General News and Announcements

June 16, 2008

The notes below were prepared in the form of a diary. They describe the Residential Schools Steering Committee's experience of history in the making.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

It was a serendipitous coincidence that a regular meeting of the United Church’s Residential Schools Steering Committee was scheduled to happen in the same week that the Canadian government planned to deliver its long-awaited apology to residential schools survivors and their families.

The committee’s meeting had been planned to take place in Saskatchewan, but was quickly shifted to Ottawa when the government announced that an apology would be delivered in the House of Commons on June 11.

It was clear in the days leading up to the June 11 apology, that this day had the potential to be a momentous occasion—a historic moment. Ottawa was where the United Church’s Residential Schools Steering Committee needed to be.

Tonight as committee members arrived in Ottawa, they were joined by the Moderator, David Giuliano, and the General Secretary of the General Council, Nora Sanders, at an evening reception hosted by the Assembly of First Nations. Guests included residential school survivors and representatives of churches, government, First Nations, Inuit, Métis, and survivor organizations.

In her weekly message to the church, Nora Sanders described the gathering in this way: “The evening was one of music, humour, and visiting amongst friends, new and old. Many in the room, including those on our steering committee, have worked for years to get official recognition of the harm to Aboriginal children and families caused by residential schools. Some had come with family members; two or three generations had come together. Many of those present bear their own haunting memories of these schools, the deep ache of damage to family and culture from their experiences there, and the day-to-day effects that continue in their lives today.”

Following opening remarks from a number a speakers, including national chief, Phil Fontaine, the evening was filled with traditional and contemporary song and dance. In the end we all agreed that this had been, most certainly, an evening of anticipation, of celebration, and of hope.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

This morning the members of the Residential Schools Steering Committee gathered to prepare for the day. It was a time to share not only the committee members’ excitement, but also their anxieties. Sitting quietly and listening to one another was a particularly poignant way to prepare for the day–especially listening to those members of the committee who were survivors and who had been waiting so long for this apology.

It was also an opportunity for those of us who were descendants of the generation of Canadians who had engineered the residential schools sytem to reflect on what this day might mean for our ancestors. In particular, there was an expressed desire for the occasion to be shared with mothers, fathers, and grandparents who may not have understood why such a day was needed.

There was also recognition that many First Nations Elders had not lived to see this day. They may not have ever imagined it would happen, but their memory was held close and their presence felt throughout the day.

As the committee members left the hotel to head for Parliament Hill, it was as if we were all holding our breath in unison—hopeful, yet wary, wondering what the day would bring.

A few members of the committee dressed for the occasion in traditional attire. No doubt we were a sight to be seen as we crossed the Spark Street Mall, and posed for a group shot in front of the Parliament buildings.

It is a photo that no doubt will capture that moment of joyful camaraderie that helped to ease the tension of waiting for 3:00 p.m. to finally arrive.

Parliament Hill was abuzz with activity when we arrived—line-ups of people coming to share this day together. The mood of the crowd was buoyant. The anxiety now was the question of whether there would be room in the House of Commons for everyone. The line-ups were long, and confusion reigned as we headed through security wondering whether there were enough by-invitation-only seats in the House for all the members of our committee. Thankfully, in the end, this wasn’t a problem. Everyone found a seat-in one visitor’s gallery or another—close enough so that we could at least see one another from one corner of the House of Commons to the other.

As the grand parade of Aboriginal leaders and residential school survivors entered the House, they were greeted with sustained, thunderous applause that echoed throughout the chamber. This welcome in itself was a breathtaking moment, as representatives of Canada’s First Peoples took their seats in a circle on the floor of the House of Commons.

And then the moment arrived. The Prime Minister rose to speak.

The silence in the House of Commons as each of the party leaders added their own words of apology to the Prime Minister’s spoke volumes about the sacredness of the moment. Politicians trained in the theatrics of political debate sat in silence, respectfully listening to one another—and then to each of the Aboriginal leaders as they were invited, in an unprecedented break from tradition, to respond to the apology from the floor of the House of Commons. This gesture added a depth of meaning to the apology that words alone could never have achieved. It hinted of the hope that this could be the start to a new relationship of true partnership.

That hope was further enriched by the grace with which the government’s apology was received by Aboriginal leaders. This, too, signalled the possibility of renewed hope for healing.

The Governor General joined the Prime Minister, Aboriginal leaders, and other guests for a reception following the apology. The Residential Schools Steering Committee watched this part of the celebration on a large screen in a nearby committee room. In some ways, the size of the projected images reflected the larger-than-life nature of the entire event. The Prime Minister and Minister of Indian Affairs signed the apology, and presented copies to each of the Aboriginal leaders and the survivor representatives who were present. It was a time for ceremony, presentation, and traditional performance.

Thursday June 12, 2008

We left Parliament Hill last evening a mere seven hours after we had arrived. Too overwhelmed by the day’s events, we had opted to wait until this morning to intentionally share with one another our feelings from the day before. It was good to have had an evening’s rest to allow the richness of all that had happened to settle.

Mental snapshots of the day before were still fresh in our minds as we gathered this morning to talk about what we all agreed was indeed a moment in Canadian history that we felt privileged to have been present to witness.

It was clear that for many of us, there was still much to process from the day before. But there did seem to be consensus around the table—that it had been a good day, that it was a new beginning, and that there is hope for healing. Committee members described feeling as if a “weight had been lifted,” that hearing the Prime Minister name the specific horrors of residential schools “had neutralized the pain within me,” and that the apology was a “big little step.” One member of the committee remarked, “I have been validated as a person. I am not a savage.”

There was gratitude expressed that the government had recognized those residential school survivors who would never hear the apology because they had died waiting to hear those words spoken. It was also noted that every party leader had said sorry. It was a day for non-partisan penance. And that was a significant step forward.

The committee members also acknowledged that the apology has raised the bar in terms of expectations and hopes. The test, they now say, will be how much political will there is behind the statements offered by the party leaders in the House of Commons. The next step must be the actions that follow the apology.

In his own reflection, Moderator David Giuliano noted that we should celebrate what happened yesterday—but at the same time remember that hope is a beautiful gift that can be very fragile. We must honour the hope by making sure that those hopes won’t be disappointed.

In other words, he said, “Tonight we rejoice, tomorrow we get back to work.”