How Arctic Anglicans Model Reconciliation Beyond Rhetoric

By The Rev. Chris Dow, Chaplain at Wycliffe College (Toronto)

For Christ himself is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. (Eph. 2:14)

I recently returned from the synod of the Diocese of the Arctic, where I am still canonically resident despite having taken up a new position at Wycliffe College. The reason I maintain that affiliation is because I wish to stay connected to something extraordinary. Arctic Anglicans offer a model of a Holy Spirit-anointed church—one that has achieved a remarkable degree of ethnic and linguistic integration between diverse peoples precisely and only because it is centred on the Word-made flesh and enlivened by his reconciling Spirit.

All of this was on full display at the recent synod. The vast majority of clergy and lay delegates were Inuit. Other synod members who now call the north home were born and raised in places as diverse as Australia, India, Newfoundland, the Philippines, the United States, and Zimbabwe. But the synod made no formal distinction between the categories of “Inuit” and “non-Inuit,” or “indigenous” and “settler.” Neither was there any mention of “anti-racism,” “de-colonization,” or “inclusiveness.” Such words are unnecessary when the goals they point towards are simply lived out in a place where everyone claims the same higher allegiance.

Here is what that looks like in practice: the convening circular was published in English and Inuktitut. Synod proceedings were conducted in both languages with the help of simultaneous translation technology and skilled interpreters. The same bilingual delivery was also provided for training sessions on biblical preaching, leading family baptism preparation, healing ministries, and a new Sunday school curriculum. The Canadian Bible Society facilitated a feedback session on the Eastern Arctic Inuktitut Bible (EAIB) to hear how particular translation decisions were being received in parishes. Most of the synod was dedicated to these various edifying workshops, rather than to formal business and legislation, because enabling and equipping members to fulfill the Great Commission is the highest priority for Arctic Anglicans. Daily worship services were vibrant and heartfelt. Most prayers and songs were Inuktitut-led. Whenever possible, the words were displayed on a screen in both languages, but when they weren’t, the rest of us either prayed silently, tried to manage the Inuktitut, or joined cacophonously in the language of our own hearts. A highlight for me was reuniting with members of the St. Jude’s cathedral praise band to sing Jesusip tasiuqpaanga, “He Leadeth Me.” (Needless to say, I sang backing vocals and my Inuit friends sang lead.) I was disappointed to miss the traditional feast on the Sunday, having arrived a day late, but another highlight was hearing the summer intern from Bristol, UK describe her first taste of maktaaq—raw whale meat. In short, the 17th Synod of the Diocese of the Arctic was equal parts banquet, business, commissioning, elections, episcopal consecration, family reunion, and revival. It may not have been perfect, but as much as is possible for the pilgrim church here on earth, this joyous synod offered a foretaste of Isaiah’s heavenly feast (Isa. 25:6-9), a glimpse of Revelation’s great multitude (Rev. 7:9), and an echo of the Babel-redeeming Day of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-11)—all with a distinctly Arctic flavour. This is what a Christian synod ought to be.

The Greek word synodos literally means something like “coming together along the way” or “meeting on the journey”—the word itself being a coming together of syn (“with” or “together”) and odos (“way” or “path”). What a blessed thought it is to have Jesus—the pioneer and perfecter of our faith (Heb. 12:2)—join us and lead us on our earthly pilgrimage. When he returns in glory and all things are put into subjection under his feet, his followers from every nation, tribe, and tongue will be reunited in the new Jerusalem, where God shall be all in all (1 Cor. 15:28). This is his plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in Christ, things in heaven and things on earth (Eph 1:10).

My time in the Arctic taught me that when first things are kept first, the Holy Ghost will take care of the rest. By that I mean this: when we gather to worship the triune God in spirit and in truth (John 4:23), when we hear the Word of God attentively and submissively, and when we stand ready, willing and unashamed to be equipped for the Great Commission, we will find a surprising unity across ethnic, cultural and linguistic lines. We will experience an unspeakable reconciling love where once there was fear and resentment arising from past harm; and we will become friends who love one another through the One who first loved us (John 15:14; 1 John 4:19).

By contrast, when our corporate worship is unrecognizably Anglican or dubiously Christian, and when matters of minor importance fill our agenda s and time together, things fall apart, as there is nothing to hold the centre. General Synod 2025 is going to look at the hypotheses in the “Creating Pathways” document, as put forward by the Primates Commission on Proclaiming the Gospel in the 21st Century. I am afraid that within Creating Pathways there may be found a fatal, fundamental flaw. Although this report uses the image of “walking together” and the language of “mutual interdependence,” it also bifurcates and divides us into two quasi-racial entities: an “Indigenous Church” and an “Historic Settler Church.” Much of the New Testament is about integrating Jewish and Gentile Christians into one body. Nowhere does Paul speak of them as two separate churches, for “Christ is all and in all” (Col. 3:11). De jure segregation is a strange, lamentable, and self-defeating solution to racism. This does not undermine the work of Sacred Circle or ACIP toward self-determination. But the key Indigenous-written documents envisioned a self-determining community within the Anglican Church of Canada—a “family of Indigenous ministries” as a “central part” of the Church, seeking “renewal for all.” The bifurcation in Creating Pathways is unbiblical, unnecessary, and inconsistent with that vision. I pray Indigenous members will speak in their mother tongues, with patience from others and —ideally— interpretation both ways. I pray worship will be Christ-centred, Spirit-filled, and reconciling. I urge members to speak boldly and faithfully. Ultimately, the “pathways” are not ours to create. There is one path—Christ’s, proclaimed to all peoples (Rev. 14:6). As we celebrate his ascension and await the Spirit’s power, may the grace of the Lord Jesus be with us all—and may he come quickly, even to General Synod.

This is a shortened version of the article originally posted at communionpartners.ca/tongues-of-fire/