God in Me

Today is Indigenous Veterans Remembrance Day and Remembrance Sunday, and I want to tell you a couple of stories about change, about changing the way we do things, about how things changed so we actually have this day to remember, and about how that changes us.

Here's the first story.

My friend Jack died a few weeks ago. I'd known him since I was 13. It was a lifelong relationship, and for a good many years he was the love of my life. I still can't quite believe he's gone. It changed me and has changed the way I do things. For example, since I met him, I prayed for him every night. At the end of saying the Lord's Prayer, I added this part: 'Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Thank you for the food, the day and Jack Zackodnik, wherever he is.'

I always had to add the bit at the end because, over his lifetime, he worked in many places in the world, and sometimes the only communication we had was from an old fax machine I had; once in a while, in the middle of the night, a fax would make its way through from a job site in Venezuela, or I'd receive a late-night call from an opal mine here in BC.

Now, I don't need to say that prayer anymore, but even in the first nights after he left this earth, I still said it; it's hard to change old habits.

History, long ago or recent, isn't just in the past; we still live with its outcomes.

The next story hits closer to home today because it is full of controversy. It begins at Deacon's Day last month (which was amazing and my first as a real deacon!), and there I met the amazing Deacon Lizz Lindsay, who serves as the Chaplain for the Royal Canadian Legion, and maybe some of you know her. She was telling us that just recently, the Canadian Armed Forces issued this Military Personnel Instruction, and I'll quote it:

As of July 2026, Spiritual Reflections in Military Settings replaces traditional faith-specific prayers and religious terms—including mentions of God or the Lord's Prayer—with neutral "spiritual reflections" at official public ceremonies. End of quote.

This means chaplains and speakers must use secular, inclusive reflections focused on gratitude, values, history, and hope instead of faith-specific prayers; this aligns with the Charter of Rights and Freedoms' principle of state religious neutrality because Canada has no single official national religion.

 This change resulted from a court case in 2015. Big change takes time.

I should add, this mandate does not affect funerals (which is coincidental, as the Wisdom reading today is one often used in Catholic funeral Masses) and it does not affect private events or Indigenous ceremony. But while skimming Google for the correct wording of the Military’s instruction, I saw a lot of opposition to this mandate from many Christian outlets, and I had to stop and wonder why, when the reason behind it is to ensure everybody feels respected and included. In our multicultural Canada, this seems correct. In fact, it feels very Christian in nature, actually.

 But it is a big change, and it might take a while to get used to, because change has to change us. I'm thinking now of not having to pray for Jack's safety, because now I know he's safe; his soul is with God forever. Still, for me, it's hard to change lifetime-long habits, and I'll probably miss that little bit of prayer; it will leave an empty space.

I wonder how long it will take for other changes to happen in our society, once we have factual information in front of us, where instead of denying and wrestling with it, we accept it and make the needed changes within ourselves. Sometimes that's hard, even if it's for the best.

I'm also thinking now of the courage and sacrifices of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis veterans in World War I, World War II, the Korean War, and other peacekeeping missions, a group of men and women who were treated so badly when they came back from fighting on behalf of a country that, up until 1951, didn't even recognise them as Canadian citizens. Thankfully, because people raised their voices and championed this cause, things changed, and we can remember and pay respect to their service today.

 History isn't just in the past; we still live with its outcomes, which change us. And I think this change is God in action. God moving in me, God in me.

When I was praying for God to send me a little more to fill out this sermon, I clicked on Facebook as I am wont to do, and there was the perfect quote from my favourite author Madeleine L'Engle, from her book A Circle of Quiet, where she wrote:

 My characters pull me, push me, take me further than I want to go, fling open doors to rooms I don't want to enter, throw me out into interstellar space, and all this is long before my mind is ready for it.

And how perfect an explanation for change, which happens, evolution happens, and sometimes we don't like it or want it, it interferes with our scene, but I think that if we look for the good, which might not happen for decades down the road, we will find it if we have faith and know that change is God moving in us.

 Captain Catherine Askew, an Anglican chaplain from the Moose Factory Cree Nation, presided over a wreath-laying ceremony at Vimy Ridge in April 2007. She said: “We have to give thanks for all the sacrifices they made willingly and how they have contributed to our lives today.” Her words honoured the thousands of Indigenous men and women who served their country, and I'll borrow this prayer today; it is her English translation of her original prayer in Cree.

Hi, hi.
Grandfathers, grandmothers, Good Creator.
We gather here today in this place of honour to
remember your children.
In the face of the impossible,
they fought a battle which helped to win the war.
Let us remember that without their sacrifice,
our lives would not be as they are.
Grandfathers, grandmothers, good Creator.
We hand over to you this day our prayers
and ask that you always be with us
as we honour these warriors that went before us.
In the name of your Son who walked among us.
Amen.

Photo: Deacon Jenn's Uncle Pt Frank Carrasco