Expanding the Movement: Story Night Montreal

Since the first Story Night in the fall of 2022, a lot has been happening. Existing relationships have been deepened while new ones have been formed. We have gathered on multiple occasions as people who are motivated by faith to address poverty and injustice. We come from various contexts and are invited to hold a space centred around storytelling where we can communicate across difference. In our polarized world, choosing to sit in the messy middle together can be all too rare, and so this is proving to be a special experience. Part of the emerging vision is for story gatherings to happen in various places across the country, while a large Story Day will continue to take place in Toronto each fall. 

I am excited to share that my friend Jenna Smith, together with her colleagues at Christian Direction, have decided to host a French language Story Night on April 10th. Here, in her own words, is what inspired Jenna to pursue gathering people in Montreal. I can’t wait to be there, cheering her and the group of storytellers on. If this prompts you to consider doing a Story Night in your own place, please reach out to have a chat. 

From Jenna:

During the Covid-19 pandemic, I found myself back in front line work, responding to a food security crisis in our downtown neighbourhood. I was also on the board of an emergency shelter for our unhoused neighbours and was called upon on several occasions to deal with dire situations: covid outbreaks, impossible-to-follow-directives from public health and tragically the death of one our members because our building was obligated to close its doors from midnight to 6 am. 

On a phone call with a colleague, I told her my body was aching from dragging 20kg bags of rice into our food bank and my mind was frazzled from, well, everything. She empathized. “We’re tired,” she said, “we are all going to need rest at the end of this. And, Jenna, we are all going to need to process what is happening to us, and talk, and grieve.” 

I am not sure we, in our communities, in our churches or in society, have implemented my colleague’s vision of collective respite and debrief. Most days, it feels like we ramped up in all the ways I wish we hadn’t: more anxiety, more anger, more pressures for productivity.  More homelessness in my city. More pain in my work. 

At Story Day in October 2024 I found a space and a people who were embodying what I knew to be true for those of us in caregiving work. A movement of people working to eradicate poverty and injustice according to the person of Jesus and acknowledging, through story, all the joy, all the pain and anger and all the complicated hope that comes with this calling. I texted my colleagues, “this is the best Work and Faith event I have ever been to. These people all work a little like us. And they slug through, in faith.” 

Our team in Montreal humbly accepted the invitation to run our own French language, Story Night; as we reflect on lamentation and hope, maybe we also will celebrate the slugging through, in faith. 

To learn more: https://www.canadahelps.org/en/charities/christian-direction-inc/events/story-night/

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Depuis la première soirée de contes à l’automne 2022, beaucoup de choses se sont passées. Les relations existantes se sont approfondies tandis que de nouvelles se sont formées. Nous nous sommes réunis à plusieurs reprises en tant que personnes motivées par la foi pour lutter contre la pauvreté et l’injustice. Nous venons de divers horizons et sommes invités à créer un espace centré sur le récit où nous pouvons communiquer au-delà de nos différences. Dans notre monde polarisé, il est trop rare de choisir de s’asseoir ensemble dans le désordre du milieu, et cela s’avère donc être une expérience particulière. Une partie de la vision émergente consiste à organiser des rassemblements Story dans divers endroits du pays, tandis qu’une grande journée Story continuera à avoir lieu à Toronto chaque automne. 

Je suis ravie de vous annoncer que mon amie Jenna Smith, en collaboration avec ses collègues de Christian Direction, a décidé d’organiser une soirée Story en français le 10 avril. Voici, dans ses propres mots, ce qui a inspiré Jenna à rassembler des gens à Montréal. J’ai hâte d’être là pour l’encourager, elle et le groupe de conteurs. Si cela vous incite à envisager d’organiser une soirée Story chez vous, n’hésitez pas à me contacter pour en discuter. 

De Jenna :

Pendant la pandémie de Covid-19, je me suis retrouvée en première ligne pour répondre à une crise de sécurité alimentaire dans notre quartier du centre-ville. Je siégeais également au conseil d’administration d’un refuge d’urgence pour nos voisins sans abri et j’ai été appelée à plusieurs reprises pour faire face à des situations désastreuses : des épidémies de Covid, des directives de santé publique impossibles à suivre et, tragiquement, le décès d’un de nos membres parce que notre bâtiment a été contraint de fermer ses portes de minuit à 6 heures du matin. 

Lors d’un appel téléphonique avec une collègue, je lui ai dit que mon corps me faisait mal à force de traîner des sacs de riz de 20 kg jusqu’à notre banque alimentaire et que mon esprit était épuisé par, eh bien, tout. Elle a fait preuve d’empathie. « Nous sommes fatigués », a-t-elle dit, « nous allons tous avoir besoin de repos à la fin de tout ça. Et, Jenna, nous allons tous avoir besoin de digérer ce qui nous arrive, de parler et de faire notre deuil. » 

Je ne suis pas sûre que nous, dans nos communautés, nos églises ou la société, ayons mis en œuvre la vision de mon collègue d’un répit et d’un débriefing collectifs. La plupart du temps, j’ai l’impression que nous avons intensifié les choses d’une manière que je regrette : plus d’anxiété, plus de colère, plus de pression pour la productivité. Plus de sans-abris dans ma ville. Plus de souffrance dans mon travail. 

