Peter’s Blog

Sts Peter & Paul Jesuit Church

Sts. Peter & Paul Jesuit church is the oldest surviving church building in Detroit. Erected in the mid-1840’s it served as Detroit’s cathedral church for a generation. The classical style building is bright and spacious inside with Carrara marble with carved details, but the red brick exterior points back to more humble beginnings when stone was deemed too expensive. The name of Jesus, in this Society of Jesus church, is written into the frieze above the arches of the nave in 16 different languages. It signals to one and all that there is room for everyone. The gracious welcome and message at the mid-day mass only served to reinforce this impression. Later we recessed to the church hall for sandwiches where the congregations remarkable service towards the needs of the inner city came clearly into view.

Sts Peter and Paul is undoubtedly named for the two great apostles, yet the founding Bishop’s name was also Peter Paul Lefevre and when he died his remains were buried in the crypt beneath the altar. Yet in 1939 the Jesuits transferred his remains to a nearby Catholic cemetery. I do not know the official reasons given, but it seems to say with an exclamation mark that this community will not be marked by the death of a saint, but by the resurrection life of Jesus Christ whose love is the language of the parish.

One of our pilgrims, Rob Mee, a gifted musician and photographer has posted some absolutely remarkable photos of this sacred space along with the others we visited and can be viewed on his website at: https://focusonmee.com/detroit-michigan/

Grace and Peace,
Peter

Trinity Lutheran Church

Historic Trinity Lutheran Church in downtown Detroit left most of our pilgrims speechless. The magnificent 1928 Neo-Gothic structure is proportionally perfect and the iconography and decor on both the building’s exterior and interior is imbedded with deep theological and historical significance. Everything from the floor tiles, many with beautiful symbols of the faith, to the rich blues of the stained glass by Philadelphia’s Willet Studios, to the acoustic of the Nave with the historic Skinner organ, considered by many to be the finest pipe organs ever built, was imbued with beauty. All about were wood carvings and murals and everything seemingly perfect.

While nothing should be overlooked, including the carvings in the Narthex and even the pastor’s study, it was the Altar Reredos that spoke to many of us. The pastor, The Rev. Darryl Lee Andrzejewsk, whose name is less German than the church’s history, took the time to explain the significance of the paintings, carvings and symbols in the reredos and as he did, it was almost as if he were singing. For Holy Trinity’s reredos is an artistic illustration of the Te Deum one of the Christianity’s most ancient hymns of praise.

The Te Deum offers praise to God and acknowledges God to be the Lord of all. It brings together in praise the voices of the Angels crying aloud with Cherubim and Seraphim and all of Heaven. It reminds us too of the company of the Apostles, the goodly fellowship of the Prophets, the noble army of the Martyrs and the church throughout all the ages. And they are all represented in Holy Trinity’s reredos screen.

My first contact with the church was Tammy Eberhard, a Canadian who for years crossed the border every Sunday to attend the church that had become her home. In more recent years, she and her husband have moved to Detroit where she now serves on the church staff. I wondered why someone would cross the border to go to church, but that was before I had been to Historic Trinity Lutheran Church.

No longer do I wonder. A visit to Holy Trinity is a glimpse into heaven, but then again that is what every church whether beautifully designed or stark and bare, should be like every Sunday. Because when we gather to give praise to God we are surrounded by the great company of saints and the angelic hosts. And the setbacks of this life and locale are replaced with visions of God’s Kingdom come and God’s will being done on earth as it is in heaven.

One of our pilgrims, Rob Mee, a gifted musician and photographer has posted some absolutely remarkable photos of this sacred space along with the others we visited and can be viewed on his website at: https://focusonmee.com/detroit-michigan/

Grace and Peace,
Peter

St. Joseph’s Oratory

I arrived a full half hour before the group for our second stop on our pilgrimage of sacred spaces. It was early Tuesday morning and mass was being said at Detroit’s St. Joseph’s Oratory. The church was built in Detroit’s Germantown in the early 1870’s and was a clear reminder to one and all of the churches back home with its 200 plus foot high spire and Gothic Revival ‘Hall Church’ plan in which the ceiling above the side aisles rises almost as high as the nave of the church. The majestic heights of St. Joseph enable the original stained glass from Meyers of Munich to truly shine. In the long arduous days of industrial Detroit the workers must have found true rest as the brightness of the place warmed them with memories of home. With more than sixty carved sculptures they would have been surrounded with encouraging reminders of the great cloud of witnesses who were still close even though they were so far from home.

The steeple which is currently damaged caused the church to be closed for a few months in 2016, but the money has been raised and the work will be accomplished this summer. At its opening the church was the tallest building in all of Detroit, but even then there was trouble with the steeple. At the time of installation the heaviest bell broke free of the pulley that had raised it to the belfry causing it to crash through multi levels of flooring beneath and then shatter completely upon impact on the ground. Undaunted the founding priest simply ordered a replacement bell weighing an additional ton. Since 1872 the building has stood as a reminder to one and all to look up in faith and tune their hearts to the true notes of heaven.

