I’ve been hemming and hawing for the past couple of weeks about whether I should spend four hours on the couch watching Leaving Neverland, the HBO documentary about Michael Jackson’s alleged sexual abuse of two boys in the mid-80s.
Over the March Break, my 15-year-old son Cameron and I spent a good deal of time in downtown Toronto, visiting the Royal Ontario Museum and the Art Gallery of Ontario. We also ate in various ethnic restaurants that serve up the kind of food we can’t get back in our small town.
We’ve all had that feeling at some point. Perhaps you are staying at a friend’s house, and in the middle of the night you wake up not knowing where you are. The room is unfamiliar and you feel lost.
Five-month-old Chloe plays on the floor of the bridal salon, content to pull toys out of her diaper bag. Stephanie and I sit nearby, surrounded by racks of costly gowns, chatting. It seems not so long ago that Jessica and I sat in a similar store with baby Romario while Stephanie searched for her wedding dress.
One cold and wintry prairie night, a lone motorist had the bad fortune of a flat tire and, to his dismay, discovered that he had no jack or tools to install his spare. The cold and bitter wind removed all possibility of spending the night in the car.
My kids had a week off from school earlier this month, and we decided to visit Stonehenge. The bigger kids and I had been to the stone circle before, but we hadn’t explored the wider area, and the Spouse and the youngest hadn’t been there at all, so it seemed like a good educational trip. Something old, something new.
Death is pervasive in the Christian story. Our central symbol? The cross. More than 1/3 of the Psalms? Psalms of lament. One of the central metaphors of the Christian life is dying to the old self and putting on the new self.
“Christ is risen! He is risen indeed.” This antiphonal Easter refrain may ring for you. It was not common in my church upbringing, but it is becoming more so today. Phrases like this play an important role in spiritual life. They help us sing our fundamental beliefs and core principles. They reverberate in our souls.
Wouldn’t you like to take Peter Schuurman’s World Religions class? (Read about the class in the article “Hopping the River Bank” from March 25.) I would!
The first speech I ever gave as a schoolteacher was called “Seeing Things,” in which I asserted that “believing is seeing.” I was trying to help the hearers “see” in a way which is shaped with the lens of Christianity.
Regional tensions are flaring again in Canada. When I hear talk about separation from Alberta, I start to feel the same pit in my stomach as I felt the night I worked on Parliament Hill through the Referendum on Quebec Independence in 1995. My roots are in Alberta, but I also value Quebec – and beautiful B.C. – and the uniqueness of Newfoundland.
I read a news story recently that’s stuck with me. It was about the experiences of undocumented Hispanic women who had worked at several of Donald Trump’s golf courses.