About Brian Kiely

I'm a minister serving the Unitarian Church of Edmonton since 1997, a born Canadian, a graduate of Meadville/Lombard Theological School in Chicago, the father of two young daughters trying to figure out how to make churches work better in the digital age.

Amazing Garage Sellers!

garage saleOver the last few weeks I have frequently dropped in to see the growing collection of donated items for sale in our massive garage sale.  massive? Yep. Largest one ever for sure.  In the days before ‘doors opened’ you could hardly get through Keeler Hall.  And when the dust settled, the church had raised $7,200, our best tally ever.

But what makes the sale truly wonderful, year in and year out, is the dedication of the volunteers.  As I said, I dropped by frequently – browsing, I confess, not helping much. For weeks there were people in the Hall almost every day sorting goods, setting up tables, pricing items.  They were socializing too, for all work and no play…

I know it has been like this every year, but I guess I just paid closer attention this time.  I know that elsewhere there will be a formal thank you for the volunteers, but I wanted to specifically send a shout out to Chair Jan McMillan, to Susan Ruttan and to Donna Hamar.SONY DSC  These three seemed to be everywhere not only helping, but making the key decisions about everything.  I am sure they are exhausted now that it is all done, but what a job.

If you have a chance in the days and weeks ahead, give these three, and any of the GS volunteers a pat on the back and a “well done!”  They most certainly deserve it.

What Next?

“What next?”  has always been a key part of my personal philosophy.  Something bad happens, and I try to face it, grieve appropriately, allow myself to feel what I need to feel.  At some point, it becomes time to move on, to ask, “What next?”

It is time for me to do that here at UCE- and no, I’m not resigning, I’m …restructuring.

I realized late this winter that this first year as a single father has been more difficult than I had anticipated.  Listening to a quiet word here and there from kind and supportive members, I also realized that it had begun to affect my work.  I don`t think I have been as much fun to be around lately.  Perhaps I have been a bit testy and disengaged. To put it in formal professional words, my ministry has lacked presence in the last while.  I apologize for that.

So, what next?

In conjunction with the Board, I have prepared a work plan for the next year.  In fact, I have already begun to implement it.  The first step involves changing my attitude.  It is time to remember what I love about ministry and this community.  That’s easy: the people.  The obvious solution is simply reaching out, being more available at Coffee Hour and at other church events.  In addition I will be contacting all of our seniors in the next year and arranging visits or coffee dates with those who would like them.  Of course, I will be happy to meet with anyone who wishes it, but the church, and I, need to make a special effort for those who have built this community we all enjoy.

A second focus will be adult education.  We had success in the Fall with a program run over several Sundays following the service.  I expect to offer a couple of similar activities like that in the coming year as well as some one shot sessions on various topics.  I will also keep on with the Religion on Tap informal pub discussion groups.  Truth to tell, it`s hard to see that event as work!

I also hope we can relaunch small group ministries.  This was a successful program a few years ago that gathered willing people in groups of 10 or so for regular meetings with a spiritual focus.  It allowed participants to get to know each other on a deeper level.  This time, groups will be gathered with an understanding that the ‘term’ will end after six months or so and new groups will be formed.  I will need a volunteer or two to help coordinate that plan.

Next our Worship Committee Chair John Pater has called a meeting on May 12 for all interested parties to talk about the Sunday calendar for next year.  We got into a bit of scheduling confusion this year with different groups wanting to offer excellent services throughout the Spring.  The result is that I was only in the pulpit once in April.  My letter of agreement calls for me to lead three services a month.  We will fix that with better planning.

Finally, I have set some specific targets for managing the ministerial side of social networking: the Facebook page, the Ministerial Musings blog etc.

All of this is a way of acknowledging that I want to pull up my socks.  I love working at this church and being part of this community.  I need to do better by you.

See you in church.

Brian

Boston

My colleague Tom Schade serves in the US. He offered this brilliant post summing up UU responses to the Boston Marathon tragedy in his piece.

The Needed Virtues
When something horrible and tragic happens, like bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon, I go to a very calm, even distant and repressed place emotionally. I am good in a crisis, but cold. I do have a catch in the throat that comes and goes randomly. Like Roger on Mad Men, my grief comes out at odd times, as for him when he burst into tears over the death of the man who shined his shoes, after keeping it together through his mother’s funeral.

