Post for September 28, 2009
…a funeral.
Father Paul was away from Saint Brendan’s parish over the weekend and into today, so I had the honour of presiding the funeral and burial of Alexandre Beaudet, an elderly gentleman who lived most of his 89 years in that same parish. I remember seeing him regularly at mass, even though I didn’t know his name, so I was quite saddened when I visited his family at the funeral parlour. Still, as any priest can tell you, faith makes a huge difference. The atmosphere itself was very light, even joyful, during the whole funeral process (wake, mass, burial). It was the most fitting tribute to the man and his trust in the Lord Jesus.
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Post for March 16, 2008
A week ago I wrote about a young African woman who providentially came to worship with us at St. Brendan’s parish.
Just to let you know, she was back this week (Palm Sunday), and she brought two friends!
Palm Sunday is pretty crowded, so I didn’t see her during the mass, but after it was over she said hello to the choir and passed on word that she was here. I was delighted to meet her two friends from Burundi, and I made sure to invite them to all the Holy Week celebrations. Hopefully we will see each other again at Easter.
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Post for March 9, 2008
We had a massive snowstorm last night, so much so that it took me 25 minutes this morning to get out of the parking lot of the Cathedral (where I live) in order to reach St. Brendan’s parish (where I was preaching). I dug my car out, backed up 10 feet, dug my car out again, backup up another 10 feet — you get the picture. At one point I was actually asking myself if this was worth it, given that the pastor *had* offered that I could stay home, but I nevertheless managed to make it to the parish by 9:01 (mass normally starts at 9). We were good to go, even there weren’t a whole lot of other people there!
We have a bit of a break between masses, so I offered to drive over to a local Tim Hortons and pick up some coffee. While I was waiting at a light on my way back, I heard a knock on my driver’s side window. A young dark-skinned woman who was clearly not dressed for the weather wanted to speak to me. I rolled down my window and we chatted in French:
“Excuse me sir, you are a Christian, yes?” she started with a distinctly African accent.
“Well, yes. Why do you ask?”
“I see the rosary hanging from your mirror. I am trying to get to my church to pray this morning, and my bus has not come for over an hour. Are you going in [she pointed] that direction?”
I thought about this for a moment — here is a total stranger asking for a lift. But I loved her story, and besides she clearly *was* freezing. From experience I know that in many cultures hitchhiking like this is perfectly normal behaviour. So I said, “Sure, hope in, I’ll get you at least a bit closer.”
As we were driving, I asked her where she was from, and she said Rwanda. “Rwanda! I know a Catholic priest from Rwanda. His name is Father Raphael. He is from Butare.”
She smiled broadly. “There is a Catholic priest from Butare in Montreal? I did not know that. Are you going to his church now?”
“No,” I replied, “I’m going to my church. I am a priest also, and I am going to St. Brendan’s parish.”
“I am Catholic, too,” she said. “But I have only been here 6 months, and I still don’t know my way around. A friend invited me to her church, and that is where I have been praying to God for the last few weeks.”
Hmmm….
“Well, my church is on the way to the one you are trying to get to,” I explained, “so I will park my car there. Why don’t you come in and see it?” She was happy to do so.
Now one thing you need to know about St. Brendan’s parish is that it is a very friendly and welcoming community. I introduced her to the pastor, and to a few other people who were already there (even though it was 1 hour before mass, not everyone had reset their clocks for daylight savings the night before!) She was so cold she took off her boots just to warm up her feet by a radiator. I got out an extra cup and poured some of my coffee into it for her, to help her get warm. We chatted a bit, and I discovered that she spoke English as well. She told me that she had actually come to Canada as a refugee, and was now living alone as her roommate, who often helped her find her way around, was now in the hospital. I told her the story of how many years ago, before I was a priest, I had moved into this neighbourhood and how the people of this parish had become like a second family to me, helping me in the same way.
Slowly, people began to arrive, and my young Rwandan was introduced to French Canadians, Italians, Philippinos, people from the Caribbean, and so on (St. Brendan’s has quite a mix). I had to go get ready for mass, but of course I invited her to stay with us. She seemed to be making friends. When mass started, though, I looked for her and did not see her — until I looked over at the choir, and found her standing there with others and singing along.
Given the small numbers at mass, as well as the visible addition to the choir, I introduced my guest to the congregation. When I mentioned that she was from Africa and that this was the first time she had ever seen snow, the community laughed and burst into applause. After mass I drove her back to where I originally picked her up, and gave her my name and email address. I have since gotten a thank you, who which I have replied with an invitation to come and visit me at the Cathedral. Who knows, maybe the whole purpose of this snowstorm was to help a young refugee woman, far from home, find her spiritual family.
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Post for December 16, 2007
Lizann Albanese is a parishioner of St. Brendan’s parish, where I do my Sunday ministry, and this evening she held a concert in the parish church for the launch of her album If You Believe. Given the major snowstorm (20 inches!) I did not go to the concert, but she did give me a free copy of the CD earlier so I made sure to listen to it. I noticed in the liner notes that she offered thanks to the parish and its pastor, which I thought was a nice touch. You can get a good intro listen to her music on her Myspace page.
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