Articles

BLOOD the STUFF of LIFE

Once again, I find myself blindsided. Don’t get me wrong; as a Missionary Sister of the Precious Blood, I believe in the power of the Precious Blood of Jesus. However, we live in deeply disturbing times or should I say, ‘in a world gone mad’? We live in a world where the blood of 49 innocent people stained an Orlando nightclub a deep crimson red. ‘Why did they die?’ is the question posed most recently by Time Magazine. Why indeed? 

In the midst of trying to cope with one tragedy, the violence continues city after city after city – one can hardly keep track of them all. No wonder so many of us are anxious about our own safety and the safety of our loved ones. Books galore, such as Overcoming Anxiety for Dummies, are geared toward soothing our nerves.  Dummies? Really now. These days many of us seem to be more like experts, rather than dummies, in the anxiety department. For example, with his fear mongering, Donald Trump is raising the anxiety level not only of many Americans, but also people beyond their borders. 

As difficult as the concept may seem, Mr. Trump, just like you and me, is a child of God, as are perpetrators of violence. We are all sisters and brothers, human beings who share the common source of life coursing through our veins – our precious blood. As a sub-stance, there really is no substitute. However, blood is a wily fluid. To various people, it connotes dramatically different things: health, life, death. Indeed, we usually don't give much thought to blood on a regular basis, unless we are watching a vampire movie, donating blood or suffering from a cut - or watching the latest news update about yet another violent death. We all know this much – the approximately 5 liters of blood flowing through our bodies is truly a matter of life and death. It is also the same blood that coursed through the veins of Jesus.

Travelling quite extensively during this Jubilee Year of Mercy, Pope Francis recently in Armenia visited a genocide memorial. In the guest book, he wrote: “Here I pray with pain in my heart that there may never again be tragedies like this, so that humanity may never forget and may know that good wins over evil.”

We, the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood, daily pray for peace and safety for all who share this earth, our common home. May we fall into mercy, catch glimpses of the grace daily bestowed on us and may the Precious Blood of Jesus Christ protect us.

Guest blogger, Sr. Magdalena Vogt, CPS

For Freedom, Justice and Democracy: Nelson Mandela Day

“Make every day a Mandela Day” and be involved in action that will inspire change to promote a better world for all.  Mandela himself rooted in a sense of decency, democracy and forgiveness engaged in a conversation with “the next generation” and spoke about the challenge of leadership to address the world’s social injustices when he said that “it is in your hands now.”  As a black revolutionary leader, he was imprisoned for 27 years by the racist white South African regime.  Upon his release he promoted his convictions for a just peace that moved him beyond the status quo to reconciliation. In that way, he continued his revolutionary trend of not accepting the status quo to become a person of peace with a capacity of love that enhances one another even when there are challenging disagreements.  

Enjoy renowned South African photographer Matthew Willman’s photo of Mandela’s red office chair. One day, while visiting his friend, he was inspired to ask if he could take the chair out into an open field where he had children run by it into the distance, to symbolize the impact Mandela had on the future generations of South Africa.

Mabel St. Louis, CSJ

This is Maya Angelou's poem for Madiba. "His Day is Done". Listen to her words as we celebrate the United Nations International Day of Nelson Mandela.

Down Memory Lane, Compliments of a Peruvian Hat

How do you like my Peruvian hat? You’ll never guess where I found it. I was so excited to discover a Peruvian booth at the annual Sunfest here in little London this weekend. Of course I had to don that hat, at my friend’s insistence. Instantly, I was transported to my beloved Peru. Such marvellous memories of my trip to Chincha, Peru with Sr. Anne last February, flooded my mind and heart. It seemed like it was just yesterday that I was packing to head out for that distant land. What a wonderful opportunity it was to visit my beloved Peru! Even though it wasn’t in the same area where I had worked for many years.

