Church, Balance and the Subtlety of Language

After my chance meeting of Martin’s uncle at la paroisse de Saint-Ambroise a few weeks ago, I’ve been attending mass every Sunday. I’d been thinking back on my Kin 021 class from several years back and the concept of the Wellness Wheel. A quick websearch turns up a bunch of sites related to the Wheel, so if you’re interested in a more thorough discussion of the topic, I encourage you to check them out.

Anyway, I’ve accepted that I lack balance in my life. In fact, I may have mentioned that in a previous entry… well, maybe not explicitly, but I had at least resolved to make some efforts towards self-improvement. The Spiritual segment of the Wellness Wheel has been non-existent for me for the past 15-20 years, at least, so I thought that it was a good place to start. Also, since the services are conducted in French, it’s a good opportunity for me to look at the language in a different context.

I won’t pretend to be a highly skilled grammarian by any stretch of the imagination, but I did notice some things that I found interesting. In English, when one uses God (and by “God” I mean the Christian version) in a sentence, it usually starts with an uppercase letter. That’s not particularly unusual, since it’s being used as a proper name. However, the same goes for when God is replaced by a pronoun, regardless of its placement within the sentence (eg. “I am an instrument of His will.”). From what I recall, this is supposed to acknowledge the writer’s reverence for the Supreme Being.

French is a far more subtle language, so I was interested in seeing how religious content was handled. I’ve been a bit surprised at the way the prayers have been translated, particularly since Quebec has (historically) been a God-fearing province for hundreds of years. I had expected to see a lot more use of what is typically called the vous de politesse. For those not familiar with the language, I’ll try and explain this as best I can.

In French, there are 2 pronouns used for the English equivalent of “You.” There’s the form “tu” and the form “vous.” The “tu” form is used when addressing an individual with whom one has a certain degree of familiarity. The “vous” form is used when addressing a group of people, when addressing someone that one holds in high esteem, someone elderly, a business client or perhaps just someone who one doesn’t know very well. Its use is a mark of respect. It used to be used when addressing one’s parents, but it’s pretty uncommon to see it used that way now. They’ve even got a couple of verbs specifically used to inform someone that they can switch from the “vous” to the “tu” or vice versa (tutoyer and vouvoyer).

So as I was saying, I figured that any prayers or responses would be full of “vous” when referring to God, perhaps even written in uppercase letters to note a similar reverence to God as what one sees in the English equivalent. Not so. At least not in the translations used in this parish. From what Martin’s uncle told me, they’ve used a lot of translations from Latin over the years and this particular one is far less formal in its structure. I was thinking about that and, to a certain extent, it makes sense to me. Through the subtlety of the language construction, this French version tries to create a familiarity with God. He isn’t some unknown force, but rather someone with whom parishioners can have a very close, personal relationship. This concept of a personal relationship with God is also in keeping with the message being conveyed during the masses. Anyway, it’s this sort of nuance that continues to fuel my interest in the French language. I’m intrigued by how much can be expressed by something so simple as the choice between the use of “tu” or “vous.”

I’m not sure if anyone else is still awake after reading this entry, but whatever. I find the topic interesting. Til next time…

Draw Your Own Conclusions

Welcome to 2007! I’ve returned from the surprisingly green environs of London, Ontario and still have a day or so to kill before I start back at work. So I’ve been watching a bit of football and a variety of dvds (including my newest guilty pleasure, a film called Stick It). Since part of my holidays have already been covered on Chris’ blog, I thought I would jump straight to this past Sunday, when I had one of those really Bizarro World moments. Enough preamble, let’s get to it.

This past Sunday, I decided to check out the local Catholic churches. I’m not a devout Catholic by any stretch of the imagination, but recent correspondence with a new friend prompted me to take a look around. So I did some web searches on the Archdiocese of Montreal website and found a listing for Saint-Etienne, located about a block or so from me. It didn’t list the times of the services, so I made a wild guess and took a walk over. Here’s the thing—when I got to the address, there was NO church there! Nothing. There was just a fenced off lawn where I was expecting to see one.

I was a little put off by that. One would think that the Archdiocese would have the good sense to keep their parish listings at least somewhat current. I turned around and started to walk home when I noticed a church steeple off a few blocks away from me. So I decided it was worth a look. After all, I could have gotten the address mixed up. The closer I got, the more I realized how big this place was. It was HUGE. I can’t really say I’m surprised, though, since historically, the province of Quebec has always been a very Catholic province.

As it turns out, I’d found the parish of Saint-Ambroise. The service had started at 11am, so I was already late, but I decided to slip in the back anyway. Now I’m not sure if it was the echo of the hall (if someone can suggest a better word to describe the inside of a church, I’ll gladly take it) or the fact that I’d never spent much time learning religious words in my French courses, but I didn’t understand the majority of what was said. After the mass, I decided to introduce myself to the priest.

He was a pleasant enough fellow, with glasses and gray hair. He gave me the general rundown of the mass schedule and asked the usual questions about whether I’d been baptized, etc. occasionally switching to English after noticing my accent. I’d mentioned in passing that I had moved to Montreal from London and he told me that his brother used to teach Physics at Western. Interesting coincidence, but I didn’t think anything more of it.

On my way out, I took a look at the parish bulletin, trying to find a listing of the mass times and then, before leaving, I remembered my manners and asked the priest’s name. His answer left me stunned. We’re talking jaw-on-the-floor stunned here. I had just been having a pleasant conversation with Denis Saint-Maurice—the uncle of one of my best friends through eighth grade and high school, Martin St-Maurice! I’m a bit disappointed in myself that I hadn’t caught on sooner, since it was common knowledge amongst our group of friends that Martin’s father was a Physics professor. That was the reason they moved to London in the first place!

So I’m not sure what to make of this, to be quite honest. After all, there are a little less than 2 million people in Montreal and I just happened to move into THIS parish’s area? The odds of this happening are lottery-esque. So draw what conclusions you may from this, but I think I’ll be popping into the Sunday services a bit more regularly from now on. Couldn’t hurt, right? Til next time…