As a young adult representative I came to the 2009 General Assembly expecting to be bored. I came thinking I would be too young among […]

It’s a phrase I’ve heard many times over the years. It’s always mentioned when there is some conflict in a church. When the congregation splits or is in the midst of debating a heated issue. It’s almost always directed towards the session, quite often towards presbytery. It’s almost always worded something like this: “I didn’t realize they (presbytery or session) made that decision. It was done in secret.”

In secret.

The buzz from Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers has been about the 10,000 hours of diligent work required to be a success in one’s chosen field. Diana Butler Bass, speaking at Rosedale, Toronto, in late February, mentioned the 10,000 hours while speaking of successful churches she had studied. Gladwell gives the example of the Beatles and Bill Gates, amongst many others, who through a combination of luck and grace were able to spend an extraordinary amount of time perfecting their craft.

I have been working pretty steadily since I was eleven years old. I was the world’s worst newspaper delivery boy, spending more time reading the paper than getting it to doorsteps. I was a short order cook at a bowling alley. I worked the line in a Ford plant. I have been a lay minister, a journalist, a security guard, a janitor. I’ve run hotels, been an accounts payable and an accounts receivable clerk, a civil servant and much, much else. I’ve worked in radio and television, at newspapers and magazines. I’ve had a theatre company, produced short films and made documentaries. I’ve been around.

What I learned from all those years of different careers is that people work really hard but rarely effectively. That there are customs and habits in every work environment which are rarely questioned. People forget why they’re doing what they’re doing; it quickly becomes an endless process of just doing stuff, filling in time sheets and collecting the pay.

From my window on to our church I see a very dynamic denomination. Or more accurately, I see many very dynamic, progressive, theologically sound, daring, Christ-like silos within our denomination. I see congregations, small and large, engaged in their community, and in the world. And, though I realize it is not fashionable to say so, I see cutting-edge work being done within the national church. Presbyterian World Service and Development, Presbyterians Sharing, International Ministries, Canada Ministries, Education, the Vine Helpline, Stewardship, Ministry and Vocation – all the many and varied branches under the Life and Missions Agency, along with Assembly Council, do Loaves-and-Fishes work, taking small resources and multiplying them many-fold to reach almost every corner of the planet. It is quite breathtaking to see the work being done.

Last month I suggested that President Obama's rise was the most shining metaphor for the societal changes that have already taken place. And it is, of course, but it is still a remarkable feat. The landscape may have shifted ages ago but he is the first to break through a very important barrier. His achievement gives hope to many who thought barriers were solid and unmoveable. All it takes is one person to make the unimaginable, the unfathomable, suddenly doable.

A mere 20 years ago after Jesse Jackson's failed bid for the Democratic nomination, I recall reading an op-ed piece arguing that the United States of America was not ready for an African-American President and would not be in our life-time because of the deep racial rift in the country. The twentieth day of this month will prove the editorialist wrong.

We had Christmas Trees; a Fir tree, most likely, my mother recalls. But to get to us in Karachi or Lahore it would have traveled a long distance from the Himalayan Mountains. We would cover it with the usual baubles; along with hand-made paper chains and other decorations. Under it would be the presents. And then Father Christmas would come late one night after church and a sumptuous meal of curries and rice.

I was speaking at a church about my experiences in Afghanistan, showing some of the hundreds of photos I took on that trip. Near the end of my talk I had a photo of a little girl holding on to her father. A typical photo – one that could be taken of my daughter as she suddenly becomes shy in the company of her parent's strange friends. With that image on the screen I said one thing I had learned from Afghanistan was that despite all the differences in culture, locale, history, economics and much else, at the heart of us, we share a common humanity. That children cling to their parents when strangers come to the door, partially curious about the big world out there, while holding on to the safety of the domestic circle.

After having watched 32 international movies over 10 days during the Montreal Film Festival, where I was a member of the Ecumenical Jury, I came away with only the most banal observation: People are people, everywhere on the planet.

When they said, Repent, Repent, Repent/I wonder what they meant?The Future, Leonard Cohen

On the last day in Ottawa at the 134th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church commissioners were told there was good news and bad news. Good news: all business was completed – recommendations, overtures, reports all done. Bad news: there was still an agenda and the assembly had to continue. Above the speaker's head on a large screen was the agenda that was proving to be the bad news and forcing the assembled to remain in court: presentations by the Young Adult Representatives and the student representatives from the three colleges.

My iPod crashed – long story, not terribly interesting – and I have to rebuild. A good opportunity to bringsome theology to my music. Here's my opening salvo; I could use your help for more.

Earlier this year I had an email exchange with my favourite sparring partner, Rev. David Webber, over the fact that rural issues are not well covered in the magazine. A few weeks later I had a passionate email from a lady in Saskatchewan who was expressing the opinion of her friends that the Record does not do enough stories about the western part of this country.

My shirt bears the logo of a popular designer who came to the fore 20 years ago. I paid about $30 for it at a discount clothing store which sells overruns and the previous year's fashions. The shirt would have cost me about twice as much if I had bought it in season. It was “tailored” in Indonesia. I have no idea where the cloth was made, where the button were manufactured, but I'm pretty certain it wasn't in the United States where the company which slapped on the logo is based.

Juno is a well-made movie; it is modest, with a strong script, great dialogue, charming performances from charming actors and a great indie soundtrack. The movie is set in some ideal world, where love reigns and hope prevails. When the title character, a teenage girl, gets pregnant, her parents are supportive, her boyfriend waits on her and her friends rally around her. She gets a few dirty stares but the movie has no interest in the politics of teen pregnancy. It's a quiet story of a remarkable girl going through an extraordinary year.

Remember the Buddhist monks last year, leading anti-government demonstrations in the-land-now-called-Myanmar. The Religion Newswriters Association (there's an association for everything!) named them the “top religion newsmakers of 2007.”

With friends like Bruxy Cavey who needs enemies? Cavey is a pastor with The Meeting House, a non-denominational church in the Toronto area. He's also the author of The End of Religion: Encountering the Subversive Spirituality of Jesus. In the preface he writes, “Religion uses rules to force our steps, guilt to keep us in line, and rituals to remind us of our failure to live up to those rules. In doing this, religion adds more weight to those who are already burdened with life's hardships. But Jesus offers us the rest we're searching for.”

If you want to read my column (hi, mom!) this month, you'll first have to do some homework. I'd like you to flip around the […]