The wait at the airport in Toronto was long, but well worth the wait. We were so anxious to be on our way. It was not one of my most ‘memorable’ flights, but it was soon forgotten. As I stepped onto Peruvian soil, my heart soared. I was home. Visiting with our only two Peruvian sisters, Maria and Gloria, was such a gift. Getting to know them better, seeing how wonderful and dedicated these women are to the poor people, was really a delightful experience. Meeting many of the people to whom they minister, especially those still suffering from the aftermath of the earthquake, was a real eye opener. I was particularly keen to meet the dedicated Associates of our community. They are scattered far and wide in what is an extremely wide spread parish. In order to visit them all, Sr. Maria drove us in the sister’s truck along roads which frequently were mere dirt roads. When they were within walking distance, we were accompanied by two of the Associates, Elizabeth and her daughter, Elizabeth. What delightful women! Meeting and enjoying the company of some of the sisters’ family members was an added bonus. In true Peruvian style, we received a warm welcome and delightful hospitality. One of the things that stands out for me, is a picnic in the convent garden. Scrumptious hot food in big pots had lovingly been prepared. Sadly, though, there were no Pisco Sours. You don’t know what they are? Let me tell you. Pisco is a Peruvian liquor made from white grapes, to which you add lime juice, sugar water, egg whites, ice cubes – and blend. Hard to explain the exhilarating taste of this uniquely Peruvian drink. Hope you get to try it some time.

The two weeks flew by, with no time to miss Canada. Happy memories continue to linger, as became evident when I donned that ‘magic’ Peruvian hat. Now I wonder why I didn’t buy it. Oh well, maybe at next year’s Sunfest I’ll go looking for that hat and maybe, just maybe the magic will happen again.

Loretta Hagen, CSJ 

Our Rowing Team: The Canadian Women's Olympic Eight

This amazing group of women trains in London and I, definitely a non-athlete, was privileged to join them for a training session during these final weeks before the games in Rio. Everything was new to me: the awesome sight of superbly conditioned women, the long racing shells housed in an immense shed on Fanshawe Lake, and the collection of coaches, trainers, rowers, and coxswains milling about the long boat shed. This particular training session was a practice in racing and so following a warm up run and briefing by the coach, John Keough, the eight rowers and their coxswain embarked in their 96 Kilogram shell and I joined John in his launch. 

The session consisted of some timed races and other random exercises which were a mystery to me. As the Team rowed under the direction of Lesley Thompson-Willie, their competent coxswain, the Coach would use his megaphone from time to time, to issue instructions or comment on technique. I was fascinated by the John’s ability to observe the technique of both the team and each woman. He would advise the crew to “jump” with each stroke of the oar, or perhaps advise a rower to use shoulder or leg muscles more efficiently. The weather on this day was considered to be good – unhampered by wind or rain. But the effects of 30-degree C. temperature and intense physical effort was reflected in the thirsty, perspiring, and exhausted looking rowers. The use of technology was impressive. John used his stop watch and laptop computer to gather data about the movement of the racing shell. In addition, each of the eight oarlocks had a connection transmitting information about the strokes of the eight rowers which was displayed on the computer screen as a block of eight waves, rather like a series of electrocardiogram waves. All of the biomechanical data about the speed, stroke rate, acceleration, and force of the boat and rowers is viewed on the coach’s computer screen. It is later analyzed and studied by the coaching staff and crew. The synchronous actions of rowers were remarkable. At times, they seemed to be moving as one body rather than as eight individuals, producing a palpable sense of unity to both the rowers and observers.

The Canadian women’s eight team has an enviable record of winning medals in four of the last six summer Olympics; they hope to match or exceed the silver medal won in the London Olympics in 2012. And so I was curious about the collective rowers, coxswain, and coach who comprised this remarkable team. John speaks with the directness of a native Australian which might seem harsh to a polite Canadian. Yet his unexpected pause to advise a solo rower practicing on the Lake about correcting the rower’s form in order to improve efficient use of muscles and reduce back strain revealed kindness which sourced his behavior. He also has the courage to speak honestly and to make the hard decisions about selecting or deselecting team members. The eight women rowers have lived closely connected to each other in years of training. Each is physically fit, mentally alert, and totally focused. To function as a team, they have learned to accept and value each other, to overlook pettiness and to sacrifice self-interest for the benefit of the team. The eight women have a desire for perfection which drives their relentless effort, opens their hearts to the pain falling short and yields emotional vulnerability which transforms criticism into stinging wounds. These athletes possess the quality of endurance.

