Forever A Franciscan

Photos clockwise:

St Bonaventure Church.    Fr. Briant.    St Bonaventure School.     Me (in blue) in grade 3.

 

I was about eight years old, growing up in the Toronto suburb of Don Mills, when I first met Father Briant Cullinane. 

He was a newly arrived young priest c. 1963, in the Franciscan Parish of St. Bonaventure. My elder sister and I attended St. Bonaventure School, and our family, (seven of us), belonged to the Church community. Father Briant was quite a change for St. Bonaventure - young, smiling, funny - certainly not the sort of priest we were used to. He clearly loved kids, and was a frequent attendee at outdoor recess, his black hooded robes, (the Conventual Franciscan habit), billowing as he walked through the playground, a flock of small children gathered around him. He showed us tricks, (how to catch a dollar bill), told corny jokes, and poked gentle fun. He also taught us to tie the three knots of the rope cincture worn on his robes, (symbolizing a Franciscan's commitment to a life of simplicity and devotion), the knots representing his vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

For us children, he was a light - a mentor, advisor and friend - our own Father O'Malley, (Bing Crosby) in 'Going My Way'. It was soon after his arrival that St. Bonaventure Church organized a girls' softball league, (four teams - Franciscans, Carmelites, Benedictines and Dominicans) and a few years later a girls' basketball team, both of which I participated in. I was too young in the mid-60's for the vibrant St. Bonaventure's CYO, but my older siblings were involved in the organization of dances and the production of a number of plays. 

A few years after his arrival, I was hospitalized in Toronto's 'Sick Kids' with an infection in my knee, the only visitors allowed being my parents. I was feeling pretty low the first day or two post-surgery, when I thought I spotted Father Briant in the hallway outside my hospital room. Not decked out in his usual robes, but black-suited, he came in a few moments later. In my shock and surprise, my first words to him were, "How did you get in here?" Unabashed, he pointed to his dog collar and said, "You've got to be wearing one of these!" 

It was the first of many visits, each ending with a blessing, his hand placed on the top of my head, something which I thought of as his superpower.  Perhaps he sent a lightning bolt of well-being with that blessing, but the love, care and kindness was palpable.

Fr. B was at St. Bonaventure for thirteen years, before leaving us to serve in New Jersey (his home - he never lost his New Jersey accent), then the Archdiocese of Toronto, and North Carolina.

He lived to the age of 94, and while I hadn't seen him in many years, I thought of him often. He was the first person to call me 'Annie', a name which stuck through high school and university. I thought of this the other day, and googling his name, found his obituary. 

He was someone who personified kindness and love, and I will miss him.

                                                                     *

Father Briant, in my recollection, demonstrated what it was to be a true Franciscan - a commitment to simplicity and humility, service to the poor and marginalized, affirmation of the unique worth of each individual, reverence of all creation, living in imitation of Christ, finding joy - in other words, faithful to the original thirteenth century vision of St. Francis and St. Clare. Franciscan beliefs centre on the integration of action and contemplation, through prayer and commitment to social justice. The interconnectedness of all things offers a perspective that inherently transcends denominational boundaries. For me, I suppose, this last point is key - that of Franciscan recognition of the validity of multiple spiritual traditions, as I see myself as an ecumenical believer.

For nearly thirty years, I have belonged to a small rural church community within the United Church of Canada. We have a wonderful woman minister, are an 'Affirming' church community, (welcoming and fully inclusive of people of all sexual orientations and gender identities), and are active in the greater community. You can read about that church community HERE.

My religious life - that is, my time involved in a church community that has affected my outlook, my actions, my prayer, my beliefs - is fairly evenly split between Franciscan Catholicism and (what I'll call) Progressive Christianity. Both come from the same origins, similar prayers, parallel order of service and music tradition. Both emphasize the need to follow the way of Jesus.

While I do miss much of the tradition and ceremony and ritual of the Catholic Church, there is a great deal about it that I have trouble with, still, and do not miss at all. But I hold on to that which is central in living my faith.  I see myself as a follower of  'The Franciscan Way' - a seeker, with a deep respect for our natural surroundings, walking the path of simplicity and compassion, living in joy and peace, and committed to social and environmental justice. This is the cornerstone of my faith, and also defines our way of life here at our home in rural Peterborough County.