I almost lost it today when reading a stupid Buzzfeed posting about 29 things to love about Boston; it was a picture of the ducklings with little red scarves tied on them on a snowy day.

I become very observant of what others say and think.

My UU colleagues are so much more sensitive and articulate than I am at such a time as this. And I have been reading their twitter feeds and facebook postings. For a professional group spread far and wide across the country, few do not feel connection to Boston. So, their collective words today came from a deep place.

What is the message of liberal religion? What is our good news? Today is a day when we testify to our message, our good news, without much ornamentation, or elaboration.

I will not quote specific people and specific utterances. I am too tired for all that cutting and pasting and researching. Anyway our message came through clearly today.

My colleagues in liberal religion said this today:

Stop, and hold humanity sacred at this moment. The dead, the injured, the traumatized, the heroic, and the brave. My colleagues are telling us it is time to pray, to sit in silence, to watch a dancing flame in the dark, to hold a hand. Tagore calls upon us to lift our lamps to those we love who have gone on that journey and to say our last words in silence. And everywhere I read of my colleagues organizing on line and real life vigils and prayer circles and church sanctuaries open for rest.

My colleagues are asking you to recommit tonight to be especially honest and humble. What do you really know, and what are guessing and speculating? Resist the headlong rush to know, to explain, to make all of this fit into some narrative that you have already constructed. They are reminding us that we don’t know much, that much of what is said in these first 24 hours will turn out to be not true, and that the most inflammatory and shocking piece of information that shows up in your Twitter feed is more likely false than true. Be brave in not knowing.

My colleagues are lifting up compassion and solidarity and gratitude now. Today we are all Mr. Rogers, reminding everyone to look at the number of people running toward danger to help. ‘Look to the helpers,’ he said, and we are quoting. My colleagues are honoring the first responders, the doctors, the nurses, the police, the volunteers, the strangers who helped strangers. When the bounds of community are broken by violences, my colleagues lift it up higher. We know, deep down in the very marrow of our bones, that there is more good in humanity than evil. My twitter feed is full of concrete information about how to help — where to call to offer your couch to a stranded runner and/or their supporters.

Above all, my colleagues are calling upon us to maintain our self-possession. Turn off the TV news when it is repetitive and inflammatory. Sing to yourself the centering chant: “when I breathe in, I breathe in peace; and I when I breathe out, I breathe out love.” (Or is it the other way around, I can never remember. Does it matter?) Our self-possession is why we must remember to be humble and honest about what we know. We need to guard ourselves today and tomorrow against a collective group-think that leads to bad decisions. We need to keep clear heads and a firm grasp on right and wrong as we all process the shock, the denial, the anger, the bargaining of this violation and loss. Stay centered and grounded.

Honesty — Humility — Gratitude — Reverence — Openness — Compassion — Self Possession. These are the needed virtues on the day after Patriots Day in Boston.

These are the virtues of liberal religion — the gospel that is needed for this time — the reminder we need to recommit ourselves to what is best, and wholesome, and holy and healthy when it is so tempting to be hateful, or vengeful, or tribal, or otherwise less than our best selves. If we can commit to these ways of being in the world, we make it possible to discern the way of Love in the present situation.

I am so proud of my colleagues in the Unitarian Universalist movement for holding up these virtues tonight, although I know that they are not the only ones. Does liberal religion have a message for times of violence, tragedy and evil in the world? We do. It is simple, clear and compelling. And it is as close as your phone.
Posted by Tom Schade at 11:46 PM

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Need to talk to Brian?  You can contact me at brikie@aol.com, through the UCE Facebook page, or by phone at 780-455-9797

Setting the Night on Fire

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The crowning moment of the entire weekend came as darkness fell over the hilly town of Jowai on Sunday evening. We in bright western cities often forget what darkness can be like. Jowai is a rural hill town. There are few, if any, street lights. Most light at road level near the field where our celebrations took place came from the occasional passing cars, and from the brightly lit church at the top of a large hill.

It is a tradition in the UUNEI to have torch light parades. When the Quasquicentennial began a year ago, they had a parade in Shillong – though one with electric torches as they were trying to make a point supporting the congregation’s green policy.

But last Saturday they opted for the old fashioned way. (See the clip below) As the crowd began to gather, music blared from the back of a small truck. They played Unitarian hymns non-stop. Here you have to toss aside North American ideas of ‘Unitarian hymn’, though. One colleague described the music as a bit like rock-a-billy, and that’s not far off. It’s lively and upbeat, great for marching.

