St Josephs Oratory , Montreal 2007

Is it possible to see human humility before God and religious debauchery within the same frame of time and distance? Today, before I departed the old, cultured and slightly cluttered city of Montreal, Dave, Karen and myself all went up Mont Royal (which, I didn’t realize until today, is actually how Montreal got it’s name … from the Mountain) anywhoo. You can look out over the east side of the city, see the Olympic Stadium in it’s architectural splendor, placed against the hazy morning sky.
It’s a short drive to the west side of the mountain, past old, seriously aging buildings, McGill University Research Hospital and the former residence of Pierre Elliot Trudeau till you turn on a road, which really looks like any other, you can scarcely brace yourself for the magnitude of the structure that appears on the left.
St. Josephs’ Oratory is a mountain of a church. Built right into the side of Mount Royal, it’s a Catholic monument, of seemingly monstrous proportions. It’s taller and wider than other well-known edifices such as St. Pauls in London, NotreDame in Paris and Saint Patricks in New York.
There are stairs leading up to the building, upon which many people go up on their knees, as a pilgrimage to God, in sacrifice, prayer and petition I guess. As I walked up the stairs, in my ripped jeans and T-Shirt, I saw a couple, ahead of me by a good 20 stairs, the mother clutching her child (who was crying) and her husband (?). They made their way, each stair, on their knees and I actually felt overwhelmed, with a feeling of reverence, I felt compassion for them, and I did pray to God that whatever it was they were seeking, that their prayer would be answered. I felt ashamed too for myself, walking up so casually, if we all had that kind of devotion, even desperation to reach out to God in that way, can you imagine the state of our hearts? It was the highlight of this part of my journey for me. To come to a place, with so much history, I wondered (holding the beliefs that I do,) does God delight in this building, the decadence that they have inside and out. Or does God look through our polished stones and stained glass, and long to see us on our knees, in humility, awe and reverence for a God who came down from heaven so we could approach His throne in fear and thanksgiving and ask for forgiveness, only to be accepted by such a loving Saviour?
As we entered the “church” (the main sanctuary on the bottom floor) there was a service in progress, many people lined up for confession (which I humbly disagree with). If you explored further, there is a place where they actually just left the mountain wall, complete with fresh water trickling down the stones, it smelled of clay and moisture, it was dark and secret.
There was another room, holding in an eerie glow, 10,000 candles, you could “purchase” a candle (tea light) and light one for someone you wanted to pray for (I’m guessing).
Further in and further up in the church lay the tomb (literally) of the founder, Brother Andre’s, who passed away in 1937. If you think that’s weird, it gets better. In another room (same floor) is a shrine which holds this guys heart (preserved) it’s French tradition, supposedly, to preserve the hearts of royalty and other famous people, I guess this fellow was no exception. I found it creepy.
We didn’t even begin to explore the whole building, I had a flight to catch (which, thanks to the grace of God, I am passed immigration, and on my way home) But we did go outside and see a garden titled the Way of the Cross. I would have loved to walk all through the pathways, there were statues along the way, depicting Christ’s walk through his crucifixion and resurrection, I photo’d just three of the statues, there are in fact seven (I believe, but not sure). The beauty of the garden was more wonderful and peaceful to me, than any of the inside of the Oratory itself. If anywhere, I thought, God would inhabit here.
I think the bottom line is, God is not confined to a building, of any kind. His true church is His people. He is wherever they are. He is with those humbly crawling on their knees up stairs seeking His face. He is with those who have willing and seeking hearts, inside the chapel, praying to a God they know and love, and He is with the girl in the ripped jeans and T-Shirt, walking in wide-eyed wonder at this world and speculating about her place in it. I was touched and changed today by that place, but perhaps in a more unconventional way than most. Thank you Father for being my guardian.