2022: Coming to the Seminary
by Marc Delannoy
Dear Friends of the Seminary,
With hopeful hearts we turn to this year ahead – 2022 –, a year full of students in different moments of the training: four people preparing to be ordained in May; the “Knowing Christ” group, on site in Toronto, grasping new insights and grappling with new challenges; three interns living into communities with diverse needs in three different countries…We feel the mystery of Epiphany here at the seminary - students waiting and working in expectation, a Star shining in the darkness of night…
Claudia and I arrived in Toronto on Friday, January 14th. We were both very excited and somewhat anxious about a presentation that needed to be given on Monday on work from September to December with the Gospels.
The drive was easy, the traffic light, the sun shining bright as we speeded south the five hours or so from Canada’s capital, Ottawa, to the big T. O. (Toronto, Ontario).
I had begun reading a book on the life of the Reverend Peter Jones, or Kahkewaquonaby (Sacred Feathers), an indigenous Methodist minister of the Mississauga tribe who had travelled preaching from community to community along the shores of Lake Ontario, including what was then York (Toronto), in the 1820s, 30s and 40s. Nothing was more precious for him than Christ’s redemptive act, than Christ’s redemptive presence. With him I concurred, wholeheartedly.
Reading his experiences of long ago, tied as they are to the larger geography of the region (Mississauga, Etobicoke, Credit River, Yonge and Dundas Streets in Toronto, etc.), builds for me a bridge, through history (even down to the elementals of the land), to conceive of my life in the Seminary of The Christian Community in Toronto, on the lands formally of his tribe (including Richmond Hill and Vaughan), where I will work and write, serve and speak, meditate and pray for the next six months.
Another bridge, through faith, leads me to the Seminary: reading the Gospel of Matthew, that of Mark, reading the Gospel of Luke, and then John, one per month from September to December 2021 and preparing the already mentioned presentation during Christmas, the Holy Nights, and Epiphany.
And a world-feeling pushes me also to the Seminary and the inner transformation it will bring: the Pandemic, as if a figure standing before me, saying: "Who is your center? Your source? Who is your community?” To which questions I would answer to all three: Christ.
To my surprise, there was no snow, or barely, on the streets of the city when I arrived. After a pleasant visit to my eldest son’s place downtown on Saturday, I had decided to walk from my billeted room to The Christian Community on Rutherford Avenue for the Sunday service. The walk would be an hour long, I knew, and pass through a park which would lead me to a ravine that I would follow for a good twenty minutes. And so, under a pristine sun, in numbing cold, I walked, uplifted all the way by the thought of the service I would attend.
The community was buzzing when I pushed through the doors and came in. It was greetings and hellos and nods and smiles. I knew some from the Distance Learning Programs, others through time spent here long ago and more recently.
I felt an experience of completeness, of fullness, with the church filled, the music solemn and striking, with piano or a cappella, and three priests, together, feeding the divine-physical medicine.
Knowing full well that a major snowstorm was announced but, having thoroughly enjoyed the hour-long walk Sunday, I resolved to do the same on Monday for the first day of classes. From the downstairs window Monday morning, the storm did not look so bad. Still, a lot of snow, indeed had accumulated, it was plain to see: the little Buddha statue in the garden, so calm and meditative yesterday, was now under snow and, having completely disappeared from view, was still meditating, unperturbed, I’m sure.
When I ventured outside, well-prepared with a warm coat, new boots, and excellent mitts, I was happily surprised by the house’s owner from whom I was renting my room. We had spoken about the imminent storm last evening; here she was shoveling, she said, for some time already (it didn’t show). “It is so peaceful,” she said, face beaming, cheeks red. Indeed, it was, with traffic sparse, and snow hanging in the air, swirling in eddies.
When I finally arrived at the Seminary, having trudged through the winding streets and the park, having even helped a woman, in vain, her car stuck on the side of a major thoroughfare (she decided eventually to call a tow truck), having climbed through certain sections where snowplows had pushed important amounts of sleet and snow, I knew this Seminary would be my warm haven in the cold of the world. The park I had walked through the other day where little snow was to be seen now had some, in parts, up to my knees! It had snowed an historic 36 cm (14 in.) that one day – the first day of the Seminary in 2022.
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A shelter against the cold and snow, a home for the heart where warmth is to be found, a place to think and pray under the Starlight of Grace. We shared our presentations on the Gospels that day and grew to know each other better, the snow enwrapping us as a cocoon.
This is a blog entry by a student at The Seminary of the Christian Community in North America. These are posted weekly by the student editorial team of Marc Delannoy and Silke Chatfield. For more information about our seminary, see the website: www.christiancommunityseminary.ca and for even more weekly podcast and video content check out the Seminary’s Patreon page: www.patreon.com/ccseminary/posts.
The views expressed in this blog entry do not necessarily represent the views of the Seminary, its directors or the Christian Community. They are the sole responsibility of its author.