outWORD by Matte Downey

When we moved to Quebec, I had to adapt to a new way of greeting people. The greeting I received in other parts of Canada was a sturdy handshake which related goodwill without getting too close. In French society, it was a quick kiss on both cheeks, a rather intimate gesture if you are not used to it. I still find it a bit awkward, especially when you can't remember which cheek goes first. I have not greeted anyone with a kiss since March (due to the pandemic) and I sort of miss it. The kiss of greeting reflects vulnerability and a willingness to welcome others into one's personal space, to assume a certain closeness, even with strangers. It is, in many ways, a physical representation of hospitality and welcome.  In Psalm 85, we read: "Unfailing love and truth have met on their way; righteousness and peace have kissed one another" (The Voice Translation). The word "righteousness" is from the Hebrew tsedeq which means to make right and it is sometimes transla...

What is peace? We talk about Jesus being the Prince of Peace, a peaceable ruler of a peaceable kingdom, but what exactly does that mean? What does it look like? And how do we participate in it? We may associate peace with a lack of conflict, or being free from burdens and constraints, or stillness, or wholeness, or agreement. I will not try to define peace here, but simply offer 14 snapshots (scripture, story, litany, reading, song) to consider. I invite you to engage with each section by taking a moment to meditate on it, paying attention to the words and ideas and images which stand out to you. In the scripture verses, I have highlighted the words that relate to peace, just to give a focal point. I invite you to enter into peace. 1. "For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His government and its peace will never end . He wil...

This past week, I was sitting in a hospital waiting room while my mom had cataract surgery, a minor outpatient procedure. I watched people come and go and, after a few hours, it began to dawn on me that people who arrived after I did had already left the hospital. The nurse had informed me that it would take about an hour, but as the minutes ticked by, I knew something was amiss. That moment when you realize that something is not quite right, that things are not going as expected, you have a choice: you can start to panic, imagining every possible horrific scenario, or you can choose peace. I knew that my mom was surrounded by capable health care professionals, so I said a prayer of trust and surrender and continued to read my novel. Shortly after that, a nurse came into the waiting room and sat down beside me. She said, "You mom had an episode during surgery..." Once again, I was faced with a choice: did I let anxiety or peace rule the day? I chose peace and smiled at ...

Image from thefinancialbrand.com A nasty virus hit me a week ago on Thursday evening and laid me out for most of three days. I had proposals I was working on, a pile of paperwork on my dining room table that needed attention, preparations to make for church on Sunday, emails to answer, supplies to be bought, a house to clean, and laundry to be done. All of that was disrupted. The sickness rendered me unable to think, read, work, stand upright for any length of time, or do much else other than sleep and ingest the occasional protein smoothie. I thought of chocolate and had no interest. I thought of checking my email or Facebook and it just didn't seem to matter. I picked up a book and put it down again without even cracking it open. My fever finally broke Saturday evening, but I was still pretty useless the next day, my brain and body not capable of much. Monday morning, I woke up feeling almost normal. I decided to read a theology blog. My brain ate it up like it was the first ...

Christmas is a time of year when we see traditions being enacted all around us. Traditions, at their best, tell a story. They are meant to be reminders of identity, history, and hard-won values. Unfortunately, traditions can easily become unmoored from their stories. When this happens, the tradition morphs into something else: it may become a hollow act practically devoid of meaning, or it may become associated with a different story, or the story may be revised to reflect a more convenient story. About a month ago, I heard aboriginal women telling the heart-wrenching story of the slaughter and conquest which accompanied the original celebrations of Thanksgiving in America. This inconvenient story has been removed from the tradition in favour of a more sentimental, Euro-centric tale. The tradition changes when the story changes, and we must resist whitewashing the stories associated with our traditions, for doing so causes us to lose our way. Jesus encountered some very devout tra...

Times Square Jan 2016 In early January I came upon an interesting symposium put on by the wonderful folks at City Seminary in New York City. The topic, Women in Leadership and Ministry, wasn't what really grabbed me, but I recognised one of the speakers and read up on a few of the others scheduled to give talks and thought I would really like to meet these people and hear what they have to say. Part of Saturday was to be spent on a prayer walk (what they call Pray and Break Bread) in Harlem. I really wanted to get in on that since we have done something similar in Montreal. So I made my plans (which took nearly a whole day because I had a tight schedule I was working with and a limited budget) and contacted some friends who said, yes, we'd love to see you when you come, so I decided to arrive a day early. Everything was set for an enriching time in New York City from January 21-23. And then winter storm Jonas appeared on the scene. On Thursday I was about 5 hours into a 1...

