Fishing for Faith
A simple Saturday plan, take my friend David out to get his package, go to the Liquor Mart, then grab coffee for a drive. Other than the odd phone calls, we haven’t gotten together. David is in his 80’s and knows he needs to be especially careful during the pandemic. Staying at home was driving him nuts, and the idea of a drive appealed to me.
I went into a Starbucks and made our order, and we munched our snacks in the car and then began our drive. I had the perimeter in mind but no destination.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
“You pick,” he answered, “I am glad to get out.”
“How about Lockport,” I said, noticing the car get closer to the perimeter exits. It’s either go left to go West, right east or straight ahead to Lockport. David agreed, and I drove up Henderson Highway, past new developments and places I remembered. It dawned on me, the farthest I went recently was my library practicum stint at Dr. Hamilton in 2009. Before that, years and years before, mostly with mom and dad.
The river looked exposed at this time of year; the mild weather could not make it freeze even into a thin layer of ice. We arrived at Lockport, and memory reminded me of places to park my car to look out over the river.
“How do we get down there,” David asked.
Looking ahead, I saw the turn-off, memory guiding me. Most of the time, dad drove, and I paid attention. He loved fishing near the locks, rarely catching anything, but it’s enough to watch the roar of the water as lines cast in the water, waiting for a possible catfish.
I parked the car, drank coffee while looking at small groups, no more than three, ice fishing and spaced apart as per public health protocols. People remained in their cars, eating, while others stayed near their cars, munch away and look at the ice fishing. Simultaneously, the waters rapidly flowed over the locks and into an open body of water, stopping at the area thick enough to allow people to walk or sit down the hole.
Frankly, I was amazed.
Sitting in my car made me remember Springs Church would have its ruling about their application for drive-in services. Steven Lambert from the Canadian Press attended the hearing and communicated the ruling: Application denied.
The church staked its case on passing itself as a social service while also supporting its argument with the claim they are not different than fast-food drive-throughs or curbside pickups. My eyebrows raised over those two claims. David and I met at McNally and got to know each other over books on Catholicism. He made the leap, and I was his sponsor. It wasn’t lost on me we. Two Catholics drank Starbucks while discussing the ruling, in a car, overlooking the scene of ice fishing below.
Surrealness added a whole new level.
The church founded by Leon Fontaine has its own Starbucks. It’s a nice marketing touch to the ‘seekers,’ those considered ‘unchurched’ and in need of Jesus. A few Catholics swapped out their denomination for the upbeat music and the positive messaging of the services. It’s a lateral move with the same blind spots, the same homophobic tendencies, and the same views about women: same Jesus, different wrapping. Catholicism has problems, but my priest never wanted my bank information for automatic withdrawals for tithing, edicts to not read this or watch that ignored. However, the Catholic Church does try to control my body. They can keep fishing that hole like the people on the frozen river, but they will not catch anything.
It’s ironic talking about ice fishing and Christianity as many of Jesus’ followers fished for a living. He called them to be ‘fishers of men.’ The gospels were full of net casting and boats tossed in storms. In one instance, Jesus was asleep, and his disciples freaked out as the storm kept tossing the boat around. They woke him up and asked if he cared if they’re going to drown or not, and Jesus told the storm to be still or calm, depending on the translation.
The part at the end of the incident sticks with me now as I look at the picture of the ice fishing on the river, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” It’s a good question to pose to the woman on Facebook, a member of my former parish, claiming it’s more murderous to be kept away from church than to die of Covid. It’s a good question to also pose to Springs Church members as well. Much like everything else, the pandemic has tossed all the familiar trappings of faith, going to a building, singing, in our case eucharist, up in the air. People are freaking out.
“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”
Mom and dad would watch mass on television. Mom had her prayer routine that would make nuns go ‘you go, girl.’ She would get up, have coffee, sit in her favourite chair, arrange her prayer cards and pull out the rosary beads. The Springs crowd would say ‘simple talk to Jesus’ but ignore the fact this ritual was her love language. She would pray for strength, pray for all of us, hoping we have work that gives us food, shelter, clothing, and that we would be healthy.
Dad would watch mass with her and watch the preachers on the other channels, a thing I never understood. Sedate homilies contrasted with loud preaching, hoping Jesus would calm and set everything right. They leave out the part ‘for us but not for these people.’
The ice fishing participants had faith they will catch something; they made sure the ice was thick enough to walk on, spaced away from other people, placing faith in the public health orders. The prayers of intention at Our Lady of Perpetual Help always had a prayer for those working to find a vaccine for the virus. In short, they prayed for the scientists. Trust God but lock your car, goes one saying I remember. How about ‘Trust God and trust the scientists to create a vaccine quickly and accurately as possible?’
We finished our coffees and decided to head back. The sun shined, and the sky had this calm blue as the sunset began. David and I were going back to staying home unless we needed to venture out. The drive was necessary. We joked about the contrast in the river as we saw the wide-open river again. While it’s the second Sunday of Advent, and we will celebrate the birth of Jesus, the petition of Springs Church and the storm in the Gospel of Mark made a connection in my mind. Not to wag a finger in my direction, more like a reminder, “Why are you afraid, Have you no faith?”
It’s battered, I would answer, and bruised but still there. Faith in the message of kindness, even to try again after forgetting from time to time. Faith in scientists. More importantly, faith is active every day, even at home on a Sunday. Without the trappings, it’s all we have left.
