Denise De Pape, Victoria

Remi and my father, who grew up together on neighbouring farms, are double first cousins. Remi’s mother was a De Pape. My father was named Raymond after Remi’s father who was my dad’s godfather.

However, I did not meet Remi until his installation as bishop in 1962. A couple weeks later my family came for Christmas dinner at the bishop’s residence. My father, my grandmother, and my younger brother and I, all got stranded in the elevator with a door that would not open. Remi remained calm (of course), managed to find someone to get us out of there even on a holiday, and was particularly solicitous toward my grandmother who was his Aunt Marie (nee De Roo). They had a lovely relationship from the time he was a priest in her parish of Holy Cross in Winnipeg. Apparently, he would visit her and her mentally and physically challenged sister, who she cared for full-time. My first unspoken lesson from Remi was not just respect for elders, but also the importance of kindness without making any big deal of it.

After my family moved to Toronto from Vancouver in 1964, Remi would occasionally come for dinner when he was in town. After much conversation with my parents about relatives (who was sick, who had a new baby, etc.), we would sometimes get onto serious issues. I was in high school at the time and questioning big things like world peace, capital punishment, and Vatican II. Remi always treated me like a valued family member – no attempts to put me in my place, or condescend like some relatives did. Aha, I thought: this wise and important person sees something in me that my parents aren’t even capable of recognizing!! My self-confidence went up a notch every time!

His promotion of the role of women in the church, and by extension the role of women in society, spoke volumes to me, even though it caused some disapproval in the conservative De Roo-De Pape clan. Why wouldn’t he favour a bigger role for women? He had five very competent sisters, who he loved and appreciated. This attitude certainly expanded my horizons!

Then in the 80s Remi caused a big splash! I’ll take you back to his roots to put this in context. He came from Swan Lake, Manitoba a small farming community. His parents emigrated as children from Belgium in the 1890s. Nine De Roo and De Pape families of aunts, uncles and cousins lived in this close-knit, very traditional Catholic community. (The aunts used to take note of who was NOT at church on Sunday and followed up during the week!) But this was also the community where Remi’s father was on friendly terms with all the Protestants at a time when this was considered unusual behaviour.

Although there was a lot of interaction and sharing, it was considered unseemly, if not downright immoral, to do anything to call attention to yourself. Imagine the reaction when they read in the newspaper or heard on the radio that their beloved native son was challenging the federal government and business tycoons about the economy, and unions and capitalism! That sure set the tongues wagging, and the heads shaking!!

“What could a bishop possibly know about such important issues?” I must admit that I had to give my own head a shake, partly because my parents were not entirely in sync with his views and approach. For me this situation was paradigm-shifting because it was my very first experience of someone speaking truth to power! This and other instances when Remi took public positions based on convictions and deep knowledge, inspired me.

Thus, I knew he had my back when I participated in a very public campaign and press conference with other health professionals, designed to embarrass the University of Toronto to divest its shares in tobacco and to eliminate tobacco CEOs from its board of governors. We even called out my own alma mater, Saint Michael’s College at the University of Toronto for accepting tobacco industry money to fund a corporate social responsibility program for business people! When I spoke to Remi about this campaign, I said it was “a page out of his book”……and he just smiled.

Remi was very supportive of my whole public health career, my “civic leadership” he called it, and of my focus on the reduction of the harm due to alcohol and other drugs, including tobacco.

His sense of justice and recognition of the intrinsic value of people helped strengthen my commitment to health promotion, which was the principal guiding philosophy of all my work in two provinces. I often thought of his remark that “we don’t judge, and we don’t blame” when asked about the problem of homeless people outside the Cathedral. I realized we were essentially doing the same work, but in different ways and at different levels. He practised on a spiritual and emotional level, whereas I was more focussed on the conditions of daily living. Nevertheless, it gave us cause for lots of great conversations, particularly after I came to Victoria for a job in 2008. I knew I would never get criticized or judged for expressing an opinion.

I never heard Remi criticize anyone, not even the family members who interpreted his sickly childhood as laziness. Even well into his tenure as bishop, my cousins and I all heard that he was lazy, shirked responsibility, and was spoiled by his mother. I never heard him respond in kind, perhaps because Remi’s father taught the family never to speak in anger.

One last story about another opportunity for me to reflect on my attitudes: Remi was very positive about my role on the board of Southdown Convalescent Centre where I served for 10 years. Located just north of Toronto, it’s the only residential treatment centre in Canada for clergy and religious with mental health and addictions problems. I would contact him occasionally for a perspective on spiritual issues or church politics. He always had time to reflect with me. I was ranting to him one day, not very charitably I have to say, about the election of Cardinal Ratzinger to be the new Pope. “How could those cardinals choose this man? Did they know what they were doing?” Remi just looked at me and said: “I know Cardinal Ratzinger. In fact, I was called up on the carpet in front of him to defend some of my actions.” He paused again, and said: “Denise, this is a man who operates more from here, his head, then from here, his heart.” Such insight and understanding and acceptance: Remi had conveyed all of this with no judgement, no rancour, no bitterness. In fact, he compassionately conveyed some background information that could explain the Cardinal’s attitudes. This was a huge lesson for me.

I was privileged to spend time with him in his dying weeks, and was touched by the way he modelled dying with grace and acceptance. During this sacred time he spoke so often about family members (his love for them was so apparent), and even told me stories about my own aunts and uncles that I had never heard before.

These are some of the many lessons and many gifts from my 60-year relationship with friend and cousin Remi De Roo, for which I am so very grateful.

Happy birthday, Remi. We miss you.