Our Purpose and Mission Statement

Working to build God's dream. Help wanted!

We the people of Glen Rhodes United Church, are determined that our life together will be fully inclusive for people of all ages, races, genders, sexual orientations, differing abilities, ethnic origins and economic circumstances. Therefore, we hope that God will work in us so that we will be a sensitive congregation, willing to share our faith and gifts in language and worship, in the life and work of our church and wherever God calls us to do justice in the wider community, with compassion, fun and laughter

Tuesday, 26 November 2013

“Remembering the future”   Robin Wardlaw   November 24, 2013

Reign of Christ, Year C
Readings: Jeremiah 23:1–6; Luke 1:68–79; (Colossians 1:11–20); Luke 23:33–43 

Remember when you had to carry a phone around? Like, it was a separate object, that you could lose, or drop in the sink? Before we got the implants? Remember when planes used to have pilots, and you had to sort of steer your car yourself, and know when to speed up and slow down, and know how to get places? No? Well, it’s a long time ago, so don’t worry. Yah, there was a time when we used to burn oil. I’m not sure—in lamps or something, to make light. Or maybe it was for heating. I don’t remember. We just use it for plastic now. Well, not so much now that we’re digging up old garbage dumps and getting all our new stuff from all that old stuff. People used to just bury stuff. In the ground. Remember that? But it’s good for us, I guess, because it all stayed right there for us to use. And we used to let people suffer and die in poverty, whatever that is.
 What will they be saying about us in fifty years, a hundred, a thousand? If you could somehow go back to 1906, to the founding of a mission on this site, and explain to people what was going to happen in the next century, how much would they believe? Bombs filled with gas that melted lungs? Industrialized warfare? A rocket to the moon? Vaccines for diseases, boxes that showed moving pictures in your home, computers, rock and roll?
We can learn from the past. We can hope to leave things for the future better than we found them. But we only get to live in one age, one era. So we try to get our bearings from the examples of others. We try to figure out a way of being in our lifetime that is just, compassionate, creative, sustainable. We hope to have leaders who will help us work together, solve problems, reward the right things, the right people. We hope to be able to give leadership like that when circumstances permit. This is Reign of Christ Sunday, so we’re considering leaders. That’s why we have a picture of the city, too. Reigning over what?
Leaders have a mixed record, according the bible. Some shepherds scattered the flock instead of keeping it safe, keeping it together. Some leaders, challenging everyday violence against people, have met violent ends themselves. What will the future bring by way of leaders? Scatterers, or gatherers? Those who promise much but deliver little, or those who work away quietly, getting results?
Work away quietly at what? For too long, bullies have been in charge. The biggest bullies we call Caesar, emperor, king or queen, or sometimes even president or prime minister. They enable concentration of power and wealth in the hands of a few at the expense of the many. This country was founded by competing European empires and coveted by an emerging North American empire. Many people, many of us, have been hurt by empire. Empire values subjugate anyone who is different—First Nations, women, homosexuals, upstarts—and the environment. Nothing is sacred, really, except privilege. Empires are good at getting groups that should be working together to attack each other. Divide and conquer. You’ve probably heard about the attempt by soldiers of England and Germany to unionize on either side of the trenches when there was a break in the fighting in 1915. It didn’t sit well with the higher ups.