Pulleys were also used at the opening of the church to raise orchestral instruments into the gallery to provide a symphonic mass to the chagrin of the residing Germanic priest whose intent was to not only provide a sanctuary to transport the people back to the fatherland, but also the purer music of the Gregorian chant as opposed to more modern sounds. This only goes to show that the so-called ‘worship wars’ go further back than most realize.

St. Joseph’s is known as an Oratory because it is one of the places where the Tridentine or Latin Mass is offered. I was unaware of this when I arrived early that morning in time for mass. While I am equipped to identify the theological shortcomings of the Latin Mass from a Protestant perspective, I had never experienced its beauty and drama. To be there as the priest turns his back on the people and speaks to God in a language familiar enough yet beyond us, rising and kneeling, crossing himself and kissing the altar, with the Sanctus Bell ringing again and again and again at least ten times was intended not to transport the worshippers back to Germany, but to their true home which is not of this world. Gothic architecture has the same intent and so the building and the mass were one in their purpose to comfort the people with the bread of heaven which has come into the world in Jesus Christ. We were blessed to be welcomed so warmly as Protestants from the other side of the border, most of whom didn’t know much Latin or German, but who believe deeply in the same Christ and know that he is our true home.

One of our pilgrims, Rob Mee, a gifted musician and photographer has posted some absolutely remarkable photos of this sacred space along with the others we visited and can be viewed on his website at: https://focusonmee.com/detroit-michigan/

Grace and Peace,
Peter

Islamic Centre of America

Our first stop on our Pilgrimage of Sacred Spaces to Detroit was the Islamic Centre of America in Dearborn, Michigan, where we were welcomed with warmth and respect and kindness. The Islamic Centre is the largest mosque in America, and built in the most densely populated Arab community in North America. However, being known as the largest mosque in America has made this faith community a target most notably by a fundamentalist preacher from a tiny church in Florida who announced to the world he would burn a copy of the Koran in front of the Islamic Centre a few years back. While this hate filled fanatic hid behind his constitutional right to religious freedom, he failed to see that his actions were a direct assault on the religious freedoms of another. Where one group’s religious freedom is violated, religious liberty is violated for all. The good news is that on the day before the assault Christians, Jews, and even atheists held a rally in support of the mosque, in which they held hands in unity around the exterior while on the day of the fundamentalist preacher’s visit, quite deliberately, no one was there.

It was a wonderful reminder that on many levels we must work together. As it turns out the mosque is very adept at this. Some time after the mosque was completed there was still decorative work to be done on the interior. The community sent several leaders of the mosque to Lebanon to seek out a professional person with experience in decorating such a space. The ideal person happened to be an Armenian Christian who came, but only after insisting he not be paid and that whoever worked with him do the same. He built a significant team of volunteers to assist him and again he insisted they represent a broad range of religious traditions including Christian, Jewish and non-believers. We were blessed to see the decorative work fully completed.

One of our pilgrims, Rob Mee, a gifted musician and photographer has posted some absolutely remarkable photos of this sacred space along with the others we visited and can be viewed on his website at: https://focusonmee.com/detroit-michigan/

Grace and Peace,
Peter

Dahlias were dead at first fall frost,
all but the tuberous roots were lost.
Cleaned, sorted and stored in the dark
their future surely seemed quite stark.

But shortly after Easter Day
Planted were they in pots of clay
with soil, light and water they grew
up through the soil in a week or two.

By Victoria Day they’d moved outside,
soon in the garden with stakes to guide.
Some were in bloom by the end of June,
the rest will be showing very soon.

Gardener stand back and be awestruck!
Not your doing and not just luck.
Summer’s blooms are a gift of grace,
their bursts of colour to Eden trace.

Their victory over winter’s tomb,
sings out through every bloom.
A song for times we can’t cope
calling us all to live in hope.

JPH 05-07-18

Grace and Peace

Peter

A beautiful innocence rings in the heart when the words ‘Play Ball’ rise up on a summer’s eve. Before the first pitch everyone’s slate is clean and the diamond stretches to eternity. Even in the bleachers of a major league park there is a part of us that is back in the schoolyard of our childhood taking a lead off first and cheering on our chum at the plate.

This week I was there in two different stadiums in two different cities watching four different teams. It is wonderful to share such moments and memories with friends new and old. Earlier in the week I was leading a pilgrimage of sacred spaces in Detroit when a group of us spent an evening watching the Tigers, and on Friday, Janet and I took in a Jay’s home game with Norm and Sandra.

Sometimes I think I catch glimpses of old playground mates in the shadows and hear their voices in the hollers, but sitting in Detroit’s Comerica Park, I was unexpectedly also flooded with memories of all the Tigers games I went to as a boy in the company of my father. I hadn’t been to a game in Detroit since we had moved away when I was thirteen.  Then it dawned on me, dad had crossed the plate safely home six years before to the very day.

The diamond really does stretch to eternity. It is almost like church, where I am often aware of the cloud of witnesses watching over us. They feel a lot closer than those folk looking down from the top of the CN Tower. In fact I was sure I could hear dad cheering me on from the home team dugout. Thanks Dad. Happy Father’s Day!

