It was a beautiful day in the Beaver Lake Cree Nation, at Sacred Heart Church, where the annual pilgrimage is held on the shores of Beaver Lake. The Sunday sky was blue, the clouds slowly skudding by aspens turning golden amidst the green.
Four sisters, who had attended the pilgrimage at Sacred Heart from the time they were little girls, crossed the grounds to the grotto, dressed in their Sunday best. The sisters, who now range in age from 60 to 70, and jokingly call themselves the Golden Girls, say they keep coming for the memories, though the times have changed, and so has the pilgrimage.
“We used to camp with our parents for a week, to attend all the masses,” said Irene Aujer. “We came over here in wagons and horses from Big Bay, and we didn’t live that close. Back then, Mom sewed all our dresses, everything by hand—the only thing we had that was store-bought were our shoes. She even sewed our First Communion dresses by hand.”
The sisters said that in years past, there was barely room to park because the grounds were so full of tents and campfires. Back then, smoke rose into the night sky, along with the hymns the pilgrims would sing by their fires — often in Cree — thanks to a local Metis priest named Father Mercredi, who seemed to leave his indelible mark on every life he touched.
Louis Tremblay came all the way from Conklin, and says he’s been coming to pilgrimage for 30 years.
While services are now in English, when Father Mercredi was officiating, the service was in Latin and Cree.
When Louis mentioned Father Mercredi, another elder named Elizabeth Winterbourne ran back to her car to get the Cree hymnal that Father Mercredi had created, translating hymns into Cree, and pointing out the faded paintings of the Stations of the Cross that Mercredi had painted.
“He was a right-on priest,” she said of the priest, who died over 30 years ago. “I’ve never seen another priest like him.”
And suddenly everyone sitting under the trees by the church had a memory to share:
“He taught all the kids their Cree,” said Louis. “And he’d take the kids swimming after church.”
“He taught me how to play the organ. He taught the boys how to play horseshoes,” said Delores Pruden.
“He taught me how to sing. We only sang the Cree hymns that he wrote,” said Jennifer Skoreiko. “His knowledge and teachings have been passed down.”
It was clear, from the animated and loving way two generations of people spoke about the long-departed priest of their youth, that his teachings did extend far beyond the grave.
Delores Gladue said, “I don’t think any aboriginal who ever knew Father Mercredi will ever forget.”
Pilgrimage can clearly thank Mercredi for the devoted attendance of so many, years even after his passing.
