EASTER SUNDAY
Since I could not have a parade of my men at Arras I decided to do
what good I could at Agnez-lez-Duisans. We had early Mass for the
civil population, and as their curé was serving in the army I acted as
parish priest that morning. Following my ordination to the priesthood I
had been sent, as assistant priest, to a parish where French only was
spoken. For three years I ministered to these people and when I had
left them I felt that I had a fair working knowledge of their language,
though when I first went among them, I received quite a shock. During
my classical course I had studied the French language for four years;
my theological course had been made at the Grand Seminary of Quebec,
where the great majority of the students were French-Canadians. I had
left the Seminary thinking that I had an adequate knowledge of the
French language; nevertheless, I took a whole week to prepare and
memorize my first French sermon in the little parish. I entered the
pulpit a little fearful, though when I found my words flowing with no
great effort I warmed to the work. I went down to the altar feeling
that I had done fairly well; but after Mass, while receiving a Mass
offering from a gentle old lady who had come into the sacristy leaning
on a cane, I asked her very simply how I had preached. I shall never
forget the kindly look with which the old lady regarded me, as she
said: “It was all right, Father, all right! We all knew what you were
trying to say.” And I had been preparing for eight years! However, when
I left these good people I think they used to know what I was saying.
And this Easter morning, in far-away France, as peasant after peasant
came to me to confession, I recalled these golden days of my early
service for the Master when the first fervor of the young priest was
strongly aglow and all the world was at peace.
On Monday morning I took Holy Communion to an old woman who was an
invalid and could not come to the church. Everything was spotlessly
prepared and all the people knelt reverently when I entered the house
bearing the Divine Guest. I tried to tip-toe softly in my big heavy
military boots, but as they were built for marching on long roads I
did not succeed very well. It seemed very strange there in the soft,
carpeted room; two or three women knelt near the bedside; the feminine
touch was everywhere; for the first time since my enlistment I felt the
lack of cassock and surplice. Somehow, I felt a little awkward. She
was an old woman, and her life must have been a very holy one. Simply
and with great faith she received the Divine Guest and I knew Our Lord
would feel at home.
When I was leaving one of the women pressed into my hand a five-franc
piece. It was the first I had ever seen; but when I wished to return
it, the woman seemed determined that I should keep it. I did--as a
souvenir.