The crowd started gathering in the plaza in front of the church, and suddenly the torches began to come out. They were about a meter long pieces of bamboo filled with kerosene and stuffed with a kind of wick at the top. There must have been a couple of hundred torches passed hand to hand, and then the light itself was passed the same way.

Singing joyfully the growing crowd began to work their way down the drive and onto the street below, turning right to pass in front of the Hajom Kissor Singh school. The streets of Jowai are narrow, seldom more that 5 meters wide with houses set back often only a meter or two more. With at least a thousand people marching, the torch light parade snaked back nearly a kilometre.

With smoky torches and bright spirits buoyed by the music we walked, waving at the folks looking from balconies and behind their walled yards. The march lasted a good 45 minutes, perhaps two or three kilometres up and down through the winding, hilly streets until we returned again to the playing field. A spontaneous dance party started led by the youth but with nearly a everyone joining in and lasting another half hour until worship was called.

If you have read this far, what comes next will probably seem obvious. The whole thing was a deeply moving gob-smacking shock! A thousand Unitarians in a town of 10,000 marching and singing their songs for the whole town to see and hear. Can you even imagine such a thing in Canada? I can’t.

Such a beautiful expression of faith, my heart was filled with a sense a privilege to have been a part of it.

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Serious Worshipers!

Serious Worshippers!

I have to tell you, the Khasis, Jainta and Karbi (the three main tribal groups in the UUNEI) sure know how to worship!

On Sunday there was an 8 a.m service in the Karbi language that filled the church and lasted an hour. At 10:30 – well more like 11ish the morning service started out in the playing field that would eventually seat more than a thousand. I got to sit on the tent- covered stage with local and visiting ministers and local dignitaries, about 60 of us in all. The service was complete with choral presentations, an English sermon ( translated live) by an American minister and a Khasi sermon by a local minister. There were also some honours presented. The service lasted till 1:30…which was when the main service was supposed to start.

Fortunately we were allowed a half hour tea break. A nice touch was the young people who brought trays of pound cake and local cookies and huge kettles to milk tea to the platform for us. They were determined that we would all be served. Some of the younger kids climbed over chairs to get cups to us in their enthusiasm!

The second service began about 2:30 and again featured two sermons, two more choral pieces, some special awards for life achievements and the usual worship elements. There was lots of singing, of course. And the whole thing was televised across the province. It lasted two and half hours as well.

Finally there was an open-air evening service celebrating 125 years of ministry in the UUNEI. It followed a procession which I will describe in the next post. Only one sermon tonight, given by my friend and ICUU colleague Rev. David Gyero of Transylvania. The high light was a candle lighting ceremony by the ministers. We -for the visiting clergy were asked to join in unity with our Indian brothers and sisters – took turns lighting individual candles and then gathered in a large circle to pledge ourselves to the faith and the ministry. At least I think that’s what we did…it was in Khasi after all.

It was a deeply meaningful moment for me. I love my profession. I love my calling. But because there is usually only one minister in a church in North America, the chances of sharing that commitment with colleagues does not often happen. To have that chance with old and new professional friends half way around the world brought me to the edge of tears. The feeling of true inclusion was only heightened when, just before the service, they quietly presented each visiting cleric with the beautiful UUNEI deep red and gold stole as a gift.

All in all we had 8 hours of outdoor worship between 8 a.m. and 10 p.m. EIGHT HOURS!!! Oh, by the way, they took an offering at every service. ;) . Here’s a shot of 1/3 of the crowd using brilliantly decorated umbrellas in the strong sun.

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Worship in Jowai, India

Friday, February 8 -Jowai
Today we drove two more hours north to the town of Jowai in a Mahindra, the locally made jeep-like vehicle. I rode with ICUU colleague Rev. David Gyero, from Transylvania, Rev. Gary Smith, President of the Partner Church Council from Boston, and Rev. John Gibbons a former PCC President. It was a pleasant drive on a somewhat better and much less crowded highway.

The church is perched on a hill across from the rude, simple stalls of the town’s food market. Women wrapped in long plaid shawls tend to rough tables of plantains, oranges, and grapes. Some have eggplant, tomatoes and lettuces. I have lots of photos but alas can’t transfer them to my baby laptop that is inconveniently in Kolkata in my still missing suitcase. I will post an album when I can. For now, I just have a few iPad snaps.

