Category: BC Catholic

Over 500 Chinese Catholics from St. Francis Xavier Church gathered at the Gardens of Gethsemani on September 7 for the Chung Yeung Festival, honouring their ancestors. 

Parish Pastoral Council secretary Karina Lai explained the significance of the festival in an email to The B.C. Catholic.

“In Chinese culture, it is customary to honour ancestors by visiting their tombs during the spring (Qingming Festival 清明節) and autumn (Chung Yeung Festival 重陽節), a practice known as Chun Chau Yi Jai (春秋二祭),” she wrote.

“At St. Francis Xavier Parish, Msgr. Peter Chow (周若漁蒙席), with his pastoral vision, established a tradition of celebrating Mass twice a year at the Catholic cemetery—uniting cultural reverence for ancestors with the Church’s prayer for the faithful departed, and reminding each generation to pray for them with Christian hope.”

As part of this tradition, a Chinese gloriette (永光亭) was built on the cemetery grounds. Lai noted that its plaque, bearing the name Wing Kwong Ting, was handwritten by Rev. Aloysius Lou (盧湛明神父), symbolizing “both cultural heritage and faith.”

Lai reported that the celebration has grown and this year the parish’s community life was on full display. “Since the pandemic, many new families from Hong Kong have joined our parish. This autumn, more young families joined the Autumn Tomb Festival (秋祭), with some children serving as Altar Server,” she wrote. “On the eve of the Mass, volunteers cleaned the gloriette and the tombs of Chinese priests and sisters. Sacristans and sisters prepared vestments and sacred vessels, while parishioners and AV technicians set up tents, instruments, and sound equipment.”

On the day of the Mass, parishioners brought flowers to honour loved ones and past priests. “One parishioner family even came from Bellingham, Washington—despite serious illness—a moving witness to the deep bonds of faith and family,” wrote Lai.

Reflecting on the celebration, she concluded: “Through this festival, we experienced love, prayer, and unity. It was more than a cultural observance—it was an act of evangelization. By weaving Chinese tradition with Catholic faith, we pass on to our children that honouring ancestors is not only about remembering the past, but also about placing our hope in Christ, who promises eternal life.”

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In the spiritual life, the battle is fought not with swords or shields but with the heart and mind. Dom Lorenzo Scupoli’s The Spiritual Combat offers timeless wisdom on this inner warfare. Chapters 5 and 6 focus on cultivating a profound distrust of self and engaging in spiritual exercises.

In Chapter 5, Scupoli noted that many mistake the anxiety and agitation felt after sinning for true repentance, when it stems from hidden pride and self-reliance. St. Therese of Lisieux said, “Every morning I make a resolution to practice humility and in the evening I recognize that I have committed again many faults of pride. At this I am tempted to become discouraged but I know that discouragement is also pride.” Scupoli added that the humble person, trusting only in God, feels sorrow but not turmoil or surprise when he falls, knowing his weakness and need for grace.

St. Therese wrote, “If I fall, I shall pick myself up quickly and continue on my way; for little children are always falling, but they are too small to hurt themselves much.” She also wrote, “It is confidence and nothing but confidence that must lead us to Love … . What pleases Him is to see me love my littleness and my poverty, the blind hope that I have in His mercy … . This is my only treasure.” When dying, Therese taught her sister how to respond to one’s faults: “I hasten to say to God: My God, I know I have merited this feeling of sadness, but let me offer it up to You just the same as a trial that You sent me through love. I’m sorry for my sin, but I’m happy to have this suffering to offer to You.”

St. Francis de Sales said, “Be patient with all, but especially with yourself. Do not be disheartened by your imperfections, but always rise up with fresh courage.” He added, “When you have committed a fault, do not be troubled, but humble yourself quietly before God. Ask His pardon, and with peace and confidence, begin again.” The saint prefers a gentle approach to correct oneself: “For myself … I would prefer to correct it quietly, and in a compassionate way … saying: ‘Come now, my poor heart, here we are fallen again … Let us have recourse to the mercy of God … . Courage! let us rise above ourselves … .’”

From St. Therese and St. Francis de Sales, we learn that the saints are not those who never fall, but those who rise again and again, without losing peace, because they trust in the mercy of God.