The cost of empire affects us all, even those who are getting most of the benefits of exploitation and violence. Jesus is one of the people who somehow recovered their true citizenship, their true allegiance. He and others say to empire, You’re not in charge, not really. You are not only not worthy of our adoration, you are very bad shepherds. People such as Steve Biko in South Africa and Maude Barlow in Canada, people in the righteous branch tradition pull the curtain back to reveal the ordinary people working the intimidating machinery of fear and control. Empire doesn’t like this. It gets very efficient at silencing, sidelining and disappearing its critics. Tribute must flow. Deference must be given, curtseys dropped, forelocks tugged, knees bent. In this age of democracy, we can’t seem to get enough Downton Abbey, enough lives of the rich and famous, enough celeb worship at the checkout. We need leaders who go about things differently.
The lust to control exists all over, though, not just on the grand scale: friendships, families, organizations, offices and factories, teams, clubs, churches, they can all be tainted, distorted, wrecked by someone determined to dominate. When I left the house this morning, a woman was talking about how her husband, how the fear he created in her controlled her. Slavery is on the rebound—someone controlling someone else utterly, colonizing the mind, the soul. The bible is about liberation for slaves, freedom from fear. That’s the business we’re in: liberation, freedom. If we say Jesus reigns, we’re saying Caesar doesn’t. We say this knowing there will be consequences. We still say so and so was “crucified” to describe an attack on them by the powers that be, even if there is no actual cross in sight.
Living in a situation where one person or group dominates can be bad, soul-destroying. But not in here. Here we create a sanctuary for one another, for anyone, a safe and sacred place where gifts are honoured, people are included and differences dealt with differently. Here, Christ reigns. This is true fifty-two weeks of the year, but we pay special attention to this aspect of our faith at this time of the year, at the conclusion of the church year. 
Time to review our lives. Advent is just around the corner. In Advent we await the coming of Christ into our lives and our world. Today we examine our lives to see what or who rules. Individualism says, No one is the boss of me. I am the captain of my soul. I owe nothing to you or anyone. Fascism says you owe all your loyalty to the state. The bank that holds your mortgage would like to remind you that it has first claim on you. Borrow more, they coo. Drug dealers work to keep users coming back. It was Faust, wasn’t it, who struck a bargain with evil, to get certain things in exchange for his soul.
It may have been a mistake for Christians to borrow the language of monarchy, dominance, grandeur for Christ. The Reign of Christ? We know that Christ reigns very differently than human rulers, but how does that word, reign, convey liberation, freedom? For those of us who have been ruled by someone or something not Christ-like, an addiction, a bully, we welcome the rule of something else, something loving.
But what if we are luckier than that at the moment? What is our relationship to Christ, to the reign of Christ? Christ needs partners in this vast, life-giving liberation movement. Not terrorists. What’s the point of fighting fear with fear? Partners, followers of Christ employ love to get freedom. That’s what justice is: love, organized.
So if you are still feeling out of control, subject to some craving you can’t seem to ditch, you are in the right place. If you are being bullied elsewhere in your life, this is your lifeboat. Scripture keeps talking about the last being first, the little one being the leader, the rejected being given the place of honour. Radical stuff. Not easy to do. And certainly not easy to keep doing. It takes a community such as this to recover your true self.
If you are feeling more blessed than that currently, you are in the right place. This is where your most fertile imagination about the future is needed. This is where you determination to resist other kinds of visions for the planet are needed, visions that beggar us all. It takes a community such as this to support you in your ministry.
“‘And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
   for you will go before God to prepare her ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people
   by the forgiveness of their sins.’” (Luke 1:76-77)
…a very personal message for those haunted by sin.
“‘By the tender mercy of our God,
   the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
   to guide our feet into the way of peace.’” (Luke 1:78-79) 

