/USA for its 10th Biennial Convention in Washington, DC called "Pilgrim Companions." The words of the refrain are Drawn by a dream, lured by a love Pilgrim companions as friends on the journey We come through the storm, pass through the fire Hungry yet hopeful, sustained by the love of the Lord I know that for some of us that song has a very special meaning. May I also suggest that it is a fitting title as you and I share in our quest for mutual understanding. As pilgrims we are seekers and as companions we are friends. We share so much -- for all we come to the table of the Lord with needs, hopes, fears and dreams. There will be, I suspect, those on the extreme of each side who dismiss the other but we are called to a more excellent way. The way of truth, love, justice and community. That way will take us deep into the knowledge that what lies before us according to our Lord is the Cross and the Glory. For Pilgrim Companions - brothers and sisters in Christ - nothing else will do. Thank you for the privilege of coming among you this night. Amen. ======== [97-4-3] WAYS OF PRAYER by Sister Thelma-Anne ssjd When we give ourselves seriously to prayer, we discover, sooner or later, that there is a lot of pain involved. When we begin praying, or make a fresh start after a time of neglect or routine, things go well at first. We are filled with consolation. God seems near. We feel affirmed. All is well. As we persevere, several things may happen. The emotional high will certainly disappear. We may find it takes a lot of effort and determination just to keep going. We have to admit that the whole exercise bores us silly, and we find all kinds of more interesting things to do instead of praying. We may feel cheated -- the honeymoon is over, and we wanted to keep enjoying the wonderful sense of intimacy with God we had at the outset. We experience anger and resentment because that emotional high couldn't go on. Or we seem to have fallen into such total darkness, pain and confusion that we wonder if we'll ever be able to crawl out of the pit. We may decide that prayer is not for the likes of us. There is definitely a sense of deja vu in all this. We have been through the same struggle time and time again. We wrestle with the very demons we thought had been expelled long ago. We may well wonder if there is any hope for us. We know in our heads that we've been there before, that prayer has its rhythms, and that the consolation will return. But it doesn't seem to make prayer any easier. Some of the demons are particularly hard to cope with. There is the fear that we are totally unlovable, that somehow God has rejected us. There is the ever-present demon of internalised homophobia -- "Maybe they are right, after all." There is the demon of shame that has been with us since earliest childhood, the voice that keeps muttering, "If people really knew what you were like, no-one would want to have anything to do with you ... " The voices of shame are numberless. Because all these are indeed demons, their object is to make us mistrust God and God's unconditional love, to persuade us to cut the lifeline of prayer. There is another kind of demon, which operates more subtly. We are vulnerable to it because we tend to define ourselves by the part we can feel comfortable with, and exclude what threatens us. Because, for example, I define myself as being liberal, tolerant, welcoming diversity, I seal off the part of me that is very traditional, rigid in its standards, and wanting myself and everyone else to conform. I then demonise that part of myself, and anyone out there who embodies these characteristics. It can work both ways: if I see myself as very traditional, a defender of the faith and an enemy of compromise with secularism, I probably have a very liberal shadow. Whichever direction it goes, we defend our self-definitions to the death, because anything that calls them in question seems to threaten our very existence. We resist with all our strength. We don't want to be transformed. We know who we are, how we define ourselves, and we don't want to give that up. We cherish our pet demons, even as we wish we could be delivered from them. When we open ourselves to God in prayer, the wall that seals off our rejected side becomes very thin. The "self" we know and defend so vigorously is partial, and God is moving us toward wholeness. Awareness may come through an undefinable feeling of unease or self- doubt. A punitive voice deep within us may interrupt our praying. A chance remark or something we read may unsettle us in a way out of all proportion to what is being said. In an instant, our landmarks are removed, and we are plunged into darkness and turmoil. However it happens, our defensive wall is being breached. We can respond in panic and denial, applying whatever psychological damage control comes to hand. Or we may let ourselves experience our desolation as God's call to wholeness, a challenge to integrate banished parts of ourselves which are clamouring to be heard. For our pain points to a deep rift within us and tells us how vulnerable we are until it is mended. To give an example, when I label someone a "homophobic bigot", I feed the homophobic bigot that lives deep inside me. Sooner or later, that internal bigot will turn and confound me. So I must acknowledge the underlying fear which drives me to demonise others in order to protect myself from the threat it poses to my sense of identity and worth. Only