In Chapter 6, Scupoli noted that spiritual strength comes from trusting God, not oneself.

Six months after its centennial celebration, St. Joseph’s Parish in Squamish still glows with gratitude — literally.

The parish’s Gratitude Tree, unveiled during its 100-year anniversary Mass in March 2025, now stands on the side of the church — relocated from the foyer to allow more space — as a bronze sculpture with an antique finish, a lasting monument to faith, generosity, and the families who have worshipped there for a century.

Long-time parishioners say the tree is only the latest expression of what their church has always been.

In an interview with The Squamish Chief, Clem Wippich called St. Joseph’s “a lifeline” for the community. “As Catholics, we believe in the presence of God, the Holy Eucharist — it’s the real thing,” he said. “Without it, we’re in bad shape.”

Wippich arrived in Squamish in 1975, when most parishioners were still “railroad people,” mill workers, or miners from Britannia. He said the faith community gave people a sense of belonging when the town’s fortunes rose and fell. “What hurt us the most financially was when the railroads shut down. The pulp mill shut down. The lumber mill shut down. It was a mass exodus,” Wippich told The Chief.

Paul Schilling, who came to Squamish in 1970, remembered helping repair the old church on Fourth Avenue and watching the congregation ebb and flow with the economy. “Community is the main part of the church,” he said. “If there is no church, there’s no community.”

Vida Giroux, a member since 1991, described the centennial as “a once-in-a-lifetime event … so much joy to be together with the community of God-loving people.”

She said parish organizations such as the Catholic Women’s League, founded in 1956, and the Knights of Columbus, chartered in 1985, have sustained that community spirit through decades of charitable work. The CWL’s thrift shop, opened in 1969, still supports parish and civic causes, while the Knights continue to provide scholarships for graduating students.

Each leaf on the parish’s Gratitude Tree bears a name, prayer, or Scripture verse chosen by parishioners to express thanksgiving. Families were invited to “purchase a leaf for $100” to help cover centennial expenses and support parish needs. Together, the engraved leaves form a visible record of gratitude that continues to grow.

“The Gratitude Tree continues to be a beautiful and meaningful symbol of thankfulness within our parish community,” said Doris Suarez, who helped coordinate the project. “Since the start of this project, parishioners willingly contributed and over 95 leaves have been purchased. Even non-parishioners joined, representing their families with messages of gratitude, remembrance, and celebration.”

Suffering can be agony, heartbreak, loneliness, grief, or loss. It can take us to depths of darkness we never thought possible and leave us feeling that the only option in life is to give up.

Those who know suffering might have scars. Scars are permanent stories that remind us of the pain we have endured. I received a few scars a few months ago when I went into surgery to remove three benign lumps from my arm.

I marvelled at how simple the surgery was and how quickly the recovery went. I thought of the other people lined up on gurneys that day and wondered what procedures they might be getting. I opted for anaesthetic and was wheeled into the surgical room. The anaesthetist made a joke about my name being close to Elvis’s daughter’s: “Are your parents Elvis fans?” It was a short nap, a few incisions to heal, and then it was over.

What isn’t over is the suffering I experienced after giving birth. The postpartum depression, mania, and psychosis that come with having bipolar disorder were not part of my birthing plan. Many women suffer from postpartum depression and need support after the birth of their child.

In my case I was hospitalised, locked away from my newborn and husband. It was a time of incredible pain to be separated from my new family. Thankfully, during that time I received visiting passes to be with my daughter and husband at home.

What kept me going then was a photo of my daughter that I kept close and the hope I clung to in Jesus. I wasn’t sleeping well, I was physically recovering from the birth, and I was anxious that I couldn’t breastfeed my daughter. The medicine tanked my milk supply. I had given her a little of the colostrum I had, but it wasn’t enough.

I felt I had failed to be her mother, and I felt I had let down my husband, who depended on me too.

Healing takes time from an episode like that. But with a lot of love, support, and hope in God, I believed I could be well again.

