On Monday, March 19th, Michael Klassen ('98) came to speak to our students regarding God in the workplace.  Michael shared how  fortunate he was to attend Westgate Mennonite Collegiate and have the support from his teachers and coaches as a highschool student.  His career choice was not known upon graduation. After spending a few years at Red River Community College and managing a Safeway store he knew there was something else out there for him.  God provides us with experiences to help answer the bigger questions in life. Michael is currently working as a constable for the Winnipeg Police Service.

God in the Workplace

Submitted by Michael Klassen

            ...Final Inspection...

The Policeman stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, officer. How shall I deal with You?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church have you been true?"
The officer squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Cause those of us who carry badges can't always be a saint.
But I never took a penny that wasn't mine to keep,
Though I worked a lot of overtime when the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me, I wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place among the people here.
They never wanted me around except to calm their fear.
If you have a place for me here Lord, it needn't be so grand.
I've never expected or had too much.
But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was silence all around the throne where the saints had often trod.
As the officer waited quietly for the answer of his God.
"Step forward now, Officer, you've borne your burdens well.

Come walk a beat on Heaven's Streets. You've done your time in Hell."

                                                                                                                                  -Author Unknown-

Good Morning, my name is Michael Klassen.  I am a Police Officer and I am Christian.

I became a Constable with the Winnipeg Police Service in February of 2005.  At that time, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what I signed up for thanks to the hundreds of TV shows and movies that portray Police.   However, the TV shows often only show one side of the story.  The car chases, the arrests, the interrogations but not the non-criminal incidents.  It's these non-criminal incidents that allow me to see how fortunate I am to have God in my life.

I have worked a majority of my career in General Patrol which I really enjoy due to the variety of things I get to see and experience in a shift.  Whether I'm working days, evenings or midnight shift, my typical day starts the same.  I attend the Public Safety Building down town on Princess/William.  I get changed in my uniform, which includes a bullet proof vest, duty belt containing handcuffs, search gloves, pepper spray, baton, ammunition and a gun.  I inspect myself in the mirror, give the boots a quick polish and head up to the briefing room.  This is where I meet with about 20 other officers that work on my shift.  We having a quick briefing, where we hear about what dangerous offenders may have been released from prison and are a high risk to re offend or we are informed about drug houses, crime trends or gang members in our city that we should be aware of.  We are also provided keys to the cruiser car, our portable radios, a taser and I am told which partner I will be working with for that day.  This typically takes about 15 minutes and then my partner and I head downstairs to the garage.  We get into the cruiser car, advise dispatch we are on the road and we are available for any type of Emergency Call or Non Emergency call that requires Police.  Typically we do not stay available very long as there is always someone waiting for Police to attend their location as they are in some need of assistance.

In my seven years of Policing, I have been dispatched to thousands of calls.  The calls vary from Domestic Disputes, Family Disputes, Neighbour Disputes, Impaired Drivers, Fatal and Non Fatal Motor Vehicle Collisions, Elder Abuse, Child abuse, Assaults, Sexual Assaults , Robberies,  Stabbings, Suicides and Homicides.  Any type of situation where Police are required, I have most likely attended.  I have seen a lot of negative things in my 7 years of Policing.  People at their worst, their angriest, most violent and depressed.  Usually in situations where God feels like he is nowhere in sight.  

About 2 years ago, I met with my pastor Don for coffee as I just needed someone other than another cop or my wife to talk to about work.   It was excellent and I really appreciate how easy Don is to talk to about anything.   During the course of our conversation I was expressing my frustrations with God and how I never realized how many people in this city need His help. 

Don said something that really stuck with me during our time together.  He said, Mike, the tough thing about your job is that you experience so many negative things in one day.  Often you may attend a serious incident, deal with the parties involved and then you are off to the next call, dealing with another serious incident.  There is hardly any follow up to see if the situation ever improved and no relationship with the people interviewed is really made.    He suggested if I look hard enough I could find God in any situation even if it was only God working through me in the course of my duties, God was still present.

I have noticed that even on situations that may seem hopeless, if I look hard enough God is there. 

I've been dispatched to an intersection regarding an intoxicated male who was wandering into traffic.  I approached the male who is wearing dirty clothing, smells strongly of body odor, urine and alcohol.  His hair is dirty, face unshaven; everything he owns is on his back or in his pockets.  My partner and I take him to the drunk tank and upon searching his pockets I find a copy of Our Daily Bread, a daily devotional book.

