Last summer I camped with a couple of friends on Cedar Lake in Algonquin Park. We were fortunate to get on the one beachfront campsite on a large island in the middle of the lake. The campsite was on the west side, facing the setting sun.
On the last day we were there, we wanted to satisfy our curiosity to see what was on the other side of the island, on the east shore. And there wasn’t a sandy beach to follow all the way around. So, we had to hike straight across.
There was no trail, no clearly marked path. We had to bushwhack our way through the thick underbrush and dense wood. There was deadfall we had to clamber over, swamp we had to wade through, prickly bushes to push away and mosquitos the size of buses to swat.
By avoiding some of the pitfalls in hiking across it was easy to get turned around and head in the wrong direction. So, occasionally I stopped to check the compass on my watch to keep us headed east. And we eventually found our circuitous way. After enjoying the breeze at the water’s edge on the east side we made a different albeit equally challenging path back to our campsite. All, thanks to my compass.
God gives us instructions. The word “command” appears often in the bible. But these instructions are not to be understood in a command-and-control kind of way that we must mindlessly obey. Commandments are a compass (W. Kimmerer, 2015). A compass gives us an orientation to life, not a map. The work of our lives consists of creating our map using the compass God gives us.
Love is the main theme of Jesus’ speech in the Gospel for today (John 15:9-17). The word appears several times in this short passage. Jesus says, 12“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” The writer of First John, in the Epistle reading today, echoes Jesus’ words: “2By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments. 3For the love of God is this, that we obey his commandments” (1 John 5).
The commandment to love is a compass Jesus gives you. You are given the orientation. And it’s up to you now to forge a path forward through the thickets and challenges of life.
Hopefully, not alone. The arduous journey across the wilderness island was possible only because I was not alone. I probably wouldn’t have done it by myself.
In an ethics course I’m now taking, we read about what it means to be in a helping profession. In a relationship of care, the caregiver places their full attention on the interests and needs of the other.
The person in the relationship receiving care determines the agenda, not the caregiver. The caregiver’s needs, though important, are put aside to focus on what the client or patient is bringing forward. The effectiveness and quality of the caring relationship depends on how safe the person feels in the relationship to share with the caregiver what is truly on their hearts.
In practising an active and deep listening, helpers and caregivers also fulfill one of the main ethical principles identified in professional caregiving: “societal interest”; that is, part of all we do for other individuals is also a responsibility we have to act in the best interests of society as a whole (Sorsdahl et al., 2023, p. 8). I was surprised to read this in a secular manual because it aligns with the Gospel of Jesus.
Agape love – the kind of love Jesus taught and modelled – is a servant love. Loving one another, bearing fruit, calling us friends – these phrases speak about community and a responsibility to all people. The Holy Spirit fell on the Gentiles as well (Acts 10:45). God so loved the world (John 3:16-17) not to condemn it but so that all may be saved.
And that is why the church on May 5 recognizes the National Day of Awareness for Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women and Girls and Two Spirit People[1], who have been subject to disproportionate violence in Canada. This day is otherwise known as “Red Dress Day” inspired by Métis artist Jaime Black’s REDress Project installation, in which she hung empty, red dresses to represent the missing and murdered women.[2] Red dresses have thus become symbolic of this “hidden crisis”[3] in our country.
The Red Dress display has travelled across the Eastern Synod this past year. We are fortunate to have the display today on the actual May 5 National Day of Awareness. Last week it was at All Saints Lutheran Church in Guelph and next Sunday it will be at Redeemer Lutheran Church in London, Ontario.
Our church is not just about meeting our own, individual needs, or seeking what’s best only for ourselves. The church, the Gospel, the mission of Christ is to love the world. This is our orientation, our compass. And, admittedly, creating our map and path across this proverbial island is hard work, not easy, and takes us out of our comfort zones. The compass calls us to exercise humility when we make mistakes and exercise perseverance to forge ahead.
In his letter to the Ephesians (5:1-2), Paul writes, “Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that. (Peterson, 2021).
It’s appropriate today to give the last word to an Indigenous voice, Melanie Florence, who wrote a picture book with François Thisdale titled, Missing Nimâma, or My Missing Mother.
I’ll read just two scenes from the book. The first is a conversation between the child Kateri and her grandmother. And the second scene is years later when Kateri is grown up and participates in a public memorial for Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women and Girls.
Both scenes include two voices: The first is Kateri’s voice. And the second is her lost mother’s voice.
“Where is nimâmâ, my mother?” I ask nôhkom [my grandmother].
“Lost”, she says. Lost?
“If she’s lost, let’s just go find her.”
Nôhkom [Grandmother] smooths my hair, soft and dark as a raven’s wing.
Parts it. Braids it. Ties it with a red ribbon. My mother’s favourite colour.
“She’s one of the lost women, kamâmakos.” She calls me ‘little butterfly’. Just like nimâmâ did.
Before she got lost.
Taken. Taken from my home. Taken from my family. Taken from my daughter. My kamâmakos. My beautiful little butterfly, I fought to get back to you, Kateri. I wish I could tell you that. And when I couldn’t fight anymore, I closed my eyes. And saw your beautiful face.
…
I wasn’t expecting to see so many people here. Holding signs. Wearing t-shirts. Sharing stories. I’m surrounded by the faces of so many Aboriginal women who never came home. Stolen sisters. I hold my own sign. My own lost loved one. Nimâmâ. Missing. Aiyana Cardinal. Lost.
So many faces. So many lost souls. So many people left behind. Wondering if their loved one will ever come home. Or having to live with the knowledge that they never will. Too many lost and not enough who care. (Florence & Thisdale, 2015)
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References:
Florence, F. & Thisdale, F. (2015). Missing nimâma. Clockwise Press.
Peterson, E. (2021). The Message: The bible in contemporary language. NavPress. www.messagebible.com
Sorsdahl, M. N., Borgen, R. A., & Borgen, W. A. (Eds.). (2023). Ethics in a Canadian counselling and psychotherapy context. CCPA.
W. Kimmerer, Robin. (2015). Braiding sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of plants. Milkweed.
[1] Two-Spirit People
[2] Details about Red Dress Day: https://www.jaimeblackartist.com/exhibitions/
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