“In difficult moments, I will fix my gaze upon the silent heart of Jesus, stretched upon the cross, and from the exploding flames of his merciful heart will flow down upon me power and strength to keep fighting.” — St. Faustina Kowalska

I can’t get back the time I lost with my daughter, and it’s needless to dwell on it. It’s time to make the most of each moment I do have with her, because that is all I get. Story time, bath time, and swimming lessons are now precious gifts.

In response to Cathy Karsgaard’s Sept. 1 letter on the lack of response to The B.C. Catholic’s MAiD reporting:

This past summer I befriended an elderly woman with terminal cancer who had just been released from hospital. Over several weeks we developed a wonderful friendship. She had lived alone for more than 20 years, having pushed most people out of her life. After her hospital stay she told me she was determined to die on the floor of her home rather than ever return.

At first she was disappointed that I was Catholic. She was a “Bible-believing, born again” Christian. But within days her attitude changed. She loved meeting my family and was astounded to discover people in her community willing to visit, run errands, and simply sit and talk with her.

One afternoon she asked about my thoughts on MAiD. Though disappointed her brother had chosen it, I could tell the idea had crossed her mind. Pain was her greatest fear. I told her Scripture teaches that God alone is the author of life and death, and that suicide is a sin. She nodded in agreement.

Soon after, she was offered a hospice bed, but for some reason she had to go that very day. I saw an immediate shift in her emotions as everything in her life was taken from her control in less than 12 hours. On her second day there, doctors came to “chat.” Within two weeks she was dead by MAiD, even though I know she was opposed to it for at least her first week.

What an absolute betrayal. This woman was finally experiencing the love of family for the first time in decades. Fear of pain led her to “choose” death.

Hospice care has to mean more than removing pain at any cost.

Colleen Roy
Chilliwack

In your Aug. 11 issue you noted that we seldom hear of a “good death.” I would like to share the obituary of my sister, Rose Marguerite McLaren, because I consider it a wonderful story.

Rose Marguerite McLaren
January 30, 1919 – December 15, 2005

Although this is a very sad day for us, for Mom it is an occasion of great celebration. For us, it marks the end of having Mom, Rose, Granny with us—the end of being able to talk with her and to hear her laughter. But for her, it is the completion of a rich life and the beginning of something new. We know she is here in the church with us, her sparkling eyes and wonderful smile waiting for us to begin the celebration of her life’s ending.

The celebration takes the form of a solemn Catholic Mass—a liturgy that always brought her great comfort.

The roar of the black car’s gunned engine didn’t drown out the driver’s angry shout as he sped past our Life Chain on the sidewalk outside St. Joseph’s Church in Port Moody. 

“Garbage,” he yelled. “Absolute f—ing garbage.”

It wasn’t the first insult we heard that afternoon in response to our pro-life placards, and it wouldn’t be the last.

But it was the one that made me realize how vulnerable we were, protected only by our flimsy cardboard signs and our prayers.

For a moment, I thought of April’s Lapu-Lapu Day massacre in Vancouver, and of the drivers who have mowed down pedestrians in terrorist attacks around the world. It could happen here, I thought.

And so, as our parish’s Life Chain organizer, I began watching the traffic more closely. When one motorist suddenly pulled a U-turn mid-block, my heart jumped, until I saw he was just looking for parking. I shifted my prayers from the culture of death to the safety of the dozens of men, women, and children standing with me.

I also prayed for the mental and spiritual welfare of the angry men and women who spewed hatred at us as they drove by.

It occurred to me that every one of the epithet-hurlers was opening a form of dialogue. Our response — silent, peaceful, and prayerful — must have frustrated them. Or maybe it gave them pause to reflect.

I’m no psychologist, but I know from introspection and from raising children that anger is often a manifestation of guilt or unresolved pain. Maybe our non-confrontational, peaceful responses got them thinking about life issues in ways they didn’t anticipate.

Near the end of our public witness, an elderly man on a mobility scooter came zipping up the sidewalk toward us. His face was serious. I braced myself for confrontation.

“What’s all this about?” he asked.

When I explained, his expression softened. He told me he’d been raised Baptist but supported Catholics in our stand against abortion and euthanasia. In fact, he said, if abortion had been legal in England when his mother was pregnant, he surely would not be here today.

“I’m glad I’m alive. Thank you for what you’re doing.”