…a different message about the future, a message for the whole world about light and peace. Remembering the future. Remembering the way things are meant to be. We can’t do it alone, none of us. That’s another one of the Creator’s gifts—we need each other in order to fulfil our purpose. So look up at the various flag poles inside your life. Which one is the tallest? Where is the flag representing Spirit, or God, or Jesus Christ compared to the others? If you are not happy with what you see, let’s do something about that. Together. And be part of of a very different future that is coming into being all around us.
Our Remembrance Day speaker pointed out that wars are less numerous these days. Acceptance of sexual minorities is growing. Even in places like Afghanistan, women are gaining strength to resist male domination, thanks in part to the internet. First Nations here and elsewhere are finding their voices. In other words, there is hope. The examples go on and on. May they spring up right here, too, in each of us.

Monday, 25 November 2013

“Vegans all?”     Robin Wardlaw     November 17, 2013
Pentecost 26, Year C
Readings: Isaiah 65:17–25; Isaiah 12; 2 Thessalonians 3:6–13; Luke 21:5–19
What is in your picture of the ideal life? Is it like the car ads, where a single vehicle swoops along perfect, empty roads through gorgeous scenery? Does your picture involve a beach, with palm trees? Are there other people in your perfect picture? One? A few? Many? Or does your picture keep things much the same except no more…fill in the blank here: no more waiting in line? no more telemarketers? no more packages that are impossible to open? no more worrying about calories? no more trips to the dentist? no more illness? no more fossil fuels? no more war? no more food banks? Is the music of your ideal world loud and in your face, or a pleasant background to other activities?
Futuring has a checkered history. Popular Mechanics used to predict that we’d have flying cars by now. Thank goodness that hasn’t happened. But all the symptoms of climate change scientists have been predicting for decades seem to be coming true, except soon than they thought. Today we’re being asked by our bible readings to think about the perfect future. The bible gives it a try. The results are mixed. Things are going to be amazing, says Third Isaiah. Things are going to go to hell, say Luke’s gospel. Everyone will be blessed, says Isaiah. Believers will suffer most, says Luke. Peace and love! Conflict and suffering!
What to do when the bible is contradicting itself? Toss a coin? Let’s slow down and have a more careful look at what we’ve got here.
The last few chapters of Isaiah were written much later than the first thirty-nine chapters. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since the time of Isaiah the man, the prophet who prophesied in Jerusalem seven hundred years before Jesus. Chapter 65 seems to come from five hundred and twenty years before Jesus’ birth, about two hundred years later. By that time, the rocky situation in Israel has more or less settled down. The later writer still focuses on the ethics of the nation, but then there is this soaring poetry about how it will be when everything is transformed by Love.
No one and nothing will suffer. Predators will change their ways. Lions will somehow be able to digest straw. Tears? No. Infant death? No. Premature death of older adults? Not any more. Houses, food, a sure reward for work, safe child-bearing, security. Every good thing will come to pass.
This vision is still moving, even though it still seems far away. Especially if you are being exploited, oppressed or left homeless and starving right now. If the predator in your young life is not a lion but has a camera running and forces you to do all kinds of painful and demeaning things to make money for him. If the predator is not a wolf, but own a factory and forces you to spend your childhood earning very little while generating profits for him. If the predators on both sides of the fight have vicious weapons and send you and your family fleeing for your lives to some dusty refugee camp. If the predator is wild weather never before seen. You get the picture. Then the Isaiah vision is like cool water to a thirsty person.
The vision in Luke could hardly be more different. Social collapse, environmental collapse. And before those things, persecution of believers. A dreadful succession of calamities and horrors. A powerful vision if you are already being betrayed, persecuted and put on trial. This was the case for some of Jesus’ followers in the decades after his death. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The message from the founder was prophetic, even harsh at times against unfeeling authorities who had given up on the Isaiah vision. But Jesus imagines a world of sharing, not a world of suffering like this for those who share his convictions.
Here’s what’s happening. The young Christian movement has its ups and downs in the years and decades following Jesus’ death. People flock to it in anticipation something wonderful is going to happen right away. An end to the terrible tension caused by Roman rule. A new rule of peace and light. But things happen. Or more accurately, things didn’t happen. God did not intervene to clean up a messy human situation. Not soon after Jesus’ death, and then not after different predictions of when it would happen. Some people drifted away from the movement, some betrayed it. But despite many disappointments, it kept going, kept growing, eventually causing tension with some Jews as the two faiths slowly diverged from each other.
