At first, if you don’t know the word, try to say it with your inner voice … DAYENU. Then say it out loud – Da-ye-nu – like a child trying to say something for the first time … Repeat it with more confidence … Finally see if you can do it while you are laughing – Da-da-da-ye-nu !!! Over the past thousand years “DAYENU” has been the refrain line of a Hebrew children’s song sung by Jewish families at their Passover Feast. An adult will sing the multiple verses (one-at-a-time) and everyone will respond with “DAYENU” … which means “It would be enough”. It is about never forgetting to be thankful for the gifts we have received... Faithful Jewish people know the historical stories they rehearse every time they touch their home’s doorway Mezuzah (and repeat the Shema). Repeatedly their story-song stanzas tell about leaving slavery (in Egypt), about the miracles they witness as they journey through the wilderness, and about what it means to be with their God… The stories are recalled with such spontaneity that the reminder is “to never forget the miracles of our lives”. DAYENU – it is enough! Ukrainian President Zelensky, even in the midst of today’s violence and devastation in his homeland, repeats the Passover song with his Jewish family. “DAYENU”. In this year 2022 when Passover and Good Friday occur on the same day, we non-Jews, as we sing, can give meaning with additional stories … about masks and social distancing … about the hardships of needing to learn to meet by zoom and stay away from the places where we normally congregate … about truck convoys … race riots … children’s unmarked graves … environmental degradation … On the one hand we ask “Will it ever be enough?” even while we are think of the blessings we ignore. DAYENU – sometimes it is sung with the voice of the grieving, sometimes with the voices of children at play … “We must TRY to never forget!” Barbara Bizou writes “this song/prayer said at the Passover Meal … provides a powerful contemporary outlook on life, a call to mindfulness about the way we currently lead our lives.” An additional verse is added in Christian hymn books. It invites all of us to celebrate our God-given freedom gifts - But our God who holds the banquet Calls the whole invited world into freedom. Opens up the new creation DAYENU. DA-DA-DA-YE-NU-U (In the Easter tradition the last verse of this song and its refrain can be sung any time. See Hymn 131 in “Voices United”, a hymn book of The United Church of Canada.)

( Apologies are never easy. It takes time to unload the baggage. That’s what I learned when I was helping our community to neighbour with folks from the Piikani Nation. The story happened at the turn of the New Century.) It was the way our local Chief spat out the term “missionary” when he addressed our Annual NAPI Friendship Association meeting that upset me. I sought advice from Elisa, my friend and advisor. After carefully questioning me, and agreeing that both Natives and non-natives needed to “clean up” their attitude and their language, she suggested I go to the Chief, ask for a meeting and then tell him “I have it in my heart (to say what needs to be said)”. I stopped by his office … and then later tried to phone to get an appointment … I received no contact … but by this time I had practised several versions of what I might say. One day I saw the Chief walk through the door of the local Co-op where I was having coffee … So I boldly walked up to ask for an appointment. “Tell me what you want now!” was his reply. I gulped air because I didn’t feel “ready” … but tentatively started to explain how I felt about him discrediting the very Ministerial Association from the community that had worked with the Piikani people to found the NAPI Friendship Association 10 years previous. “I felt embarrassed lest any White church people heard you speak. We Whites have certainly had to learn how to edit what we say.” The Chief listened … and told his story about all the colonial wrongs he could name … Then with a dismissal-handshake we continued on our own ways. Two months later when we were holding the annual Pow Wow in the Town Arena and the Natives were doing an Honour Dance for Eliza in her wheel-chair (from the car accident she survived last year). She saw me in the stands and beckoned for me to join-in at the end of the dance-line. The Chief, in his white buckskin, and the flag-bearers quietly danced around the circumference of the arena. But when they stopped, the Chief immediately walked down the line to where I stood, shook my hand and greeted me with “OKI”. With tears in my eyes I said my “Thank You” … (and I never again heard him speak with anything but respect when he talked about missionaries.) This past week when the Pope so graciously spoke with the Aboriginal / Inuit / Metis visitors in the Vatican of his sorrow, I couldn’t help but think that Her Majesty must have been signaling “Thumbs up” for him saying what was in his heart.

