Pope Francis’ visit to make an apology in indi-
genous territory for the Church’s role in residential schools has been a stirring event. It brought out reactions from all sides, and it has forced me (and others) to reflect more on what happened and on what we could learn from it. I have eighteen years of ministry to indigenous people under my belt now, and more than 50 years of Religious life; so I think I can add some insight into these reactions - that I can offer something to help us all move ahead.

We heard many criticisms during his visit on what the Pope said and on what he didn’t say. He did not speak about the Doctrine of Discovery or terra nullius. He did not speak about what further moves the Catholic Church might make to move reconciliation with indigenous people forward. And he did not use the word “genocide” as a description of the residential school system until he had left Canada and his visit was over. This created negative reactions. On the other hand, the reaction of the people who were present at Maskwacis, at the papal Mass at Commonwealth Stadium and at Lac Ste. Anne seems to have been very positive. Why the difference?



I think myself that the words one indigenous man spoke when he was interviewed during the visit by the CBC, account for a good bit of the positive reaction. He pointed out how affirmed he felt just by the fact that the Pope should have felt indigenous people were important enough for him to come specifically to speak to them. I doubt that this man was the only indigenous person to feel this way.

On the other hand, most of the criticisms of the Pope’s words refer to what he did not say. He did not outline what the Catholic Church would be doing to move reconciliation further along. As I said earlier, he did not make reference to other issues that continue to offend many indigenous people.

It’s important to keep in mind why the Pope came. It was because he was asked to make an apology on indigenous soil for the Catholic Church’s participation in the harms done in residential schools. And he did make that apology, more than once during those three days. He also spoke wisely about ways he felt we all could move to restore what residential schools had tried to destroy – by restoring the bonds between children and elders, between the children and their indigenous spiritual traditions. He pointed out that real progress happens only when we stay joined to our roots – our spiritual roots.

But it's also clear – much more has to be done to make reconciliation happen between indigenous people, the Church and the Canadian government. We’re not there yet. But it won’t and can’t happen in three days.

Hearing what the Pope left out reminds us that there is still work to be done on the Catholic Church’s side. This will have to happen at the highest level of the Church; but it also has to happen in the hearts of all our Canadian Catholic brothers and sisters. Being reminded again about the ongoing harms that residential schools caused in both the short and the long term – the abuse of children, the destruction of family life, the loss of parenting skills, and many more – is healthy. They are part of the truth. And our goal as Christians must always be to live in the truth. Now the job is to keep on moving forward – doing more to accept the truth, and reaching out from our own groups and our own hearts to create links with one another as partners.

How Could Religious Do Such Harm to Children?

Some of the most shocking things about the residential schools are the stories of the abuse done to the children by individuals – lay people and Religious – in these schools. How could people supposedly dedicated to God do such things? I attended three of the Truth and Reconciliation gatherings during the initial inquiry period, and over the years I’ve heard other stories from reliable people. They speak of the good, and of the unspeakable harm, some of these people did. Here’s one story, and by no means the worst I’ve heard.


At one session, I heard an indigenous man describe how as a child, he lost a handkerchief when he went to the latrine at one residential school. The religious Superior asked a Brother to take the child to the latrine and have him retrieve the handkerchief. The Brother took the boy over and sent him down into the latrine to look for it. The child could not find it, and in the end the Brother let him go. Later on, the Brother told me that the story was true, and that he was that Brother. But he spoke as though it were nothing of importance.

How Could He Have Been so Callous?

Here’s my take on it. Religious life at that time was generally very strict. Almost every moment of the day was scheduled. There was a spirituality with a strong emphasis on crushing every sinful inclination through mental toughness and physical penances (for example, regularly scourging oneself or wearing the cilicium, a small chain with points that rubbed against the flesh). Priests, Brothers and Sisters in Religious Orders lived a disciplined, often harsh life, usually without complaint. Most of us who are older can testify to this. So when they worked with children in these schools, many of them unwittingly aimed at making over these children after their own religious pattern. They felt that their harsh discipline with the children was normal – that they were preparing these children for real life, breaking the tolerant attitude towards discipline that indigenous people had with their children. They were “civilizing” and “christianizing” them.

Second, there was a strong emphasis in the Religious Life on obedience – a repeated emphasis that the will of the Superior was the will of God. Religious should suspend their own judgement and do what they were told to do. They didn’t hear often that they had a responsibility to express their own misgivings, if they had any, and to dialogue over the orders given. The temptation was to abdicate their own responsibility and to be “a stick in the hand of the Superior”. Once more, these same Religious expected unquestioning obedience from those under their care. The results in the residential schools give witness to how unhealthy, unloving and unchristian such a spirituality was.

Third, we recognize now that, like many people of European background, Religious in those days were acting often from an unconscious European colonialist attitude. We were the civilized ones; the indigenous people were the primitives. We had culture – they did not. It was our duty to fix them up.

I thank God that I entered Religious Life at the end of the Second Vatican Council and its reforms of Religious Life. Attitudes have changed. The grinding discipline of much of Religious Life (along with much of the escapism into alcoholism and mental illness) is largely gone. We’ve grown a great deal and recognize more the value and responsibility of the individual, accompanying and enriching the commitment to a common goal. The pendulum has swung. We could say that the colonialist attitude too is changing: at least, it is showing signs of weakening.

But, like everyone else, we have blind spots. Without recognizing it, we too can be intolerant, self-centered, blind to our own narrow views, unloving. The hurts done in residential schools remind us that we need to keep a critical eye on ourselves constantly, if we want truly to be messengers of God’s good news.