What a time to be alive!

Isaiah 58: 1-12  Matthew 5: 13-20

Crawling into bed on Wednesday night, I recognized that Scottish lilt coming from the bedside radio, though at first I couldn’t identify it. Until he mentioned Guantanamo Bay. This was Dennis Edney, the lawyer who worked tirelessly to free Omar Khadr. I had tuned into the CBC Ideas [1] program featuring an address Dennis had given last summer at the Stratford Festival. It was followed by an interview with him about that 13 year journey. Much of what he had to say was hard to hear. He wasn’t just talking about the dreadful circumstances of Omar’s confinement. As much as anything, he was talking about the reluctance on the part of the Canadian government to act on this child’s behalf; the way the so-called “war on terror” was and is circumventing human rights and the rule of law; the way terrorism has become synonymous with Islam and so the rise of xenophobia and racial intolerance.

Just as hard to hear was his experience of silence on the part of the Canadian public. In the course of those 13 years, he describes endless speaking engagements, meeting with church and community groups, gatherings of lawyers, anyone who would hear him, it seems … and while those who heard him --in the main-- applauded him for what he was doing, he would never hear anything after people went home from the “talk.” Nobody was raising their voice about the injustice and torture being done to Omar. Nobody acted.

The interview is beautiful for its witness to the steadfastness of Dennis’ love for Omar … his personal sacrifice for this child’s life … the bond that was forged in such despicable circumstances … his unyielding commitment to working for justice. But it is hard to hear how, except for his wife, how alone he was in undertaking this work; how silent we, the Canadian public, were; how our civility gets in the way of doing something about inhumanity. And yet how much it matters that we speak up and reach out and show up for the sake of life. Dennis won’t hear of it when people say “but we don’t have any power” for we do have power! “I’m just a little guy from Scotland,” he says, “who went to Edmonton ‘cause my wife dragged me there! And yet I could take on the Government. And if I could take on the Government, what could we all do?” he asks.

We do have the power.
In a sense he’s telling us -- like Jesus is announcing to the crowd that day -- you are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world.  So be it! Be who you have been given to be. You have the power to make a difference … and exercising it matters in ways that you may never know or fully appreciate.

It was a sizable crowd that gathered at City Hall last Tuesday morning for the vigil initiated by Victoria Mayor Lisa Helps in response to the shooting raid on the mosque in Quebec City. By the time I arrived, there were already perhaps several thousand people. Just before 11 o’clock the Mayor began to speak. The sound system, if there was one, wasn’t helpful -- so from where I was standing I caught only a few words here and there. After she spoke briefly, an iman for one of Victoria’s mosques spoke. Again it was very difficult to hear … but I did hear him say something like “we don’t like to talk openly about Islamaphobia but it is real.” … and how heartening, how powerful it was that so many people had shown up to declare their care and support. The Mayor then made a final brief statement and -- that was it! It was over! We all stood there waiting for the next thing -- some people were still arriving.

But there was no next thing. And you know what -- that was the beauty of it. Because what happened was we were just left there standing with each other. We became “the next thing”! Sure, people were free to leave, but no one wanted to go. So people began turning to one another … speaking to perfect strangers. I spoke to a man I imagined was Muslim … I don’t remember quite how we said hello, but we did … we spoke of how good it was to be there … he said something about how we are all human beings and there is so much to learn about and from each other. He said, “I am Muslim, and I don’t know much about Christian, but we love Jesus as much -- maybe even more-- than some of you do!” So we laughed together. Before the conversation was over I discovered Ahmad has been in Victoria 14 years, from Jordon. He operates an ice cream shop in the Bay Centre. It being at least minus 10 that day, I suggested it was a little cool to drop by for ice cream today, but I would come and find him -- soon. We shook hands -- grateful for the warmth of the connection. Grateful I think for the gift of each other. And that’s what was going on among those 3000 people that day. 3,000 people were fed that day.

Next day in the paper, front page, what do we read? “After six men where shot and killed while they prayed in a Quebec City mosque on Sunday night, Victoria resident Hana Alqadafi, who is Muslim, was so afraid she thought about not leaving her house. But after seeing the huge turnout and show of support for the Muslim community in front of Victoria City Hall on Tuesday, Alqadfi’s fear has turned to hope. “I feel support, I feel I am secure, I feel I am home. …I can see the love in people’s eyes,” she says.

And I thought I was just going to a vigil.
Maybe more often than we will ever know, it matters greatly that we speak up, and reach out and show up.

“You are the salt of the earth, Jesus says. You are the Light of the world.” Notice he doesn’t say you will be or could be …but you are. So be it! … be who you have by God been given to be.

“Is this not the fast that I choose: (we hear the prophet Isaiah speak for God) to loose the bonds of injustice, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?  Then your light shall break forth like the dawn … and your healing shall spring up quickly.”
I think that’s what we were experiencing outside city hall on Tuesday … this freeing of one another … this care for one another … recognizing our kinship. A new day was dawning.

Dennis Edney spoke of it too when he named Kings University in Edmonton … a Christian university where he was invited to speak one day about justice. He was at a very low ebb in his journey with Omar … thinking it likely that his freedom would never come. It was some of the teachers who, digging deep into their Christian faith, said “we don’t do hopeless”, and so calling the students together, they challenged them to do their own research, and if there was something about Omar’s case that called to them, it was for them to reach out to him and somehow be strength for him. It was the English prof, Arlette Zinck who became his tutor … who wrote regularly to Omar … went to visit him. And then when finally he was released into Dennis’ care in Edmonton, it was this university that welcomed him as a student … even though some of their funders were not so inclined. That university has become an integral part of Omar’s development, his healing, his redeemed future. So here is Omar now studying, training to be a nurse.

Something has happened to and within that university … and to those students and their professors.
“If you remove the yoke from among you, if you offer food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness, and your gloom be like the noonday. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places … and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail.”

What a time to be alive in our world. For all it’s horror right now, what a time to be part of turning the tide. You are the salt of the earth, you are the light to the world … it has been given to us to make a life giving difference. What a time to be alive in our world!
Thanks be to God!

[1] CBC Ideas, "After Guantanamo," aired on Wednesday, February 1, 2017