A time of hope | Press

This is the first time that I have attended a mass.

I have known a few funerals and a baptism, but that’s it. Not even a midnight mass… I don’t know anything about protocol, I’m afraid to insult parishioners with my lack of religious culture. I go up the stairs shyly covered with ice, I enter the church and I stop immediately to admire the altar, lit in red and mauve.

Purple is the color of advent and hope. Red is AIDS.

For decades, at the Saint-Pierre-Apôtre church, located in the gay district of Montreal, an annual mass has been celebrated in memory of people who have died of AIDS. The event is held on the Sunday closest to the 1^er December, world day of the fight against the virus.

On November 28, more than sixty parishioners gathered. One of them proudly wears a mask in the colors of the gay flag. He tells me that he collects his thoughts every week, but that today’s Mass will have a special meaning.

He lost some friends because of this disease… Here is an opportunity to remember their fond memories.

I sit near him, at the back of the church, question of being able to imitate my peers (failing to know when to get up or what to sing).

Then, the ceremony begins with a silent procession. It extends to the Chapel of Hope, a permanent prayer space dedicated to people living with HIV and those who have died of AIDS. The priest passes very close to me. I smile as I remember our first meeting, which took place a few days earlier.

* * *

I was curious to know more about this man who officiates such an inclusive Mass, while the religion he represents is not always. Father Philippe Morina accepted my invitation and gave me an appointment at the same church. When I arrived, he was going out for his cigarette break.

I accompanied him outside.

He began to roll his tobacco, while chatting. In front of my astonished eyes, he explained to me that it helped him to smoke less. It takes more willpower, when you have to assemble your cigarettes yourself …

My kind of character.

Father Philippe Morina has worked at the Saint-Pierre-Apôtre church for 11 years. He is also a volunteer at Maison Plein Cœur, whose mission is to support individuals living with HIV.

“I started with the day center,” he tells me. I served coffee, played cards and chatted. Now, I am part of the group of peer helpers who accompany people who learn about their HIV status. How do you deal with this? Should we say it or not? What are the side effects of the drugs? I cannot help them at this level, not being HIV positive, but I can offer them an outside perspective. ”

Mass for World AIDS Day, he said, is a way of reminding people in the assembly that HIV is still alive and well. It is also an opportunity to restore their dignity to all those who have died of the disease and who have been refused funerals in the past …

And is it frequent, a mass like this?

About thirty seconds passed in perfect silence, before he answered me.

“There may be prayer intentions. It is the sensitivity of the pastoral team, the priest and the liturgical team that dictates the celebration.

-… Is that your way of telling me that it’s not very common?

– I don’t know, he said, laughing. A Mass announced as clearly as ours, I believe it is indeed rarer… ”

* * *

Once his silent procession is over, Father Philippe Morina begins the celebration by inviting us to have a thought for the researchers who are trying to cure HIV and people with the virus, with the hope that a cure will be found.

He then calls on the Lord to keep the victims of AIDS near him, in his light: “Remember all these men and women,” he asks him.

Then, quickly, he gave the floor to Emmanuel Cree. Because rather than giving a homily, each year the priest puts forward an organization fighting against HIV. (The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence – my favorite – have already been his guests.)

Emmanuel Cree is a street worker for the “sex work” program of the RÉZO organization, which ensures the health and well-being of gay and bisexual men. Just before the celebration, he told me that he was also at his very first mass.

Yet he seems very comfortable …

He tells us about the evolution of the fight undertaken by RÉZO, the needs of sex workers – “who are marginalized in the eyes of public health, police authorities and sometimes even their own community” -, prevention and triple therapy. .

Standing in the center of the altar, he reminds us of the importance of condom use, education, sex life and even safe drug use. Not to mention screening, which depends on a health system that must be inclusive and accessible.

“Philippe was talking about hope earlier. For me, that’s where it is. ”

The parishioners applaud him.

Father Philippe Morina takes the floor again. “It’s a time of hope,” he said. Maybe not yet happy, but who will be. ”

Around me, heads nod. Some men smile. And everyone is hoping.