Member Testimonies

Good morning; I’m Doug Buck, a member of this congregation.

York University, where I taught, ran on committees — so it was easy for me to fit right in at First Unitarian. I understood.

Once, in the late 1980s, I made a progress report to a departmental meeting as chair of a faculty search committee. I said that each candidate would be given an orientation tour of the campus and, for women candidates, we’d include a visit to the campus day care centre. Yes. One of the few women faculty kindly suggested that male candidates also visit the day care. Embarrassing. I was clueless.


At that time, my cultural experience was that a man would be less interested in child care choice, and a culture is powerful. It’s the air we breathe; it’s hard to see outside of it, and the culture of men was and still is different than that of women.

We read and hear stories about some men whose ego is so thin that they become easily enraged and violent. Those who feel threatened may take out their frustration on less-powerful others, including women. Rarely, however, are men violent against their bosses.

This morning we’re looking at “Risk.” Indeed, virtually all women are at risk of marginalization, discrimination, abuse, and assault. For Indigenous women, the risks are even higher. But think also of the risks to our society: how many symphony conductors, physicists, and Olympic athletes will Canada never have because of the abuse that limits women’s horizons.


While cultures change slowly, I’ve learned that I can help this change by being aware of my speech and actions. I apologize when I suspect I’ve offended. I try not to let remarks or actions of others slide past me If I’m silent, I’m complicit.

If my wife, Kate Chung, sees someone being mistreated, she goes and stands near that person to offer moral support, and to be a witness, like those who accompany people in a war zone. I want to do that, too.

I’d like to ask for men to think about this and to help as you can. I was corrected by a woman, but it isn’t fair to ask only women to remind me when I’m clueless.

All of us are a combination of strengths and weaknesses. As I’ve listened to women speak of their own experiences, I’m gaining a better appreciation of what it means to be respectful. I want to be a good ally.


One way to demonstrate support for women is for men to wear a Moosehide Pin.

The Moosehide Campaign is a west-coast First Nations initiative that asks Indigenous and non-Indigenous men to honour, respect, and protect women and children, to stand shoulder to shoulder with them as together we work to end sexism in our culture.

Several years ago, the Campaign was started by Paul Lacerte and his daughter, Raven, and a million pins have now been given away. Following the service, these pins will be offered to men in the Narthex, although women can wear them too. If you are able, wear one, please. Take the risk. It could save a life.

Together, we can change the culture. We’ve done it with smoking, and this is far more serious. Thank you.

We often hear in the call to worship that wherever you are in your life’s journey, you are welcome here. My name is Catherine Lake and I’ve been a member of this congregation for about 15 years and throughout that time, I have brought so much of my self to this place —my political passions and personal penchants, my despairs and delights — and have always felt welcomed and embraced.

I also bring my inner doubts to my faith community and am not always soothed, sometimes I am deeply challenged and sometimes I am simply held like how my journey group meeting monthly for almost a decade now--holds my experience as they listen to who I am, and who I’ve been, and who I am becoming.

One of my journey group sisters, Brenda Ponic, has been coming to First for 17 years and talks about this place as providing “the ground where she can focus her quest for meaning.” Through the years I have become accustomed to saying that I am a Unitarian Universalist and part of a vibrant faith community called Toronto First. This place is part of my identity.

Where else in the world do I get to call out my sorrows and joys?

Where else do I get to hear wisdom and beauty and have my soul, myself, my person stirred and steadied?

Where else do I get to spiritually connect with others and feel connected and then I get to take this “here” out there?

Out there to the hard places of work and school and family and neighbours and traffic and the blur of cellphoned faces in the streets.

I love running into a Toronto First person out there in our cacophony city. It’s exciting like — hey that’s one of my people, that person shares something with me. Something called community, search, commitment, support and struggle for a better world.

Like when I ran into Anne Montanges in the AGO years ago and having never before spoken to her but in having seen her here, I sat with her and she talked to me about art. Anne has been a member of First Unitarian for 67 years. Last Sunday I asked her why she comes and she said “for weekly sustenance” and then I asked why she gives and she said that “everyone needs to live practically as well as spiritually and the church needs it too.”

So in this our pledge season, I am calling on all of us to be generous. Don’t do it according to how many times you come or if one particular Sunday service was better than another. See giving as more like paying for roads and schools and health care. Your contributions pay for this here—and this here supports you personally and in doing so, this here supports those you meet on the road of your journey, those who study life alongside you, and those who strive with you for a healthier world.

