The Bishop's Weekly Column from the Parish Bulletin

OUR LADY OF FATIMA

CATHOLIC CHURCH

Entering With the Departed

January 28th 2010

The Church of Ss. Peter and Paul, Liverpool where I was received into the Church
The last Mass of Fr. Lemieux (who received me) dated July 1992
I'm standing to his immediate right

In my last column I wrote in part:

"That was 1988, before the Catholic Church re-opened the way for her Traditional Liturgy to return in the wake of Archbishop Lefebvre's episcopal ordination of the 4 bishops. It was this action that caused me to hear that the Old Latin Mass was alive and well. What happened next is a different story."

In the tradition of a Paul Harvey "The Rest of the Story" I shall conclude the tale of my conversion to Catholicism. 1988/89 was my third year of four years at the University of Liverpool. I was studying for a Joint Honors degree in French and Hispanic Studies. As a linguist we were required to spend the third year abroad either following a set of courses or teaching English in a French School. In my second year I had chosen to do more studies in French literature rather than Spanish. My college tutor (from the Spanish department) told me I was crazy to want to do more French since Spanish was my better language. There were only two of us who were studying in the Joint Honors' program that year: myself and a lady named Catherine who chose to do more Spanish and I more French. This choice made France the country in which I would spend my year abroad.

Next came the task of deciding whether to go to a university or teach. Teaching, of course, meant that I would make some money, as well as be technically a French Civil Servant. Now in the application process with the French government we were told that we had 3 choices broadly speaking as to where we wanted to be assigned. "Don't pick Paris !" we were told, "Everyone wants to go there." Well I didn't pick Paris (although I also wanted to go there). I chose instead 2 departments on the Spanish border (hoping to kill two birds with one stone - I could keep my hand in speaking Spanish as well) the third choice was the Champagne region. I make no bones about it - I thought that at least there ought to be some fine wines to be had to drown my sorrows about Paris ! When the letter arrived, I was shocked to see that I had been assigned to a technical high school just outside Paris !

Now this is supposed to be about a conversion to Catholicism - patience - let me set the scene !

In June of '88 Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre together with Bishop Antonio de Castro Mayer ordained to the Episcopate 4 priests of the Society of St. Pius X. I had never heard of this group but the British media carried reports all day long (June 30, 1988) about the excommunications that were incurred because of this act. I was glued to the TV news all evening. Later that night on BBC 2 on the Newsnight show - an hour current affairs program - there was a much more detailed report including a most interesting interview with the newly consecrated Bishop Richard Williamson, whom I found to be a very engaging speaker. I still think it highly ironic that although the Bishop frequently admonishes people to throw out their TVs, if it hadn't been for that contraption I would never have known that Tradition was alive and well ! The same TV slot also mentioned that one of the largest churches belonging to the SSPX was to be found in Paris.

A couple of months went by. Then I took the bus and ferry and then the bus again to Paris. I negotiated my way to the School and arrived about 7.30 am deeply tired from the journey. Let's put it this way - my Parisian excursion went a lot better than my last trip to London in November of last year !

My first obstacle to surmount was the school secretary who spoke so fast that I couldn't understand a word ! Later the Polish ex-pat with whom I lodged and who had immigrated to France before the War (because of a certain cultural and religious identity that had him sent to a camp - in France - and from which he managed to escape) cheered me up one evening when he told me that he called the secretary "The Machine Gun, because even I don't know what she's saying !"

The following day I traveled into Paris on the RER (no explanations for what that means - look it up - but it's a train). Emerging from the Gare St. Michel, the imposing structure which is Notre Dame de Paris towered above me. The first sight of the cathedral began what would be a life-long love-affair with France's capital city. I have been all over that city and love its majestic architecture passionately.

In any case the search was on. I purchased a map of Paris and began one-by-one to search for the SSPX church. I couldn't remember the name so I had to do the search case-by-case. I can tell you I saw a lot of churches in a few days ! I thought this would go on for ever. One Sunday evening I entered the Church of the Blessed Sacrament, which wasn't exactly named correctly since I couldn't find the tabernacle anywhere. The seats were the kind one finds in a cinema, the plush velvet kind whose seat flips up if you stand up. Of course there weren't any kneelers either. I sat down to pray and ask for guidance. My search might take all year at this rate ! I started to leave the Church and spotted the mandatory notice board that all French Churches seem to have. There was a large yellow poster signed by the Archbishop the now deceased Jean-Marie Cardinal Lustiger. He was denouncing the consecrations of June and also attacking the SSPX church by name Saint Nicolas-du-Chardonnet. "Thank you !" I called out. I was on cloud 9 but I didn't have my map so I had to return home and it was getting late. Once home I picked up the map and spread it out. Fortunately this map had all the Churches listed with their names. I sought in all the out-lying areas but nothing. Finally I checked the city center, and there, practically a stone's throw from the Cathedral itself tucked away in a small side street with a little square in front the church !

The next day I sped into Paris and arrived about 9.45 (if memory serves). The first thing I looked for was the table altar - there wasn't one ! This must be the place. Next I saw that Mass would be offered at 12.15 pm and so there I stayed waiting and praying. The celebrant duly appeared at 12.15 and the language I had wanted to hear: In Nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. The following Sunday I attended my first Solemn High Mass with Fr. Philippe Laguérie as the celebrant and homilist. Those were the days when he was at his oratorical best, before the neural neutralizer was administered, that is.

Later I would write to the Archbishop, who sent me a most gracious letter and told me where to find the SSPX in Britain when I had returned in 1989. I was received into the Church in the most curious of ways: I made my profession of Faith before Father André Lemieux (a French Canadian), alongside a coffin. A Lady had died and her funeral Mass was going to be said an hour later. The Church building was small and consequently things were rather cramped such that I knelt next to the coffin to profess the Catholic Faith for the first time. I remember this so vividly because the thought crossed my mind at the time that one was entering the Church Militant, alongside one who had just recently left it.

+TF