East Coast Pilgrimage: Trois-Rivières

After seeing a bit of Montréal, we took my aunt for a long drive to visit other parts of Quebec, with emphasis, of course, on religious shrines.

The first on the list was the Sanctuaire Notre-Dame-du-Cap (Our Lady of the Cape Shrine) in Trois-Rivières, Canada’s national shrine to the Blessed Virgin Mary, one of the five national shrines in the country, and the third largest Marian shrine in North America.

Located in beautiful Trois-Rivières, a city founded by French colonists at the confluence of the Saint-Maurice and Saint-Lawrence Rivers (the city's name comes from Saint-Maurice’s three mouths at the Saint-Lawrence River) and halfway between Montréal and Quebec City, it is visited by thousands of pilgrims every year.

The shrine started as a small wooden structure built in the district of Cap-de-la-Madelaine in 1659, and in 1720, a fieldstone church was added. The parish priest established the Confraternity of the Most Holy Rosary and the residents became devoted to the Blessed Virgin.

Due to the increase in the faithful, a third bigger church needed to be constructed, but it was hampered by the difficulty of transporting materials over the river. In addition, 1879 brought a very mild winter and the river did not freeze over.

The parishioners invoked Our Lady’s intercession and prayed the rosary daily. Then one day, in the middle of March, a small portion of the Saint-Lawrence River froze and thin pieces of ice floated down the river from Lake Saint-Pierre which was 32 kilometers away and stopped parallel to Cap-de-la-Madelaine. By adding additional snow and water, the parishioners were able to build an ice bridge which held for a full week until all the building materials for the church were safely hauled across on horse-drawn sledges.

This was considered this to be a miracle and the locals attributed it to Our Lady. They named this ice bridge, “The Rosary Bridge.” The new church was completed in 1880 and was named Sainte-Marie-Madeleine, in honour of Mary's benevolence to the town . The old stone church was not demolished, but instead dedicated to Our Lady, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary.

A second miracle occurred during the dedication of this new church. On that day, the Marian statue that had been donated by a parishioner, was ceremoniously placed on the main altar. In the evening, a man on a wheelchair came to pray to Our Lady and asked the two priests to assist him in entering the church and to pray with him. As they were praying, they all noticed at the same time that the statue, whose eyes normally appear cast down, has opened its eyes. Both priests got up, examining the statue and moving from spot to spot to make sure it was not an optical illusion. The three men would often speak of this event later saying that the statue’s eyes remained open for about five to ten minutes and that “her eyes were dark, well formed and in perfect harmony with the rest of her face; and that she had the face of a living person.” They added that this event had changed their lives forever.

In 1902, due to the volume of pilgrims that the parish priests could not manage anymore, the bishop assigned the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate to become the guardians of the shrine. The congregation did much work upon arrival – landscaping, excavation of a lake, tree-planting, installation of monuments of the Rosary, replacing the wooden Stations of the Cross monuments with stone ones, and constructing a “Rosary Bridge” (to commemorate the original ice bridge that was called the same name) and a basilica, which was inaugurated in 1964.

The present basilica has a 38-meter dome and can accommodate 1,660 persons. The exterior shape follows that of a First Nations teepee. Inside, it features remarkable stained-glass windows mounted on the walls using centuries-old techniques. It also houses one of the largest Casavant organs in Canada with a casework in the shape of a maple leaf covering the back wall.

We prayed the rosary and lit candles inside the basilica, then we proceeded to the original old stone church where a Mass was held in French. Afterwards, we gazed at the miraculous statue, now interred in the chapel, trying to imagine how it would have looked like with its eyes open as seen by the priests and the parishioner a century ago. They said that her eyes had shown so much compassion. What a blessing for them to witness that on that fateful night.

The priest who said Mass during our visit was a Missionary Oblate. He chatted with us for a bit, mainly with my husband, because he was more comfortable speaking in French.

I told my aunt that this priest reminded me of the Missionary Oblate priest who officiated my parents’ wedding and who had become a dear family friend. When I was a child, he would often visit us. I remember him giving us children (my siblings and my cousins who lived in the same neighbourhood) not only rosaries and prayer books, but also toys – dolls for the girls and trains for the boys. For the adults, he had rosaries and Marian medals. At that moment, I wondered whether he was still alive and where he was. We had lost touch since my parents passed away. I included him in my prayers that day.

We wandered around the gardens and visited the Rosary Bridge before stopping at the gift shop to buy some rosaries and religious souvenirs. The gardens, with a lake, fountain, bridges, statues, and memorials, was beautiful. And as we walked, we felt a sense of peace and serenity. In my opinion, no matter what your religious beliefs are, and whether you believe in miracles or not, this place could offer you the much-needed space for prayer and contemplation that is lacking in today’s busy lifestyle.

Before we left, we had a picnic by the river. As we munched on our take-along sandwiches while enjoying the view of the water and the bridges, my aunt said that she really liked this place. It’s a smaller city, less busy than Vancouver and Montréal, and had that religious vibe.

We left the church and headed to Beaupre, our next destination. As we drove around the Trois-Rivières residential neighbourhoods, we noticed that my aunt was looking intently at the residential houses and making comments at how quaint they looked. Then she asked if we had an idea how much houses there would cost. My husband and I teased her and enticed her to move to Canada. We said she could buy a house in Trois-Rivières - a charming home that is just walking-distance from the shrine and that we’d visit her often. But she would have to learn French.

Sadly, this remained an unfulfilled dream...but I am sure that my aunt held this place in her heart.