And that reminds me that I am forever a Franciscan.

Cinq à Sept - The New Dinner Party.

At heart, I'm a grazer.

I'll explain. 

For most of my adult life, hosting a dinner party seemed like the 

acceptable/conventional/easy way of entertaining, 

or returning a social obligation. 

Dinner parties can be fun, (so they tell me), especially if you are:

a) an avid cook

b) a social butterfly

c) relaxed and prepared.

I do like to cook, though perhaps more tepid than avid.

While I have my standard old favourites, I am not averse to 

experimenting with new recipes. 

I am faithful to a number of social media chefs, who, (unrealistically),

make everything look easy and uncomplicated. 

I am a bit of a 'foodie'. 

I lean toward vegetarian dishes, 

though I do eat meat, but could probably live without it 

if it weren't for lamb and bacon.

I'm not exactly a social butterfly.

Luckily, neither is my partner.

We avoid social functions, crowds, parties and indoor gatherings.

We have, (on more than one occasion), driven some distance to a party

only to drive to the house, hesitate, drive past the house 

and hightail it back home.

While we are much better in the great outdoors, we both tend to avoid 

the 'eating' part of whatever the event happens to be, and are much 

happier standing around the fringe, nursing a beer, 

occasionally speaking to the other introverts.

Relaxed and prepared?

'Prepared', maybe, unless you mean mentally. 

'Relaxed', no. Just the opposite.

Perhaps it was the anxiety that I seemed to suffer from more acutely

as I aged, that led me to question dinner parties.

(Kids and grandkids excepted...We love those.)

The whole process seemed daunting - serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres, 

sitting through dinner, pouring wine, dishing up dessert, 

making sparkling conversation. 

And ALL while eating.

This seemed increasingly difficult, mentally and physically.

It was time to rethink the dinner party.

As I say, at heart, I'm a grazer. 

My ideal social gathering involves a bottle of vino, and perhaps four people 

 sitting in an open airy conversation nook

with a low coffee table in the middle,

topped with a selection of tasty nibbles. 

Not 'starters', but the whole enchilada.

'Cinq à Sept' - the new Dinner Party. 

Now, I realize that the origins of Cinq à Sept referred to a tryst 

or an after work drink and/or hors d'oeuvres, in the days when it became A Thing.

And then, off you all went to a proper dinner at about 8 or 9 or 10:00 p.m.

(At least, if you were French or Italian or Spanish.)

But decade after decade, the evening meal has shifted earlier and earlier,

and dinner or supper or tea is now consumed as early as 5:00 p.m. 

This is why Cinq à Sept works so well. 

Not a dinner party. No. 

But a satisfying bit of food, drink, and conversation, 

beginning at 5:00...and ending at 7:00. 

Cinq à Sept. Perfection.

Here's what we do....

'Cinq à Sept'

Find a very large, simple platter or board. 

Place four small ramekins in the centre.

Fill ramekins with your choice of the following:

hummus, baba ghanoush, tzatziki, muhammara (red pepper dip),

tirokafteri (whipped feta dip), 

olives (good ones, mixed, from the deli counter).

Yes. A bit of a Mediterranean slant.

Place cheeses (of your choice) - Brie, Stilton, Boursin, 

Feta, Red Leister - on platter. 

(*take cheese out of fridge at least an hour before serving.)

Drizzle a bit of good olive oil and a sprinkle of 'Herbe de Provence' or

fresh thyme over the hummus and feta.

Add a selection of any or all of the following - tomato wedges, 

cucumber spears, roasted red pepper strips, carrot sticks, 

cocktail onions, cornichons (gherkins), sweet pepper rings, 

grilled aubergine (eggplant), artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, 

figs, dates, apricots, almonds, walnuts -

directly onto the platter.

Want something a little more substantial? 

Add a few spanakopita or dolmades or devilled eggs.

