Why a True Lenten Fast This Year

Those that know me well, know that I am a man that is not easily separated from his meals.  I enjoy food.  I enjoy the fellowship that happens at the meal table.  I think that is likely why for all these years I have avoided the idea of a true fast for Lent.  The thought of not eating, even for a controlled time, is a very difficult thought. It has always been far easier for me to give up chocolate or coffee.

Today is Ash Wednesday, and as I reflected on how I would keep a Holy Lent, I was bombarded with troubling things.  I saw images of the Ontario Provincial Police using tear gas on Indigenous protesters at Tyendinaga -- a part of this Diocese -- who were protesting on their own unceded land.  I read articles that said that reconciliation in Canada is dead. I woke on Ash Wednesday with the realization that I was waking up in a very troubled, broken and hurting nation.

Driving in to the Cathedral, bits of scripture ran through my mind. (Isaiah 58) "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen; to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and to break every yoke?" (Micah 6) "He has shown you, O mortal what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

As I gathered with the Cathedral community for worship, I heard in the Litany of Repentence words that rang true to my earlier thoughts. "Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people, we confess to you, Lord."  "For our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us, accept our repentance, Lord."  "Accept our repentance, Lord, for the wrongs we have done, for our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty." These are not abstract things.  These are the very sins that have created the broken and hurting reality that I had been thinking on before.

In the face of such thoughts,  I remembered the call of the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in the United States, calling people to a fast and to pray for their nation, and in that moment felt that I must also keep a fast, and pray for this nation.

Every Wednesday in Lent,  I have decided that I WILL not eat,  and that whenever I feel the pangs of hunger throughout the day,  I will stop, and take time to pray for Canada; for our leaders, our people,  and the issues that seem insurmountable today.

Whether or not you should choose to observe such a fast for Lent, I would ask that you do take time to pray for our country during these 40 Lenten days.

A Day of grace: On finding time for the little things in ministry... which often take surprisingly little time.

I often find that I sort of dread coming in to the office on Tuesdays. There is always the inevitable number of things that need to be seen to from Sunday; calls to be made, follow-ups, etc.  There is the regular weekly staff meeting to go over the calendar for the coming week, and on at least two Tuesdays of the month, there are two institutional services that need to be celebrated.  As well,  I try to discipline myself to start each new week by writing at least 5 thank you cards to people in the Cathedral community who have given themselves in ministry.

Today was a Tuesday much like the others.  It was going to be packed with all manner of activity.  I sat to write the Thank you cards.  I wasn't really ready for the staff meeting.  I thought, "Couldn't I just take a pass on the cards this week so that I can get myself caught up on other things?"  Just then a parishioner passed by in the hall talking with a friend.  she said, "You know, I've been going through a really down time lately,  but just the other day I got a hand-written thank you note from the Dean,  and it just turned that whole day around."  I heard that and realized,  perhaps its far more important for the administrative things to take a back seat.  Its far more important to find the time for that little note of thanks.

I ran off to the first of the two Eucharists that I have to celebrate today.  It is held in the Library at St. Lawrence Place.  The congregation was rather small,  but they are such a lovely and dedicated group. They told me that one of their number was missing from the group because she had been in hospital for quite some time,  and though she was back to St. Lawrence Place,  she was just not feeling all that well today,  and wondered if I might be able to bring her communion in her room when I was finished the service with the others.  I adjusted the amounts to be consecrated and had the celebration with the gathered group.  Afterwards, Canon Tony Capon led me to the room of our missing friend.  When I gave her the Eucharist,  it was obvious how very much it meant to her to have been included in the prayers and in the sacrament.  It took so little time from my already busy day to go to a room in a Retirement Home and to share the sacrament,  but to one person,   it meant the world.

As if God had not delivered the message of the importance of simple acts of love,  I went off after lunch to take the service at Providence Manor.  Our usual congregation gathered, including one woman who arrived at the Cathedral at the age of four,  and has continued as a member there for almost 106 years since.  Her eyesight is failing,  and she gets confused when she is brought into a Roman Catholic Chapel and told that she is at the Anglican service.  Today, she began the service a little agitated, but gradually settled in to the familiar words of the Eucharist.  When the service was done she called me over as she usually does.  She raised her hands toward my face,  and I expected the usual drill.  She usually pulls me in close so that she can examine my face and make sure that I truly am who the volunteers have told her that I am.  So I leaned in close and said,  "I'm the Dean, Margaret."  She got a funny twinkle in her eye,  and she said, "I don't give a damn if your the Dean, or who you are, I'm still gonna kiss you."  After she kissed me,  she thanked me several times for coming and bringing her Communion. Once again it was clear that this most simple of offerings made such an amazing difference in one person's life.

Returning to the Cathedral, I bumped into another member of the Cathedral who was there doing her regular work of service. She called me over, and said,  "I was so moved to get your Thank you card this week.  I've been doing this job under six music directors,  and I don't think I can even count how many Deans,  and I don't think anyone before has ever taken the time to SAY thank you, much less to write a card".  A few minutes spent composing a note can help someone feel that what they are doing really does make a difference and truly is important.

