Faith in the aftermath of unmarked graves and COVID

I long struggled with faith, searching many years for something that might anchor me.

Many of us have experienced things that have made that search challenging, and for a variety of reasons.

Throughout the entirety of the pandemic and with the recent discoveries of unmarked graves at former Indian residential schools, the faith of many of us has been sorely tested.

In June, I wrote a Community Editorial Board piece, “An open letter to Catholics about the Kamloops discovery.” It was a tough piece and, to be sure, not everyone agreed with what I said.

But I was also surprised to discover people within the church who spoke out publicly on its failure to follow through on its commitments to the residential school settlement. Many more Catholics acknowledged not fully understanding what had happened, feeling confused and demoralized about it all.

In these past few weeks, I have read a number of negative comments about Catholics in social media that strike at their sense of morality and character. So I say it now: the Catholics who I know are kind, decent people. It would be inaccurate and deeply unfair to disparage their character. And I still hope that the church honours its commitments to reconciliation; it needs to do that. This is a pivotal moment for the church, and I think leadership needs to come from below on this.

Writing about faith-related topics for newspapers is difficult to do with both clarity and brevity; I know there are many who do not believe in a Creator or God. I acknowledge and respect that. But for many others in our community, faith is a fundamental part of who we are, whether affiliated with a faith community or not.

I did not identify as Anishinaabe for the greater part of my life. And to my shame, I didn’t even know about residential schools until more than a decade after former Assembly of First Nations chief Phil Fontaine courageously shared his own experiences in a residential school.

The moment that I connected the dots between that history and that of our family, my faith was on the ropes. I focused on going through the motions of daily life, getting through and getting by. I also knew that what I was feeling was nothing compared to those who had attended the schools.

We have all had experiences that leave us feeling dispirited and alone; compassion is easier when we can acknowledge that.

What I didn’t appreciate was how all of that pain and anger was morphing into something different. Faith doesn’t strengthen when times are good. It’s easy to have faith when all of your needs are met and life is good. It’s the “other” times that demand courage and vulnerability, wisdom and integrity, and humility, honesty and truth.

We stumble; we fail; we disappoint and get disappointed. But we persevere because that is what the Creator intended — to turn us from who and what we are, into someone who cares more for others than for themselves.

It takes little searching to see how much people have been tested throughout this pandemic. I think especially of those who lost loved ones, or experienced significant isolation. There was uncertainty about how serious the pandemic might become, or how we might best respond to it.

The differences of opinion on that question split communities and even families. And I don’t think people who rely on their faith were immune to that.

Faith can be tested, it might be found wobbly … but, if we persevere, it can be strengthened, too.

I hope this summer will give us a chance to step back from any of the negative ways we may have personally responded to this, and to reflect on how to let this make us stronger, better people for the experience.

I hope we can let go of some of the real and not-so-significant slights and grievances we had with others who may have been influenced by their own pain and doubt. We are not so very different from one another.

Let’s use this summer to reflect on what others have experienced and to respond supportively and with compassion.

We may emerge from this a little sadder and a little bruised by all that’s happened but, perhaps, we can come away from it a little wiser and kinder, too.

The Indian Residential Schools Crisis Line is available 24 hours a day for anyone experiencing pain or distress as a result of a residential school experience. Support is available at 1-866-9254419.

Gary Whetung is a member of The Record’s Community Editorial Board.