A Canadian Preacher Who Doesn’t Believe in God
TORONTO — The Rev. Gretta Vosper hadn’t noticed the giant industrial metal cross rising in front of her church for years, hidden as it was by a bushy tree. But then someone complained about it.
Since Ms. Vosper does not believe Jesus was the son of God, the complainer wrote in an email, she should take the cross down. “The next day, a storm took the tree out,” she said, peering up at the cross with a benign smile.
Some Christians might call that an act of God. But Ms. Vosper does not believe in God either. Instead, the parable says more about her determination. Despite being an outspoken atheist, Ms. Vosper has steadfastly maintained her place in the United Church of Canada, which with two million followers across the country is Canada’s pre-eminent Protestant church.
“This is my church,” said Ms. Vosper, 60. “The United Church made me who I am.”
In a country where thinning congregations have led to many church sanctuaries being converted into condominiums, Ms. Vosper’s outspoken views have stirred an existential passion. She has made headlines and received death threats, one taped to the church’s front door that said, “Suffer the witch not to live.”
The thrice-married reverend has also driven a deep rift into a progressive church considered as Canadian as maple syrup. In 2015, a public letter she wrote sparked so much ire, the local jurisdiction of the church launched a review committee to examine her beliefs.
After a much-publicized hearing, which she called a “heresy trial,” the local panel ruled her “unsuitable” for ministry since she “does not believe in God, Jesus Christ or the Holy Spirit.” She was on the verge of being defrocked. But, just as the national church’s final review of her case began last November, the local jurisdiction settled with Ms. Vosper and agreed she could continue to minister her congregation in Toronto’s gritty east end.
“This doesn’t alter in any way the belief of The United Church of Canada in God,” the church announced, to the confusion of many. Since the terms of the settlement are confidential, congregants were left to divine for themselves what these two seemingly contradictory positions meant.
“So, everyone has to be included, including an atheist minister? It’s nonsense,” said Bruce Sanguin, who led Ms. Vosper’s congregation before moving to Canada’s west coast. “Does the United Church stand for anything? Is it just the New Democratic Party — a socialist party — at prayer?”
Ms. Vosper has felt she belongs in the church since she was a child, growing up in a rambling house in the university town of Kingston, Ontario, with a view of one of its stony steeples from her bedroom window. The family would all bundle up and go there on Sundays, and both her parents — an engineer and a nurse — were active members.
Although as a child, she claimed Jesus had taught her to skate, she never considered herself a devotee. Instead, she says she has always understood God obliquely, as love.
After graduating from college with an arts degree and in search of adventure, Ms. Vosper moved to the far north of Canada, where she was married and had a daughter. After her marriage broke down, she returned to Kingston as a single mother and enrolled in divinity school.
“I wanted to learn how to make the world a better place through it,” said Ms. Vosper, who is sprightly, with short salt-and-pepper hair, chunky glasses and a penchant for bubbling over with language.
By then, the United Church of Canada was propelled more by social justice than theology, according to Kevin Flatt, author of “After Evangelicalism: The 60s and the United Church.” The first church to ordain transgender ministers, its leadership supported abortion and same-sex union before either became legal in Canada.