The unexpected consequences of intentional birthday celebrations and healing prayer

I have always believed in a connection between the global and the local, the personal and the planetary. But at my birthday celebration last Sunday – which I dedicated to honouring Christian community in the Middle East- the two came together in some unexpected ways.

We are all products of our DNA to a certain degree -and my life work of communicating cultural realities in the Middle East to the West finds resonance in my own mixed Lebanese/European heritage. I often feel that on a deeper inner level, my professional work is about creating harmony between my ancestors, who came from very different cultures.

So, when I went for healing prayer on Sunday after communion, I felt a prayer come through me for peace in my family and peace in the world. I had invited my father’s brother, my uncle Carey Ditmars- whose grandparents (my great-grandparents) Ruth and Arthur Jones were married in the cathedral in 1910- to attend the service and the celebration. My parents divorced when I was three years old, and I often pray for family and personal healing. But last Sunday I felt the need to really make it a prayer for global healing.

I had spent two days shopping for ingredients and baking angel food cakes, in memory of the cakes my late great mummy used to bake as well as the lovely cake I’d been given by Christians in Mosul on my last PhD research trip there, which I ended up sharing with young Muslim architects who were rebuilding the al-Nuri mosque, destroyed by ISIS.

 I prepared flyers on the Al Ahli Anglican Hospital in Gaza with information on how to make contributions via the Anglican Church of Canada to hand out to cake-eaters. My intention was to celebrate my birthday by sharing food and raising awareness of those in need – rather than focussing on my own needs. But I ended up receiving many unexpected gifts.

Maureen from Kenya brought cookies and Esther – originally from Nigeria- brought chocolate cake. Shehnaz – who has family from Gaza- showed up to help light candles and cut cake. And a parishioner named Jim I’d shared lunch with last month, brought a recent copy of the French magazine l’Actualite featuring a story on UNESCO’s rebuilding of Mosul’s old city churches and mosques.

I shared cake, flyers and accepted birthday blessings from fellow parishioners and then happily, was invited to join a group of Kenyan and Nigerian parishioners in a rousing South African hymn lead by Nigerian-Canadian Pastor Christian Okeke (that I hear will be performed on Saturday at the party celebrating the cathedral’s 135th anniversary!)

Magically, this led to a spontaneous round of belly dancing with some lovely Kenyan ladies and my Uncle Carey, followed by a lunch at the Sylvia Hotel with my uncle and some African friends. 50 metres away, my grandmother, Frances Penelope Jones had learned to swim under the careful eye of Caribbean-Canadian lifeguard Joe Fortes. 

That evening, after I sent a photo of the cake to Souhaila Tarazi, the director of the Anglican Hospital in Gaza, and told her about my efforts to raise funds (via the Anglican Church of Canada) and awareness, I received a delighted reply from her. She was genuinely touched to have been remembered on my birthday some 10,000 miles away. I received a similar message from Youhanna, a Christian man in Mosul who runs the NGO Hammurabi that assists Christians in the Nineveh Plain with recovering their properties lost during the occupation by ISIS.

The next day, I dined at the Red Accordion – the last Victorian house standing on Alberni Street that was once my great-grandparents home – right after they married at the cathedral- with my Jones cousins. I continue my prayers for family and global, personal and planetary healing and am grateful to be part of a cathedral community that facilitates this.