I've been dispatched to a home where a child about 10 years old had a horrible accident.  We arrived just after the paramedics did and they were working on the child attempting to resuscitate him.  As the paramedics rushed the child to the ambulance my partner and I remained on scene to speak to the parents.  I start asking myself, where is God in a situation like this.  That is when the mother tells me she has to make a phone call and runs to the phone.  I over hear the conversation and she asks the person on the other side of the phone to start a prayer chain for her child.

I've been dispatched to a known drug house where a 35 year old has overdosed from an awful drug addiction.  As we enter the room we observe hundreds of needles and other drug paraphernalia scattered on the dresser and floor.  Posters on the wall of half naked women cover the suite and it would appear to me that this person has no relationship with God.  That's when I notice a piece a paper thumb tacked to the wall and on it are the Ten Commandments.

I've been dispatched to home to assist an old man in locating his wife.  We arrive and meet with the man who is about 75 years old.  I see pictures in the background of the old man and his wife.  Pictures of what appears to be his grandchildren cover the walls and a note on the fridge says I love you Oma and Opa. 

The man tells me his wife suffers from Alzheimer's and this morning she was having an episode.  Wearing only her house coat and slippers she stormed out the door looking for her father.   In her mind she was a young girl back in Europe and wanted to see her dad.  The man said he tried to stop her but she wouldn't listen and was becoming violent. He said he didn't want to hurt her by holding her back so she walked out of the house. A combination of the man's age, the weather conditions and fear that his wife's anger would escalate the husband was not able to follow her.  The man was almost in tears and he was asking for our help to find his wife. 

We searched the area and found the woman several blocks away and brought her to the hospital as the frostbite was visible on her body.  We called the husband on the phone who agreed to meet us at the hospital.  As we were standing in the waiting room, the husband accompanied by one of his daughters came in and ran to his wife. His wife was still confused an unaware of her surroundings; however the husband hugged his wife and cried.

After going back and thinking about this call I realized how the relationship between the husband and wife is very similar to the relationship so many people have with God.   No matter what choices we make in life, God is always waiting for us with open arms.

I am so thankful to have God in my life.  Without Him, so many of the calls for service I attend would seem hopeless. 

Where someone else might see a life wasted to drugs and alcohol, I see a person with a severe addiction problem trying to maintain a relationship with God. 

Where someone might see a bum with a free book, I see a homeless man who God has not given up on. 

Where someone might see a mother make a phone call to a friend to share horrible news, I see a community come together in prayer to pray for a grief stricken family. 

His presence may not be obvious all the time, but living my life as a Christian has enabled me to see God in even the most desperate situations.

How do you prepare your child for school?  When faced with this question many of us jump automatically to the nuts and bolts of scholastic preparedness.  School supplies, proper nutrition, sufficient sleep and appropriate clothing.  These have long been considered the basic requirements for optimal learning in a school setting. Last week Westgate staff attended a retreat in Gimli, MB led by Gordon Neufeld PhD, author of Hold On To Your Kids.  According to Dr. Neufeld these are in fact, not the most important tools for success in school and in life.  He uses the backpack analogy to illustrate the idea of providing your children with a sense of curiosity, an ability to learn from their mistakes and to process dissonance.

In September, my son Adam, then 16, realized his dream of playing for the WHL with the Lethbridge Hurricanes.  He moved to Alberta and is living with a wonderful billet-family and travelling across Western Canada and the US with his team.  In January my 19 year old daughter Sarah left for a year of work and travel in Ireland, and is enjoying meeting people from around the world and experiencing a new culture. My youngest, 14 year old Christian, is in his first year of high school and adjusting to being an "only" child.  This has been a difficult year for my husband and me as we learn to parent through text messages and Skype, working hard to keep our family ties as strong as possible from a great distance.  As my children were preparing to leave home I was frequently asked if they were ready.  That is a difficult question to answer. I could of course, only speculate, hope and pray that indeed they were ready; ready to face the challenges that lay ahead of them... especially for the two who would be doing it without us.  Oh sure, we purchased all the necessary items for travel and tried to think ahead and anticipate every physical need, but emotionally, spiritually, were they ready?