What we find in passages such as this one in the gospels, especially the later ones, is evidence not of what was Jesus was predicting in the year 30 or so, but of what was going on for some Christians in the sixties, seventies and eighties of what we call the first century. In Luke 21, we’re not hearing Jesus predict these things, we’re hearing the Jesus’ movement trying to make sense of a judgment day that had not come like it was supposed to, division and betrayal within the movement, and growing hostility from others.
But all is not gloomy. Even this scary cloud has a silver lining. You probably got that. “…you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defence in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict… You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.” (Luke 21:12-15, 17-19)
Endure. Get ready to witness to your faith just by hanging in there. You shall not perish, but gain your souls. This is the kind of teaching that so influenced the Civil Rights movement in the fifties, the 1950s. Don’t fight back. Be completely peaceful. Their violence against you is going to look bad on them. And the powerful thing for us is that both the Isaiah vision and the Luke teaching are aiming at the same thing: a different kind of world for everybody, a world where people don’t live in fear, traumatized, numb, and in fact, only plants are consumed. No one preys on others. We don’t spill blood anymore. We’re all vegans, it seems.
What’s the takeaway for a person today in a place like this, where food abounds, worship of all religions is protected by law, and the climate is still our friend? We’re coming to the end of the Christian year with Reign of Christ Sunday next week. At this time of year, we’re looking at the end of everything, the goal, the vision of our faith. Then we start over in Advent, another year of intense conversation with scripture, tradition and current events to figure out how we can be here in a creation way, a redemptive way, how to bear our own witness to the faith in us.
And this is when we celebrate our congregation’s anniversary, too. A hundred and seven years of a witness in this neighbourhood, a tradition of putting faith into action, reaching out to others, making a place of real welcome for everyone. A good time of year to review the past, and also look forward. And on this anniversary, it’s possible that we will choose a purpose statement for ourselves after church; a short way of summing up this congregation’s understanding of its call as the body of Christ here, now.
The invitation of scripture passages such as we have today, and of our anniversary, is to go into our relationship with the holy in a deep way, and a far-reaching way. Is there something here that calls me to a greater wholeness as a person, a greater sense of connection to others, especially others who are vulnerable? Am I hearing an invitation here to grow spiritually, to die to self as scripture puts it, so that I can live for the larger vision of Christ? And as a people, as a congregation, do we get the sense, on good days, that we are more than a collection of individuals, that the Spirit blows through here, doing something we could never do by ourselves?
Let’s not invest a great deal of our time in trying to figure out exactly what the ideal future might be. Instead, let’s take our cue from the letter to Thessalonians, especially the line at the end of today’s reading. Paul has heard that the congregation is experiencing a division. He upbraids believers who have persuaded themselves that the day of God has come and therefore they can just sit back and do nothing. At the conclusion of the finger wagging comes an instruction that transcends its original setting and time: “Friends, do not be weary in well-doing.” This must be a key verse for this congregation, one you have taken to heart long since. We can always discuss what well-doing looks like, what exactly we are going to do here. And we can admit that we do get weary. What we won’t do is sit on our hands because we haven’t yet figured out exactly what a future full of godliness looks like.
We can hear our scriptures asking us to think about change, too. The Isaiah vision imagines changes to the very essence of predators, of wolves and lions. We’ll come back to this next week. But in the meantime, what is stopping us from becoming vegans, so to speak? Changing our ways? Giving up our tendency to bite others, and chew them up? See ourselves as always in a win-lose situation, eat or be eaten? By “us,” I mean humankind. We have taken out the top predators in many settings—sharks from the seas, wolves from the land, and seen things get out of whack. What do we do about the predators among us? Surely we don’t need vicious people to keep a balance in the world, like the moose population needs wolves. So how do we get towards God’s vision for the planet? More on this next week