as I hold myself in the presence of the perfect love which casts out fear will the demon be exorcised and I shall be free to love both neighbour and self. It is our very intimacy with God that makes the pain so acute--and so healing. We are told that God is a devouring fire. That fire is the passion with which God loves us. We think we know who we are; the divine vision encompasses the person we were created to become. Through our very desolation, God is inviting us to let the transformation go forward--not once, but over and over again, as God searches us out at ever deeper levels and as we are able to bear what the probing brings to light. I have every reason to believe that the searching and probing will be lifelong. But so will the whole-making, and even in the midst of the darkness and confusion there emerge glimmers of insight, glimpses of our restored humanity, motivating us to continue in God's love through the transforming intimacy of prayer. ======== [97-4-4] SHARING THE CROSS OF AIDS [October is AIDS Awareness Month in the Anglican Church of Canada. To ] [mark this month, here is a sermon preached in July 1995 by Mark Emory ] [Graham, of Integrity/Atlanta, to the quarterly Atlanta diocesan AIDS ] [healing service. Mark reported that this was the first time the sermon ] [at that service had been preached by someone living with AIDS. Mark ] [died less than a year later of AIDS complications. ] = = = = = = = In the name of the one God: Life-Giver, Life-Sharer, and Life-. Amen. "May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." Last weekend, I had the privilege to attend a retreat at Kanuga for persons affected by AIDS. Nearly 250 people came to the mountains of North Carolina to reflect on the story of Jesus' raising of Lazarus as a means for us to share our own stories in the time of AIDS. We came from many places geographically, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. For the most part we were strangers. Yet we shared one thing in common, a cross we call AIDS. And an incredible thing happened. Our sharing that cross of AIDS enabled us to form an instant connection, an instant community, an instant church. How ironic, I thought, that the burden of AIDS provided the means to form a community of love in action which can take years to form in another situation. But the inevitable truth is that it is in our strife, our struggles, our conflicts and our battles, that we find such connection. Our first night together was spent going around the circle in small groups and briefly sharing who we were, why we were there, how AIDS affected us, and what our concern or hope for the future was. In that small exercise, we formed an indelible bond of trust, and shared commitment, and mutual love and support. It occurred to me that some parishes, in a lifetime, never reach the level of connected-ness we experienced in a couple of well-spent hours. Why not? Because we cannot be who we are as Christians without sharing in the cross, without drowning our sinful disjointed former lives in the waters of Baptism and drinking in the invigorating blood of the body of Christ in Eucharistic community. That's pretty graphic imagery but it is the stuff of life. We can pretend to clean it up, like we've cleaned up the cross on the altar, but it won't work, it won't be true to our vocation as a Christian people. It is in acknowledging the messy, painful reality of our crosses that we become a transformed community of love in action. We are such a community gathered here. We are here because we share the cross of AIDS too. And, believe you me, there is another whole testament of Scripture sitting in this room right now - of ministry, of crosses and graves, and of new life and true joy. The earliest Christians found their strength in sharing their stories, their experiences, about Christ crucified. It is no less important for us to do the same. What is the good news in the "Gospel according to David"? What sage advice can be found in "The Letter of Margaret to Edward"? What strength can be found in "The Acts of Your Parish Care Team"? But the problem, of course, is that we go out of our way to avoid crosses. I mean, who in their right mind would willingly choose such burdens? But our crosses are opportunities to share, to reflect, to be reconciled, to be healed, for communion, and for acting on what we've learned together. Sound familiar? It's what we do each Sunday when we gather for Eucharist. It is in sharing our crosses that we find true nourishment at the Lord's Table. Otherwise, we can enjoy the fine music and the eloquent preaching and generally feel good about the sights and sounds of our worship. But it is a little like the old proverb about eating Chinese food. You may leave satisfied but you're hungry again in an hour. It is only when we reveal our true hunger pangs with each other as crucified disciples of Christ that we can hope to be truly fed in our Eucharistic gathering. And we cannot successfully bear our crosses alone. As many of you know, about a month ago I spent a weekend in the hospital with a bacterial pneumonia. Several days prior to my admittance I saw the symptoms coming on but I ignored them because I had other things to do. It was a cross I just didn't have time to be bothered with. So the symptoms worsened and I finally had to admit to myself that I had a lung infection that needed medical attention. So a friend of mine took me to the hospital. During my