Sunday, August 23, 2026 - Joy and Sorrow
August 23, 2026
Deborah Laforet
“Joy and Sorrow”
Let us pray. May the words from my lips and the meditations of my heart be guided by your
Spirit and be words of wisdom for this day. Amen.
“And the cries of joy and the cries of sorrow were so mingled that no one could distinguish
between them, and the din of the cries could be heard from far away.” (Ezra 3:13)
The cries of joy and the cries of sorrow. Can you hear them? I felt it in the air last Sunday, as
some came for their last time to this space and as others felt frustration with an unexpected demolition in
the building. I have seen it as people struggle to throw out what has been held so dear, or readily purge
filing cabinets full of decades of papers. I have heard it as some celebrate not having to mow the lawn
again, while some wonder how many will stop joining us for worship after today.
There has been a lot of talk around this particular piece of furniture (indicate altar). Most call it a
communion table, but it is an altar, a structure used in many faith communities to represent the table but
also to represent sacrifice, tradition, and stalwartness. It’s been in this space since the sanctuary was
dedicated back in 1966. The question has been whether we bring it with us or not to the new space.
There are pros and cons. Will it fit in our new space? What would replace it if we didn’t bring
it? Is it in good shape anymore? Is this the time to have something new or is this the time to bring what
we can of the old and help people feel comfortable in the new space? This has been an ongoing debate,
and there has been tension as we determine what’s gets left behind. What’s gets thrown out or donated?
What comes with us? Will the new church want any of what’s left? Questions, questions, and more
questions. The decision fatigue is real. Transitions are a lot of work, especially when you work hard at
making it meaningful and as pain-free as possible. Transitions though always come with grief and loss
and a sense of leaving what we value behind.
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The story we heard today from our bible is one of many stories of the exile of the Israelites.
Israel and Judah were two nations who struggled against each other and against other nations
surrounding them. There were often skirmishes between these nations, and, a number of times, the city
of Jerusalem was sacked and the temple damaged. When the empire of Babylon came though, Israelites
were taken from their homes and exiled to Babylon and their temple was completely destroyed.
This story from Ezra is around the rebuilding of that temple. There were those who never left
Israel and who had lived with this ruined temple in their midst, and there many exiles returning from
Babylon, maybe for the first time seeing the destruction of their beloved temple. As they all came
together attempted to rebuild this place, so sacred to their faith, there were those rejoicing as the new
temple was built and rejoicing in the possibilities of what was to be, and there were those mourning for
the loss of their old temple and the loss of what used to be.
“And the cries of joy and the cries of sorrow were so mingled that no one could distinguish
between them, and the din of the cries could be heard from far away.” (Ezra 3:13)
Today is our last day worshipping in this space, but this space will continue to be used as a place
of worship. With sadness, we move from this space because we have fewer resources to maintain it, but
we have a growing Coptic Christian congregation that is growing and so happy to have a new home.
Although we are experiencing sorrow as we leave a place that has been our faith home (decades for
some of us!), we are also gathering today in celebration, rejoicing with someone re-affirming their faith
and one being baptized in her faith, and gathering at table, with bread and with grapes, remembering the
Christ who has brought us together as a faith community.
Sorrow and joy. Celebration and grief. Excitement and fear. These are ever present in our lives,
pushing and pulling, a tension that is always present. You can feel that when we share at the beginning
of worship, a time when we share with our church family the joy and the sorrow in our lives. When we
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pray, we seek God’s intervention, God’s strength and healing power, but we also offer thanks and we
celebrate life and creation.
Many people have said to me and to others that they are sorry we are closing, and we reiterate
every time that we are not closing. We are moving. Regardless, there is a feeling of loss in leaving this
space. Just as we leave a family home that has been passed down through generations, where children
have grown up, where people have grown old, where meals have been shared, where conflict has
ensued, and love has grown, we leave this space where we have had similar experiences, and where we
have grown in faith together and learned to be disciples of Christ, and what that means to us, our
community, and our world
We leave with sorrow. We leave with heavy hearts. We leave with fear, wondering about what
comes next.
From the beginning of this process though, as we gathered around tables in Watt Hall and
discussed our future, what we agreed upon is that what was most important is that we’re together. We
are a community of faith, one that celebrated it’s 70th anniversary this year. We are a community that
gathers to share joy and grief, we are a community that supports one another through hardships and
celebrations. We are a community that wrestles with the Spirit, that discerns God’s voice in scripture,
and that explores our role as disciples in God’s world. We do all of this together, as one, our cries of joy
and our cries of sorrow so mingled that no one can distinguish between them.
We read in our story today, that while the stoneworkers set the temple’s foundation, the priests
and the Levites, with their trumpets and cymbals, chanted antiphonally. This basically means back and
forth. One would play and the other respond. The other would play and one respond. Chanting in this
way, they gave thanks to the Most High “who is good, whose love for Israel lasts forever.”
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We do not read here that they gave thanks for all that is good. We read that they gave thanks for
a God that is good. They do not give thanks because God blesses them in all ways but because God’s
love lasts forever.
As we say goodbye to this space, we give thanks that God is good. This congregation has had 70
wonderful years on this property, up and downs certainly, but a closely knit community, praising God,
loving one another, and serving God’s people in this community. Wherever we are and wherever we go,
God’s love is with us and lasts forever. We do not say goodbye to all the energy and spirit that surrounds
us in this place. That comes with us. As we move just a couple of kilometres away, to 1092 Speers Rd.,
we do not say goodbye to St. Paul’s. We do not say goodbye to this faith community. We will be
together and God will be with us, surrounding us in love and compassion. We will continue to be one in
Christ, learning what it means to be a disciple, and the Spirit will continue to push us and encourage us
as we continue to build a world of justice and peace, God’s kingdom on earth, with all the joy and the
sorrow that comes with being a community of faith, journeying together through this changing world.
May it be so and thanks be to God. Amen.