We love to add sliced Italian sausage,

(cooked on the BBQ the night before), 

but you could keep it vegetarian by adding tempeh or vegetarian sausage.

Serve with pita triangles, thin baguette slices, and/or taco chips.

And of course, a lovely bottle of vino.

 

Sanctum - Twentieth Anniversary

sanctum    n.        1. a holy place

                                         2. a private room

 (Latin, neuter of "sanctus" holy)

This body of work was created twenty years ago,

and is now part of the Art Gallery of Peterborough's 

Permanent Collection.

The installation is comprised of eleven boxes, 12" x 12" x 5". 

Each box contains, on the front, a mixed-media portrait, (shown left), of one of the members of a girls field hockey team, c.1908,

 Jersey, Channel Islands.

 

The boxes open to reveal an installation in the interior of the box, (shown right).

Thanks for viewing!

Anne Renouf

*

'empathize'

                                                                                'love'

 

                                                                                       

                                                                                'share'

                                                                                   'listen'

           

                                                                                     

                                                                                 'seek'

                                                                             'confirm'

 

                                                                               'forgive'

                                                                             

                                                                             'initiate'

                                                                              'commit'

                                                                                   

                                                                              'honour'

                                                                                   

                                                                           'celebrate'

*

TBT - Two Years Ago...

 

🌈 On a Saturday morning two years ago, (perhaps for the fourth or fifth time in my life), this senior drove to the Peterborough Public Library, to help to remind people of the importance of acceptance.

It is always comforting to see that I am not alone in this. I immediately met a friend, (also a senior), and we spent the rest of our time holding each end of a 'Pride' banner. There were dozens of pro-library folks in attendance, brightly robed in rainbow colours, all there to cheer on Betty Baker, our local story-time performer.

I say "cheer on", but due to the group of protesters assembled, at times it felt more like we were there to create a protective barrier.

I was definitely one of the oldest there, old enough (I mused) to remember a much more tolerant and compassionate acceptance of all gender stripes, when I was Betty Baker's age, (fifty years ago), when 'Drag' conjured up images of Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in 'Some Like It Hot' - good fun and clever performances.

What happened?

At the library, this time, things were a lot less tolerant. We could feel an uneasiness, a volatility, as the protesters moved among the supporters, and conversations became heated. Several times the police, who usually watch from a distance, moved in to defuse the pushing and shoving.

We library supporters were called unpleasant things. The angry teenager that I spoke to appeared to just want to be, well, angry. We heard "leave the kids alone", "drag shows are not for kids", "radical gender ideology is a lie", "boys are boys and girls are girls", "you should be ashamed of yourselves", and repeatedly, references to grooming and child abuse. The protesters' messages, perpetuating dangerous myths and disinformation, made it all feel a bit unsafe. And if it felt unsafe to these Pride-flag-waving seniors, what about members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community - drag performers, trans youth, gay couples?

Here are the facts:

•Drag Story Time is for families with small children.

•The books that Betty reads have themes of friendship, emotions, differences, inclusion, respect, kindness.

•Betty Baker is a kind, soft-spoken, beautiful human being.

So, I will go again and again and again, if needed. I'll wear the t-shirt and wave the flag, because I want to celebrate a diverse and inclusive Peterborough, where differences are respected, where kindness rules, and where kids are allowed to hear stories that reflect that.

A 'Good King Wenceslas' Walk-in-the-Woods

Sunday January 26, 2025

A rather ‘Good King Wenceslas’ 

trudge this morning. 

 

A bit of ‘bitter weather’ for sure, 

being winter in Canada. 

Not ‘on The Feast of Stephen’, but the feast of St Paula Romana , 

according to my book of saints, 

(January 26, 347-404).

The snow, ‘deep and crisp and even’, 

and a good six or eight inches of it in the woods. 

And we were, in a sense, ‘gathering winter fuel’, 

as we scouted out a number of standing dead elms, 

and pocketed some birchbark. 

And we certainly walked ‘where the snow lay dinted’ 

as we followed the four-wheeler tracks from a few days ago.

And, 

we did ‘find blessing‘...

Sunday morning Angel Tree.