examination, the doctor asked why I had waited so long to seek treatment. My friend replied, "We would have been here sooner but Mark hadn't finished diagnosing himself." One of the things which is hardest for me to accept, and I suspect difficult for many of you as well, is that we don't have to carry our crosses alone. We don't have to figure it out and fix it by ourselves. That is why our faith is an organic faith, that is why we call the gathered community of the church the living body of Christ. The power is not in us as individuals. It is in us collectively. We are a synergistic people, where the reality of who we are is greater than the sum of our individual selves. In the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, the familiar words of Isaiah 53:4, immortalised by Handel in >Messiah<, "Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows!" have been newly translated as "Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases." That is a powerful new interpretation. And one which carries particular meaning for us gathered here. For if Jesus truly bore our infirmities and carried our diseases, then we can say, in all truthfulness, that Jesus died from AIDS. Stained glass, as many of you know, has been used throughout the centuries to tell stories. This art began as a way to teach the illiterate the stories of the Bible. While we are far more literate today, the ability of stained glass to make the stories of our faith community come alive is no less powerful. With this in mind, I want us to look at the window depicting the crucifixion as an illustration of AIDS. And I'm going to do something very un-Episcopalian and ask those of you who cannot see the window to move closer to the front, to a place where you can see it, choir too. Journey with me into the meaning of this window in the age of AIDS. We have already established, quoting Isaiah, that Jesus is the person living - and now dying - with AIDS. Look at the pallor of his skin, the wasting of his body as his flesh drapes across his bony ribs, the life draining from his face. We have seen this face before - too many times before. To the left we see Mary his mother, watching her son die before his time. After all, he in only in his early thirties. He has so much more to offer this world. Her grief pierces like a sword. No parent should live to see the death of her child. And standing with Mary is John, Jesus' beloved companion. The friend who first met Jesus as a strong, charismatic, handsome young go-getter. Who would have ever thought that in three short years his friend would be clinging to life like this? His grief is piercing too for they had a special relationship. A relationship which Jesus acknowledges even in the midst of dying. Mother, take John into your bosom as if he were your own son. Dearest John, my mother is your mother. There are others here, too. The other Marys. The ones who will go to anoint the body of Jesus in the tomb. The friends, the caregivers. One clings to the feet of Jesus. She has become very close to her friend. She has soothed his pain before. She too knows the vitality which once pulsed through the veins of this young man. Now she sees it slip away and helplessly clings to her friend, not wanting to let him go. The other woman, perhaps having been through this before, knows that she cannot prevent the inevitable. She does what she can, she prays. Prays for a quick and painless death. It is all that is left to be done. And finally, there is the centurion, the "disinterested" administrator. He could be the landlord, or the bill collector, or the government bureaucrat, just doing his job. But notice the eyes. Maybe he once was disinterested but not now. Now he is unavoidably affected by this event, and connected to the others standing near him. And in the background, the city, Jerusalem, goes about her business unaware or unmoved by the tragedy which is about to take place yet again. A depressing scene? Hardly. The good news is that this window, believe it or not, is about life! This window is a picture of love, compassion, and awe. It is about John and Mary growing closer. It is about being there when a friend is in need. It is about strangers noticing that something profound is happening in their midst. It is about healing. Henri Nouwen, in his classic work "The Wounded Healer", writes "A Christian community is a healing community not because wounds are cured and pains are alleviated, but because wounds and pains become openings or occasions for a new vision." In a few moments, you will be invited to come forward to ask and receive healing. As part of that action, you will have a cross traced upon your forehead. Be proud of that cross. Take it into your very being and make it an occasion for new vision. Imagine all those people (in the window), all these people (in this church) surrounding you at the foot of your cross. And fill the image of that cross with the richness of your story, with your own testament of faith and hope and love. Fill that cross with your very life! "May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." Amen. ======== [97-4-5] IN YOUR GREAT MERCY, HEAR OUR PRAYER prayers written and led at the 17 September service by John Gartshore Let us pray, saying "In your great mercy, hear our prayer." I ask your prayers for all members of the Church. Loving God, see the members of your Church, held together by creeds and doctrines which took centuries of discussion