We chatted a few more minutes before he turned to go, just as our Life Chain hour of witness was coming to an end.

That the Arts Club makes an enormous and valuable contribution to the cultural life of British Columbia is indisputable. However, if further proof were needed, one has only to take note of the company’s latest production: You Used to Call Me Marie.

This play is truly a local production, its genesis found in the Arts Club’s Young Playwrights program, designed to foster new talent. Out of this initiative grew You Used to Call Me Marie, written by Tai Amy Grauman. Its production during the month of Truth and Reconciliation could not be more timely, as the play is essentially a tribute to the Métis people.

Covering a period of about 150 years, this is not simply an historical account of the Métis but a commentary on their story. The play’s focus is to reveal the role Métis women have played in fostering and preserving their culture.

In a series of set pieces, we see the people’s relationship with the land and the wildlife — particularly the buffalo and, above all, the horse. Underlying everything is the determination of Métis women to preserve their heritage through their connection to the land, plants, and animals, even as their people struggled to survive the injustices imposed on them by French and English settlers.

All of this is brought vividly to life through script, dance, and music by a small, talented cast in an imaginative production directed by Lois Anderson.

The play does not pretend to be a straightforward historical account. The horrors of the residential school system are movingly acknowledged. The Riel Rebellion, for example, receives only a brief mention, while the Scrip scandal is merely hinted at. What the play does, above all, is show how, over the years, the Métis survived and preserved their culture with courage and dignity.

In the final scene, the Métis are shown moving into the European world that had so long threatened them. One wonders how long they will be able to hold on to their proud identity. It is all the more reason to welcome this production of You Used to Call Me Marie.

It is yet another reason to support Vancouver’s local arts scene — especially companies like the Arts Club. And while on that subject, it is worth noting that the Vancouver Opera opens its season this month with a production of Rigoletto. Opera fans will doubtless take this opportunity to see one of Verdi’s great works, as well as later productions of Così fan tutte and La Bohème.

The arts scene in Vancouver is truly alive and well.

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Jesus didn’t hail from a large family, nor did he give explicit parenting advice in the Gospels. But he did tell us a lot about what God the Father thinks about us — his children — and about how God does family.

God is a present Father: physically present, spiritually present, and emotionally present.

Jesus’ parables of the Good Shepherd, and his image of himself as the vine, call to mind profound intimacy and reliance. Through these images and many others, Jesus tells us something about God’s plan for parenting.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” — John 15:5

Some of us have been betrayed by those we love. These words can arouse suspicion and distrust in us. When Jesus tells us we can “do nothing without him,” it can call to mind codependency or domination — especially when spoken by a man. These are fighting words, more apparent evidence of toxic masculinity in the history books.

Yet Jesus shows that when we are attached in a healthy way to the one who cares first and foremost for our well-being, there is nothing to fear. The problem is that few of us know what healthy attachment looks like because we have never experienced it.

Catholic attachment-science expert Adam Lane Smith describes attachment as “a broad psychological term that defines the psychological, physiological, and neurological mechanisms through which humans bond within their social circles.”

The way we interact with loved ones, neighbours, and friends is shaped very early in our lives. Our first relationships form our understanding of healthy and unhealthy behaviour patterns. Smith believes that healing early negative experiences is possible — that with work and attention we can experience rewarding relationships marked by warmth and deep trust.

Jesus speaks to our attachment wounds throughout the Gospels. It is as if he spends his whole ministry addressing them in parables: “I know you couldn’t fully trust them, but you can trust me. I am the Good Shepherd. I will search for you when you are lost and alone. I will not leave you. You belong with me, safe and secure.”

Jesus gave us his Mother from the cross because he knew we would need her tenderness. He sent the Holy Spirit for our adoption because he knew we would need to call God “Daddy.” He instituted the Eucharist because he knew we would need the bread of heaven to sustain us.

A child’s place is securely nestled between its parents. Many of us probably didn’t feel that way.

Sarah-Anne was living on Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside when she met Mildred Moy. Surviving off sex work, she found herself pregnant and saw no way forward when Moy’s team offered her a help card during their outreach.

Sarah-Anne gave them a call.