Preparations were busily underway for the weekend which began with a board meeting with 52 representatives. The UUNEI is going through a period of intense change as leaders struggle with moving the church forward into a new age, while still honouring tradition and culture. Such divisions are roughly generational and, as with anything Indian, rather complex. But there is health and vitality visible here. Change may come slowly, but it is coming.

Gary Smith and I are staying in the home of the translator of my sermon, Mr. Rupaia Lamarr and a being kindly ministered to by his wife and sister-in-law. Great food!

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You know, cross cultural and cross linguistic work can be kind of tricky. Over tea and a kind of fried bread cake with honey Rupaia told me of a particular problem he had with my sermon. The topic I was assigned in English was about Unitarianism as the heart of the religion. Fine. I wrote about the heart as the season emotions and talked about it as the pump that gives life and vitality in the whole body. Great. Turns out that in this part of the world, the emotional qualities we westerners ascribe to the heart, the Khasis ascribe to the lover…which is definitely not a pump. Inter-cultural hitches arise in the oddest places. But all in all the sermon went well.

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Saturday, February 9

We North American UUs have it easy. We get itchy if our services start to run over one hour. Last night’s opening service ran for two and a half, a little long because the 30 minute sermon was being translated. A lot of hymns, a banner procession, a choral work, several prayers…it adds up. I’m told that two hours is pretty standard. Sunday will feature no less than three services, 10:30, 6:30 and 9 pm begun with a torch light parade. And there will be meals and house meetings in between. I am in awe.

Services are a family event. Children attend and show very good behaviour. There was a horde of young people, for the UUNEI has a very strong youth and young adult focus, and of course the rest of the adults. There were close to 300 in church.

There is something special though about attending a service literally half way around the world that begins with the lighting of a chalice. You may not know that this is a fairly recent part of our worship practices. It really only began in the late sixties and spread through the seventies. Yet it has become the one simple ritual that unites us globally. No matter the language, no matter the cultural differences, no matter the message, there is that one moment that everyone understands. The folks in the UUNEI have perhaps embraced the chalice more than any other group. Large flaming chalices adorn each church’s roof. There are often multiple chalices on the walls. Even some Unitarian homes have a chalice painted over the door or worked into the wrought iron fence work.

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Saturday dawned clear, bright and beautiful in Jowai. At 11 am hundreds gathered on the playing field that lies between the church and the Hajom Kissor Singh school. That’s right, the Unitarians operate a public school here in Jowai. Getting back to the field, it was carved out of this hilly town decades ago. Part of the hillside was carved away and used to fill the small depression between the buildings.

The event was the closing ceremony of the quasquicentenary (125th) celebration. The Unitarians had erected a huge covered platform with fabric decorations making it look like the church next door. In front of that was a simple platform stage. A cd of Khasi UU music played from rock concert speakers as we gathered. There was a chalice lighting and prayer, but then the morning was given over choral music, dance presentations from the different tribes in the union, a brief closing address and the lowering of the quasquicentenary flag. I had a small role assigned, to ‘release the souvenir’. Try as I might, I could not find out exactly what I was supposed to do beyond, “release this collection of stories collected over the year to the breeze.” ????? Would it be a balloon? Small strip of paper? I couldn’t find out!

In the end, two young girls presented me with a beautifully wrapped package. I opened it in front of the crowd and found two copies of a beautiful soft covered glossy book! What to do? Follow orders! I held the books up and flung them as far -and as gently – as I could.

The afternoon was given over to workshops on ministry presented by Gary Smith, John Gibbons and I all ably translated by rev. Helpme Morhmen. And then in the evening we were back in the playing field for a concert by all the young Unitarians. Singing is a big part of church here, and every congregation has a children’s choir and a youth choir and various sub groups. They sang Khasi and English UU songs, many composed for this weekend. It was a huge event. I am in awe of the dedication of these young people.

India

Tuesday night- Wednesday morning, Feb 5-6
Well, I’m sitting in the domestic airport terminal in Mumbai joining several citizens in couch-surfing the hours till morning flights start again.

I am here, but my bag is not. Apparently the first world airlines couldn’t manage the transfer from plane to plane. I know, it was only 100 meters and they did have 45 minutes but it was dark. It’s not a real hassle, but it MIGHT mean I am preaching in jeans and a short sleeved shirt come Friday night’s big opening at the UUNEI conference. Oh well.

