Visiting churches with my camera

One of the delights of this summer is visiting old country churches that, while no longer used by a congregation are lovingly kept up and open to the public. They make wonderful subjects for the camera.

My first visit was to Ste. Thérèse Church in Cardinal, an unincorporated community consisting of a handful of houses and the church.

This was the largest of the churches I found and the only Roman Catholic one. It was the “newest” church of the three I visited being constructed in 1927-1929.

This was the only church with statuary, with Mary on the right, Joseph and child on the left, and the namesake saint in the middle.

It had an impressive bell tower.

Late last week I visited two other churches south of Manitou.

St Luke’s Anglican Church - Pembina Crossing was built in 1922 to replace and earlier church that burned down.

The interior is lined with unpainted boards giving it a warm feel. It has an impressive altar and painted triptych.

I then moved on to St. Mary’s St. Alban’s Anglican Church. In what is now sparsely populated farmland these two churches are only 8km (5 miles) apart. This was the oldest of the churches being built in 1892 and an impressive 28 x 44 ft stone structure.

While the oldest structure it seemed the most modernized with carpeting on the flooring and quite hideous fluorescent light fixture at the peak of the ceiling. I’m curious if the curtains in the front were there when people worshipped here, or if there had been stained glass in those front windows. I find the cross design with the circle and the round ends curious, as well as the designs above the doors on either side. I’m sure these have some significance.

The thick stone walls were covered with plaster on the interior.

I was amused that the bible on the podium was opened to the Song of Solomon.

I went through the door on the right side and found a tiny room with this little setup. It seems like a space with stories to tell.

Reading the Bible with head and heart

This was originally published in Anabaptist World but as the article can’t be shared on Facebook in Canada, I’m reposting it here. Thanks Meta.

I have always been steeped in the Bible. In childhood, ­daily ­Bible reading was encouraged and occasionally accomplished. I studied the Bible in youth group and argued about it.

My understanding of the Bible started to change when I attended what was then Canadian Mennonite Bible College. I developed an appreciation for the Old Testament/Hebrew scriptures. I encountered scholarly approaches to the Bible that challenged my childhood readings. This did not lessen my faith but created more questions where answers used to be.

Later I attended Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary, where I learned Hebrew and Greek and discovered new meanings behind the English translations.

At seminary the Bible was not only a subject for academic study but an essential resource for worship and faith formation. I learned to encounter the Bible with head and heart.

Since leaving seminary, my knowledge of the biblical languages vanished, but my appreciation for the Bible and its place in my life has not waned.

A few years after graduation I became connected to The Hermitage, a contemplative retreat center in Michigan with Mennonite roots. Once again, my understanding and approach to the Bible took on a new shape.

As I drew closer into a contemplative life of the spirit, I developed new Bible practices. I learned a deep appreciation for the psalms. I learned of the Rule of Benedict, which instructs the monks to pray all 150 psalms each week. While that seemed too ambitious, I began praying through the entire Book of Psalms each month and continued this practice for several years.

Vine covered St. Francis in a garden at The Hermitage.

I also learned more about and practiced lectio divina, a slow, meditative reading of scripture. Lectio includes lots of space for silence, listening and prayer. I open myself to be formed and transformed by the text.

Since moving to Winkler, Man., and joining Covenant Mennonite Church, I’ve begun a Monday night contemplative prayer group. We gather for 20 minutes of silence and then enter a pattern of lectio divina. We read a piece of scripture and sit in silence, reading again and returning to silence. We read the chosen text five times, always followed by silence.

As we read, I encourage others to pay attention to a word or phrase that speaks to us. With a later reading, I invite us to listen for what God might be saying to us. And then, with another reading, we consider what our response to God might be.

After all the readings and silence, we share what we heard or felt through the text. It is a powerful experience to hear how people have met God in these times of reading and silence. My friends’ thoughts enlarge my understanding of the text and of God.

I do not disregard my academic training. My education enriches my experience of scripture. I do, however, hold my critical understanding of the Bible with more humility. I can’t hear God’s voice solely with my intellect. God’s voice is a gift freely given to those willing to listen.

Our Anabaptist ancestors knew the importance of studying scripture in community. Michael Sattler wrote, “The one to whom God has given the best understanding shall explain it; the others should be still and listen.” This understanding was not limited to academically trained or religiously ordained minds.