Image from secondlook2nd.blogspot.com It has been great to be back in the classroom this fall after months of sitting alone at my desk and writing, drinking vast amounts of tea, and trying not to pull my hair out. This term I get to serve as a Teaching Assistant for Introduction to Theology. I love being in a supportive role for both students and the professor, but it was a bit of a rough start. I remember coming to the first class in early September and for the first time in my life (as long as I can remember), not being super excited about the beginning of the school year. I didn't even take the traditional first day of school photo. I was just tired, fatigued by the ongoing demand for high level, innovative, scholarly output and the exceptional dedication required by the multitude of tasks on my schedule. I was depleted by a summer spent wringing words onto the page day after day without any real break. I felt the constant, weighty pressure of finishing my doctoral dissert...

St-Benoit-du-Lac Abbey. Image from www.tourisme-memphremagog.com Last weekend I organized and participated in a women's retreat. For those of you who know me, you know that I am not particularly fond of all-women events, but this turned out to be a lovely, restful, rejuvenating, and fun time. Ten of us spent two days at a quaint bed and breakfast in Magog, and there was plenty of free time to relax, read, take a walk around town, sit on the porch in the sun, chat with a friend, or go on a hike to a local lookout point. Each evening we gathered together to pray for each other, and these were precious times of laughter, honesty, and encouraging one other. On Saturday afternoon we all piled into cars and headed to a nearby monastery, Saint-Benoit-du-Lac which is a Benedictine abbey situated on Lake Memphremagog. The abbey is remote, nestled in the countryside and at this time of year, surrounded by bright, colourful foliage. We wandered around the grounds in the cool fall air, ...

The clock on my wall I am at the stage in my doctoral studies where I am waiting to hear back from my supervisors before I embark on the next big writing phase. It's a sort of limbo; one thing is completed and I am waiting for the next thing to start. Hard to know what to do in limbo sometimes. In this period of waiting to hear from my supervisors, there is a lot of work I could be doing such as reading books and articles which pertain to my research, preparing an article or two for publication, setting up a research trip, and creating a syllabus for the course I am teaching next year (to name just a few projects). And yet, I find it hard to get motivated to do any of these important tasks. I would rather sit outside with the cat, read some fiction, research real estate, or even do laundry and wash dishes. Why is that? Am I just a procrastinator? Perhaps. But I also know that what I do during in-between times like this reveals something about my overall mental and spiritual sta...

Concordia University, library building just visible on the far left There are days when I am glad I am not a brain surgeon.  Well, that's pretty much every day because those surgeons start work really early, but yesterday was one of those days when I was thankful that when I have an "off" day, people's lives are not at stake (don't mean to offend any surgeons or theologians by that statement). So, yeah, a lot of little things went wrong yesterday, many tasks ended up being much more complicated than they had to be, I was not at my best, and the combination was not pretty. Yesterday I had a meeting scheduled with my supervisor at the university, there was a book I needed to read at the library (only available on a 3-hour loan), and I had a few errands to run, so I thought I would pack up my laptop, a few supplies and books, and spend most of the day at school. The first thing I did when I got downtown was to head to the post office to send a money order. The ...

Downtown Montreal this past weekend Dean and I are always considering our options when it comes to housing, so while we are doing a few minor fix-ups on our condo this summer, we thought we would also check out what living downtown might look like and what it would cost. One of the display condos we wanted to visit this past Sunday was closed by the time we got there, so when we saw a sign advertising several open houses in a building right next to our car, we decided to take a look. The first place the real estate agent showed us was two lofts that had been converted into one.  It was exceptional, he told us. And so was the price, he added. We walked into a large foyer and I could see floor to ceiling windows, gleaming wood floors, and exposed brick.  The kitchen was imported Italian marble, the office had custom cabinets along one entire wall, and the master suite included a large walk-in closet, an elevated sleeping area, and a spacious bathroom. The furnishings were ca...

Someone moving into my neighbourhood It's been 5 years since we moved to this lovely 2-level condo here in ville St-Laurent.  Five years is the longest that Dean and I have lived anywhere, so it is no surprise that the itch to move has been pretty strong in the past few weeks.  I have been going to open houses, checking out properties online, and even had a real estate agent come in and appraise our property.  The sight of a friend's new house on Facebook caused me to immediately find one in my neighbourhood that I wanted to buy. It's not that there is anything really wrong with our condo (though I would like a bigger closet and another full bathroom). This restlessness has very little to do with inadequate living conditions; it basically means that what at first seemed new and exciting has now become old and familiar. The gleaming hardwood floors, soaring cathedral ceilings, winding staircase, and open mezzanine have ceased to dazzle me.  Now I see only the smal...