As I listened to Dr. Neufeld, he described how a full "backpack" comes from the attachment children have with their family.  Their sense of safety, their values and self-worth give them the courage and strength to face life with a soft heart and an open mind, not fearing the vulnerability that is required to truly be open to learning something new. And as he described what is more commonly missing in our world today in terms of attachment, I realized that this question of whether my children were "ready" was not new to me. I had essentially been checking their "backpacks" since they were infants.   My children know that they can live through difficult times and come out stronger.  They know that sometimes they need to face adversity in order to get to where they want to go.  They also know they have our unconditional support and love regardless of mistakes they have made and despite the sometimes arduous journey (we all must take) through adolescence.

Dr. Neufeld would suggest we send our children off to school each day with an extra supply of love, encouragement, gentle guidance, support and understanding. As parents, it is not our role to eliminate hardship or frustration but rather to be there to hold them close when times are tough and reassure them that success is just on the other side of failure.  As we move through our hectic daily lives, let us pause regularly to check the "backpack", and make sure our children are well prepared.

* A copy of Dr. Neufeld's book is available to be borrowed from the school. 

On a recent Family Studies test, students were asked to identify and describe a family ritual and explain its importance to their family.  Many students shared of their Christmas and summer traditions.  Students told fabulous stories about their Sunday dinners at Oma's to hot, July Long Weekends in the Whiteshell with their cousins.  One student in particular made me stop in my tracks and question the traditions I'm establishing in my own household. 

                "Having a prayer night the night before Christmas and the night before the New Year is my family tradition.

                My dad is a pastor and this tradition has been passed down from my great-great grandfather. Since I can remember we have had this tradition.  For me that is nearly 15 years.  It has been expanding since the war broke out in the Congo.  So wherever and whenever my dad would move he would share this tradition the other families.  Now not only are we praying at the New Year but every second Friday of the month.  We stay up with our church and have the whole night to pray.

                I love this tradition because kids get to connect with their parents and we get tough and strengthened in our faith.  It also helps us recognize what our great ancestors that came before us tried to drill into us.

                I would love to teach my kids this tradition so that they teach their children too.  If they don't want to pray I am sure they will want to stay up after midnight!!  It might inspire them to focus on the real reason I taught it to them, that is to recognize and respect the people who came before them."

                Thanks to Consolée the roles of teacher and student are once again reversed.  Thank you for sharing this amazing family tradition with us.  I am humbled once again.  What family traditions do you pass on from generation to generation?  I think I need to add one.

This commentary is submitted by,
Karina Fast
Family Studies Teacher

Not only did the plane light up; it also moved in a circle all by itself. When I was in Kindergarten, we lived in Germany. I remember going shopping with my mom at the Kaufhof. She would leave me in the toy section, while she went off to get groceries and the like. Every time it was the same: I would move with alacrity into the transportation aisle hoping that it would still be there. And it always was. I would put the box in my lap and dream of owning that Boeing 747, the motorized, flashing replica of the mightiest of all planes, the paragon of the world of flight.

When Christmas came shortly before we left Germany, I couldn't believe it. How did my mom know? How could she have known that I wanted that plane? But there it was, under the tree, Christmas morning. I don't think I took it out of the box until we got back to Canada. Maybe in some childish way, I wanted to hold on to the feeling of awe, knowing that once the box was opened and the plane started to get scuffed and broken, it would no longer be that plane in the shopping centre. I proudly carried that boxed 747 on the plane home; it was my only carry-on.

This past summer, my mom had a stroke. She is doing well, but both her memory and speech have been affected. I'm not sure what she remembers of Christmas in Germany. It may well be that I am the only one who remembers the excitement of a five-year-old who received the plane of his dreams. And this is a tough thing to realize. Although I can tell other people this story, for them it is only a story. To my mom and me, though, it is more than that; it is an experience that we have carried together. But now, I'm not sure where it is in her mind.

Recently, some students asked me about teaching (probably just to get me sidetracked from the lesson at hand). They asked me whether it is cool to see students years after they graduate, to think that I may have shaped them in some way. In the typical, aggravating teacher manner, I answered their question with a question. I asked them if they thought that was the point. Do we do things so that we are remembered? Do we teach others so that we can see our presence in their lives in the future? It is tempting to hope that may occur, I suppose.  But if that is all a present action means, then almost everything we do is meaningless. If we do things simply to be remembered, we have already lost, for it is very tough to think of actions that will not one day drown in a sea of irrelevance.

Nakim Hikmet in his poem "On Living" writes:

Living is no laughing matter:

                you must live with great seriousness

                                like a squirrel, for example -

  I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,

                                I mean living must be your whole occupation.

