We were in Toronto yesterday with our two grandsons, who are four and six. We met our younger daughter, Emily, and went to see the Young People's Theatre production of The Adventures of Pinocchio. It was very well done and the boys seemed quite engaged, although the GO Train from Oshawa was probably just as big a hit as the musical.
Before it began someone from the theatre group came out for the general introduction and to tell us which Indigenous land we were on, a practice which has become de rigeur for earnest, socially conscious groups. I did the same when leading worship in Algonquin Park this summer but I sometimes wonder whether the First Nations would prefer that we settler types would just shut up and give them back their property.
I was also a bit cynical because on the walk from Union Station to the playhouse there were virtually no signs of traditional lands, few trees, and all the streams from another time were carefully buried. Yet she went on to reflect on the importance of honouring first peoples, of imagining what the city streets were once like as forest, and the ways in which we can all pay attention to the evidence of the natural world around us, even though it can be a challenge to observe it in urban settings. Good for
There were plenty of grandparent/grandkid combos at the musical, and we are oldsters are the ones who need to make a difference for a generation to come. As our politicians offer up some creative and often blatant Pinocchios about mitigating the climate emergency, and when Creation Care is low on the practical agenda of many Christians we can remind ourselves that our grandchildren are counting on us to act now. They want to be real boys and girls and to have a meaningful future.
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