Unfortunately for my English speaking readers, she pretty much only blogs/video blogs in French. Don't worry, I've harnessed the power of the Internet and translated one of her posts for you. Sorry if the translation is bad!
The post:
Ontario Francophone, each community has its church. Nothing more, nothing less. When it comes time to pray the baby Jesus, the destination is fixed. The choice is simple.A village. A church. 0 debate.
Everybody in the town where I grew up attending the same parish. All were baptized and confirmed under one roof. The pinnacle of Catholicism in Orleans has a single name: St. Joseph Parish. That's it. My mother grew up in Rockland - the same battle: Parish Most Holy Trinity. My father, from St-Isidore - all the same: St-Isidore Parish.Is it clear, viarge? A village. A church. 0 debate.
But when you live in the downtown Montreal ... this is a different reality. Churches, basilicas and cathedrals were erected at every street corner. Wadding seal.
For about two months, I am a follower of a particular sport: finding the best Jesus. It's a bit like when we were young and we were going to see Santa in the center-purchase ... and we wondered if this was the real Santa Claus. We found him handsome, he was found late ... but here we discover that the center of next-purchase is also one ... and that there was a softer beard, gloves and goblins blansc more zippy. In short, I'm in search of soft-bearded priest {almost}. I get out of breath.
For now, I stick to the famous Red Roof ... simply because it is the church closest to home. I try to be faithful to the old Franco-Ontarian tradition: you attend church that requires the least movement. No questions, no worries. The only glitch: it is an Anglo church ... so then this morning, my pilgrimage brings me to the Notre Dame Basilica in Old. I hope to find little elves dressed in velvet, what!
In short, how does one shop around for a parish?
Everybody in the town where I grew up attending the same parish. All were baptized and confirmed under one roof. The pinnacle of Catholicism in Orleans has a single name: St. Joseph Parish. That's it. My mother grew up in Rockland - the same battle: Parish Most Holy Trinity. My father, from St-Isidore - all the same: St-Isidore Parish.Is it clear, viarge? A village. A church. 0 debate.
But when you live in the downtown Montreal ... this is a different reality. Churches, basilicas and cathedrals were erected at every street corner. Wadding seal.
For about two months, I am a follower of a particular sport: finding the best Jesus. It's a bit like when we were young and we were going to see Santa in the center-purchase ... and we wondered if this was the real Santa Claus. We found him handsome, he was found late ... but here we discover that the center of next-purchase is also one ... and that there was a softer beard, gloves and goblins blansc more zippy. In short, I'm in search of soft-bearded priest {almost}. I get out of breath.
For now, I stick to the famous Red Roof ... simply because it is the church closest to home. I try to be faithful to the old Franco-Ontarian tradition: you attend church that requires the least movement. No questions, no worries. The only glitch: it is an Anglo church ... so then this morning, my pilgrimage brings me to the Notre Dame Basilica in Old. I hope to find little elves dressed in velvet, what!
In short, how does one shop around for a parish?
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