First of all, I need to say that I love the switch from "seriousness" to "a squirrel." I think that switch is what pulled me into this poem when I first read it. But as I look at that switch more carefully, I feel that it is not simply good poetic technique. It captures the fact that seriousness is not about contemplation after an event or about the memory of something that happened; rather, seriousness is about actually being in an event to begin with. Hikmet continues in his poem:

I mean, you must take living so seriously

   that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees -

   and not for your children, either

Here again, notice the switch. We are led by Hikmet to think, ah yes, we need to think about the future, if not for us, then for our children, but then he pulls the rug out from under us. It's not the future that makes an action important; it is somehow about the action itself.

As I sit with my mom, I may have to repeat myself, I may even need to explain things that she was a part of, but that's okay. We share that moment, and that moment is what it is, whether it is remembered or not. So, I suppose, my mom continues to teach me things; maybe that is one of those things that will truly never end. I look forward to Christmas this year. In some ways it is a first Christmas for my mom and our family. But then, come to think of it, every Christmas I've had is in some way a first Christmas; it's funny that it is so easy to forget something so simple.

As a teenager, I never liked eating the peel of an apple. It embarrasses me to say it, but my mom spent significant energy peeling and quartering apples for me. I remember one day, the two of us sitting at a table, talking about something. It was one of those intense, engaging talks. It goes without saying that I've already forgotten what the topic was, but I do remember that the discussion was so intense that as my mom peeled my apple, she kept eating each quarter instead of giving it to me. By the time we both noticed, there were four pieces of apple core on the plate. My mom's smile and laughter as she realized what she had done is still etched in my memory. Thanks mom, for peeling my apples even when you ate them yourself. Thanks for being in the moment so many times. Thanks for taking life seriously and continually teaching me to do the same.

Westgate Tuesday chapels are a time of worship, praise and prayer.  Our staff and students are given the opportunity to worship together.  What a gift.  How often does your boss schedule a prayer meeting at 8:30 a.m.? 

Frequently, a guest speaker will share their faith story, or a staff member will prepare a message.  Last month an exuberant pastor from one of the supporting churches jumped at an opportunity to speak to our student body.  In addition to speaking, our chapels are filled with music as our morning voices resonate off the cafeteria walls. God must certainly be smiling.

This past week chapel took a unique turn.  Three staff members came forward to share their favourite scripture passages.  In addition to a busy teaching schedule, preparing for chapels can be a stressful task.  As many of our staff members are called to teach, leading worship can often place them outside of their comfort zone.  As I witnessed on Tuesday, this was definitely not the case.

With confidence and an open heart, several staff members shared their passages with passion and a desire to give the students a sneak peek into their book of faith.  Here is what they had to say:

Ms. Jennifer How - Romans 12:12

12 Rejoice in confident hope, be patient in trouble, keep on praying.

Ms. How frequently uses this passage in her daily life, whether she's in her cubicle of a gym office or on the wooden planked basketball court.  Ms. How shared how she frequently sends God "arrow prayers" throughout the day as she seeks his guidance as a coach and teacher.

Mr. John Loewen -  John 10:10

10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

 Mr. Loewen chose this passage as a reminder of his walk with Christ.  As a teenager he saw Christians as two-faced, often talking the talk but not walking the walk.  Christianity was something he didn't want to associate himself with.  He was reminded by his older brother that "we're all hypocrites" and God wants us to work at our relationship with him on a continual basis.  Mr. Loewen's perspective was altered by the attraction of Christ's gift of a full and "abundant life."

Mr. Bob Hummelt - Matthew 6: 25-34

25 "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 28 And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.

30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you-you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not worry, saying, "What will we eat?' or "What will we drink?' or "What will we wear?' 32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But strive first for the kingdom of God  and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 "So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today.

Mr. Hummelt's faith journey began with a theme of anxiousness and worry.  Mr. Hummelt shared of his times as a young student and teacher.  Dealing with Tourrettes' Syndrome and "OCD-like tendencies" resulted in doubt in his abilities as a leader and professional.  Mr. Hummelt, our spirited leader, shared his insecurities.  Students received an invaluable gift Tuesday morning as they too could relate to his fear as an adolescent.  The passage states clearly not to worry about tomorrow as God will take care of it.  The heavenly Father knows  all of our concerns and will be there for you.  Worry never goes away, even as an adult.  Mr. Hummelt frequently turns to this passage when doubt seeps in.