That was 20 years ago. Today, Sarah-Anne’s life looks completely different. Her son, whom she had been pregnant with on the street, has graduated from high school and has two younger siblings. She founded a nonprofit to help Indigenous fathers find healing and community, seeking to extend the support that is traditionally offered to mothers.

“Sometimes we think we’ve done so little,” said Moy. “So many people, and you only help one. But [Sarah-Anne]’s baby was born, and two more kids. And then she started a nonprofit to help others. You can have one [person], and then that one can help a lot.”

Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside is known as the “poorest postal code in Canada.” High rates of severe poverty, homelessness, substance dependency, sex work, and mental and physical health concerns contribute to the vulnerability of its residents.

Programs abound that provide for the material needs of those in precarious housing situations, including free meals and clothing programs, shelters and recovery homes, and advocacy organizations.

While services that meet the material needs of the poor are a necessary baseline, said Moy, that doesn’t mean their spiritual and emotional needs get neglected.

Moy founded Catholic Street Missionaries (CSM) to fill that gap.

The core mission of CSM is to put young adults on the streets of downtown Vancouver to accompany the homeless emotionally and spiritually.

Moy was inspired by the work of an American ministry, Christ in the City, centred on building relationships with people living on the street. “We are all children of God,” said Moy. “We share the same dignity, and we try to restore a sense of dignity. Some of them have lost it because of how they’re being viewed by the world and ignored by the world.”

In previous years, CSM has hosted Street Missionary Weekends, and in 2024 it hosted a successful two-and-a-half-week program called Hope on the Horizon.

The program trains participants to engage compassionately in genuine conversations with those living on the street. In addition to the practical skills of communication, throughout the week the missionaries also hear from speakers who share their knowledge and testimonies about evangelization, faith, and missionary work.

In 2025, CSM attempted to extend the program to six weeks but encountered some challenges.

“I underestimated the power of the Jubilee Year,” said Moy with a smile. “So many young adults went to Rome, which conflicted with the six weeks.”

Watching the men’s final of the U.S. Open Tennis Championships recently brought a smile to my face not only because the talent on display was incredible, but also because of the Catholic connection between the two combatants. 

The eventual champion, Carlos Alcaraz, a devout Catholic, had received a special blessing from a priest at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York just before the tournament began. In 2023, he also visited Guadalupe, where he brought a rose to Our Lady. Alcaraz, the current world No. 1, speaks proudly on social media about his Catholic faith.

The world No. 2, Italian finalist Jannik Sinner, also professes his Catholic upbringing. He recently met with Pope Leo XIV, who loves tennis, and presented him with a racquet. Truly, it is rare to see two practising Catholics at the very top of the sport. Alcaraz and Sinner have been excellent examples for young tennis players, showing the path to success with both their skill and their sportsmanlike behaviour.

And while they inspire on the courts, two other young Catholics — St. Carlo Acutis and St. Pier Giorgio Frassati — have become inspirations for young (and old) Catholics to live holy, pure lives. Both were canonized by Pope Leo XIV on Sept. 7, 2025, with memorials set for Oct. 12 (St. Carlo) and July 4 (St. Pier Giorgio).

St. Carlo and St. Pier Giorgio both enjoyed soccer, skiing, and swimming. Pier Giorgio especially immersed himself in mountain climbing and hiking. Both used their sports experiences to evangelize and share the Gospel. They were known for their apostolate, though they evangelized in different forms.

St. Carlo was especially well known for his love of “gaming” on Nintendo, PlayStation, and Xbox. Through these and other social media platforms, he brought many to the faith and to love of the Eucharist. St. Pier Giorgio used the written word as a tool for evangelization, and he was also a gifted orator. Both knew how to use the gifts God had given them in their short lives to reach souls.

We too are called to be saints and to help our family, friends, and co-workers know Jesus Christ through our actions, and at times, through our words. These two left a legacy for future generations, seen in organizations founded in their names. One such group is Frassati Sports and Adventure, which began at Our Lady of Lourdes Parish in Denver, Colo., in 2016. Its mission: “To form strong male disciples of Jesus Christ. Through sports and adventure, we seek to foster authentic masculine spirituality, servant leadership, vocation discernment, and joyful Catholic witness. To Jesus through sports.”