As a previous Board member, I know that the Board and people that run this place here really need your commitment and specified pledge for budgeting purposes. You can’t freelance a congregation. It’s too hard not knowing what budget and goals you can set, what people you can hire, what you can offer to the community for the coming year. A firm monetary number and the commitment of planned giving from each of us is a huge weight of worry off of those volunteer shoulders that keep help this place going.

A place to be heard.

A place to be held.

A place for your health and your journey not just within the walls of this place here but out there where we all really need it.

So today, make your pledge. And then pat yourself on the back—for giving to our community that gives to our wider world and for giving to yourself that in turn gives to others as together, we seek, connect, and serve.

No, no, no, no, Yes!

The title of my testimony comes from a quote by humanist photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson, who was once asked how he was able to take such evocative photos. He responded, “I lift the camera to my eye, I look through the lens and I say: ‘No, no, no, no, yes!’”

In my own journey, I too have taken the opportunity to strive at various undertakings. I might be doing work in my studio, honing my professional skills or, as is germane to this testimony, becoming a Unitarian. What do I strive for in this enterprise?

As I look out towards the congregation, consisting of many people that I have come to know over the years, whose community I enjoy, I am filled with gratitude for the sense of connection this affords me. From my perspective, this is one of the best things about the Unitarian faith, as I have come to appreciate it. Would I not find the same thing outside this place? Possibly. But, in my life, opportunities for connection are less certain. In the weekly comings-together, I find myself feeling a sense that we are all of us drinking from the same life-affirming well – to evocatively build our own sense of humanity, to whatever extent possible. To share, within the bounds of our covenant, our vulnerabilities and our hopes.

I am well aware, as I have come here for many years, that coming together in community on a regular basis is not all there is to Toronto First. I also know that ways that I am able to choose to deepen my faith depend on many factors, some of which I am unable to control. It is this aspect of the Unitarian that I see in me that I want to address – and for which I derived the title.

In my efforts to meet effectively the challenges of my life, I have frequently had to step away from greater engagement. I have had to say ‘no’ to many initiatives that I would clearly have enjoyed, were I living a different reality.

One of the most painful, from my perspective, of these ‘no’s’, happens when our community finds itself in desperate need of funds. The appeals that issue forth are persuasive. Still, I must say ‘no’. I am someone whose income, as a professional artist, is unstable and well below the poverty line – and I have to be realistic.

Or, a wonderful project is brought forward, calling for volunteers. How I wish I had the time! But I am someone who must work many hours to gain my living. I cannot realistically be so diverted. This is indicative of many workers in the arts in Canada.

With each ‘no’ I feel my faith as a Unitarian wobble.

I grew up privileged in a home knowing there was always enough food to eat. Today, as a working artist and a senior, I do not have that same privilege. This is a challenge requiring all of my creative thinking.

I realize that I am up against a huge global vortex. I also know that in the discussions around how to approach this problem, my voice cannot be viewed as a token one. I am resolved to bear witness to the situation that I face with equanimity and even with gratitude but also with truth. I felt I needed to say how it is for me. In our services we invite 'those who are able' to stand. I think that, in consideration of the problem of income disparity, pledging and collection might also declare of giving, only – 'as you are able'.

Where the 'value' of a person may well equate to earned income – what of those less ‘valuable' who wish creatively to contribute to the greater good? Community is founded on a representation of unique perspectives engaged in common purpose. A purpose of this community as I have come to understand it, is to insure that all are invited to the table and to act for all.

This is how I evoke my self as a Unitarian: I represent a part of that which exists in the world. Each day, I have the opportunity to create that self and that world anew, to my best ability.

Within the confines of my limitations, I pledge to draw from the wellspring of my own gifts, tools, experience, opportunities and questions, such as they are, to engage my faith, to support this congregation and grow spiritually. I may say ‘no, no, no…’ but be assured that I am also actively striving for ‘yes!’

Good morning. I’m Ted Wood and I’m a member of Amnesty International.

Amnesty International is a global movement of more than 7 million people who campaign for a world where human rights are enjoyed by all. Our vision is for every person to enjoy all the rights enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. We are independent of any government, political ideology, economic interest or religion and are funded mainly by our membership and public donations.

Today is Amnesty Sunday when we celebrate the signing of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights on December 10, 1948 and participate in Amnesty’s Write for Rights campaign.

Today our ministers are in Standing Rock, North Dakota attending the Interfaith Day of Prayer. Amnesty International USA has been monitoring the situation and has sent observers. Amnesty USA has called on the U.S. Department of Justice to investigate police practices.

Amnesty Group 142 focuses on the rights of Indigenous peoples as outlined in the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples which our congregation endorses and supports. The Declaration asserts the rights of Indigenous peoples including the right to Free, Prior and Informed consent to projects that affect their lives and lands.

