Talking about Church shouldn’t be so complicated. But it is. I was born and raised Catholic, in a predominantly Catholic town. I have found both joy and community in my Church. It has been a place of refuge; a place of encouragement; a place of comfort; a place of learning; a place of social justice; a place of prayer and worship.
But it’s also part of one of many Dioceses around the world that were caught up in the sex abuse scandals and required the parishioners to come up with money to pay off the sins of a smattering of priests. In my particular diocese, it was an even bigger hit because the Bishop who brokered the financial settlement in the sex abuse lawsuits was himself found with a hard drive filled with child porn not that long after the deals were signed. I was in the room when the Bishop of an earlier era placed blame on the boys of Mount Cashel, Newfoundland in their sex abuse case. When offered the opportunity to clarify his comments, he doubled down on his statement, sending shockwaves through our youth group members and the wider community.
Just a few years ago when the bodies started showing up at church run residential schools, I, like so many, was heartbroken. MY church responsible for such atrocities towards our Indigenous brothers and sisters? It was more than most of us could bear. In a time when churches were closed due to covid, I wasn’t sure I would ever enter one again.
And then my Mom’s dementia got worse.
Her dementia now requires that she is always accompanied for her own safety. And she loves going to Church. So I started going to church regularly again. Mostly to take her. And then Father Danny, a fine, upstanding, good, kind, smart priest from my youth group days, became parish priest. And hearing his goodness shine through his homilies; his strong belief that good can prevail over evil; his pure compassion for the poor and disenfranchised. I was slowly but surely wooed back.
It didn’t mean I forgot why I had stepped back. It meant that I couldn’t let some bad apples spoil the foundation of God’s church. That my progressive lens with which I read not only the Bible but the early Church teachings, could be trusted again…and that I could put my own personal faith in that. And that I could continue to pray that my Church might find its way back to the ways of the early church where kindness and social justice and helping the poor were the main tenements.
How did I get on this rant? LOL i didn’t intend to get into all that…mostly because I’ve vocalized it, and far more eloquently, in the past. I meant it as an intro to one of the reasons i find talking about Church so complicated. A quasi-explanation for why I dare to speak publicly in support of an organization so vilified in this modern era. But here we are. In for a penny, in for a pound. Have I mentioned lately that when I write a blog, I don’t pre plan. I don’t edit. I write til I’m done and then hit publish. Because if I give myself time to think about things, my anxiety would take over and I’d never publish anything.
Back to the Church.
i was baptized at St. Ninian’s Cathedral Parish with my parents and Godparents by my side. i attended Morrison Elementary School which was located on the current site of St. Ninian Place….where we had Catholic religion classes weekly and where on special occasions we would walk to the Church for mass. i joined St. Ninian’s Children’s Choir when I was in grade 2. Oh no, I need another side bar rant. This might be a difficult blog post to follow. You’ve been forewarned!! haha
Yvette Muise was the Director of the children’s choir and she had dozens of kids show up for her week after week after week. It was something we as kids wanted to be a part of. It was what was done; a rite of passage so to speak. We had choir practice every Saturday morning at 9:30 and it was a must-attend. And then we sang every Sunday morning at 9:30 mass. But it was so much more than that. I find it difficult to talk about Yvette without getting a little overwhelmed because she is one of the biggest influences on my young self. She had incredibly high standards. if you didn’t show up for practice, you heard about it. Even if it was a family vacation or heaven forbid a sports commitment. She didn’t begrudge us happiness; she simply demanded dedication. She taught us that we were part of something far bigger than ourselves; that our voices brought spirituality to life; that we were using our gifts to help share the word of God. And how on earth could we abandon that mission???
She taught us to pray. It is her voice I hear in my head anytime I hear or pray the rosary. It is she who insisted we pray for our priests; for our families; for our friends; for each other. It was she who taught us hymns in English, French, Latin, German. It was her that introduced liturgical dance. It was her that prepared for months for Christmas and Easter; using her own money for supplies; using her own powers of persuasion to enlist volunteers (or as we would say today, voluntolds). One year after months of preparations we showed up to the children’s mass on Christmas Eve only to be told by the sitting parish rector that we were not allowed to do our pageant. I was a child so not privy to details of whatever power move was at play there. But I remember all of us crying in the choir loft; months of work and preparation gone down the drain at the whim of the man we were supposed to have respect for. Yvette comforted us all and sharply rebuked us for blaming that priest even though it was very clearly his decision; his last minute decision that broke our little hearts.
Yvette encompassed our worlds; not just on Saturday and Sunday mornings. She invited touring singers to our midst. She took us on tour to various parishes – arranging billeting and exchanges. She took us on vacation to PEI and encouraged our fun sides to come out at Rainbow Valley! She taught us songs like the Haitian “Yellow Bird”; and Blowin in the Wind. She challenged us to help others by promoting fundraisers for local charities and having us wait tables at any CWL dinner. She encouraged us to work hard in school and in our extra curriculars; she celebrated every win and every 100%. She checked in with our parents and made sure we were doing okay. She made us participate in cultural events like the St. Patrick’s Day Concerts and the Highland Games Parade and the Coady Picnics. She invited us into her home, cooking for us and sharing her own family traditions. She challenged us to expand our hearts and our minds and our souls. She taught me the true meaning of the word Church – which is why even today with all that has gone on, I can’t give up the vision of that definition of Church. She walked the walk so well that to this day I can still picture Jesus himself walking along beside her. How incredibly lucky were the children of St. Ninian’s to have this opportunity to learn from such an incredibly beautiful soul like Yvette Muise?