These Monday evenings gathered with scripture and silence have become my most rewarding experience of holding on to this Anabaptist practice. We listen for our soul’s best understanding to be revealed deep within. Like our Anabaptist ancestors, we are led by the Holy Spirit as we read, listen and pray.

Kevin Driedger of Winkler, Man., is a member of Covenant Mennonite Church. He is interested in the intersection of Anabaptism and contemplative practices.

Visiting St. Therese, or, f/8 and be there

I often succumb to the temptation to sit inside and watch videos of photographers rather than going out with my camera and actually taking pictures myself. A video by YouTube photographer Thomas Heaton reminded me of the expression “f/8 and be there.” The expression is attributed to the photographer Weegee. It is most often used in documentary photography emphasizing the importance of being there and simply capturing the moment, over worrying too much about perfect technique. For me, however the phrase is similar to the quote attributed to Wayne Gretzky “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

The most important thing for me to do photography, and seemingly one of the hardest things for me to do is simply grabbing my camera equipment and heading out with the intention to take pictures.

So, motivated by that spirit I headed out Sunday afternoon to the tiny village of Cardinal, Manitoba, whose population may reach the double digits. It is home to the Ste. Therese Chapel, a restored old, prairie, Catholic Church. It is currently more of a museum piece than home to a parish. I also stopped and caught a few pics along the way.

(Thanks to Jolene at Pembina Valley Go for making me aware of this chapel.)

Along the way I drove through a large windfarm. I was particularly struck by the patterns in the field. I wish I could have made the windmills “pop” a little more.

Also along the way I stopped in Miami to capture some pics of their historic train station.

The Ste. Therese Chapel has a very impressive spire. The church faces north, which means the face of the church is mostly in shadow which is less than ideal.

I really liked the spire/bell tower.

Saint Therese of Liseaux was a 19th Carmelite sister also known as the Little Flower of Jesus. She is renown for her spirituality of the little way, or simple way of a life of doing little acts of love.

The simple rose window of the chapel. There is something about the presence of the ladder that I really enjoy in this picture.

On the way home I saw this empty road in my rearview mirror and needed to stop for the shot. f/8 and be there!

Living Spiritually More With Less

We are started a new worship series on the Beatitudes in our church with members invited to offer a brief personal reflection on the Beatitude for that day. I had poverty of spirit and wrote this.

In 1980 Herald Press published Living More With Less a companion to the More With Less cookbook. It promoted a “lifestyle” – although the author preferred the phrase “life standard” – of simple living. It includes many tips and ideas people had supplied for such things as how to make sandals from old rubber tires. (It was the 70s)

As I’ve been thinking about the beatitude of blessed are the poor in spirit, I’ve imagined writing a follow-up volume of Living Spiritually More with Less.

As Living More with Less was about taking on a certain voluntary poverty – at least a poverty of unneeded resources – a volume on poverty of spirit would be about getting rid of all those unnecessary things that distract our spirits from our true life in God.

Poverty of spirit means loosening our grasp on those things which give us a sense of security – including our resources, our independence, our ability to control our fate, our identity, and even our lives.

Living with a poverty of spirit means a radical detachment from everything but the one good thing, the one pearl of great price, and that one thing is God alone.

As Pope Francis wrote “Dependence on God liberates us from the exhausting quest for self-sufficiency.”

Living with a poverty of spirit is a life of deep humility and unending openness to the spirit of God.

Living with a poverty of spirit is living with a never-ending consent to the will of God.

So, that sounds wonderful and pious, and the obvious truth is I am so far from living with this poverty of spirit. I sadly remain deeply convinced of the necessity of all those distracting things that I look to for security. Rather than living More with Less I find living “a bit” with “enough” is much less risky. It’s just so hard to let go; to live into a poverty of spirit.

But I know I am not alone, and just like the book Living More with Less is filled with people sharing simple little practices to get a closer to the goal of a more just/responsible life, so too my Living Spiritually More with Less would rely on the wisdom and experience of the community for simple steps to help us move towards a life of poverty of spirit.

Playground abstracts

As one with an attraction to abstract images modern playgrounds are a wonderful source. These are from a playground near our house.

It is both amusing and humbling when your favourite pics are ones where I just held the camera without looking at the camera viewfinder/screen. (no editing on these pics)