It was this time last year that I was once again faced with the question: what to do for Lent? I wanted to do something thought-inspiring, something that would challenge me spiritually, and that would be a little bit painful...along the lines of giving up something I really wanted. It was at that point that it hit me. I would write my thesis for Lent: 100 pages in 40 days. It seemed to fit my criteria, as I'd certainly be giving up some warm, bright, sunny days to be inside reading, reflecting and writing. And my thesis had a spiritual component to it, which I will be getting to, and was certainly challenging intellectually. But, while every other Christian I knew celebrated Easter at the prescribed time last year, I celebrated my own Easter around about the middle of June - in the end, about 100 pages in at least as many days!

The title of my thesis, which was written in the context of a school of community and regional planning, is this: The Relevance of Stewardship in Contemporary Anglican Theology to Sustainability Planning. Let me explain how I arrived at this topic. First, I believe that the planet, in its current state, is physically, biologically, and socially degraded. Second, the degradation is a result of human arrogance about our place on the planet. Third, a new understanding about the role of humans on the planet is necessary if the goal of a life-sustaining planet that includes humans is to be achieved. Fourth, a holistic view of stewardship has potential as a model for defining an appropriate relationship between humans and the rest of creation. Finally (from the perspective of a planning thesis), planners can, and ought to, learn from and contribute to the stewardship model or - from the perspective of an address to this congregation - the church can, and ought to, contribute to municipal planning processes by voicing concerns as stewards of creation.

Achieving sustainability, in my opinion, has to do with changing behaviours. It has to do with challenging us to become fully conscious of our decisions and actions as they relate to the other - other human beings, other living creatures and other non-living parts of creation. In order to accomplish this, we need to - daily - re-examine our place on this planet and develop our understanding about our role here. Thomas Berry, in his book The Dream of the Earth, puts it this way:

"it's all a question of story. We are in trouble just now because we do not have a good story. We are in between stories. The old story, the account of how we fit into it, is no longer effective. Yet we have not learned the new story" ¹ .

This is part of my Lenten challenge this year - to really develop my understanding of what this new story might look like. As a planner, like any other profession, I need to become conscious of what my story is. I need to ask myself, "how do I know what I know", which in some cases leads me to challenge my own beliefs and assumptions.

We, as Christians, can look to the Bible and to the example of the life of Jesus in developing this story. We learn also from theologians who increase our ability to interpret the Bible by providing their own feminist, ecological, or liberation interpretations, among others. We also learn from ecologists, biologists, and other scientists who can help us to understand some of the more mechanical aspects to the relationship between humans and the rest of creation. And, we learn from our own life experiences in the face of the 'other'.

Imagine a room full of people all involved in planning something together - budget cuts for municipal services, for example. Imagine yourself at the front of that room looking around at the people there, and feeling all of a sudden fully conscious of the humanity of everyone around you. The person over there in the corner is not simply the so-and-so who is opposed to this, or in favour of that. Rather, you see in them their complexity. Anything that person says, you realize, stems not simply from the conversation at hand, but is peppered by life experiences. This is a complex conversation to facilitate, and brings home the contradiction of my chosen profession...planning is both necessary and impossible!

This does not make it defeatist, but instead recognizes the sensitivity with which we need to approach our dealings with one another and represents an altogether more realistic picture of the human experience than is represented, say, to students of economics in their textbooks which describe 'humanity' as being 'rational, utility-maximizers with fixed preferences and unsatiable material desires'.

In my opinion, the church has a role to play at being care-takers of our stories, our personal stories and our community stories. As a first step in fully embracing our role as stewards of creation, we must become stewards of our stories. We must ask ourselves who we are and how our personal story fits in with the story of the community - the community of this church, the community of humanity and the community of living and non-living creatures - all objects of God's creation. We must ask ourselves what our story tells us about ourselves, what power our story gives us, and what to do with that power.

The readings today, remind us of who we are - the 'citizens of heaven' in Philippians, the sons and daughters of Abram, in Genesis, the loved-ones of God and of Jesus in the Psalm and in the Gospel; and the readings challenge us in the use of the power associated with this identity. Jesus, the Son of God, describes himself as being like a hen, wanting to gather her chicks under her wings, and this in the face of Herod, the fox. In Psalm 27, David remains confident of this: "I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living". The power we have, in knowing that we are loved by God, is to be used for contributing to the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

We are, gathered here today, a community of individuals who love God and want to do good works. And yet, while this community identity exists, we often know little about each other. In the weeks leading up to our wedding, Chris and I were deeply touched by the number of people who approached us wishing us well and sharing with us a story about themselves - in some cases about their own wedding at this church decades before us. It struck us just how much we valued the people of this community, how important it was to us for you to bear witness to our vows, and yet how little we knew about each other. We have shared these thoughts with several people in the last number of months, and it seems that there are others who have this same feeling. This is important to me, because it seems to me that we can not understand one another when we hear each other speak if we have no other understanding of each other. It is as if we are speaking in different languages.

Recall the passage from 1st Corinthians, chapter 14: "So it is with you. Unless you speak intelligible words with your tongue, how will anyone know what you are saying? You will just be speaking into the air. Undoubtedly there are all sorts of languages in the world, yet none of them is without meaning" (1 Cor. 14: 9-10, NIV). There are as many languages being spoken in this community as there are parishioners, and we exist as a community because our stories, our identities, intersect in this social and physical space. The challenge I would like to present to you today is in learning each other's languages through our stories of this social and physical space.

Between now and Pentecost a story-telling project, called "Speaking into the Air" will take place at St. John's. A small steering group will provide leadership, but the real work of this project will be carried out by each of us as we engage in the sharing of stories. This might take place in the form of written contribution, or through audio or video recordings of interviews, or it might become a community quilt or a photo-montage...the possibilities are as limitless as our collective imagination. The steering group is happy to provide support and will undoubtedly plant some seeds to encourage participation, but its main function will be as facilitators and as communicators.

While this particular project has a short time-line on it, this is not meant to be a one-off event. Paul and Timothy, in the reading from Philippians suggest to us the importance of being reminded of our identity over and over again: "I have often told you before and now say again even with tears..." As a community, it is important for us to remind ourselves of our stories and of the connectedness of these stories in this social and physical space of St. John's. More information on this project will be distributed through notices in the bulletin, on the website, and in the next issue of In Lumine.

A native elder, in discussions with the government officials who had come to the community to claim what is now northwest B.C., asked them: "If this is your land, where are your stories?"

Likewise, we are challenged today to ask ourselves, 'if this is our community, where are our stories?' I invite you to join in the sharing of stories here so that we might learn each other's languages and develop the beginning of a story of this community. It is only in actively exploring this common story that we might find ourselves so inspired that we would change our behaviours to live according to its truth. It is through the sharing of stories that we become aware of the needs and desires of 'the other' and come to understand our role in holding up this 'other', this creature, this object of God's creation, that we might also be held up.

Footnote:
1:    Berry, Thomas (1988). The Dream of the Earth. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, p 123.