A tale of two cities
Montréal is a lovely place to attend a conference and spend a weekend. I thoroughly enjoyed my few days in late September, soaking up the ambience of a mesmerizing city with a distinctively French and old world flair. And although Montréal's history, architecture and place names radiate Roman Catholicism like heat from a fire, much of the population is now almost militantly secular and the formal church an empty shell of its former status and prestige.
I was privileged to stay in the "mother house" of the Grey Nuns (Maison Mère des Soeurs Grises de Montréal). This beautiful rambling edifice on valuable downtown property was once home to more than a thousand nuns and novitiates. Today a dwindling core of fewer than 150 aging sisters are living out their days in splendid surroundings, extending hospitality in an atmosphere of prayer and ongoing worship. They'll be moving very soon. Within the next couple of years, the heritage building with its beautiful chapels will be transferred to Concordia College.
On Sunday, I took an early afternoon hike to the top Mount Royal, mostly to visit the 103-foot illuminated cross on the mountain's northeastern edge. The first cross was installed on this mountain back in 1643. After a couple of hours on the mountain I descended back to a city of non-stop shopping and a party mood. This was more of a culture shock than the French language to my unilingual ears.
About that time I thought about some of the women and men I know who live and work in this place. And it struck me that although the reign of Christendom may be long gone, the people of God are alive and well in the midst of Montreal. They are present; they are active. They need our prayers.
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