The airport here is far from fancy, but it’s a lot nicer than I expected. My only complaint is that the background music is singular: an elevator piano version of “The End of the World” ya know, the old Carpenter tune, “Why do the birds keep on singing…don’t they It’s the end of the world the day you made me cry.” Again, and again and again. On the plus side the all night coffee bar makes a wonderful latte.

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Still, all in all, halfway there, feeling reasonable rested and entirely cheerful and looking forward to what tomorrow brings!

Wednesday: Mumbai to Shillong

Well, if you are travelling in India, I do recommend IndiGo, the newest and fastest growing airline. New planes and an advertised “on-time” policy that appears real.

Arrived about 2 pm in Guwahati a lowland city in Assam province. I was met by a quiet young driver named Mukesh. I was deeply grateful that the UUNEI provided this kindness and that I did not have to make a bus connection.

It was about a four hour drive up into the mountains, part by four lane freeway, more by something a lot rougher and more interesting. If you are a North American driver, forget your understanding of freeway. Yep there were four lanes for the first 30 km of our 130 km journey, but not like you are used to seeing. No long straightaways and gently graded turns of flat smooth pavement. Nope! I mean no disrespect to a country facing so many challenges and what follows is meant to describe, not judge.

The roads are about the level of a secondary road at best, or maybe a paved tertiary road in Canada. Two ton trucks abound as the most popular form of transport followed by small three wheel runabouts that would be challenged to hit 100 on a straightaway…downhill. But that is probably a good thing. The rules of the road are different here. You fit in where you can, pass where you can- which is anywhere and any more space than a meter between you and the car in front of you means you are out for a Sunday drive. Three vehicles across is common. Horns are used as a means of constant communication announcing passes, oncoming traffic, saying hi and occasionally, something more rude? I kept passing signs that said “Obey the rules of the road.” I have not yet observed any beyond don’t get hit.

Fortunately Mukesh is an excellent and safe driver, and I knew it, but I got a crick in my neck from looking out the side window. Why? Well, being used to Canadian speeds and distances between cars, let’s just say looking out the front window at the swerving and the closeness of the cars ahead, felt like impending death. I knew this could not be true, for neither our car nor most I saw on the road had any dents. These folks know what they are doing!

And from the side windows I saw a marvellous array of sights most bathed in the fine red dust of the soil. There were fields and hills, the famous Indian cattle wandering along the roadside, a non-stop ramshackle array of little snack shops ranging from simple concrete block rooms to bamboo huts all with bags of crisps and bottles of juice to entice thirsty travellers. This is a very poor place. Very little is spent on decoration (other than for the very colourful individualized and ubiquitous two ton trucks). The occasional mansions and elegant schools set far back from the road have little landscaping and might be set up next to shanties and dumps and accessed by crumbling roadways. Pristine vistas are few and far between.

Shillong
We passed the one true and gorgeous vista as we skirted Lake….. A sunset heading up the final hills into Shillong. “Up the final hills” probably gives the wrong impression. The city of Shillong is built a steep hill, or rather series of them separated by deep ravines or narrow valleys. I have been here 24 hours and am yet to find any flat space outside of a couple of roundabouts cached out of hillsides.

You could call it crowded, you might want to call it dirty, but those are all western terms that don’t really fit. It is an amazing collection of people and faces. It is a meeting place of tribes and ethnicities that make this city a people watchers dream destination. I wandered down to one of the main intersections marked by the Centre Point Hotel, one of the taller buildings in the city.

Picking one street I started down through a teeming shaping area. Forget about WalMart or malls. Shopping Centers here are narrow hallways on main floors of buildings each holding a dozen or so tiny stores perhaps two meters wide and 2 or 3 deep. Forget department stores too. Each is devoted to its small business, fabrics, shoes, home goods etc. Want socks? I did- my suitcase was still pursuing its own journey – buy them from the guy outside hanging them over a railing. Want chai? Drink it served up from a pot on a burner while leaning on a rickety stool. Want a bottle of wine? choose from the limited, but not bad array of 20 bottles in the window above the liquor guy’s kiosk window. All this within the same five meter stretch of road.

The chai is amazing by the way. Even good places in Canada can’t make chai like this. Perhaps it’s the freshness of the cardamom.