Mr. Ross Brownlee - Hymn No. 42 - All people that on earth do dwell

All people that on earth do dwell, sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.  Him serve with mirth, his praise forth tell, come ye before him and rejoice.

"Little Ross" loved to sing.  He began his musical career at the early age of six where he sang in a Mens'/Boys' choir.  Their practice schedule was as grueling as any AAA hockey team, meeting Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturday mornings.  In addition to practicing, he would perform in two worship services on Sunday, until the age of 19.  Wow!  Many would look back at such intensity with negative thoughts. However, not Mr. Brownlee.  He shared with the students his memory of hymn #42.  The group of male voices would gather around the congregation at All Saints Anglican Church located at the corner of Broadway and Osborne.  The words of the hymn are etched in his memory.  Music is powerful.

Mr. Vic Pankratz - Hymn No. 493 - I heard the voice of Jesus say

"Little Vic's" passion is singing.  As a teacher he has led thousands of voices over his teaching career.  On a daily basis he sells his love and passion of music.  He does recall one musical regret from his early years.  As a young boy, his parents wanted for him to be a member of the Mennonite Children's Choir.  Can you believe it?  Little Vic declined, for reasons that would surprise you.  The song selection, leadership and talent was evident in the historical group. The formal uniforms did nothing for him.  As a result, Mr. Pankratz missed out on that opportunity and to this day regrets his decision.  Missing out on a powerful worship opportunity still sits with him today.  Perhaps this is the reason he is so great at providing continuous musical opportunities for his students.

So, when I started reading my class's "The Book That Changed My Life" Essays and found that I was not alone, I felt the urge to hang on one more time. Harry Potter was a clear "winner" again as his books led the way in the essays, not because they were the students' favourites, nor because they were the most fun to read, but for other, more fascinating reasons. But instead of taking my word for it, sit back and take a look at two of these essays to see how the boy who lived may not be dead just yet.

The Presence of Potter

After waiting seven years for a letter I will never receive, I have come to the conclusion that Hogwarts isn't interested. Although this was a hard and sad realization, it is one that I have come to terms with. However, in a way I did receive my letter the moment I entered into J.K. Rowling's world of magic.

I walked the halls with Harry and Ron on their very first day and I was celebrating in the Gryffindor common room the day they won the Quidditch Cup. This series allowed me an escape from the real stresses and complications of life. By turning a page I could be apparated far from my home and into the Burrow where an excited Mrs. Weasley prepared dinner.

I have, however, felt connections like this with many books that I have read. The thing which makes the Harry Putter series so life changing is not only how it has been a part of my life for so many years, but also that many aspects of my life seem somehow able to be referenced back to Harry Potter.

I have memories of specific places I visited in Germany, only because of where in the fifth Harry Potter book I happened to be. Allow me to explain: while sitting in our guest room at my aunt and uncle's house, my sister and I were discussing the novel. She was farther ahead than I, so knew many plot advancements of which I was not yet aware. She managed to let slip the death of Sirius Black, which to this day I am still recovering from. I don't remember the design of the wallpaper or the placement of the beds in our room because I have a good memory; it's rather due to the fact that it was the place I lost Sirius. He was taken from me before I was ready to see him go.

The real-life implications these books have had on my life extend further than their words. My family has grown closer to our dearest family friends on account of the Harry Potter series. When a new book would be released "debriefing sessions" were always called for and discussing the magnificence of Rowling's work in the lineups at Silver City gave us reasons to get together. Over the span of our fifteen years' friendship, this series applied the glue to our separating pages.

Had I never picked up my first Harry Potter book, I know my life would have turned out differently. Not only would I be a part of the "non-readers", but I would also have missed out on making such close friends. I may not have been physically yelled at by Snape in potions class, but somehow I know exactly what it feels like. This escape into the wizarding world gave a mere muggle such as myself the chance to experience magic.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

by Michaela Loewen

According to my mother, my first grade teacher thought I was as stupid as they came. Not only did she think I was most likely going to be illiterate, she tried to make me use humiliating forms of "learning tools". It's not my fault, I was a little shy. It also didn't help that her name was Mrs. Buffy and she did in fact closely resemble Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So needless to say she was kind of scary, but I guess I owe her a little, seeing as it was because of her disbelief in my academic capabilities that got me hell-bent on proving her and anyone else otherwise.