to craft, but often split apart by denominational customs, differences in teaching, and startling new perceptions. Bind us together in this holy institution, that our faith may continue firm in you, and our various practices may be always grounded in the love of your Son, Jesus Christ. In your great mercy, hear our prayer I ask your prayers for the governance of the Church. Merciful God, we hold up before you the bishops of the Anglican Church of Canada, and especially the bishops of this diocese, Terence, Michael, Douglas, Taylor, and Ann. Give them the extraordinary gifts of wisdom and discernment which their office demands. In particular, we remember Ann as she prepares for her ordination to the episcopate. Look also on the General, Provincial, and Diocesan Synods by whom the laws of the Church are crafted. Enable their debates with a spirit of patience and love, so that their decisions may be in keeping with your will. In your great mercy, hear our prayer I ask your prayers for ministries throughout the world. All-seeing God, we thank you for those who minister to the people of the earth. At this time, we are especially grateful for the witness of Mother Teresa and Diana and their work with the poor and marginalised. May their example inspire us and others in wonderful works of compassion. In your great mercy, hear our prayer I ask your prayers for those of us gathered here, and those who could not be present but are holding us in their prayers. O God whose Son amazed his followers by his unlikely choice of friends, you see here members of two groups in the Church whose opinions are, for the moment, widely divergent. Help us to answer our bishop's call for bridge-building. Give us patience to endure others' opinions. Enable us to see each others' good. Further our respect for those of your children with whom we disagree. Remind us how we damage our bridges when we insult or hurt our opponents. Help us recollect how it feels when others score cheap points over us. Especially, O God of the cloud of witnesses, we thank you for the vision and leadership which enabled us to be together this night. May our continued work move us ever toward a better understanding of your will for us, to our mutual benefit, and that of your holy Church. In your great mercy, hear our prayer Mighty God, we ask these things in Jesus' name. AMEN. ======== [97-4-6] WE ARE WITH YOU IN SPIRIT notes of regret, read out before the Integrity/Fidelity service Wish I could be there. Great work for communication and, one hopes, understanding. Dr Ann Carlson / Yorktown, VA = = = = What a wonderful plan! I only wish that I could attend. Ken Plate / Santa Cruz CA = = = = WONDERFUL! And prayers, of course. Larry Graham / Integrity/Atlanta = = = = I want to commend you for your selection of preacher and presider as the community gathers to worship and praise God and partake of Holy Communion. You are living out the hope that Jesus so longed for us to have and for which he died. Oh, it won't be easy. He never said it would. We are assured, however, that HIS joy will be in us, and that OUR joy will be complete. What you are about to do is the living out of the Eucharistic words "a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving". And, when these words come to life in our lives, then we have surely partaken of the bread of heaven. You will be in my prayers, indeed. Canon Elizabeth Kaeton Diocesan Canon Missioner to The Oasis / Newark NJ = = = = Your post brought tears to my eyes!!! It would be great to be able to be there, though it is unlikely.... Thomas Waters / Pittsburgh PA = = = = This is really, really cool! God bless all of you in Toronto. Thanks for bearing witness to Christ's body. JonTom Kittredge / Allston MA = = = = I'll be with you all in spirit. Unfortunately that evening is already doubled parked Marion Thompson / Whitevale ON = = = = What a brave and hopeful thing you are doing! The image of these two groups meeting together has been in my thoughts several times since you first posted your plans. The act seems so full of possibility and offers a chance for real creativity and discussion. I'm frankly shocked that both Fidelity and Integrity were >Christian< enough to risk this. (I know that that doesn't reflect well on how I've seen Christianity practised.) You certainly will have my prayers that you will all be able to see Christ in each other. David Larsen / Chicago IL ========= [97-4-7 THE SHAPE OF THE TABLE by the Rev Patrick Yu At the Paris peace conference which ended the Vietnam war, the first thing they argued about was the shape of the table. It is not as trivial as it may seem. A table determines where people sit, who gets the attention, how they look at one another, and it can have a profound effect on the result. The only alternative to war is negotiations. There will be anxiety, hard bargaining, and uncertainty. We do not have a guaranteed outcome. One thing we do not have to argue about, however, is the shape of the table. If we seek an outcome consistent with the mind of Christ, the communion table will shape our proceedings. As we gathered on the evening of the 17th, I felt a sense of welcome, a sense of support, a sense of occasion. But the thought that lingered in my mind was how rich, how >definite<, the shape of the table fellowship was. We gathered, we heard the word of God, and we met Christ together in the sacraments. The table is not ours, it is Christ's. To gather around it is to