Last Day of School Brings Out New Tomorrows

 

Another week has come and gone. This one, however, was the most pivotal in most people's lives as they grew up. Yes, the last day of school and the start of the summer break for kids in elementary school it was a time to spend at the pool or playground and play to your heart's content. The parks, safe and free from bullies by the city parks staff, were always a refreshing relief from the daily schoolyard bullying that many face tragically too often in a place where you should feel safe and secure. It was this reason that I hated my elementary and junior grades and turned to multiple venues of escapism to try to run from problems that should never have existed for any child in the first place.

In 1975, I would find myself taking the money I had earned from working after school and buying a plane ticket to Toronto, committed to the idea of never returning to the hell I was going through. This, of course, would not last, as I was made a missing person as a juvenile and quickly rounded up on the streets of Toronto, and sent back to a hell I so desperately wanted to rid myself of. What my mother and stepfather did not realise is that at night, instead of the party scene to which they thought I was participating in I was in night school through the Catholic system so as not to make my mother the wiser of what I was doing. The miracle was that I would be finished Grade 12 the same year I completed Grade 10, and I left home for good, never to return.

It's hard to say sometimes that I never had a fancy Graduation with a Tuxedo and prom. Laughably, I received my diploma six months ahead of my older sister, who was also living out the same nightmare. Looking back, I didn’t need to be there; there were many other graduations far more critical than that of a diploma being presented on a stage that I didn't want to cross. Basic Training in the Navy would be the first of many successes I can count in a life that I never wished for or believed would be full of so many dramatic turns.

Life, surprisingly, would put me back on the corners of Yonge and Gould, where ten years earlier I was arrested and sent back to a life I did not want. A love that I could not share and a dream that I could not see ahead of me. This, for me, was the Alfa in my life; it was the beginning of the adventure, and all else could be left behind.

As I approach the Omega, I find that our past successes become increasingly less relevant to what we are doing today. So, the graduations most remembered are those of my children, and the success they are achieving in their own lives.

Now Karen and I seek out newness and life together and separately. Surprisingly, neither of us knows where it truly begins or ends. Still, one thing is certain: both of us look forward to gathering up our memories and fearlessly attempting the new portholes, leaving all else behind.

A Once Packed Church Struggles for Relevance

 Buried deep in the back of office towers and surrounded by the trappings of the first gentrification waves in Toronto during the 1980s and 1990s sits St. Andrew's United Church at 117 Bloor Street.  

A church that once thrived with numerous professionals, artists, musicians and seniors is now reduced to a mere shell of its original self. Now, looking to redefine its role in a downtown community that has changed so dramatically since I first set foot in its doors in 1986 might be a task that will either lead the church to a new beginning or result in its shuttering, like many mainline churches and parishes before it.  

When my friend Darlene, who once served as the clerk of session at St Andrews, appeared there just a few months ago, there were only five people still present, and only a handful of others to listen and worship. The attention to the music program was still there. Still, again, its dwindling numbers of participants speak volumes of a church crying in the wilderness rather than a congregation reaching out into the wilderness to rescue those trapped in the new poverty faced by many in the Greater Toronto Area. 

So, you must ask what happened, what changed, to bring what was a vibrant church to what seems to be its proverbial knees. Although not being an expert and having moved back home to Alberta years ago, I can only surmise from the observations that I made while there. 

Upon my arrival in Toronto, while walking down Bloor Street, I noticed a sign indicating Rev. A. Groome. I suspected there could only be one individual with that name, and indeed, I discovered Professor Agnes Groome, who was an associate minister to John Hartley. Agnes persuaded me to stay and join the congregation, which initially proved to be challenging. During the mid-eighties, yuppie culture was prevalent, and many churches were striving to accommodate and rationalize this lifestyle. John Hartley was no exception; his sermons, although insightful, did not deviate not allowing him to address the evident signs of impending change. This period saw not only a significant market correction but also a complete realignment of Canada's economic and industrial landscape. 

John appeared quite content to maintain his position without significantly developing a strong and visible outreach arm. Moreover, the community itself underwent substantial changes, including an influx of new Canadians and a large wave of multiethnic individuals moving into the area. Despite the continued presence of the artistic community, St Andrews struggled to adapt to the evolving multicultural landscape of Toronto, remaining predominantly white in a diverse mosaic of cultures. 

Unlike the Catholic Church and Islamic religion who made up the bulk of the immigrant population of the time I think the United Church as a whole failed to really embrace the change needed to make a more wholesome transformation to pivot into a more accepting role of changes deep in the very core of our society.  

St Andrews seemed to want to stubbornly stay that course and Hartley I do believe was content to allow it to do so as long as he was able to do so and did in fact right up to his retirement.  

Once again, the church would be rocked with change and one which at the time to a great many parishioners, and that was the recognition of same sex marriages and unions by the United Church in Canada. A still very homophobic population as well as AIDS still lingering in congregational minds it was a hit that the church suffered through for a decade or more. 

This put St Andrews I think on a collision course within two very diverse parts of the congregation. It is safe to say I think that Hartley barely made it by the skin of his teeth as the push was on to have him changed for new ministry. 

This marked the beginning of a significant split and enduring wounds that have never been healed. The congregation, rather than exploring the reasons behind this occurrence and considering ways to redefine itself, seems resigned to the notion that the church will cease to exist with their generation.  

I in fact was pleased to see that they have hired a new Minister in Jeff Crittenden, he like myself has that prairie upbringing and the youthful energy needed to build St Andrews into a new era. He also understands more than anyone the community which surrounds him and the need for continual outreach into it.  

I encourage those in the downtown core and village to come along support and take St Andrews into the future to fit all in the community. A church is just that a building it is the community surrounding it which makes it flourish, and yes, it is a community worth building upon.