So often in the busy-ness of our day to day living,  we tend to rush by, and miss those tiny opportunities that would allow us to truly make a difference. I know that I am far from perfect.  i know that I often find myself over-scheduled; overly rushed, and quick to lose sight of those little opportunities to share God's love.  I guess that today I was just fortunate enough to have seen how God might be calling me to share God's love in a couple of tiny encounters. Keep your eyes peeled today.  Who knows where God might be planning to put you to work.

Friday in Coimbra

Having caught up my reporting this morning,  I have only to tell you of the trip we took we took today to experience Coimbra.  While Coimbra is a bustling moderns city, like Braga, it has roots that run VERY deep.  The GPS led us into the  very centre of the city,  and when we parked, we found that we were situated on the campus of the University of Coimbra,  which is the oldest University in Europe.  Becky and I looked around the University campus and explored the Seminaria,  which is the oldest portion of this very ancient university.

The map that we were furnished by students who were making their tuition by selling these maps to tourists was not terribly helpful or accurate, and so we began to just search around more or less blind.  Within a couple of blocks, it was clear that we had made a find of one of the places that was highlighted on the student map.  We were at Se Nova Catedral.  This remarkable Cathedral looked anything but new by our Canadian standards,  and Becky and I went in to explore. 

This cathedral,  which was built to replace the Medieval cathedral which also stands in the city centre, was filled with wonderful artwork.  The photos posted below should almost make it unnecessary for me to say anything about it.

Still feeling that our student map did little to help us navigate the narrow streets of old Coimbra,  we asked the Cathedral Guide for assistance.  He pointed at a very steep cobblestone street (Barely wide enough for one of the very small cars that are so often in use in Europe) and we headed off.  To say that the street was steep is a REAL understatement.  The steepness, when coupled with the uneven cobblestones was almost Becky’s undoing as she took several falls.  We made our way down this crazy path past Roman Ruins, and just as we were about to give up and think that the guide at the Cathedral had led us astray,  the ancient stones of Se Velho Catedral suddenly broke onto the horizon.  This enormous edifice had stood there for over 1000 years, and continued as a testament to the faith of this city that has stood firm for all these centuries. 

Inside, the old cathedral even the bare stone walls bear testament to the faith of those who struggled to bring those great stones together.  Apses and side chapels held the remains of Bishops from the 11^th-14^th centuries. 

We ventured out into the Gothic Cloisters where more famed Coimbrians were interred, including the first Governor of Coimbra, who served from 1064-1091.  The whole place just dripped with the history of the faithful who had come here to connect themselves with their God.

After exploring the Cathedral, we continued down that crazy little road,  but by now, the thought was certainly ringing around my head, that every step we took down would be one that we would have to trace back up in order to return to our car. 

Along the path, we passed a little café where the smell of wonderful food nearly overwhelmed us.  It was about the right time for lunch, and so we stopped and shared a Seafood omelet.  This omelet was even better than one could have expected. With Lunch and a glass of wine behind us,  we found a stairwell that we expected would take us to the same place as that treacherous street.  We stopped to buy a few little gifts, and then headed down the stairs in hoped of finding Mosiero do Santa Cruz.  After only a couple of false starts, and with a little help from Google maps on my phone,  we eventually made our way into this incredibly old Monastery.

Although smaller in scale than either of the Cathedrals, this monastery did not pale comparatively in terms of beauty. 

It was now time to head back up the mountain to retrieve our car.  Several times along the way, we had to stop so Becky could catch her breath.  The walk was tough,  but eventually we found our way to the university, and eventually to the car.  We snaked our way back down the mountain on the very very old cobbled roads until we were out into the newer portions of Coimbra. There,  we found a modern shopping centre, where I was not only able to find the Filigree heart of Portugal charm from Pandora for someone who loves here bracelet,  but also a Gelateria where we got to stop for the best Chocolate Mint Gelato I think I have ever had. 

We returned to Mira late in the afternoon, and took a brief nap before sitting down to write this chronicle.

Tomorrow, our hosts are making a Feijuada because Becky and I are leaving on Sunday, and because the Brazilians who are also visiting Mira are leaving on Monday.  The 12 Brazilians will come to share the feast. Joao and Zinha and David will also be joining us.  It will be a great traditional farewell celebration.

Some quiet days near Mira

So I have been negligent in reporting on our activity for a couple of reasons.  The first is that we took a day almost entirely as “downtime”  As Usual,  I woke quite early and headed off into the woods.  I was determined that this time I would locate the corn mills that ran on the water of one of the little rivers here in Mira.  As it turns out that mill was about 3 km into the woods from the house here in Mira. 

Returning to the house,  I enjoyed a great breakfast and talked with our hosts.  When Becky woke up,  we both sought out a quiet place to hole up with our novels and simply relax.  At lunchtime, Silverio lit up the barbeque, this time loading the grill with fresh fish from the ocean.  It was a feast fit for a king.  In the way of much of Portuguese cooking,  the small fish needed to be picked up and eaten with the fingers.  The larger “red fish”  was more conducive to using a fork. 