It was that November of the first grade that my parents took me to see the premiere Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. (It was the first in a very long line of birthday traditions) I got home from the theater that night so utterly enthralled and amazed by what I had seen, I asked my mom to give me the first book to begin reading immediately. This night is probably one of the most vivid reading related memories of my childhood (I'll leave that up to whomever to decide how sad that may or may not be). I sat in the rocking chair in my parents' room and opened the book to chapter one and soon after quite suddenly burst into tears. When my mom came in she asked me what the problem was and I explained to her that I could hardly read the first sentence. She in turn smiled and comforted me.

One thing she did say to me was that I would have tough luck next year when the second movie came out because I wasn't allowed to see it until I'd read the next book. Well that was it for me. I spent the better part of the rest of first grade improving my reading skills and by November 2002 I had finished both books. I can remember it was one of the most satisfying experiences for an eight year old that was brought to tears by the sentence "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley lived on number 4 Privet drive and were proud to say that they were perfectly normal thank you very much." (And yes I did write that from memory).

Harry Potter is no Hamlet and it's definitely no Ana Karenina but it is the book that, as cheesy as it may seem, taught me to persevere through tough situations, that no goal is not achievable, that sometimes teachers seem to hate you but it's not really your fault because they're obviously just jealous of your dad, and that sometimes when you don't understand why things happen you just have to wait it out for the bigger picture to reveal itself. 

Every book in the series has come to me at different stages in my life and I really do feel like I've grown up with the characters. Maybe it's just my inner Potter nerd but for almost any situation in my life I could give you Harry Potter reference, but I think that it's because everyone at one point in their lives can identify with feeling lonely and wishing like crazy there was a magic world somewhere where they could be whisked away able to curse their enemies and eat chocolate frogs and drink pumpkin juice to their hearts' delight. (Although that could very well just be me).

"I had not been to church since I was 10 years old, and even then it had bored me.  But that night, in the thick September humidity I lay in bed and prayed aloud.  I asked God to consider this remote country and those seven children in it, seven dots of humanity." (Little Princes, pg. 113)

In Little Princes, Conor Grennan shared of his adventures in Nepal which began with his visit to the infamous base camp of Everest, as well as volunteering three months in the "little princes" orphanage.  His initial, insincere motive led to his life-long passion of rescuing child-trafficked orphans and reuniting families.

A few weeks ago during one of my "quick" Costco visits I ventured down the book aisle.  Little Princes seemed to smile at me from the stack of books.  Not only did I love the title, I fell for the beautiful child wearing a yellow toque sitting in front of a large blue door.  In addition, the caption read "...one man's promise to bring home the lost children of Nepal..." 

Just that very day I had told one of my brilliant grade nine students how I'm frequently reluctant to pick up non-fiction. "Why?" was his obvious response.  When I read non-fiction, I always learn something that leaves me with more questions where I struggle to find the answers.

With that conversation in mind, I threw it in the cart and headed towards the free samples in the next aisle.

A friend of mine spotted me reading the book a few days later and asked if it was a good read.  I looked up from my blue book with the child in the yellow hat and stated "...yes, I'm learning..."

Conor Grennan began his volunteer stint with little knowledge in the area of children.  He knew he loved the outdoors and meeting people; however, the only thing he thought he had in common with children was watching Saturday morning cartoons and eating sugared cereal back home in North America.  Conor had no idea what he was in for.  Children, regardless of where they are from, don't give you time to ease into their world.  The children in Nepal threw themselves at him, both figuratively and literally.  When the civil war broke out Connor had no choice but to flee back to New York City.  Although he had physically escaped the atrocities of the conflict, mentally he remained in the orphanage with the children he had loved yet had abandoned.

I've travelled; I'm proud of my passport.  It's been stamped in a number of European countries and guided me across the American border for weekend getaways and ski vacations.  Sadly, it has never been used for God's mission as its primary focus.

Conor Grennan dove into a volunteer experience that taught him more than he initially bargained for.  God is so clever.  Are we up for God's challenges?  Personally I entered into a career of teaching because I loved working with children; I had energy to share and the enthusiasm to teach.  The profession has, in a way, been like picking up a non-fiction piece of literature.  I'm learning every step of the way, and sometimes unsure if I'm prepared for God's challenges.