In Canada, the Site C dam project in the Peace River region of northeast British Columbia is a microcosm of the Canadian resource economy. By actively promoting intensive resource development federal and provincial officials have emphasized economic benefits while largely ignoring serious and sometimes deadly consequences for the health and safety that disproportionately impact the lives of Indigenous people who live there. The hydroelectric dam would flood more that 100 km of the Peace Valley submerging hundreds of cultural and historic sites, destroying vital wildlife habitat and lands where the Dane-Zaa, Cree, and Métis peoples hunt, trap, and gather berries and medicines. The West Moberly and Prophet River First Nations have challenged the dam in court, arguing that their treaty rights have been ignored.

The federal and provincial governments approved construction of the dam even though their own environmental review process concluded that flooding the valley would “severely undermine” the ability of Indigenous peoples to carry out hunting, fishing, and other traditions protected by treaty, the Canadian Constitution and international law. The two governments have claimed that the need for electricity “justifies” these harms, however the province has pushed ahead with the dam without properly considering less harmful alternatives – or even if the electricity is really needed.

In addition to our action to halt the Site C dam we also have two other actions. One will support Máxima Acuña, a peasant farmer in northern Peru who has taken on Yanacocha, one of the biggest gold and copper mines in the world, over the ownership of the land where she lives with her family. The other will call on Honduras to protect the lives and personal integrity of all the campesino human rights defenders and to investigate the murders of José Ángel Flores and Silmer Dionisio George and bring the perpetrators to justice.

To support the work of Amnesty International, there will be a special collection today and the white envelopes in your order of service are for that purpose. Cheques should be made payable to Amnesty International Group 142 and charity tax receipts will be issued by Amnesty Canada.

For holiday shopping we have Amnesty merchandise available in Workman Hall during coffee hour. There is also the opening art reception here in Sunderland Hall at 12:00 noon for our December exhibit by Indigenous artists.

Amnesty International believes the campaign to stop Site C is so important for international human rights and justice that we are spotlighting it in our worldwide Write for Rights event. Amnesty supporters in over 200 countries will be sending hundreds of thousands of letters to Prime Minister Trudeau. We will also be sending letters to Premier Clark. We will be signing letters today to support and protect Peace River communities from an injustice that, if allowed to happen, cannot be undone.

For the things we save; for the things that make us who we are. And for my uncle, my dad, and millions
of others who lived through extraordinary times and went on to live very ordinary, honourable lives.
NM

Johnnie’s Box

These are the things in Uncle Johnnie’s box. The things saved, the things
left behind when he died at 91. Or maybe he was 92. (We weren’t close)
Dad’s older brother, the one who’d quit school at 14 and went to work
to support the family. The one who became, for a time, tyrannical
boss of the house. Still in the end he was alone, and his Arizona
nursing home mailed this small, battered wooden box of things,
mailed it to my dad. And then it came to me. After Dad died.

These things, now mine:
A telephone book with faded names and numbers of insurance companies,
drugstores, long-dead friends from Miami, Brooklyn, Long Island, Queens.
A number for the time of day and temperature in Phoenix. And one for
C & T Fashions on West 36th Street, the factory where he worked
for 40 years, sewing ladies coats. A partly torn snapshot of his wife
and a tarnished bracelet engraved with her name: Mollie.

And also these:
His 1945 Honorable Discharge, listing his height as 5’3”, weight 120 lbs,
so small he could squeeze into the nose cone of a B-24 bomber, out there
gunning in mid-air, a perfect little target, trapped in a tight space
with the insane roar of the plane’s engines making clear thought
impossible, which was probably good. (I never asked)
Souvenirs from the battles of Normandy, Northern France, Ardennes,
Rhineland. He flew 30 missions, Dad said. Or maybe it was 20.
(I wasn’t listening)
His European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign medal, a British Army pin,
his Army of India medal. His dog tags on a crude silver chain. A photo of him
in full bomber gear, and one where he’s dressed as a Scottish Highlander.
(I don’t know why)
Last, a silk escape map of France, Spain and Portugal. In case
he was shot down, wandering alone in an unfamiliar land. (I guess)
Folded over twice, creased, muted, still intact.

When I was a child Uncle Johnnie visited only on holidays. He was loud,
argumentative, mostly deaf. From the war, Dad said. (It meant nothing to us)
He had no time for kids and mocked our excitement with Christmas trees
and presents and Santa. He seemed mean, clipped, harsh to us who knew
nothing about him, nothing really.


Nacia Miller
2010