I popped in at General Assembly for about 36 hours. From my position as managing editor of this magazine I have established relationships via email with a lot of people across the country but have met very few of them. I went to this annual family reunion to glad-hand, while my colleagues worked. (Thank you, Amy and David.)
Family: Michael James introduced himself to me and reminded me we were schoolmates over 35 years ago in Lahore, Pakistan. Michael was a commissioner from the Presbytery of Montreal; my mother had been his teacher at the high Anglican school we both attended. Small world.
Jean Lawrence, now at VST, remembered having lunch at my uncle's home in Karachi when she was there on a mission trip in the early 1980s. And it was good to meet once more with Sydney MacDonald with whom I last broke bread a quarter century ago at his home in Red Deer, Alta. Connie Madsen and I spoke of how Rocky Mountain House, Alta., has changed since I was lay minister there. (Connie was kind to not remind me I was a lousy lay minister.)
Family indeed: Perhaps Ted Rev. Siverns is right (see the General Assembly report in this issue) and this was a particularly friendly gathering of the clan. (By the way, Ted's a fun guy.) (There was a little acrimony about this and that, sure, like any family gathering, but dealt Presbyterianally with motions and votes.) Many people came to me (as they did David Harris and Amy MacLachlan) and complimented our work at the Record. Many kind words; all spoken from within the family to the family. There were a few avuncular chastisements as well.
It was good to meet some old friends, make some new ones, meet my former ministers and shake hands with people I've long admired but never met.
And, I learned there are Angolan Presbyterians — I met one, Mariano Congo, a commissioner from West Toronto. Based on advice once given me by the Record's former editor James Ross Dickey, I told Mariano I will be pulling for Angola in the FIFA World Cup. (Jim told me that rooting for an underdog helps build character. I wonder if Jim's still a Cleveland Indians' fan; that would certainly explain a lot if he were.)
After a fun time with the family, I left Wednesday afternoon and on Thursday morning I was at a conference for Canadian magazines.
I had booked the Record to be analyzed by a panel of magazine professionals, with the hope we might receive constructive criticisms about the magazine's editorial content and its design. But, oh no, that's not what I got, at all.
I felt like a minnow in the ocean; I was asked why the magazine existed at all — couldn't it just be a website?
Uhm, I muttered the Record is 130 years old and serves one of this nation's seminal institutions.
I was asked why The Presbyterian Church in Canada needed two magazines, referring to Glad Tidings.
Uhm, you see, they are slightly different constituencies within the same constituency; it's an historical thing. And, I went on to explain, there are other magazines within the church as well: the French La Vie Chrétienne, along with Women's Perspective, A New Network, The Presbyterian Message, and others.
But, really, they asked, does the church need all of them?
They are all different constituencies within the church, I explained again, wondering all the while whether they were criticizing the magazine or the church.
I don't think this was a reality check; I recognize our stature within our society. But, the back-to-back hits were jarring. And, I began to wonder, again, how this emotionally and psychologically affects us as members of this church.
Jim's right, of course, pulling for an underdog does help build character. But being an underdog can also mess with one's mind. It can foster insularity and the sensibility that we are either too small to matter in the world, or, too perfect to belong to it.
I believe we've dealt well with these issues: from my desk I see local, often flailing, churches reaching deep into their communities and to the world. This is not true of all congregations, of course, but I live in hope.
I must, I think, because of all the places to hang my hat, I've chosen the PCC. That's a sure sign of something; maybe even of character.
