Ontario's Catholic School Trustees Elect Regional Leadership and Honour Outstanding Service at 2025 AGM
TORONTO, May 5, 2025 /CNW/ - The Ontario Catholic School Trustees' Association (OCSTA) recently celebrated the Association's 95th Anniversary at the Annual General Meeting and Conference in Markham. The event provided an opportunity for Trustees to focus on the issues and achievements having impact on Ontario's strong and vibrant publicly funded Catholic school system. This year's Annual Meeting also included the announcement of election results for the OCSTA Board of Directors.
"I am pleased to acknowledge with gratitude all the candidates who put their name forward to serve the mission of Catholic education at the provincial level as an OCSTA Regional Director. The newly acclaimed and elected trustees accept the call to serve Catholic education and share a commitment to place Christ and the teachings of the Catholic Church at the centre of students' learning experiences. I look forward to serving with them in the best interest of Catholic Education," said OCSTA President Michael Bellmore.
OCSTA Regional Directors – Election Results:
Region 1: Colleen Landers, Northeastern CDSB (Acclaimed)
Region 2: Paul Landry, Kenora CDSB (Acclaimed)
Region 3 (At Large): Glenn Sheculski, Northeastern CDSB (Acclaimed)
Region 4: Lori Di Castri, Bruce-Grey CDSB (Acclaimed)
Region 5: John Van Heck, St. Clair CDSB (Acclaimed)
Region 9: Morgan Ste. Marie, Durham CDSB (Acclaimed)
Region 10: Brian Evoy, Algonquin & Lakeshore CDSB (Acclaimed)
Region 11: Danny Di Lorenzo, Niagara CDSB (Acclaimed)
* CDSB – Catholic District School Board
Regions 6, 7, 8, 12 and 13 are represented by Trustees who are appointed by their respective boards. View the complete list of the OCSTA Board of Directors here.
OCSTA Awards Program
The Association was pleased to acknowledge outstanding Catholic education leadership and service through the annual OCSTA Awards Program. This year's awards recognized the following individuals:
2025 OCSTA Trustee Award of Merit Recipient:
Trustee David Howard, Vice-Chair, Renfrew County CDSB (view profile)
2025 OCSTA Special Award Recipient
Most Reverend Fred Colli, Retired Bishop, Diocese of Thunder Bay (view profile)
2025 OCSTA Student Trustee Alumni Award Recipients
Aaron Paul and Ajoy Paul, Former Student Trustees, Durham CDSB (view profile)
The Ontario Catholic School Trustees' Association is the provincial voice for publicly funded Catholic education. Founded in 1930, OCSTA represents the interests of Catholic school boards that collectively educates approximately 600,000 students in Ontario, from Junior Kindergarten to Grade 12.
SOURCE Ontario Catholic School Trustees' Association
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Winnipeg Free Press
4 hours ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
United Church of Canada marks 100 years
Turning 100 is a significant milestone for people — and for denominations. That's what the United Church of Canada did on June 10, this year. It was on that date a century ago that Canadian Methodists, Congregationalists and the Presbyterians came together to form the new denomination. A big reason for the merger was to reduce duplication of effort and resources; so many little towns and villages across the country had multiple churches from different denominations. There was also a desire for greater Christian unity and collaboration. It was a bold move that required each of the three groups to give something up to create the new entity. As Jocelyn Bell, editor of Broadview magazine put it: 'The United Church of Canada would never have existed unless each of the founding denominations agreed to let go of some cherished tradition, some notion of how things ought to be done. And it would never have taken root if each group hadn't believed that diverse approaches to faith strengthen the whole body of Christ.' Until the end of the 1960s, the new denomination enjoyed the fruits of that amalgamation through packed churches and Sunday schools. But by the end of that decade, as the idea of a Christian Canada began to wane and many baby boomers grew up and left the church, things began to shift for the United Church — as it did for other denominations. For the United Church, that meant going from a high of about one million members in the mid-1960s to just over 325,000 today. On any given Sunday, about 110,000 are at a church service. And along with the drop in membership came a wave of church closings. It has averaged about 54 a year of late, according to one estimate. If that rate continues, by 2070 there will be no United Church churches left in Canada. While many get stuck focusing on those grim statistics, it's easy to overlook how the United Church impacted Christianity in this country, paving the way for significant changes. For example, it was a leader when it came to involving women in pastoral ministry, ordaining Lydia Gruchy in 1936. In 1962 it adopted a more compassionate stance on divorce by noting it was sometimes a better choice than remaining unhappily married. It also was a leader in promoting peace when it welcomed U.S. draft dodgers during the Vietnam War. Other ways it showed leadership was by condemning apartheid in South Africa in the 1980s. Also in that decade, it was the first denomination to welcome LGBTTQ+ people into membership and as clergy — a decision that was widely criticized by many other church groups. The United Church was also a leader in responding to the terrible legacy of residential schools; it established a healing fund and, in 1998 and apologized for its role in the schools. The denomination also was a leader in responding to the HIV AIDs