Hopewit

When peace like a river attendeth my way. Mission: (n) a specific task with which a person or a group is charged. We chatted about Christian mission yesterday morning in an adult study group. About how some churches see themselves as a mission, as in Evangelical Mennonite Mission Church or that Anglican church in Northern Saskatchewan that gives the settlement of Stanley Mission its name. It’s the oldest church structure in Northern Saskatchewan, serves as a reminder to us that some European Christians of earlier centuries saw themselves on a mission; “charged with the specific task” of converting Indigenous people of North America to the Christian faith. But the New Testament charges us with a variety of “specific tasks,” including “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation.” (Mark 16:15) Feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and prisoners, inviting strangers into our homes are also pretty specific tasks. (See Matthew

Between the crosses, row on row . . . I’ve decided to wear a poppy this year. In the past, the November 11 th commemoration of Canadians who died in past wars has generally been conflicting for me—as it has long been for many who were raised in pacifist faith communities. Some have worn a pin coloured similarly to a poppy with the motto, “To remember is to work for peace.” Others have worn both the pin and the poppy. Still others have chosen (and this has been me in the past) to basically ignore the day and its ceremonial marches, displays of medals and laying of wreaths at cenotaphs. But it never felt right. Was I dishonouring the grief of families whose loved ones died in war, who believed unequivocally in the righteousness, the nobility of the cause that cost them their lives? It felt less like I was protesting the madness that killed them and more like I was refusing to acknowledge the pain war had exacted from so many Canadians. From now until Nove