I’m thinking about we relic-like older senior citizens who still have contributions to make to our society. Unfortunately, too many non-relics in the community have chosen to pat our arm and simply turn their attention elsewhere. They forget these “little old ladies (and men)” are survivors who still have much to offer by way of wisdom, insight and understanding. Maybe we are 80+, live in a Seniors’ Residence, have major health issues and require a certain amount of supportive help … But we don’t appreciate people wanting to simply entertain us as they expect us to wait for our expiry date to draw nigh. Himself an older senior, Ralph Milton writes “those who are seriously old are simply invisible”. He laments, “there is a wealth of wisdom, experience and spiritual insight that now is vanishing down the social drainpipe”. (Broadview Magazine, March 2022) Indeed we are a significant part of Canada’s untapped resource – hidden relics who most easily offer our best when we interact with others. As we share stories with children, ask teenagers for their ideas, laugh with young couples … and encourage newly minted retirees …our resourcefulness becomes apparent. It might be of interest, for example, for current members of a family to know why their Great-Grandparents had to flee from Minnesota to Canada when German immigrants were being harassed in the last century. Or it may be that a Grandparent can add to a conversation about water shortages. She remembers when it was better to use a shower instead of a tub when she lived in a Mission House in South Korea in the 60s … Enjoy her laugh as she told about using public bathhouse facilities. Getting back to again thinking about how valuable we older senior relics can be … “We may be our country’s and our church’s greatest untapped natural resource”. Milton concludes “What do we need? We need to be taken seriously.”

Our Greatest Canadian Story, Almost Forgotten Until Now – review notes by Joyce Sasse The disastrous conditions of the 1930s and the incredible work that saved the Prairies is a history-making story that has brought fame and prosperity to Canada. But it has been almost forgotten … until now! In this Summer of 2021, when the reality of Western Canada’s drought and excessive heat is couched alongside the angst of Covid19, James Gray’s book “Men Against the Desert” makes for a heartening read. It shows how it is possible for desperate people to succeed against impossible odds because they dedicated themselves to work together. The almost forgotten reality of this come-around success story is summarized in the “Introductory Notes” journalist James Gray wrote. He starts by telling us about the stories he collected that resulted in “the conquest of the desert (conditions) in the Palliser Triangle … The greatest Canadian success story since the completion of the CPR” … Then he backs his notes up with an amazing collection of facts. All of this happened in “The 1930s”. The makings for this drifting desert occurred at the same time as the peril of the global depression (of the 30s) threatened global finances. “Canada couldn’t have survived economically or politically” Gray wrote, if the Prairie desert wasteland (of the early 30s) had persisted. But because of the combined and dedicated efforts of the farmers, the agriculturalists, the scientists, the university researchers working together, their problem-solving possibilities gradually showed promise. It took leadership … and it took trust. It took believing in the impossible … And in putting together plentiful insights from a dedicated variety of people. The steadfast employees from the Dominion Experimental Farms gave leadership and muscle and equipment to mount the necessary rehabilitative campaign. “The agricultural engineers and university researchers, the soil scientists, entomologists, plant breeders and animal husbandmen often worked around the clock with the farmers in the fields” … Even while 50,000 of those farmers went bankrupt and were forced to live on relief. And the optimists who fought the Prairie Farm Rehabilitation Administration (P.F.R.A.) into existence were able to accomplish what most people thought to be impossible. Remember also, all of this was done in an era when any thought about Federal-Provincial collaborations was barely a figment of the imagination. Truthfully the desert-emergency was humongous! … But it is amazing how the combination of ideas slowly came to be reality! Over a period of 5 years it rained just enough to give the desert-fighters a chance. Top soil was imperative, whatever topsoil they could keep was more precious than gold. In 1937 “barb wire fences were built around half a dozen wastelands.” With the right selections for seeding and with careful management, out of a total of 500,000 acres they managed to restore a few thousand acres. That marked a beginning. At the same time it was necessary to “teach 100,000 farmers how to farm” by the new standards that were necessary. “Only the Federal Government could finance the kind of effort that was needed.” But it was the provinces and municipalities who could access land … and had connections with “the people (who) were at the bottom of the problem”. A “dominion-provincial-municipal super-body was needed to master-plan the project”. Complicated though it was, the P.F.R.A. did come into existence. It was given life by the personnel of the Experimental Farms and the planners who started finding ways to use every drop of water they could collect. Many heroes … many dreams … many individuals sharing leadership … Such dedication! “Stopping the dust storms and containing the desert was (still) not enough. The whole face of Western Canada had to be radically altered … and in the process the agricultural industry had to be revolutionized.” However the results, as we now know, are fabulous … Just remember that fabulous crops have never been grown by accident. As a result, the productive miracles regularly reaped by Prairie farmers are now known all over the world. Canadian agricultural producers show amazing leadership. This epic saga needs to be studied and retold again and again to each generation. Remember this. In the beginning it was ignorance that led to such a terrible environmental catastrophe. But with massive numbers of individuals dedicating themselves to work together, their efforts became a reality. Rather than being a cry of despair, “Next Year Country” became a statement of HOPE! Now, as our climate-changes again threaten us, we dare not forget the more complete story of “The Thirties”! (Men Against the Desert, by James H. Gray, was published in 1968 by Western Producer Prairie Books)