crisis, addressing climate change, and was active in ecumenical and interfaith dialogue. In these and other ways, such as addressing social justice issues like poverty, hunger and homelessness, Christians in Canada can be grateful for the United Church, and join it in celebrating its anniversary — and maybe they can also learn something from that denomination's experience 100 years ago. Things are different today than back then, of course; Canada is a much more diverse and secular country. But that same vision for increased cooperation, collaboration and unity may well be worth exploring as denominations and churches struggle with falling attendance and giving. Sundays Kevin Rollason's Sunday newsletter honouring and remembering lives well-lived in Manitoba. Maybe like those pioneers 100 years ago, denominational leaders can ask if we need five churches within 10 minutes driving distance of each other in most Canadian cities and towns. Do we need so many places of worship, seminaries and church-related social assistance and aid organizations? And not only that; do we even need so many denominations? Writing in the Canadian Society of Church History in 2020, Bruce Guenther noted there are over 300 Christian denominations in Canada today. There are historical, cultural and theological reasons for why each one came into being. But at a time when many are struggling to stay afloat, would it make sense to explore more collaboration or even mergers? Some will point to theological stances as a reason for why their denomination is unique or distinct and needs to continue in its present form. But the same objections were raised by some Methodists, Congregationalists and Presbyterians 100 years ago before the United Church was created. But they still did it. They still decided it was worth it to merge, and Canada was forever changed. Who are the new visionaries who will explore new ways to be the church in Canada, just like what happened 100 years ago? Maybe the United Church of Canada can once again lead the way. faith@ The Free Press is committed to covering faith in Manitoba. If you appreciate that coverage, help us do more! Your contribution of $10, $25 or more will allow us to deepen our reporting about faith in the province. Thanks! BECOME A FAITH JOURNALISM SUPPORTER John LonghurstFaith reporter John Longhurst has been writing for Winnipeg's faith pages since 2003. He also writes for Religion News Service in the U.S., and blogs about the media, marketing and communications at Making the News. Read full biography Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism. If you are not a paid reader, please consider becoming a subscriber. Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism. Thank you for your support.
Winnipeg Free Press
a day ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
Meet the men who just became Catholic priests in Virginia
ARLINGTON, Va. (AP) — At a time when the U.S. Catholic Church is grappling with a severe shortage of priests, the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia, recently ordained 12 new priests — its second-largest class ever — in a joyful Mass at its cathedral. Ahead of the ceremony, The Associated Press spent time with the men, who explained what drove them to choose a life of celibacy, obedience and devotion. Here are four of their stories. A rare kind of leader As a teenager active in youth ministry, the Rev. Ricky Malebranche was often encouraged by adults to consider the priesthood. He assumed it was just what Catholics told religious, young men. At the end of college, he thought seriously about seminary. But it would take another nine years, he said, before God told him: 'I want you to be my priest.' By then, he had built a career as a high school counselor and coach. He owned a home and hoped to one day marry and have children. 'Oh no, you missed your chance, Jesus,' he thought. After he finally decided to apply to seminary, he felt a profound sense of peace. He later enrolled at Mount St. Mary's, a Catholic institution in western Maryland where the diocese sends some of its seminarians. The son of Haitian immigrants, Malebranche now joins a small group of Black American priests. Though rich in tradition, Black Catholics make up 5% of the U.S. church, and account for less than 1% of U.S. priests. 'I am very cognizant of it every time I do anything in ministry, that I represent a larger group than just me,' Malebranche said. 'I have this desire to not let them down,' he said. 'I want to be able to bring pride to a people who don't always see themselves represented.' A military chaplain Before he ever considered ordination, the Rev. Mike Sampson, without conscious thought, made the sign of the cross — a decidedly Catholic ritual. 'I looked up and laughed,' he recalled. Though raised Protestant, he took the moment as a prompt from God to explore Catholicism. The California native practiced law while volunteering at his local parish in Arlington, Virginia. Six years after his conversion, he enrolled in seminary to become a priest. 'Very proud,' is how his mother, Diane Sampson, described feeling after her son's recent ordination. His call to the priesthood was initially difficult for the Protestant family. 'One of the things that I think even most Catholics are challenged by is the idea of celibacy and not getting married and not having kids and the family name not carrying on,' the Rev. Sampson said. In three years, he will begin a five-year stint as a military chaplain with the U.S. Navy. Fellow seminarians describe Sampson as a mentor. They say he is well-suited to the discipline of military life, despite not serving in the armed forces before seminary, when he was commissioned as a lieutenant. For now, he will serve at a parish close to the office complex where he once worked, and where he occasionally went to noon Mass. He is 'coming back,' he said, 'but in a very different way.' A Peruvian connection Pope Leo XIV, the first U.S.