allow its words and actions to shape us. If we truly gather to make peace, the table will indeed shape the peace. Messages read at the beginning of the service told me that more people than were present were at the table in spirit. I believe that more will gather, and, regrettably, some may never come. At the end of the service someone asked me how many members of Fidelity were there. I replied I don't know. I did not come to represent anybody, I came because I was downtown that day, and Chris invited me. I hope all the expectations and hype do not somehow distort the reality that took place. In a sense, what should be more natural than Christians to gather around the table? It is natural, and powerful, and subversive. So, Paul and Chris, for helping us do what should come naturally, thank you. [Author Box: the Rev Patrick Yu is incumbent of St Theodore of Canterbury, Toronto; and a member of Fidelity] ======= [97-4-8] LEADING EACH OTHER TO THE "FULLNESS OF LIFE" by Ron Chaplin It was an evening I am not likely soon to forget. Like most everyone gathered in the Church of the Holy Trinity that Wednesday evening, I was nervous. What was about to happen? What were we all doing there? Then something magical happened. Father Paul donned the rainbow- coloured stole and led us in the opening prayers. It was a moment of grace. Paul Feheley's simple presence among us was gesture enough. His homily moved me deeply. I am a spokesman for the new Diocesan Task Group on Gays and Lesbians here in Ottawa. When we proposed that the diocese create such a group, I was quizzed as to the nature of our political agenda. I explained (speaking only for myself) that I do not have one. I have been a political animal all of my life. I have and still do keep tallies of those struggles I have won and have lost. On this issue, in this place -- the Church we all love -- I refuse to do so. As I explained to the Program Committee that day, the ministry of our group is all about "healing", about restoring hope and wholeness. It is about leading each other to the "fullness of life" which Christ has promised to us. And I am more than willing to sit down with anyone, from whatever background, who is genuinely concerned about healing. This will include discussions of celibacy, of monogamy, and of all the choices we face in our lives. All we are asking of our brothers and sisters in the Church is that they be welcoming. Let us, together, break down the barriers so that we might speak together in love. Let us share our stories. Let us reveal our pain. Let us spread our blessings. Let us be brothers and sisters. Let us be, as Father Paul put it, "pilgrim companions". In his homily, Paul stated: "Each of us may want to look, and act, as if we have a golden tower of truth around us which is impregnable, strong and mighty. At the other end of the spectrum is a willingness to sacrifice everything for some sort of compromise. None of these positions are consistent with a faith in Jesus Christ. A blindness that says this is the only way or a false unity not based on truth will never stand the test of discovering the mind of Christ." I have a one-word response to this: amen. This is not a statement about what divides us. This is what unites us. Let us, each and every one of us, keep this in mind as we continue our journey, as pilgrim companions to the end. [Author Box: Ron Chaplin is a frequent contributor to >Integrator <. He is a member of Integrity/Toronto, and his home parish is St John the Evangelist, Ottawa] ======== [97-4-9] GOD'S LOVE IN ACTION by Bev & Sam Moffatt-Schaffner We thought this service was a wonderful experience of God's love in action and an opportunity to see each other as children of God instead "those other people". It was a very real "bridge building" experience. Those who did not attend, for whatever reason, missed witnessing Fidelity and Integrity making a conscious effort to meet each other in the middle of the bridge. It was disappointing, though, to see so few members of Fidelity in attendance. The evening might have been even more meaningful if the numbers had been evenly dispersed across both groups. ======== [97-4-10] CELEBRATING TOGETHER WHAT WE SHARE by Bonnie and Michelle Crawford-Bewley Often when people on either side of the gay/lesbian issue attempt to communicate, it feels like we are standing at the opposite end of a very long bridge shouting to (or at) each other. I am proud that on Wednesday night it really felt like we had all walked to the middle of the bridge. I found the message in Canon Feheley's sermon, that we should celebrate together what we share, instead of concentrating on our differences, to be very encouraging. I hope that both Fidelity members and gay/lesbian Anglicans will find that the diversity of the Anglican Communion is wide enough to allow us to peacefully co-exist. As Canon Feheley said, "(we) both know that we are right in our thinking of what the church should do regarding all the questions about homosexuality". However, I hope that Wednesday was a step towards us all understanding that instead of attempting to eliminate the other group from the Anglican Church; it is not only possible but desirable for us to co-exist . === end of text === End of volume 97-4 of Integrator, the newsletter of Integrity/Toronto copyright 1997 Integrity/Toronto comments please to Chris Ambidge, Editor chris.ambidge@utoronto.ca OR Integrity/Toronto Box 873 Stn F Toronto ON Canada M4Y 2N9