« Come, listen, all you who fear God : I will tell you what he has done for my soul » (Ps 165, 16). God loves each one of us in a personal way. He casts his gaze upon us and fills us with his delicacies. He places his trust in us and calls us to do great things for him. This is what I see when I review my life. I hope you can say the same.
A gift
The first gift that God gave me after giving me life is that of my family. My parents lived through a pivotal moment in Quebec culture. Their parents had grown up in a culture strongly governed by the Catholic faith, abundant with religious, priestly, and missionary vocations. But in the ’60s of their childhood, the culture shifted to a decided rejection of the Church, eventually leading to the current religious indifference. However, God willed that the seed of faith they received and the grace of the sacrament of marriage would not remain inert. My mother always loved going to Mass; she found the homilies beautiful. My father, on the other hand, was dissatisfied with the answers of rationalism, effective at denigrating faith but incapable of offering something better.
In this context of searching, intensified by their initial inability to have children during the early years of marriage, amidst existential debates with colleagues at work, a believing couple appeared in my parents’ lives like a lighthouse—a young, happy, attractive couple offering convincing answers. One day, my father came home saying: « This Sunday, I’m going to Mass. » The next step was the Ignatian spiritual exercises under the guidance of a holy Jesuit priest, Father Lacasse. Around these retreats, which became annual, they found a group of friends who supported them in faith. After seven years, as the Lord had guided them to surrender to their infertility, they received what they fully entrusted into his hands: a son, Samuel, the one they had asked the Lord for so much. I would soon arrive, followed by my sister Jeanne and my brother Luc.
How many good memories I have of those years spent with family! Of course, our daily quarrels were not lacking. Also, I complained about having to attend Mass, which seemed so long, and about being the only among my friends without a television or video games at home. It was only as I grew older that I realized the oasis in which the Lord had made me grow. Not only for the love that reigns between my parents and for their love for us, but especially for their faith: a discreet and profound faith, a “normal” faith because it is daily, a faith like a delicate perfume that, without imposing itself, fills the house. I greatly admire my parents for knowing how to live their faith so deeply and respectfully.
Two mysteries
From those childhood years, I keep in my heart two key moments, one at its beginning, the other at its end, two moments where I clearly distinguish the action of God, two moments that form a foundation while remaining a mystery to me.
The first dates back to my baptism. I was baptized at one month old during a community baptism without Eucharist. The rite includes a concluding prayer at the altar followed by a blessing. While the assembly prayed the Our Father, the priest took me in his hands—I was the smallest of the newly baptized—and lifted me above the altar. Instead of crying, as I had earlier when my mother adjusted my white garment, I opened my little arms in a cross, while gazing intently at a large cross hanging from the ceiling of the church above the altar. I cannot explain what happened. However, I know it was not just a coincidence.
The second moment also involved a sacrament, my Confirmation. I was eleven years old, and although I did not fully understand the importance of this sacrament, I was disappointed that the ceremony took place on a random weeknight after school and that the small celebration at home was only with my brothers and sister. After the celebration, while I was still in the church, the catechist asked me: « André, what do you want to do when you grow up? » « I want to be a priest, » I replied. Those words came out of my mouth, and at that moment, they were sincere, even though I didn’t know where they had come from. Yes, it’s true that I had noticed the parish priest was happy, that I knew someone who said he wanted to be a priest, and that I played at saying Mass as a child, just as I played at being a doctor or a cook. But the thought that I could become a priest had never entered my mind before.
The Legionaries of Christ
At that time, I already knew the Legionaries of Christ. Through a family friend, Mr. Foisy, we met Father Kenneth, then a seminarian of the Legionaries of Christ. From age ten, I attended weekend retreats at the Apostolic School, a secondary school run by the Legionaries in Cornwall, Ontario, for young men considering the priesthood. It was only four hours by car from my home, but the fact that it was in an English-speaking province made it seem much farther away!
I was fascinated by the stays at the Apostolic School. Finally, I found peers my age with whom I could be fully myself, without fear of ridicule for my faith, with whom I could play and pray. I remember those moments with a smile because today I realize that not everything was as beautiful and easy as it seemed then, but at that time, the difficulties I faced seemed insignificant. For example, during the first retreat, I had to shower with cold water all weekend because I didn’t understand how the hot water worked! The truth is, life at the Apostolic School was not extraordinary, but when I returned home, I could only talk about my happiness and enthusiasm. I admired the joy and charity among the students. I was also attracted to the life led by the novices living in the same facility. I was impressed by their universality and their prayer life. These retreats helped me grow in my faith. I joined ECYD (a Catholic youth club that offered daily commitments to Christian living suited to my age) and started serving Mass, which suddenly made it much more interesting.
One day, as I was finishing a summer camp with the Legionaries, Father Louis, who had accompanied me over the past years, invited me to the admission program at the Apostolic School. I was twelve, the minimum age required, but I thought this five-week program was unnecessary. Entering the Apostolic School didn’t even seem like an option for me because I knew my parents wouldn’t allow it. Leaving home at twelve to enter a small seminary where I would only return a few times a year, and in an English-speaking province of Canada, was impossible! But Father Louis was persistent, and I went home thinking: « I’ll try ». If the Apostolic School wasn’t for me, I wouldn’t have lost anything. But if God was calling me, how would I know if I didn’t try? I don’t know how my parents let me go on that summer program. They probably thought, like me, that I wouldn’t be long before returning home. In fact, I had already been accepted and enrolled in an excellent secondary school in Quebec City.
An calling
I also don’t know what happened in me during those five weeks. I can only say that the Lord seduced me. By the end of the program, it was clear to me: the Lord was calling me to be a Legionary. I was so convinced that I didn’t understand how my parents didn’t see it the same way. Today, I understand them! Letting go of a twelve-year-old son is painful! My parents feared that my decision was hasty and that it would prevent me from making a free life choice when I was of age. So, they asked for prayers. And God did not delay in answering.
That summer, it was my mother’s turn to do her week of retreat. The preacher was Father Jean Galot, a Belgian Jesuit, a renowned theologian in Rome, who was spending the summer in Canada. My mother shared her concern: she had a son who wanted to enter the Legionaries, but he was only twelve. What should she do? She wanted the best for the son God had entrusted to her. Father Galot told her she had nothing to fear. Going to the Apostolic School wouldn’t do any harm. The Legionaries of Christ are good and faithful to the Pope. He knew them well himself: he taught them theology in Rome!
Reassured, my parents then allowed me to enter the Apostolic School for a year, a permission that would be renewed year after year until I was seventeen and entered the novitiate. For me, this “for a year” already meant “for life”: I was leaving everything to follow Christ.
Today, I can only be filled with gratitude and admiration for my parents. I admire their wisdom and discernment regarding my possible vocation. They knew how to pray, reflect, seek advice, examine the fruits, but above all, walk one step at a time.
I myself marvel at the paths through which the Lord has guided me. Why did he, at such a vulnerable age, attract me with so much clarity and strength? Why did he want me to grow in his house, keep me under the shadow of his wings, and fill my adolescent heart with great ideals for him and his Kingdom? I can only recognize his great love for me in all this.
The priesthood
What about the 20 years that followed this first decision? The voice of the Lord became gentle. There were storms, doubts, battles, darkness… but the Lord did not waver. Patiently, he made me grow, like a gardener who, after sowing, waters the earth, protects the small shoots, removes the thorns, and waits.
Today, I can say that he is eager: his dream is about to come true! I don’t know what awaits me. I only know that his plans surpass ours infinitely. His gentle voice, full of hope and life, draws me after him.