I ventured up Yonge Street today and visited the two makeshift memorials which are still drawing a steady stream of visitors. Retracing last week’s trail of destruction I passed by two addresses where my forebears in this land had settled and farmed. The farmhouse of one of those properties continues as a museum, the Gibson House, where Peter Silas Gibson and his wife Eliza Jane Holmes raised their ten children. I learned the museum staff safely shepherded a class of young school children out immediately after last week’s attack without the children being aware of the danger. The museum staff and the teachers bore the stress in silence. It is people like that who make this city so wonderful.

The memorial at the south-east corner of Yonge and Finch, where yesterday the Prime Minister and Premier signed the guestbook, sits on what was once the corner of the farmland owned by my great-grandfather, David Gibson Holmes and his wife, Ellen Harriet Lanning. I couldn’t help but wonder what those farming ancestors would think if they could come back for a day and see what had unfolded on their street, but it was hard enough for me to make any sense of it.

Interestingly, Ellen Harriet Lanning’s parents, Charles Lanning and Harriet McEwan, are not only my great-great grandparents but also the great-grandparents of Canon Peter Walker who presided with me at the Churches on-the-Hill Prayer Vigil. Yet it was standing at the memorial with people of many races, religions, and languages, it dawned on me afresh, we are all related. The sooner that sinks in to our collective soul, the better off this world will be.

Gracious and merciful God, this week’s events have reminded us all that we know not what a day may bring.  We commit to your care the souls of those whose lives were taken so suddenly in a terrible act of violence. We pray too for those who now grieve the loss of their loved one’s voice and touch. May they sense your love in the midst of such hatred and come to find that peace which passes all understanding.
We pray for those who were injured in the attack and those who stand at their side and fight with them for recovery. The wounds to the body are real but those to the spirit are deep and vast and the wounded, the bereaved, the first responders and care givers, and indeed our whole city is in need your tender mercies. Speak into horror and the tears that follow and bring peace.
Speak into the souls of all who would entertain evil and hatred and silence the violence with your love. And enable us we pray to live with eyes wide open to the wonders and blessings of each day and lead us on to that great day when suffering and sorrow will be no more, and love and grace will rule in our hearts, and peace and justice will reign in our city streets.  These things we pray through Christ our Lord, Amen.

This prayer was written in the days following a horrific violent attack on Toronto’s Yonge Street in which ten pedestrians were killed and fourteen were wounded.  

Stop and say a prayer
For Yonge and Everywhere;
For those now in despair,
and all who offer care.

Let us pray for victims and their families, giving them to God as loved ones begin to process such shocking and unbearable loss and suffering. Let us pray for those who fight to recover from injuries sustained and for loved ones who fight with them.  Let us give thanks for our first responders, but also pray that they will be renewed as they process the horror they were called into today. Let us also give thanks for our wonderful medical personal and centres, but pray they will have strength and wisdom in these critical hours. And let us pray for our city that this evil deed will not blind us to the blessings of this place where so many people live and grow in peace.

Yonge Street, where east and west meet in our city, symbolizes the multi-ethnic nature of this metropolis, where people have come from near and far to live in peace. An attack on any other street would have hit us all just as hard, but Yonge Street is our main artery. Today this place of peace was attacked and it cut us all to the heart. Now we grieve and pray for the victims and their families, but tomorrow, grief still in hand, we must take back the street. Yonge Street is one of the greatest pedestrian streets in this country. We mustn’t let anyone take that away. So let’s not just pray. Let’s walk and pray!

Grace & Peace,

Peter

This week we have all been citizens of Humboldt, Saskatchewan.  Though none of us can even begin to imagine the loss this community has suffered, we are united with them in their grief and it goes beyond hockey. Hockey is undeniably part of the fabric of our nation. The tragic death of fifteen young Canadians would have broken the heart of our nation no matter what the youth were in the midst of doing, but the fact they were playing hockey cut to the heart of every parent who has laced up their child’s skates, risen early in the morning to get them to a house league game, or stayed up late to flood the back yard to build a rink. It has touched every grandparent who has been called on at the last minute to drive their grandchild to an unscheduled practice or game, and every driver who has stopped with delight while the children playing road hockey moved the nets to let their car through. As we have listened to the names and heard their stories, these boys have been with us at the dinner table and in line at the coffee shop. They have entered our homes and our hearts. Their parents have become our neighbours and friends and we have wanted only to help.

Apart from the wonderful response of people across this country giving generously and praying faithfully for the victims and their families and the community involved, there has also been understanding voiced for those who were part of the confusion that led to the misidentification of a victim, and there have even been expressions of grace towards the errant driver. It is not just hockey or winter that makes us great as a nation. Above all, it is love for our neighbour. Ever since Humboldt took the meanest of hits there has been an outpouring of nothing but goodness, kindness, compassion, sympathy, and faith. As we continue to grieve and offer gifts and prayers for Humboldt, let us be mindful of what a great gift each day is and remain true to that which makes us truly great – love and kindness.