Our Olympic rowers are supported by many other individuals and organizations. One Western alumnus, Tom Whealey and the Davis family, have donated a large sum of money annually since 2007. Part of this money provides a healthy breakfast on each day of training. Agnico Eagle Mines provides gold for the Olympic rings given to each rower. The Government of Canada provides support to athletes in search of jobs or education. And yet, there is always a need for more financial support.

It was a privilege to observe our Women’s Eight training at Fanshawe Lake. In my view they deserve our confidence and well wishes as they conclude their training and head to Rio to compete in the Olympic games.

Pat McKeon, CSJ

Canadian Muslims aspire to peace, tolerance and justice

It seems as if an invisible weight is placed upon my shoulders every few days, and the hijab on my head feels heavier. All this happens in the four minutes or so that it takes me to catch the radio news as I drive my kids to school in the mornings.

Islamist. Terrorist. Islamic State. Jihadist. Radicalized. These are all words now conflated with Muslim in the minds of the general population.

Let’s be clear. People such as those labelled this way do exist and carry their corrupt ideology, beliefs and agendas that, in their warped minds give them the licence to wreak havoc on society — your society and mine. Not only have they perverted my religion, but they’ve also hijacked my identity, stolen my security and left me captive in society’s basket of “bad apples.”

Their every heinous act piles another layer of weight on my shoulders.

I am a Canadian Muslim woman, proud to wear many hats: Mom, wife, friend, neighbour, community builder, school parent council leader, chauffeur to dance, piano, swimming and martial arts classes, and the loudest soccer mom in the stands. But with each of these hats, I also wear others — head scarves, in my case — that invite the invisible burden of labels that get applied so commonly, without people pausing to reflect upon the impact of these words to render innocents powerless and vulnerable.

Fatima Coovadia picks up her children Ihsaan Patel, Nuha Patel and Muhammad Patel from school in Saskatoon on June 21, 2016. (Michelle Berg / Saskatoon StarPhoenix)

I wish that I could change the lens and transform the image of “Muslim” from the Omar Mateens of the world to just me — the me who is just like you. I pay my taxes. I don’t text and drive. I am a regular at the Tim’s drive-thru. I like and react on Facebook. I weed my garden and shovel my sidewalk, and I bleed green.

I also pray five times a day, meet my charity obligation and fast during Ramadan. I also have completed a pilgrimage to Mecca. This does not make me different from you. It simply makes me closer to my Creator. It makes me more mindful of His bounties and prompts me to reflect on how I can be the best person, the best Canadian that I can be.

I am a regular citizen, a champion for equity, and a mom who wants her daughter to be able to enjoy shopping without self-consciously tugging at her hijab.

I remember a time when society was like a box of chocolates — when each individual brought a unique flavour to the community. The differences brought a new dimension of interest and talent that enriched us all. There was a unique place for each piece within the box.

Then 9-11 happened. Many innocent people died on that day, and in response 100,000 equally innocent people died in a flash in a war that we now know was based on false assumptions. When will this madness end?

There is a great need for us to share our values, and to get to know each other better.

Islam is part of the Abrahamic tradition alongside Christianity and Judaism, and it is practised by more than a billion peaceful people around the globe, transcending gender, race, ethnicity, language, culture and geography.

In Canada, Muslims serve as doctors, builders, accountants, restaurateurs (ever willing to spice up one’s taste buds), teachers and so on. We practise our faith and live our lives as ordinary Canadians — these are not mutually exclusive. We aspire to the same values of peace, tolerance, justice and good neighbourliness as our fellow citizens.

After all, it is the actions of the doer that are most important. Good people have good values and lead good lives.

How good will it be to feel like that unique chocolate again, surrounded by equally unique neighbours, each with their own space within the same box.

Fatima Coovadia is a mom and health-care consultant in Saskatoon. Story first appeared in the Saskatoon StarPhoenix on June 25, 2016. Used with permission.