-born pontiff, spent decades in Peru. In his first public appearance as pope, he addressed his former diocese in Spanish. 'I frankly couldn't believe it,' said the Rev. Alfredo Tuesta. 'He greeted us in our language. It was just beautiful.' Born in Lima, Peru, Tuesta immigrated to the U.S. at age 10. His family settled in Paterson, New Jersey, a hub for the Peruvian diaspora. He attended Don Bosco, a nearby Catholic prep school. He was drawn to the priesthood from an early age, but as the firstborn son of immigrants, he felt he should support his family instead. 'Financially, we come from a very modest and humble background,' he said. 'And so, you want to make it. You want to provide.' It was only after he earned a doctorate in mechanical engineering and was living in northern Virginia that he rediscovered his calling. By then, both of his parents had died. He has since heard from his mother's friends that she thought he might become a priest. His ordination drew loved ones from all over the world to celebrate. The self-described introvert was hesitant to be the center of attention. 'We're not really there to celebrate me and my priesthood because it really isn't mine,' he said, noting it's shared among his brother priests and community. 'What we're really celebrating is everyone there — everyone who contributed to my discernment, to my vocation, to my faith, to my upbringing.' An adventurous life The Rev. Tim Banach is a thrill-seeker who enjoys the outdoors. With other seminarians and priests, he has hiked many mountain ranges and camped in the Badlands. The priestly life strikes him as an adventure too, where no day is the same. From weddings to funerals, priests serve thousands of people on their best and worst days. 'There are just these moments you get to share that can be overwhelming,' he said. 'But we're very privileged as well.' A native of Corning, New York, Banach first considered the priesthood while an engineering student at the University of Virginia. Sundays Kevin Rollason's Sunday newsletter honouring and remembering lives well-lived in Manitoba. After graduation, he lived 'a pretty normal life,' he said, working at a consulting job and going on some dates. 'But that question never really went away.' The diocese eventually sent him to St. Charles Borromeo, a seminary near Philadelphia. He graduated in May. 'When I joined the seminary and met the kind of men that I could be serving alongside for the rest of my life, I was even more encouraged,' he said. 'Because they're exactly the type of guys that I want to be my brothers.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Winnipeg Free Press
a day ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
A US diocese defies trends and ordains its largest class of Catholic priests in decades
ARLINGTON, Va. (AP) — They are a day away from becoming Catholic priests, rehearsing for their ordination Mass under the gothic cathedral's arches. It's a balmy Friday afternoon in June, and they are practicing where to stand, when to kneel. The weekend's rituals will be the culmination of six years of seminary and a lifetime of discernment. There are so many of them — more than their diocese has ordained at one time in nearly 30 years — that it's a challenge to fit the whole group in front of the altar. Their bishop likes to call them 'the 12.' Like the 12 apostles of Jesus, their number has become a mantra and a prayer. It offers hope there can still be joy and renewal in a church riven by division, crises and abuse. Among the group there are engineers, a tech company founder and two future military chaplains. They range in age from 28 to 56. Most are U.S.-born, but some trace their roots to faraway countries with a strong Catholic presence: Cameroon, Mexico, Peru, Haiti. They are entering the priesthood at an exciting time, just as the first U.S.-born pope begins his papacy. Yet, there remains an acute shortage of clergy like them. In the U.S., the number of priests has declined by more than 40% since 1970, according to CARA, a research center affiliated with Georgetown University. During their final year of seminary, these 12 men have served as transitional deacons, offering baptisms, homilies and promising to live in obedience and celibacy. 'We've already made the promises that are, I guess, 'the scariest,'' said the Rev. Ricky Malebranche, one of the ordinands. Soon they will be entrusted with more sacraments. As ordained priests, they will work at parishes around northern Virginia, with the ability to consecrate the Eucharist, hear confessions and anoint the sick. For now, they shuffle side to side until they can fit in a row. Carefully they lie down to practice the act of prostration — arguably the most dramatic moment during an ordination ceremony. Elbows bent, hands cradling their heads, the men press their faces to the cold, marble floor. It's a position of vulnerability that signals absolute surrender. 'We're laying before the Lord,' the Rev. Mike Sampson, an ordinand, explained before the rehearsal. 