Annora Brown’s High Water Adventure – notes by Joyce Sasse (35 years later, in her autobiographical book “Sketches from Life”, pioneer artist Annora Brown recounted a magical day spent along the shore of Cameron Lake in Waterton Park… The best I can do is try to tell the highlights.) When the afternoon sun melts the mountain glacier snows, I can almost hear Annora Brown describe one of her most delightful but challenging experiences. It started with a friend rowing her by boat to the “far end of Cameron lake”. There she disembarked and let her curiosity lead her forward … to see what magic she might find on the plateau above the lake. “Taking my lunch and my sketch-book in a bag on my shoulder”, she explained, she found a dry stream-bed along the water’s edge and pulled herself upward, rock by rock. “Coming up over the edge of the brown cliff, I stepped into heaven”. There, at the foot of the glacier, she saw shoulder-high rainbows of wild flowers. Breasting her way through them, she came on “a tiny hidden lake on which floated icebergs the size of small buildings”. The water was so clear she could see the blue bases of the icebergs – and then “saw further down into the brown depths below”. “There is something so heady about the combination of flowers and snow” she wrote … “The time flowed over me. I could not even sketch.” Annora’s words were so beautifully descriptive: the bowed heads of the purple fleabanes … the weight of a bumble bee on a leaf … a humming bird buzzing her red hat-band … the song of a white-throated sparrow … and “the chatting of a tumultuous stream.” It was a humbling afternoon spent at a time, she said, when others, thousands of miles away, were having their homes bombed. (cf. W.W. II) “With that solemn thought in mind, I returned to the edge of the cliff to find the dry stream bed that would lead me back to the shore.” Imagine her surprise! She kept returning to the spot she was sure she had marked … “But the place where the dry bed should have been was a rushing torrent.” It was then that she realized the effect of the warm sun on the glacier’s ice! “There was only one thing to do … without slipping on the wet stones, I picked my way back slowly rock-by-rock through the icy torrent”. When she finally got back to Cameron’s lake-short-line, she found her friend sitting despondently by the boat. While her friend had caught her limit of trout, a gopher stole the lunch she laid on a rock for a moment. “With one of us dripping wet and the other ravenous, we covered the three miles of rowing and the fifteen miles of torturous mountain road (back to the Waterton townsite) in record time.” Each June as I hear about the rising stream-flows along the edge of the mountains, my mind recalls how fulfilling that afternoon must have been for Annora. The grace of the Almighty’s gift in such moments is precious beyond measure.

When colleagues and friends honoured me recently and helped me celebrate the granting of a Doctor of Divinity Degree from St. Andrew’s Theological College (University of Saskatchewan), others asked “What does a Doctor of Divinity University Degree mean?” Furthermore, when a very astute newspaper reporter questioned my explanation that “Divinity” was one of the basic studies of the Sciences that are at the heart of University Education … I knew I had to try to find the words to explain what the recognition of my new status implied. It’s not hard to name studies in Physics, Engineering, Medicine or even Literature to be a “Science”. We understand, as an example, a “Doctorate in Agricultural Science” is about very focused studies in Agriculture. But what of “Theology” – defined as “the systematic study of the nature of the divine” … the study of “the spiritual”? The question is, what does this academic discipline mean? And how is it possible that people of various religious persuasions really can study spiritual matters together, even though they usually end up with a variety of different conclusions? Theology is not just about studying Scripture … or learning the history of a religion … or the different ways we interpret ethics and morality … It is not just about how a Rabbi or an Imam or an Aboriginal Elder may lead discussions with students … It has to do with all of these things and so much more! Some Colleges focus on Biblically-based Christian theology. There are also Schools of Islamic Theology, Jewish Theology, etc. All of them have to do with “the study of God”. In today’s Global World many of us now enjoy making opportunity to dialogue with each-other and thus learn with and from each other. As we study “Theology”, it is important for us to consider the key relationships we share: with the Divine, with Nature and with other human beings. Someone once reminded us it is as if we are connected with Mother Nature by her umbilical-cord! Furthermore, it is important to acknowledge that “lay people” (as well as “professionals”) regularly give consideration to theologically related matters. If you have experienced birthing or dying, suffering or joy, planting or harvesting, feelings of despair or elation, emptiness or fulfilment … you have been touched by these theological ways of thinking … and doing … and being! These values are part of who we see ourselves to be. In addition, as with the study of any of the other Sciences, the Study of Theology isn’t so much about “finding answers” as it is about “learning to ask pertinent questions” … The purpose of these studies is “to learn more about what we don’t know”. The doubts that haunt us and the mysteries that entice us … Doctor of Divinity studies challenge us to reach out even more as we think about the many ways “the sacred touches our lives”. The title “Reverend Doctor” doesn’t make me “more divine”, but it does challenge me to find delight in moving further into “the beyond”. As a member of the United Church of Canada, I am reminded of the Creedal statement which my theological understanding affirms ... “In life, in death, in life beyond death we are not alone. Thanks be to God.” s

