A Poem For St. John's

As a part of our yearlong celebration for St. John's 125th Anniversary local poet, and we are proud to say parishioner, Russell Thornton was commissioned to write a poem.  He was given full artistic freedom to write whatever he felt inspired to write.  After thinking about it for a few months Russell came up with "The Church Not Made With Hands".  It is a very beautiful and moving poem about the people who were the history of St. Johns and the people who still are.  Please enjoy.

The Church Not Made with Hands     for the 125^th anniversary of St. John’s

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They built the church with purposeful hands,

the founders of this parish — the Cornishes, the Crickmays,

the Diplocks, the Keenes, the Kealys — who decided

at a picnic together they would initiate the work. Joined by the Burneses,

who arranged for a clergy member at St. Paul’s in Vancouver

to travel by rowboat across the inlet to North Vancouver,

they began holding services in their homes.

 

They continued to build the church. They held the first

Anglican service on the North Shore at the Crickmays’ home.

Later, they held services in the Burnes’s home

and used rough boards stretched between pieces of upended logs for pews.

Because the piano was in another room, they set up

a relay system for the minister to pass signals to the pianist

so that she could accompany the singing of the hymns.

 

They continued to build the church and attendance grew

and more people joined in the founders’ work, and they began

holding services in “Dorman’s Shack,” a congregation member’s

abandoned house situated on Lonsdale Avenue at 13^th Street.

The building was a modest one — constructed of cedar

shakes and a mere fifteen feet square in size — but it served their aspiration,

and it was here the parish celebrated its first Holy Communion.

 

With ever more purposeful hands, they continued

to build the church and the families and individuals

who constituted the congregation — who persevered joyously together —

now numbered more than two dozen. With open hearts

and determined hands, they continued to build the church —

and on November 11^th, 1899, the church was designated

The Mission Parish of St. John the Evangelist in North Vancouver.

 

Now, in 1900, the parish cleared land one block west

of Lonsdale Avenue on 13^th Street. They used the eight-foot-wide skid road

running along what would come to be called Chesterfield Avenue

to haul lumber up the North Vancouver slope to build

the twenty-foot-square structure that was the first St. John’s Church.

In October 1900, the bishop dedicated the church,

and the records showed there were forty-nine members of the parish.

 

They continued to build the church. They continued,

and in 1901 the first wedding was held at the church — a couple

who were each widowed celebrated their new union. They continued,

and later the loving daughters of that same couple

presented the Ascension Window to St. John’s in memory

of their parents. When the storied stained glass began ushering light

into the sanctuary of the church, it was because of the work of their hands.

 

They who came after — they continued. In 1908 when they put up

a second new church —.  In 1960 when they put up a third new church —. 

In 1985, when the building was ravaged by fire, and they rescued

the Good Shepherd Window and reinstalled it

behind the altar of a fourth new church, which they laboured together

to bring into existence in 1987 —. When they rebuilt

the Ascension Window and installed it above The Good Shepherd Window

 

and when they rebuilt the Te Deum Window and installed it

facing the altar —. They continued — and the light

which was the light of eternity rayed again through the church’s windows.

They kept to their work, they continued to build the church —

with ever more purposeful hands. They continued — one pair

of hands leading to another, and another, one pair vanishing

into another, all the pairs of hands a single pair of hands continuing

 

to build the church. They were figures moving in a parable.

They were pilgrims arriving and arriving at one placeless place. 

They were bright as grass. They continued to build the church

doing the love within them and beyond them and measureless and yet specific

as the neighbour sitting next to them. With their hands

full of infinite purpose, they continued — and they who are here now

continue to build the church not made with hands.

 

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By Russell Thornton.