God continues to send people and students into my life everyday to guide, challenge and teach me.  What about you?  What travels are in your future and how are you using your "passport" of life?  What recent mission or task have you undertaken that leaves you feeling tested?  God's plan is for good.  It's up to us to use our gifts, sharing them with others and learning along the way.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Jeremiah 29:11

Let me say firstly, how much I appreciate this invitation to offer the address this evening. I hardly have to tell you that this is the Bursary Banquet of Westgate Mennonite Collegiate, and I suspect that I don't have to point out that my surname is not in fact of Dutch or German extraction-it is highland Scots-and that my formal church affiliation is hardly one born of the radical Anabaptist reformation. I am from that priest-ridden, infant-baptizing, text-heavy tradition called Anglicanism. In the church building in which our congregation gathers for worship you will find not only a Canadian flag but also a Union Jack. I'm not even going to mention the origins of the other flags that hang in that space, though I will tell you that one of my fondest wishes would be to see them all retired to a military museum. And that fond wish is your fault-"you" being the heirs of the radical reformation.

You see, in spite of my surname and my church membership, I do come to you with a bit of a Mennonite heritage. No, I did not grow up thinking that watermelon cries out for Roll Kuchen, that proper chicken noodle soup needs star anise, or that the real name for perogies is vereniki (best served with cream gravy, thank you very much). Growing up, if I thought about Mennonites at all I made the same mistake that many people still make. Mennonite? Aren't those the one with the buggies and bonnets? Aren't they sort of like Hutterites? They're really strict and old-fashioned, right?

But then I was brought on side. By the time I was sixteen, I could tell you that while Menno Simons, Jacob Hutter and Jacob Amman were all part of the same broad movement within the radical reformation, the traditions which flowed from each were quite distinct. I could also tell you a bit about the differences between the General Conference and the Mennonite Brethren, and even describe something of the way in which the Russian experience impacted the two groups, albeit in different ways. Of course, I could tell you all that from the Mennonite Brethren perspective, because when I was sixteen I was in my third of four years as a student at MBCI.

Oh, I know; that is the "other" school. Blame my parents... they didn't know better. They sent me-and "sent" is the operative word here-to MBCI for two reasons. Firstly, my public junior high school was full to overflowing, and engaged in a new and experimental model called "team teaching," which in practical terms meant that the teachers had little or no clue about the students sitting in their classes. Secondly, because my public school teachers had no clue as to who I was, I was happily becoming the kind of kid my parents did not want me to become, namely the quietly rebellious outsider who could slip by doing a minimum of work, connecting to no one other than the peers who shared a similar view of things.

The smaller classes, higher educational standards, and Christian orientation of MBCI offered the alternative, or so my parents believed. To my then 14-year-old mind, I was simply being shipped off to the Mennonites (whatever they were...) to be fixed. The faith-based school as reformatory. The thing is, in my case it kind of worked. For the most part I spent my grade 9 year sullen and resentful, sneaking off at noon hour to smoke cigarettes and play pinball at Harry's Cash-and-Carry corner store, accompanied by two or three other like-minded students (I wonder whatever happened to Jacob Klassen*? Poor lad, before me he'd never done anything so risqué as to shoot a game of pinball, though he got pretty good over that year. And to my everlasting relief, he never did take one of my cigarettes).

But you know, even in grade nine my sullen armor began to show weakness.  There was this teacher who held me back one day and asked me about some assignment I had written. He actually told me that he thought I was a good writer...  And this other teacher-"The Great Epp" the students called him-who in this lovely and teasing way kept urging me to use my mind. These two actually thought I had something to say?

Long story short, in the summer between grade nine and grade ten, this moderately rebellious kid was convinced by some friends to spend a week at a Young Life youth camp, where I had a whiz bang classic conversion wake-up experience. I later came to question some of the methodology of that camp program, but I will not for a moment question how incredibly significant it was for me. I headed back to MBCI in the fall of grade 10, ready to engage and embrace all it had to offer. In fact, in grade 12 I was even the student council co-president-a role shared with Stan Kroeker, best known around Westgate as the spouse of Frau Kroeker-and had actually managed to lift my marks from the middling sixties to a respectable mid-80s, grade 12 math and physics notwithstanding. More importantly, I had learned to think and read, and to engage faith, ethics, and ideas in a critical way.