Wednesday, 13 November 2013

“Remembering and Remembrance”        by John Siebert   November 10, 2013 

Readings: Ecclesiastes 1:1-11;  Psalm 98; Luke 22:  14-19  

1.  Introduction 

Remembering concerns what we each experience directly and can recall as memories: that boyhood homerun that won the game, the first time you met that special person. It all comes back—the sights, the sounds, the temperature. We can even have memories about great memories, as we recall those special moments and act in response.
Remembrance, as opposed to remembering, is the commemoration of an important event by a group, small or large, which instructs and creates shared understanding and commitment.
As we meet on the 10th day of the 11th month during the 11th hour, our minds turn to remembering, but, more accurately, we are prodded to engage in remembrance.
Most of us do not remember World War I. What we know about it we learn from storytelling, reading history books, from public displays of poppies and ceremonies, from reciting “In Flanders Fields the poppies grow, between the crosses row on row” in elementary school. I remember being chosen in grade 6 at Vineland Public School to recite the poem from memory at the Remembrance Day assembly in the gym.
What we do on Remembrance Day with our neighbours is engage in a publicly sanctioned national event. It can have personal elements. Some can recall grandfathers, uncles, maybe great-aunts who served in that war, so the public remembrance and personal memories can begin to merge. 

2. Vimy Ridge 

In a tucked-away corner in a field in northern France there is a monument at Vimy Ridge. It was created by Canadians to mark a bloody battle in 1917 in which Canadian soldiers died en masse on the way to defeating the Germans for control of a patch of ground.
The Vimy Memorial is spectacular. If you read the novel The Stone Carvers by Jane Urquhart, you get a sense of how much trouble, cost, and initiative were required to raise the white towers of stone with the carved figures embodying the virtues.
In a beautiful prose poem, delivered as a speech, Director of the Canadian War Museum Dean F. Oliver (2012) speaks about Vimy as place, battle, and memory. Oliver refers to the pivotal role of Vimy in Canada’s emerging sense of its own nationhood, as not just a colonial appendage to the British Empire.
“Vimy sits at or near the very centre of whatever national historical psyche Canadians might reasonably be said to possess.”
He also asks if the memory of Vimy has been used and abused: “Is Vimy a cheap spur to emotionalism? Is it a cue to pass the hat for history? Is Vimy a bumper sticker rejoinder to presumably dim and ungrateful contemporaries?”
As a place, Vimy hosted an epic battle, a historical and tragic accident. It had no previous military history, no fortifications; it wasn’t at the strategic crossroads of empire or even trade and commerce. Before the battle maybe 2,500 people lived in two small villages in rolling farmland.
All that was there was irrevocably changed with the battle in 1917. Today it is a parkland with a soaring stone memorial—a site of war tourism. (And some scandalous behaviour if the internet is to be believed!) 

Vimy was an event on April 9, 1917, a battle in the First World War. It was not really decisive, except that the Canadian units took the ridge from the German enemy in one quick day of fighting. The weather was wet and cold with snow. The troops were dirty in their trenches, suffering diseases, with vermin small and large scampering over them and infesting their clothes.
It is estimated that 3,600 Canadians died and 6,400 were injured there. For some, the despair and carnage of war are summed up in the battle at Vimy. But that is not the case for everyone. Oliver writes: “For others, it is the nation incarnate, through fire and brimstone birthed at the very edge of hell.” 

With the battle won Vimy instantly passed into the realms of memory, faith, and celebration—of recollection, imagery, myth, and remembrance. “Vimy became a shorthand narrative for the war itself. It still is.” But Oliver also asks, “How, and for whom? Does Vimy crowd out other narratives?” Canada’s government broke laws and punished people who didn’t agree with the mythmaking. “Wartime Canada sought to legislate the boundaries of patriotism and ostracize dissent, punishing those who resisted or who questioned too vigorously the grounds for the assumption of dissent.”
We are fortunate to live in Canada, a country that is self-critical and changes. We can agree with Oliver to “speak of heroes and feel no shame; but question the record and fear no retribution.” 

3. Project Ploughshares

The day-to-day work at Project Ploughshares is about making sense of the world of guns, bombs, and war. We focus on disarmament – nuclear disarmament and non-proliferation, and the control and reduction of small arms and light weapons – and peacebuilding – how do stop wars from happening, stop when they do, and rebuild after they end so they don’t re-start.
At the back I have several copies of a letter to the Prime Minister asking him and his government to sign the Arms Trade Treaty. You can join us in that effort.
We do this work with and for the Canadian churches, including the United Church of Canada. We are the ecumenical peace centre of The Canadian Council of Churches. Our work also is linked to the just peacemaking pursuit of the World Council of Churches.
In December I was in Japan and Korea in advance of the WCC Assembly to see with our sisters and brothers there the impact of nuclear power, as well as the insecurity brought by the presence of nuclear weapons throughout the region.
In technical terms we are foreign and defence policy advocates. We create evidence-based policy responses (not policy-based evidence responses) to organized violence, providing constructive recommendations.
We read voraciously and try to think carefully about these complex and important questions. 