Giving up hope that my preacher duds will show up in time for my sermon, my most triumphant purchase was a pair of Van Heusen shirts from a tiny haberdasher in the Centre Point building. One two meter counter with a beautiful spread of suit cloth bolts behind it and shirts stacked on top. Fortunately I have lost quite a bit of weight this past year or I would have been out of luck. “What are you?” He asked, “44? If you are bigger than that you won’t find anything in Shillong.” We’ll, it turns out I have shrunk to a 44 and when I did the currency conversion, well I now own two lovely dress shirts and a perfect tie for the price of one of these shirts at home! Nice finish to the afternoon.

Let’s go already!

“Keep your eyes on the prize.”
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

I’m a minister. I have used both of these contrasting notions in the past, but today I am have a dilemma. I certainly have tried to live as if focusing on the journey was key. For one thing, the road to whatever prize lies at the end is seldom straight and without detour. Enjoying where you are makes a lot of sense.

But right now I am sitting at Edmonton International waiting for my 42 hours of flights and layovers to begin en route to North East India. I am trying to think ahead and savour my time in India, but I am awfully distracted by five flights that lie ahead, by Customs in two different countries and ending up in a place I have never been hopefully being met by someone I do not know.

I’m sure it will all be fine. If its not all fine, I am sure I can manage whatever comes my way. I have a bit of experience at this stuff, after all. In fact, I’m not so much nervous as anxious to get going – like those Superbowl players dancing from side to side pretending to sing the “Star Spangled Banner.”

Maybe the two quotes do go together. Maybe I am just impatient, waiting to take that first step. The prize will be what it will be. After all, the prize at the end of my other journeys has always been unanticipated. Why should this one be any different?

I will post about the trip if I can.
Brian

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Idle No More and Fasting

The groundswell success of the Idle No More Movement has been a powerful thing to watch unfold.  I attended my first event at West Edmonton Mall last Sunday – at least as an interested observer if not as a committed participant. It was a wonderful, friendly crowd and a grand event.WEM

Why was I only an “interested observer”?  Well, I am conflicted.  I know that our nation has a largely shameful historic record of treatment to First Nations citizens – largely, but not completely.  The historical record shows some successes along the way that are often ignored.  There have been many well-intentioned people both native and non-native Canadians who have been making progress in education, business and social services.

Nevertheless, there is much for which the dominant culture can be ashamed and I know there is much to be done.  The problem is that no one seems very clear about what has to be done. Some of the people speaking for Idle No More is at odds with the national chiefs – their elected representatives.  There is no clear agenda on how to proceed to bring meaningful change within the First Nations communities, at least none that I have seen.

Meanwhile a large number of Euro-Canadians feel the same disconnection with our own `chiefs’, the government of Mr. Harper. The tired line of, “We are interested in meaningful dialogue.” is not really a plan. Reading the same quotes in the same news stories that I read 20 years ago tells me that someone, somewhere lacks commitment.

Money alone has not seemed to provide any workable and effective solution, nor has greater autonomy on the Reserves.  The demands of the various Idle No More protests are anything from clear.  As the kind of guy who is cursed with that `male need to fix things`, I need some clearer direction on this one.

What I can appreciate and celebrate is that Idle No More is the first effective protest against the anti-democratic mess that is Bill C-45.  For that alone, I am willing to offer my support.  The government trend to expediency and efficiency by floating these over-bloated bills while uttering empty platitudes about, well, EVERYTHING threatens the very fabric of a free political society.  I oppose it because our UU Sources remind us to confront `powers and structures of evil`. I have no trouble labeling these debate killing bills Evil.

But when it comes to the issues specific to the First Nations people, I simply don`t know enough and am having a hard time finding unbiased and balanced information that will help me decide.  Unbiased and balanced – not figure pointing and shrill.  Can someone tell me, for example why the small village  Attawapiskat is in such dire straits after receiving millions of dollars in the last few years (I heard the figure of $32 million, but without much detail attached).  Can someone tell me why no plan proposed by either Native groups or government ever seems acceptable?

I loved the atmosphere of the Idle No More rally and I loved the energy.  But loving the event is not the same as understanding the issue.  Appreciating the passion is not the same as reviewing the facts of a plan or proposal. Arranging a meeting with the PM and the GG is the smallest of first steps down a murky path of uncertain direction.