(On the day when the minister’s regalia started going up in smoke, it was the pianist who saved the day.) In the 1970s it was common for United Church clergy (who were learning about Liturgical attire) to wear a black robe and an academic “hood” when officiating at special ceremonial services. But one clergy colleague, while officiating at a wedding, was in for a big surprise. The small rural community sanctuary was crowded with guests, family, the wedding party and the minister. The proceedings took place in front of the communion table, where the minister faced the wedding party and the congregation. It is one of those times when everyone nervously hopes they won’t forget their lines or drop the wedding ring down the furnace grating (located directly beneath the bride). No one gave much thought to the two lit candles and the bouquet of flowers that graced the table … nor how far the minister’s (academic) “hood” reached out behind him (at just about waist height) … Until it happened!! Fortunately the pianist, who sat at the piano off to the left on the platform, was a no-nonsense farm gal who had attended her share of emergencies. We were never sure who caught the first whiff of smoke, but from the platform Jackie saw what was happening as the “hood” grazed a candle and started “a smoke” … Instinct took over. Jackie grabbed the vase from the table, and whisk the flowers aside while lifting the glass container of water with her other hand … to douse the smolder!!! Poor Rev. John … He must still remember the surprising sensation of the splash on his back … and the gasps that came from the congregation … and Jackie’s triumphant smile! The wedding party reassembled long enough for the couple to seal their vows with a kiss before moving onto the platform to sign the registration papers ... This year (2021), on May 7th (should the Covid gods give their blessings) I am to be presented with my “parchment (certificate)” and “hood”, confirming that I can now be referred to as The Reverend Doctor Joyce Sasse … Honduras Causa indeed! One thing for sure … should there be any celebratory candle, we celebrants will all be distanced enough we shouldn’t have to fear “Holy Smoke”.

For the past year our world has been shrouded in fear and despair because of Covid19. We have been confined to our homes and our rooms. We have been physically isolated from each other and forced to hide behind masks. Many of us continue living behind institutional doors that are “locked” and are overseen by door-keepers. “They” tell us that all of this is “for our own good”! We have no voice by which we can express ourselves! Furthermore, we find it hard to understand how it is that the whole world is being menaced by this darkness … (And I know you must face the same questions.) But out of the terribleness of this moment, the Faithful are told to believe that a new day of promise is about to dawn ... a day we will name “Easter Sunday” … What can possibly be GOOD about this Friday 2021? As we offer our Friday Prayer of Lament, we start by acknowledging the darkness and fear and losses we have experienced over these twelve months. It is a day when we are challenged to invite ourselves and each other to freely shed our tears, acknowledge our loneliness and recognize the pain that has engulfed everything around us. Within our hearts and minds and spirits our Friday Prayers of Lament enrage us and empty us … freeing us from the bonds of the past to reach toward the present and the future with HOPE and PROMISE. What is GOOD about this FRIDAY is the knowledge that a NEW DAY will soon dawn… We will remember the special day that is coming, and call it Easter Sunday (the 1st day of the week) … God is not finished with us yet! From out of the darkness of the night, with the dawn we will hear fresh news of things we never dreamed possible.

Retired Pincher Creek minister recognized with honorary degree By Jenaya Launstein Shootin' the Breeze Community Reporter (Click Here for Article) Joyce Sasse of Pincher Creek has been serving in ministry around the world for decades and has now been recognized with an honorary doctor of divinity degree from St. Andrew’s College in Saskatchewan. “I’d never thought of myself as much of an academic person … so to realize from those letters (nominations) that I was considered also to be kind of a scholar in that way was something that I hadn’t really thought about, but was really honoured by,” says Joyce. Ordained in 1965 and earning her bachelor of divinity degree in 1968 and master of divinity degree in 1987, Joyce is a retired minister in the United Church of Canada. Over the years, she has served congregations in many locations across the nation, and even overseas with the Presbyterian Church in the Republic of Korea from 1967 to 1972. During her five-year stint overseas, Joyce was the community development worker at the YMCA, as well as a chaplain and English teacher at Saigwong Boys’ High School in Cheongju. Upon arriving back in Canada, she became the executive director of the Saskatoon YWCA. Come 1974, Joyce served as the saddlebag minister with small Saskatchewan communities such as Lake Valley, Tuxford, Keeler, and Marquis. Her last posting in the Prairie province was Tugaske, after which she moved back home to Alberta. “Rural church and rural community are really important,” says Joyce.