Lors de la Journée de la narration en octobre 2024, j’ai trouvé un espace et des personnes qui incarnaient ce que je savais être vrai pour ceux d’entre nous qui travaillent dans le domaine de l’aide sociale. Un mouvement de personnes qui travaillent à éradiquer la pauvreté et l’injustice selon la personne de Jésus et qui reconnaissent, à travers l’histoire, toute la joie, toute la douleur et la colère et tout l’espoir compliqué qui accompagne cet appel. J’ai envoyé un texto à mes collègues : « C’est le meilleur événement Work and Faith auquel j’ai jamais participé. Ces personnes travaillent toutes un peu comme nous. Et elles se débattent, dans la foi. » 

Notre équipe de Montréal a humblement accepté l’invitation à organiser notre propre soirée Story Night en français ; alors que nous réfléchissons sur la lamentation et l’espoir, peut-être célébrerons-nous aussi le fait de se débattre, dans la foi. 

Remembering Peter Lamb: A Legacy of Faith and Friendship

We met 18 years ago. I was new to the neighbourhood of Parkdale and he was not. I remember him schooling me on everything related to Parkdale Neighbourhood Church (PNC): the different people who held leadership over the years, the way he and his wife Doe would make food for the drop-in that used to be held in a storefront on Queen, the names of those I “should really meet”. He wasn’t always around in those early days, but he made a strong impression.

Peter Lamb, I would later learn, spent time at Yonge Street Mission’s Evergreen way back in the day where he got to know Rick Tobias. Rick became a connecting point for us. Peter loved that I counted Rick a mentor and would regale me with tales about their relationship. “Did you know that Rick used to let me make the coffee at Evergreen?” he would tell me during nearly every one of our conversations.

When PNC became The Dale and my role shifted to what it is now, Peter told me that though I was a reluctant leader, he believed I was called. His words meant a lot to me. He began to phone me with frequency to offer encouragement. Those calls became a way to catch up on our days, often talk theology, and pray. When I was ordained, Peter was one of a small group of people to pray over me during the service. And sure enough, I received a call shortly after he got home from the service to pray yet again.

I will admit that I could not always spend as much time on the phone as Peter would have liked. Which is why I felt so grateful to Rick, who understood why I couldn’t, and was quick to step into the gaps. Rick called Peter just about every day until his death in 2022. As Peter would say, “Rick always reminds me to keep my eyes on Jesus”. I was the one to tell Peter that Rick was gone. Together we wept. It was such a gift for me and Peter to participate in Rick’s funeral by co-reading Matthew 25:31-40, an invitation extended by Rick himself.

Peter was a very faithful regular at The Dale’s Sunday Service. When we moved into the sanctuary of Epiphany and St. Mark, Peter found a spot at the front that accommodated his wheelchair and never left it. He loved to sing and would choose the same songs from our little songbook week after week. Every passing of the peace he would say the same thing to me, “Oh Erinn, peace to you and your household. God bless you and Dion and Cate. God bless The Dale. Thank you for loving me”. To which I would say, “Peace to you Peter. God bless you and Little Bits (his beloved cat). You are so loved. And thank you for loving me”. Other community members would always comment on Peter’s capacity to pray, and how his loud voice and faith would always fill the room.

There were times of great struggle for Peter. He mourned the loss of Doe. He grieved the way his body required dialysis and that walking ultimately became too difficult, always clinging to the hope he might be healed. He could experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, all in a day. He felt deeply conflicted about certain issues and could cope with that by making sweeping statements. I, together with The Dale team and other community members, would do our best to be present to Peter in his pain. We never gave up on him, nor he us.

It was strange to not hear from Peter much since the big snowstorm around mid- February. We became worried. Joanna was the one to discover he was in hospital. The first day we walked into his room, my heart sank. I recognized the state he was in as being close to death. We got to visit a number of times, always praying and singing for our friend. On Wednesday I anointed Peter with oil. When we arrived the next day, we learned that he had died in the night.

Peter, I am so grateful for you. I will miss hearing you laugh, especially when you got giddy and couldn’t stop. You were very generous, sometimes giving so much that you didn’t have enough for yourself. You shared your gifts of encouragement and prayer readily. Thank you for providing a new home to Chevy’s cat, Little Bits (even though you liked to give too many treats!). I’m glad that we could disagree and talk through things without losing sight of our love and care for each other. I don’t think I’ll ever sing Shout to the Lord or Faithful One without thinking of you. Please say hi to Rick and all the others we missed together over the years. I love you.

Peter Lamb
February 28, 1951 – March 5, 2025