4. Responding to 9/11

A 2011 article by David Reiff in Harper’s Magazine in advance of the tenth anniversary of the attack on 9/11 for me captured some of the primary lessons of war in our current world, and the approach we take at Ploughshares.
September 9, 2001: most of us likely have firsthand memories of that day—where we were and what we were doing when the planes descended on their targets. I started playing golf in Niagara quite early that morning. About 10:30am I saw an unusual number of military jets taking off from a US Air Force base on the other side of Buffalo. In the club house I watched on tv the second jet flying into the World Trade Centre.
Rieff recites what is written on the brass plaque at the lower Manhattan site where the twin towers of the World Trade Center once stood:
May the lives remembered, the deeds recognized, and the spirit reawakened be eternal beacons, which reaffirm respect for life, strengthen our resolve to preserve freedom, and inspire an end to hatred, ignorance and intolerance.
Unexceptional sentiments, writes Rieff. A time of remembrance, such as a funeral, is not a time for subtle historical revisionism, critical analysis, sharp rejoinder. It is a time for solidarity, deference, and piety.
This is what will take place tomorrow at cenotaphs across the country.
Remembrance of this tragic event, which seared a nation, and beyond, is a time for respectful recounting of the losses—personal for the family and friends of those who died—and for the broader notion of striving to live without these vicious attacks on the calm and mundane of everyday living.
But Rieff also points to the unseen guest at occasions of remembrance, and the fact that remembrance can have a downside. In the plaque’s platitudes is the phrase, “strengthen our resolve to preserve freedom.” This is not innocent piety. It is a call to action. It is a contemporary political claim on the nation. “The ghost at the banquet of all public commemoration is always politics—above all, the mobilization of national solidarity.” The essence of nationalism is that it can create support for collective action.
And such collective remembrance and action are not always wise, nor welcome.
Remembrance doesn’t usher in “closure,” a psychological term that can be, according to Rieff, a malign and corrosive fantasy. Remembrance can nourish illusions about how long we human beings can remember; potentially grave political and historical consequences can be nurtured by remembrance.
Rieff quotes Ecclesiastes 1:11, “There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to happen, among those who come after;” to make the point that there is no telling how long 9/11 will live in infamy in our minds and hearts, and that it may be saner and more healthy for the body politic to get on with forgetting than to dwell on remembrance.
At some point, historical travesties slip from stirring passions to being debating points, to being calendar blips, to being—for all intents and purposes—forgotten.
Consider Pearl Harbor, Rieff says to his fellow Americans. On December 7, 1941 there was an outrage, “a day that will live in infamy” according to President Roosevelt. Ten years later that date would be recalled with angry public denunciations. Fifty years later, Rieff asks, who would refuse to buy a Toyota because of Pearl Harbor?
Wars end, usually through negotiation and compromise. People move on. Old enemies become new trading partners. It can take years—or decades. The length of time can be determined by how much and how long people focus on revenge or exacting vengeance through processes of remembrance and action. Keep churning up the memories and you can prolong the period of getting to yes—that is, to peace.
Rieff delicately suggests that we consider cutting to the chase. The so-called war on terror will never end with what’s left of al-Qaeda in the dock or an acquiescing peace agreement signed at Tora Bora by Taliban leaders. Strategic forgetting may actually be preferable to remembrance if it speeds the process of reconciliation. “Then the peace that must come eventually might actually come sooner.” 

5. Christian Remembrance 

As Christians we regularly participate in an act of public remembrance that is apart from political life, but not without implications for political life.
The high claim of the church is that all other forms of remembrance are subservient, and are to be judged according to remembrance of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.
When we engage in the communal act of sharing the eucharist, communion, the Lord’s Supper, we share in confessing that remembrance of Jesus trumps all else:  the passage of battles, empires, kingdoms and potentates. And we not only do this in remembrance of Jesus’ past, but also in our belief in his presence with us today, and that this will continue until he comes again.
It should not surprise us that temporary political leaders, whose lives and actions will, in time, fade to dust, from time-to-time have perceived Christians as a threat to their own standing and proclamations of remembrance of lesser things, such as battles and centennials and their own mighty works. These are but vanities of vanities in the view of the writer of Ecclesiastes.
When we “do this in remembrance of me,” meaning remembrance of Jesus, these temporal realities are put in a different, lesser perspective.

6. Joining the Christian Story 

Christianity, like Judaism, is a religion of remembering.
In the Christian rite of baptism, we re-member, as in attach, our memories, our personal histories, to the life and story of Christ.
The Eucharist is our collective remembrance of this primary and life-changing commitment. It is a story of peace, and our shared journey to build it.


Oliver, Dean F. 2012. Vimy Ridge Day. Canadian Military History, 21:3, pp. 48-57.
Rieff, David. 2011. “After 9/11: The limits of remembrance.” Harper’s Magazine, August.