With arms wide open…

Story and photos by Matthew Woolford

The first thing I discovered about Montréal was that it is a beautiful city, picture perfect and welcoming in every way. I learned this walking along the boardwalk of Vieux Port (the Old Port), and the backdrop of the St Lawrence River only seemed to reinforce this impression.

One of my favourite icons along this stretch was the Clock Tower. According to Canada’s Historic Places website, “The Clock Tower is an eloquent symbol of the importance of the Port of Montréal in the history of transportation in Canada… The Clock Tower is also associated with the major contribution of the port to the economic development of the city of Montréal. The tower commemorates the courage of the seamen of the Merchant Marine who perished in the First World War.”

In it, I saw a symbol of strength and hospitality, as clocks that size, from my own experience, are usually only put in places where people are welcomed and encouraged to visit.

A few streets away on Rue Saint-Paul, standing even taller is another symbol of strength and hospitality. With arms wide open, she too has welcomed and accommodated many ships and souls, both lost and found, and in need of rest, after travailing what may only be described as an ‘Ocean of Mercy’. And it was there, on June 28, that I began what I see as a personal pilgrimage, at Chapelle Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours (Our Lady of Good Help).

According to the Marguerite Bourgeoys Museum website, “As soon as you enter, you will see the two works by Ozias Leduc adorning the back wall of the chapel. One shows Paul Chomedey de Maisonneuve, founder of Montréal, who donated the land for the original chapel. The other is of Marguerite Bourgeoys, the first teacher of Montréal and founder of the Congregation of Notre-Dame, who, in 1655, enlisted the help of the initial settlers in her undertaking of building a pilgrimage chapel outside the city walls. This dream finally came true in 1675 with the erection of the first stone chapel.”

As I negotiated my way through both the chapel and the museum, I reflected on the life of St Marguerite Bourgeoys and the foundation she helped lay for the education of an entire nation.

If my deceased maternal grandfather, Cecil Williams had ever met St Marguerite Bourgeoys, I have no doubt that he would have been immediately converted to Roman Catholicism, because she is arguably the only person who loved education as much as he did.

And education is everywhere at Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours, especially within the ornamental details of miniature ships suspended from the ceiling and the many ‘secrets revealed’ by the stained-glass windows and paintings hung on the wall. Three of them stood out to me in particular:

The marriage of Joseph and Mary – I found this to be an often overlooked and under-discussed part of Christology: the fact that Mary and Joseph shared a human connection. They loved each other, they made a choice to be with each other and they found genuine happiness in each other’s presence.

The embrace of the cross by Jesus – Jesus seemed happier to me in this depiction than I have seen Him in others. It was as if He chose the Cross of His own free will and was not ‘just’ undertaking a burden for the sake of others. How I wish for such courage!

The laying of the lifeless body of Jesus into the tomb – It probably was my own spiritual blindness, but this was the first time I noticed an urn at the foot of the tomb. It had me wondering if there was some intention to cremate Jesus’ body later, and if this did occur, would we be receiving ashes at Mass every day and the Eucharist only on one Wednesday, or Friday, a year? And if this was to occur, would it have been a more realistic representation of the state of our existence? According to Romans, 3:23, “…all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God.” Yet even in death, it seemed Jesus was merciful still.

I visited nine churches during this trip, but I did not feel compelled to kneel and pray as much as I did at this one. I simply felt overwhelmed with mercy. I knelt at the altars, I knelt on the steps to the sanctuary, and I even knelt on the ground.

God spoke so loudly to me at Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours, that He did not even have to say a word.