Church and state: modernizing historic traditions

Opinion

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 16/04/2024 (536 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

An ancient inkwell with a brass-plated cover was embedded in the right-hand corner of my desk; it hooked my curiosity on that first afternoon inside the legislative chamber as an elected official.

What was this strange accoutrement? Too nervous for close examination in the beginning, it wasn’t until after settling into the cut and thrust of the daily proceedings, with my desk becoming a safety zone in that raucous seat of democracy, that I recognized the relic for what it was. The inkwell, used by an earlier generation of politicians, likely hadn’t held a pot of ink for a writer’s quill in decades.

Yet to me, it became one of many timeless reminders inside that sacrosanct legislative assembly. Along with the gilded murals painted within the domed ceiling representing justice, knowledge, and wisdom, and the statues (of ancient lawmaker Solon, and Moses with his scroll), these symbols of timelessness offered an inference. A reminder that I was merely passing through, and to hold reverence for what came before and space for what would come after.

There was also a timeless aspect to the order of daily proceedings. Rooted in ceremony and dating back to when our province entered Confederation, each day began with the entering of the sergeant-at-arms with the mace, followed by the Speaker. Only after the opening prayer concluded and the Speaker took the chair, could the day’s work begin.

On Nov. 29, 2021, this opening ceremony underwent a transformation. Former Speaker Myrna Driedger delivered the first-ever land acknowledgment directly following the prayer. It was long overdue.

Many people who came to witness to this new formality had tears welling in their eyes. It was the beginning of a ceremonial recognition that government — regardless of who was in power — would no longer turn from the important work of reconciliation with Indigenous people. A perfect example of the need for updating an antiquated tradition.

Now, the opening prayer is about to undergo revision too.

Citing a need to be more faith-inclusive and with room for atheism, the NDP government is holding a “roundtable discussion” on updating the language of the Christian prayer.

I’m entirely unsurprised. I remember thinking last year, with head bowed while the Speaker recited the words, “O eternal and almighty God, from whom all power and wisdom come”, that this prayer was not long for the assembly.

I knew there’d be growing pressure to change it, if not already, and that once the NDP formed government, they would acquiesce.

Many other democratic institutions, health facilities, and public schools had already taken steps in walking back their Christian heritage. Among other secular victories, Christmas celebrations have, by and large, been reformatted to become “winter festivals,” and Christmas trees are routinely called holiday trees.

Further, there’s a growing hostility against Christianity across North America, with a rising backlash against an arguably Christian U.S. Supreme Court for upending women’s rights. This isn’t the first wave of anger against Christianity, yet it feels more visceral.

As a woman of faith yet one who strongly believes in the separation of church and state, I too am offended by some things people have done in the name of God. I also don’t believe in the recitation of prayer at the start of class in public schools, nor do I want any sort of public governance ruled entirely by faith.

Yet there was something about the opening prayer at the beginning of the legislative assembly that, to me anyway, felt like it rose above the idiosyncrasy of organized religion. It harkened a shared past, a nod to the Commonwealth and Christian foundation of this province, and was seemingly appropriate in that sacrosanct place.

It’s unclear what revision this opening prayer will now undergo, but I don’t imagine there will be any more seeking to desire only that which is in accordance with “thy will,” just as I doubt it will conclude with an amen.

I suppose I should wish for an opening prayer that would simply do for others what it once did for me — evoke a reverence for something higher than myself.

I recognize and celebrate the diversity of faith within the elected members of the assembly and those they represent: the Muslims, Jews and Hindus, to name a few, along with other forms of worship.

I hope the government can strike this delicate balance of inclusivity. Above all, I wish for an opening invocation to the assembly that will offer every ear it falls upon a desire to hear to something more reverential than the sound of one’s own voice.