Community

Something beautiful happens when people gather—not just to worship, but to eat, to cry, to sing, to sort through old mugs at a garage sale, or to sway together to the sound of a piano on a Wednesday night. At Parkdale, these moments are not side events. They are the heartbeat of our church.

A community like ours doesn’t just happen. It’s built, piece by piece, moment by moment. And this year, we’ve been building something extraordinary.

This past Maundy Thursday, we gathered around a long table in the Sunday School room. We ate a meal rich with meaning—parsley, Matzah bread, sweet charoset—symbols of the ancient story of liberation. But even more powerful were the voices around that table—people of all ages and stages laughing, wondering, sharing.

This meal wasn’t just a ritual—it was a reminder that Christ meets us at every table, in every bite, in every act of welcome. We remembered Jesus not with solemn silence, but through shared stories and full plates. And in doing so, we lived out his commandment: do in remembrance of me. 

Our Good Friday service this year was one of the most moving experiences I’ve ever had. We were blessed by the beauty of live music—violin, piano, and choir. We sat in that sacred space as voices rose with Pie Jesu and fell into silence again.

We remembered the crucified Christ through story, song, and stillness. We didn’t rush through the pain—we let it be. And in doing so, we held space not only for Jesus’ suffering, but for our own heartbreak, our collective grief, and the deep longing for justice in our world. It was a community woven together in compassion and courage.

And then came the celebration. Easter morning broke through with flowers and trumpets, and the glorious sound voices united.  Our sanctuary was filled—not just with people, but with joy.

Dozens of children ran around the church excitedly, collecting eggs, while the rest of us basked in the warmth of resurrection hope. We proclaimed it boldly: “We are Easter people and Hallelujah is our song.” 

And then came the garage sale prep, you know what I mean when I say: this was holy chaos. People moving, laughing, sorting, finding treasures and making connections. There’s nothing quite like working shoulder to shoulder with your neighbours, your fellow churchgoers, and strangers, all pulling together for a common good.

Yes, it raises funds. But more than that, it raises community. People who’ve never been inside our church leave with a smile. Long-time members meet new faces. And somehow, sorting through a pile of old sweaters or helping someone carry a lamp becomes ministry.

Amid garage sale chaos, our Wednesday night jazz concert brought in a whole new crowd—music lovers. Curious neighbours. People who didn’t know Parkdale was a place where you could hear world-class music and feel completely at home.

Each note, each solo, each round of applause became part of our offering to the community—a gift of creativity and connection. Jazz in our sanctuary isn’t just a concert; it’s communion. It’s sacred in its own, soulful way. And the Spirit is absolutely in the rhythm.

I’ll say it again: we don’t count community by how many people show up on Sunday. We count it by the stories we share. By the tears we hold. By the joy we multiply. Whether at the communion table, the garage sale table, or around a jazz trio, we are building something holy.

And this year, I’ve seen it over and over: we are becoming a church where community comes alive.

In a world that pulls people apart, we are creating space where people come together. Space where faith is lived, not just preached. Where doubt is welcome, questions are sacred, and everyone belongs.

We need this kind of community, not just in religious settings but in every part of life. We need places to show up as we are, to be seen, to be known, and to be held.

And that’s what we’re building—together.

Blessing Rev. Kim