After finishing our lunch,  Becky and I made the 7km trip to Praia de Mira where the plan was to enjoy – and photograph the sun setting over the beach and what that evening was a very calm Atlantic.  In Praia, we sat down for dinner of Steak and Shrimp before taking up our position to watch the sunset.  Sadly, due to the fires, the vibrant colours of the sunset were rather muted on this night.  Still, it was a lovely way to finish a day.  When the sun had set,  we stopped at a Gelateria for a scoop of ice cream and then returned to the house and turned in early.

The sun setting of the Ocean at Praia de Mira

Another shot of the sunset

In the morning, my walk led me on beyond the Mills another km to find Lagoa de Mira.  This peaceful fresh water lake is hidden completely in the trees, and is one of the area’s best kept secrets.  The locals love to go and swim at this place, because the ocean water is often very cold, but this more shallow lake warms up nicely.  There are small picnic areas set up all around the lake.  I took a few pictures of my newest discovery, and headed back, having walked 8km before breakfast. 

Lagoa de Mira. a 4km walk each way.

The end of my walk for today

By the time I returned, Becky was up and functioning, and so we had coffee and time to read and chat. Silverio and Lourdes were in town for the morning looking after a few matters, and so we enjoyed some quiet time. 

When he returned, Silverio instructed me in how to light the wood-fired water heater.  While doing this I noticed the wookfired stone oven that Lourdes uses to cook bread and other such things.  I have always been fascinated by such things.  

The outer opening of the stone oven

The actual oven itself.

Lunch was made up of Portuguese style roasted chicken and fried potatoes with a huge green salad. It was just the right thing before heading off on another adventure.  At the last moment though, Becky decided that she did not feel up to going on the trip planned that day. 

I had inquired about Eucalyptus Honey that I saw at the Mercado.  Silverio insisted that what was at the market was not good quality.  I needed to visit “the producer”.  It sounded like the ominous title of some Mafioso in a Godfatehr film.  After Lunch,  Joao, Silverio Zinha and I headed off to meet the producer.

Peanuts and Red wine.  Hospitality at its finest everywhere you go.

Once there,  I took the obligatory tour of the gardens.  Here, he added to the usual crops of Nectarines, Peaches, Figs, Olives, grapes, apples and pears, the added bonus of Bananas.  Of course, he insisted that I try all of the fruit from his garden.  We then proceeded into his honey production facility where he told me about the problems that beekeepers in Portugal were experiencing with Asian bees that came and overtook the hives of the native bees.  He showed me one of these enormous bees that he had killed recently.  It was easily three times the size of a regular honey bee.  The gathering in the honey house seemed to require that a huge bag of peanut come out,  and that decanters of his homemade red wine be filled.  It was another great opportunity to meet the real people of Portugal, and to experience the land as its people experience it.  I was sad that becky had chosen to pass on this trip.

In the garden of "the Producer"

When we got home, there was a surprise in the courtyard.  Someone had dropped off a gift of 250 pounds of potatoes and 6 chickens.  The bags containing the chickens lay still next to the potatoes, and I thought that they were dead,  but when we got near,  both bags jumped to life.  It seems that Silverio will not be in the business of raising chickens. 

The story behind this gift was that many years ago when Silverio was an engineer on a fishing vessel,  one of the men on that vessel took a very bad fall.  Silverio championed his cause and insisted that the boat get to Newfoundland as soon as possible.  After a 2 hour brain surgery,  the man recovered.  The family has since felt that they needed to make such offerings of gratitude.

The woman who had delivered the gift returned, and soon there was a great gathering in the courtyard of Silverio’s home.  John and Zinha arrived shortly thereafter and helped to get an appropriate pen for the chickens.  The neighbours came over and asked if Becky and I might come over for a few minutes because they had just cooked a huge pot of clams and wanted to share them with us.  Becky declined the offer, but I was soon enjoying the most incredible fresh clams while watching the horrific news of what had just happened in Barcelona.

A huge pot of clams shared with friends as an afternoon treat.

When the clams were gone,  Joao asked if I would come and help him to feed his livestock.  I think that he expected that I would be frightened to go in to slop a pig, or to gather eggs from under the hens.  He didn’t factor in that I grew up on a farm.  The job was done in short order, and we returned to the house of Silverio.

There,  Lourdes had prepared a dinner of the most delicious rice with Shrimp.  I was not hungry, and neither was Lourdes, and yet both of us managed to eat two dishes.  Those who were hungry managed to do even better. 

Our stomachs filled, we turned in.  This is perhaps the thing that worries me most about this time in Portugal.  The evening meal is served directly before bedtime with no time or effort to burn off the meal.  I don’t want to gain back any of the weight that I have lost.  Hence why each day begins with such a blistering walk.

Today,  we head over to Coimbra to visit Se Nova Catedral, Se Vieho Catedral, Portugal do Pequenirios, the oldest University in Europe, Perredo da Saudade, and Mosteiro e Convento  y Igreja da Rainha Santa Isabel.