As Canadians we have a particular kind of national pride that we hesitate to call patriotism. Canadian pride is marked more by a trumpeting of humility and apology. Watch late night American talk shows and it won’t take long until you hear a joke about how Canadians apologize so much, or about how gosh-darn nice Canadians are. Identity attached to geography is always at least part façade.
Over this past couple of weeks that façade has been broken. It is a painful but necessary exercise to allow that break to happen and to ask ourselves the questions of how we can be given to fear and hate and prejudice just as much as anyone else in the world. Being polite carries benefits, but it can sometimes mask the darker realities.
I say this being mindful of two recent stories that have pierced the sense of idealism in our country. Firstly, the ongoing story of the abuses and terror of the Indian Residential Schools in Canada. This darkness has been part of Canada for all of Canadian history. Secondly, the story this week of the murder of four people in London, Ontario (two parents, a grandparent and a fifteen-year-old child) who were targeted because of their Muslim faith.
We can be very grateful for Canada, but still ask the question in honesty and hope, “What kind of country do we live in?”
I had the first story in mind (had not yet heard the news from Ontario) when Jen and I watched the Juno Awards on Sunday night. The final performance of the night was astounding. I was in tears watching it. I have watched it repeatedly since and have been in tears each time. Iconic Canadian band The Tragically Hip played a song for the show. They have not performed publicly since lead singer Gord Downie died. It seemed that they were not going to perform again, but they made an exception largely because the singer that they wanted agreed to participate. Leslie Feist stood in for Gord Downie, and as soon as she started singing “It’s A Good Life if You Don’t Weaken” I could tell that something remarkable was happening. Feist was singing the song so well, so strongly and perfectly, that it seemed as if Downie himself were present. She was able to convey the emotional contours of his voice, but in her own. In the song she was fully herself, but somehow he seemed present as well. Here is why I cried; because anytime people can come together like that it is astounding - and it is gospel. I am not saying that “It’s A Good Life if You Don’t Weaken” conveys a full articulation of Christian theology. (Though, consider the following lyric, “In a face so full of meaning, as to almost make it glow. Oh, for a good life we just might have to weaken and find somewhere to go, and find somewhere to grow.”) I am just saying that anytime I see people coming together in emotional, spiritual ways that affirm our humanity, it is to me, reflective of the “one day” call of the Hopeful Christian Gospel that says that ALL THINGS will be brought together in Christ.
The story of the Indian residential school system as part of an attempted genocide is our national sin. It is made more heinous by the reality that the perpetrators claimed to be working for God. What kind of faith is worth having if it demeans, degrades and abuses others? What kind of weakness of faith is demonstrated by the willingness to violently force others, even children, to believe what you believe?
The crime committed in London, Ontario is another tearing apart. We ask about how such hateful acts could happen here, but the inclination to tear apart is present everywhere. It is present in all of us.
Hopeful Gospel calls us to better. God cannot be known in pushing away from people, in pushing against people. We are called to be drawn together, and when I see that kind of coming together, even in a rock song on an awards show, it’s going to make me cry with mourning over the pain of our past and present, and cry even more with the joy of a hopeful forever.