Our nations need honest people from all sides willing to talk, but more importantly willing to listen and willing to stay the course and hammer out real proposals – probably compromises – that can actually move things forward.

I Believe in Santa Claus

I believe in Santa Claus.  I always have.  Well, okay, there was a time of doubt in my youth before I understood the distinction between the mythic truth and the literal truth, but that resolved the first time I read Mr. Church’s reply to Virgina’s famous letter.  I want to spend just a few moments, having concluded our magical mystical sleighbell tour of the boss elf’s life, to talk about why I believe.

SONY DSCMany of you know that each December I get to help our Santa Claus in a very small way.  He gets pretty busy this time of year, what with the lists and organizing the elves and managing schedules and whatnot.  On top of that Santa gets lots of requests for personal appearances, especially for very small children who need to see him in order to really believe.

So Santa has recruited a lot of helpers like me who get to put on a red suit and visit schools and hospitals and community centers and the like.  Of course, Santa makes some of the visits himself when he can, so you never really know if it’s the old man himself or a special helper…so you better watch out!

Now most of you know what it’s like to see Santa in one of those situations, but I bet not too many know what it’s like on the other side of the beard as it were.

A few weeks ago Santa was invited once more to visit the craft fair at my local community league.  It’s an annual event.  Santa was due to appear at 1 p.m.  I went early as myself– about 10 a.m. – to do my own shopping.  You have to go early to get the best baking!  We also have one very special potter who comes each year, a retired woman who does it for love more than money.  Great stuff and amazing prices!

Well, there was a good crowd of early birds, and the teens were starting the fire pit outside MerryOldSantaand the sleigh rides were getting started.  There was a nice hum in the room, but not many children.  But when I came back dressed in red a couple of hours later, the hum had become a buzz as the families crowded in.  No sooner had Santa walked in (arriving on the back of the horse drawn wagon) than the noise level peaked and a long line of remarkably well-behaved children formed.  The reward is the look in their eyes as they climb the steps to Santa’s chair.  There is a glow, and yes, sometimes a bit of anxiety in the younger ones and occasionally a bit of suspicion and even sadness in the older ones, but it doesn’t matter.  There is something about Santa Claus that is magical regardless of what anyone rationally thinks.  And if there is sadness in some, it is sadness of the struggle between wanting to believe and knowing what you know.  I don’t worry about them too much.  Usually the desire to believe returns someday.  You can see that in the glowing eyes of the new parents as they make a new generation of family memories with their children.

I love that community league event, for there are lots of children, but not so many that there isn’t time for a little personal chat with each one.  I try to go beyond “What do you want for Christmas?” when I can.  The gift of Santa is a reassuring touch and a kind word.  The gift for Santa is in the eyes.  Sometimes it’s wonder, sometimes it’s excitement, sometimes it’s even unbridled greed – but that’s okay too.  The best is when it is the look of unashamed, unabashed love.  There is always one child that stands out.  This year it was a little girl named Serena –perhaps five years old.  Santa got a big hug when she came up, another when she was leaving, and three more before he got back to the sleigh two hours later.

408px-Sinterklaas_2007So what is it that makes Santa Claus so special?  A cynic would claim it’s the promise of presents.  Probably that’s true for some whose image of Santa is the big guy holding a bottle of Coke or stocking up at Canadian Tire.  But I don’t think people can be bought so easily.  I have more faith in us.

I think the real and abiding strength of Santa Claus comes from the fact that he is not a god.  Starting with the stories of Saint Nicholas, he has always been fully human.  Oh sure, he has some magic about him, and some pretty impressive technology to help him do his Christmas Eve work, but at the center, he is a fully human being who lives every day with the spirit of Christmas love and generosity in his heart.  He wasn’t created perfect, but rather he made choices that were for the betterment of the human condition.  Santa doesn’t just create a perfect world in six days.  He does not have that power.  In fact the only real power he has is his own example of generosity.  He cannot order or ordain, he can only inspire.

He inspires us with his actions to be giving, to be loving and to inspire the wonder of which children are so very capable and which we so often lose.  In fact, he inspires us to become like the children, to give in to the magic and to dare to hope and believe in the face of a world full of evidence that reasons to despair are everywhere.

Once a year we need that renewal of spirit, we need that joy, and we need that little bit of hope that maybe Santa has something for us as well.