We are not so lucky anymore because we have no children’s choir. The music is beautiful of course but, for me, we lost a piece of ourselves when we lost both the 9:30 children’s mass and the 7pm youth mass. No more children’s choir. No more youth choir (I was also a part of that for many years…mostly Yvette’s graduates, I might add). No more specific to children role in the church other than alterservers. Even as a childless woman, I find that very sad. As noted, it’s not just about the music. It’s a huge loss to the children of today in our midst.
Okay okay, end of my sidebar about Yvette…but I simply can’t talk about Church or my experience in the Church without celebrating her.
I digress.
I was also a lector as a teen. And a Eucharistic Minister. And I was a catechist. Teaching grade 5s, 8s and 9s for years. i was a youth group member. As previously mentioned I was a founder of a youth choir. All of those things happened in St. Ninian’s. Father Anthony O’Conner gave me my First Communion there. Father Gus MacLeod heard my first Confession there. Bishop Campbell, for better or worse, confirmed me there. I stood in so many weddings there. I buried so many family members and friends and neighbours from there.
Every single solitary milestone event of my life has some connection to St. Ninian’s Cathedral. it is at the heart of my memories.
Today, I am a CWL member and I recently was elected President of the St. Ninan Parish Foundation. It’s in my role with the Foundation that I find myself so nostalgic tonight while I in no way, shape or form speak for the Foundation; only myself in response to the feedback I’ve received while selling tickets. I fully recognize the complexities when talking about the Church. I understand peoples misgivings. I understand those that have had to walk away. i just wanted to put that out there…that I get it; and why I’ve found myself staying.
Those that know me, know that I did my schooling in Religious Studies…undergrad and graduate school. But nowhere in there would you find one lick of artistic ability or education. The only reason I got my high school art credit was because the aforementioned Yvette Muise was an art teacher by then and had us do pottery and basketweaving (I recently found my weaving project still not completed in my parents basement btw). So I’m the very last person to speak to the historical significance of the artwork in the Cathedral. But a famous Quebec artist named Ozias Leduc came to our community in the early 1900s and painted extraordinarily beautiful murals. Over the years, these murals were painted over, perhaps for financial reasons. And a decade ago, it was decided it was now or never to restore this historical artwork. The paint was peeling and as a result the artwork was being chipped away. Fundraising was launched and “the saints” were restored. During this project, it was realized that the ceiling was in trouble. The slats and plaster our ancestors used to create the ceiling were coming to the end of its natural life…unfortunately Ozias Leduc had painted directly on the plaster. If the ceiling falls, we lose the precious artwork that adorns the ceiling. Leaving us with both a functional emergency (it could literally fall on our heads) and an historical emergency – can we allow such historical artwork to disappear?
Our Cathedral remains at the heart of our community. Tourists come to tour our building and marvel at the artwork and the historical significance – much like is done when visiting ancient churches in Rome.
If we fail to raise the money to fix the ceiling, the church that was painstakingly built by our ancestors will be no more. it’s not just about the loss of a building to have mass. Mass can be celebrated on the side of Keppoch Mountain (remember when that was a thing?!). But this homage to God that early Antigonishers struggled to bring to fruition is a work of art and an historical landmark. Whether you have just driven by it or if you attended or if you simply had to clean the church on Saturday mornings for a few months (cough cough, Antigonishers of a certain age will know what that’s about)…it is a place that is meaningful in all of our stories. Maybe it’s just a place that was important to your parents or grandparents. But isn’t that enough of a reason to try to save it?
I hear you. The complications sometimes make it difficult to stand up for the church. As a very proud aunt of my transgendered niece, I have very real differences of opinion sometimes. So I choose to focus on what I’ve studied of Jesus himself and the Early Christian teachings and believe that my progressive lens is what it really ought to be centred on. Only by being actively involved can I strive to make a change back to the original roots; that’s my thoughts anyway.
If you have any connection to this Church or this town…or if you want to honour a loved one; or if you want to help preserve this historical property; or if you simply want to keep it standing so you can continue to hold the church accountable…whatever your reasoning, I’m asking you to consider helping. We need money and lots of it. We will be launching a capital campaign soon. Like the church builders did, we are all going to have to dig deep…maybe donate monthly for several years to accomplish. It’s daunting. But with God on our side and the spirit of all those who have gone before cheering us on? Maybe, just maybe, it’s doable.
We are having a dinner on July 5th at 5pm to share a little bit of what’s happened and where we need to go…and we’d love it if you’d join us. Mary Grace and family are kindly donating their time and talents to provide a chicken dinner with all the trimmings. If you’d like a ticket, please reach out or stop by the parish office. It should be a nice evening of good food, camaraderie and shared purpose…St. Ninian’s being a true community again! Truly hope to see you there.
Dandelion Wishes 