WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER - CHRISTMAS EVE

On Christmas Eve we gather to celebrate a startling claim: that God did not remain distant, abstract, or safely removed from the mess of the world.

God came among us, flesh and blood, fragile and dependent - born into poverty, into uncertainty, into a world where daily bread was never guaranteed.

The Incarnation is not sentimental.

It is concrete.

God chose to dwell among ordinary people, in ordinary places, under ordinary pressures. God chose neighbourhoods. God chose bodies. God chose hunger and vulnerability as the place where love would be made known.

That truth has been unfolding for me all over again this Advent not in Bethlehem, but at 7th & Vine.

What We Gave - And What We Received

Earlier this week I issued a simple challenge: if roughly 500 people would be coming to worship across our four Sunday services, what might happen if each person brought just one item of food?

We didn’t quite reach 500.

But taken across the week, the response was generous, faithful, and deeply moving.

Food appeared steadily.

At the Field Artillery concert on the 15th, someone quietly slipped a single can of tuna into the offering box. A small gesture and yet exactly the kind of thing Jesus notices.

Then came something wholly unexpected.

I received a handwritten note with a cheque from someone who explained that mobility issues made shopping difficult. They had been following the pantry story closely and were concerned that once Christmas passed, donations might slow even though hunger would not. Enclosed was a cheque for $1,000, with the simple instruction: use this to buy food in January.

I sat with that for a long time.

It was far more than I would ever have asked for.

And it was unmistakably grace; the Spirit stirring generosity not out of guilt, but out of love and foresight.

Alongside that came emails. Many emails.

“I have ideas for extending this ministry.”

“I didn’t know this existed in my neighbourhood, thank you for telling us.”

“I shared this with a friend; they want to donate food — where exactly is the pantry?”

These were not transactional responses.

They were signs of something deeper being born:  a community awakening to its neighbours, discovering its agency, recognizing that mission is not something the Church does alone, but something God draws us into together.

Neighbours Helping Neighbours

Once again, logistics intervened. There was simply too much food for me to transport by bike.

And once again, the neighbourhood responded.

HeyYa (www.heyya.ca), a local Burrard Street company that rents electric street-legal golf carts — offered the use of a six-seater cart. On December 23rd, the owner, Tasha Maynard, arrived herself. Together we bagged the food, loaded the cart, and drove it up to the pantry. She stayed to help unload.

HeyYa is a living example of what it means to know who your neighbour is — and to love that neighbour. Social action isn’t an add-on to their business; it’s woven into their culture.

When we arrived at the pantry, three people were already there:

an elderly woman speaking heavily accented English,

a mother pushing a stroller,

another older woman waiting quietly.

Within minutes there were a dozen people gathered — thanking us, marveling at the quality and quantity of food, expressing delight and relief. The gratitude was humbling. Their joy was real.

And once again I found myself asking the harder questions, ones I will continue to sit with in the days ahead:

Why does such hunger exist in the midst of such wealth?

What does this say about our priorities, as a city, a province, a nation?

And what is God asking of us next?

Scripture, Mission, and the Shape of Love

Jesus says, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor… then come, follow me.”

And again: “Love the Lord your God… and love your neighbour as yourself.”

These are not abstract commands.

They are invitations into a way of life.

William Temple insisted that the Church exists primarily for those who are not yet its members and that worship divorced from social responsibility becomes hollow. The Five Marks of Mission give us language for this:

• responding to human need by loving service;
  
  
• transforming unjust structures;
  
  
• proclaiming the Good News not only with words, but with lives shaped by compassion.
  
  

What we have seen at the Kits pantry this Advent is mission in its most incarnational form:

God’s love made tangible,

faith translated into action,

community discovering its calling.

God With Us… Still

On Christmas Eve, we proclaim Emmanuel, God with us.

Not God above us.

Not God distant from us.

But God with us:  in grocery bags and electric carts, in shared labour and quiet generosity, in neighbours feeding neighbours without judgement or fanfare.

Tonight, as we sing O Come All Ye Faithful and kneel before the mystery of the Word made flesh, I give thanks, profoundly, for this Cathedral community and all who have joined in this work.

You have fed the hungry.

You have answered the call of the Gospel.

You have shown what love looks like when it takes flesh.

In doing so, you have made room, not only in a pantry, but in the world, for Christ to be born again among us.

Thank you.

And have a blessed Christmas.