But here's the thing. I will happily acknowledge the debt I owe to several key teachers-and given the way Mennonite circles work, I will assume that the names Lloyd Penner, Ken Reddig, Peter Peters, Harry Wall, and John Epp mean something to at least some of you-and to the Mennonite Brethren conference as a whole. That experience and those people were a huge part in making me what I am today, namely a priest of the Anglican Church of Canada. Yes, I have a particular appreciation for the heirs of the radical reformation, and yes I have continued to move in and out of Mennonite circles right up to today. I have taught in the CMU Outtatown program, and lead workshops at several of the Refreshing Winds worship conferences. I have seen one daughter graduate from MBCI, and will eventually see Callaway graduate from Westgate. I have led chapel services at both CMU and Westgate, and served as the grad retreat speaker for MBCI. I have preached or led adult education sessions at various Mennonite Churches. And those flags hanging in the worship space at All Saints church continue to be a problem for me. It was this tradition that first challenged me to think differently about the relationship of the church to the nation state; a challenge that became even more profound when I eventually discovered the writings of John Howard Yoder.  

But I am a priest of the Anglican tradition. And if you really wanted to trace my influences, you would count the Presbyterian Church where I spent my elementary school years, Church of the Way where I spent junior high and high school, and then both MBCI and Young Life. Now add to that a couple of key professors in my undergraduate degree, and the Anglican parish priest who took the much younger version of me under his wing, and you have a fairly complex formation process. The Anglican Church got me when I was well formed and ready to move toward ministry; it was the people at Westwood Presbyterian Church, MBCI, the Church of the Way, and Young Life who devoted the time, energy, resources, and money.

And this is all the long way around to saying what I most want to say to you tonight. From an institutional and denominational point of view, the operation of a faith-based school is a gift, not an investment. From an institutional and denominational point of view, there is absolutely no guarantee of any return on your dollar here. The young people who receive their education at Westgate may or may not end up as members of Mennonite churches, and they may or may not eventually attend bursary banquets or support the school financially. Some will root themselves in the churches of this tradition, others will find other church homes, and some will inevitably end up opting out all together. Both the students who come from Mennonite homes and those who come from other backgrounds will all come to a place where they will make their own adult decisions as to what they are going to do about this Christian faith. Given this, the role of the faith-based school is to provide a solid and well-rounded educational formation, which takes seriously the idea that we are intellectual, spiritual, physical and social beings. The decision to make a donation to the bursary fund really means that you value what the school has to offer, and that you are prepared to help gift that to a student who would not otherwise be able to be here. But that really is a releasing of a gift, no strings attached and no secondary agenda at work.

A word of caution is in order here. In the name of being more sensitive or inclusive of students coming from other backgrounds, it might be tempting to think it best to soft-peddle the distinctly Mennonite identity of the school. I think that is a problem. In the case of my own Anglican tradition, there are countless examples of schools and colleges that used to be Anglican, but gradually gave up that identity for the sake of moving with the times. Such places often have a lovely chapel that stands largely unused, and probably a crest that shows some vestiges of the Christian roots of the school, but otherwise you'd never know that the church had any role in its foundation. That is such a loss.

Rather than downplaying its Mennonite heritage, the best thing Westgate might do is claim it afresh. What informed the radical reformation, and what particular gifts does that have to offer to the wider church and society? That's more than just the stuff of Mennonite culture-though I have to admit that without Roll Kuchen, watermelon now tastes rather dull. What were the foundational commitments of the forebears of this tradition? What informed the worship life? Where does the tradition of Mennonite education come from? How might the historic commitment to peace and non-violence speak to this present world? And the lived, hands-on spirituality of actually doing something in the name of Christ? How can all of that get brought forward and claimed in new ways?

And I'd want to put particular emphasis on this tradition's sense of the faith as being something you do; something lived out, practiced and enacted. When I was a university student and still quite new to my Anglican church home, my parish priest had the opportunity to go to Israel, and a Mennonite colleague of his arranged for him to go and see the work that MCC was doing in a Palestinian community. When he came back, he told me that after spending a day with those MCC workers he had been "embarrassed to be an Anglican." He told me that MCC was working at the most basic level, doing community development work; offering literacy education to women and children and developing work projects that had the potential to be a part of a sustainable economy. "And do you know what the Anglicans are doing?" he asked me. "We're running a big, beautiful empty church, and a college that specializes in teaching one and two week courses to people visiting from England and North America."

That pragmatic emphasis on actually "doing the faith" is deeply needed, both by the wider church and by the world in which we all live. And what a gift to offer to students.

This is what is at stake when I speak of the gift of the Mennonite school. And all of us here-whether we come from a Mennonite background or not-are being invited to have a role in the making and giving of the gift.

* not his real name

Jamie Howison
March 21, 2011