'We're laying our lives down.' Searching for something more While neighboring dioceses have shuttered parishes and face dire budget shortfalls, the Diocese of Arlington is opening new churches. Its finances are solid. This year's class of new priests is the second largest in the diocese's 50-year history. The reasons behind that success 'are a little bit mysterious,' said the Rev. Michael Isenberg, the diocese's outgoing vocations director. He points to one factor helping the recruiting pool: vibrant parishes, full of young professionals drawn to jobs around Washington, D.C. Sampson, 42, was a government lawyer and raised a Protestant before he was baptized as a Catholic in 2013. Six years later, he enrolled in seminary to become a priest. The Rev. Tim Banach, 31, worked as a consultant in the same office complex as Sampson. 'I enjoyed the work I was doing, but there was something more that I desired.' 'I had the dream job,' said the Rev. Alfredo Tuesta, 40, who earned a doctorate in engineering and was working at the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory when he felt called to the priesthood. 'I had the job that I had trained many years to achieve — and it wasn't enough.' At a Sunday family dinner two weeks before ordination, Malebranche's father, Jacques, talked up these '12 great guys.' 'This kid already had two master's degrees,' he said, pointing to his son Ricky, 37, who worked as a counselor and coach at a Catholic high school before seminary. 'They had good lives. When they say they received a call, they mean it,' he said. 'They gave up a lot, and this is not easy.' A higher barrier to entry Prospective priests undergo a rigorous screening process. 'This is going to sound crazy, but they're normal,' said the Rev. Donald J. Planty Jr., who mentored several of this year's ordinands. 'They can talk to anyone.' In the wake of the clergy sex-abuse crisis, there is a greater emphasis on applicants' psychological health and emotional well-being. They go before an admissions board that includes women and laypeople, and as ordinands, meet with abuse survivors. They ultimately answer to Bishop Michael Burbidge, the diocese's avuncular prelate. 'A thing that has changed for the positive in the church is that bishops really know their men,' said Burbidge, who calls, texts and meets with seminarians regularly. 'When I was in seminary, there was no expectation that you would know the bishop.' Politically and theologically, young U.S. priests are more likely to identify as conservative or moderate than their clerical elders who came of age in the 1960s and 1970s, according to a 2023 report from the Catholic Project at Catholic University. For these men in Virginia, the rightward tilt of the U.S. Catholic Church is not a deciding factor in their priesthoods. They have pledged, though, to uphold the church's teachings, which remain conservative on issues such as gender identity, sexual orientation, contraception and abortion. 'I look at the young adults in our parishes, growing up in a world where in many ways the sacred has been removed,' Burbidge said. 'They're looking for something more. 'Give me beauty. Give me truth. Give me clarity.' I see that in young adults in our church, and these men are products of that.' The sacrifices of priestly life For many of the men, priesthood means forgoing dreams of an ordinary family life. 'I thought I was going to be a great dad and have a wonderful family,' Malebranche recalled. 'And I was like, 'Lord, why would you not want that for me?'' For many, there's a grieving process in letting go of that vision, even for deeply Catholic families. 'Every parent wants grandkids,' said Banach, whose career change initially surprised his supportive Catholic parents. Priests give up biological children, he said, but are privileged to raise 'spiritual children.' His fellow ordinand Malebranche ministers to families out of what he calls a 'deep love of my own for a family.' Two weeks before ordination, Malebranche channeled that love into a baptism conducted in Spanish, the parents' native tongue. He was nervous beforehand. A gregarious, gifted speaker, he is less confident in Spanish — though it's necessary in a diocese where nearly half the parishioners are Latino. 'It was a beautiful ceremony,' Gloria Marquez told him after, beaming and holding her 9-month-old. She said she and her husband had tried for nearly 20 years to have a baby. Malebranche teared up, grateful to be part of the longed-for moment. He wants the Catholic Church to be welcoming, especially for those who have been hurt. 'I really just want to make Catholicism warm,' he said. Like all the ordinands, he is very aware that in his clerical garb, he represents the church and the presence of Jesus. 'I have to be on every time I'm in this collar,' Malebranche said. 'That is a fitting weight for the gift of the priesthood, but it is a weight nonetheless.' A new chapter Ordination-day morning had the nervous energy of a wedding, an apt parallel for the impending commitment and pageantry. Anxious parents took their places in pews alongside friends and family who traveled from around the world to witness the ceremony. The evening would bring receptions in honor of the new priests, who would then have two weeks off before their new ministry assignments began. Sampson was going to Italy with a priest friend. Banach was hiking part of the Appalachian Trail with a small kit for the Eucharist in his pack. Tuesta was flying to Lima, Peru, his birthplace, to celebrate with family. Malebranche planned to visit loved ones in his native Virginia. 'I'm kind of looking to show off,' he said, laughing. 'I'll have my confessional stole on me at all times.' Sundays Kevin Rollason's Sunday newsletter honouring and remembering lives well-lived in Manitoba. When their ordination Mass got underway, it was standing room only, with more than 1,200 well-wishers crowded into the cathedral. As part of the three-hour service, nearly 200 priests lined up to embrace and welcome into the fold their new brothers, now cloaked in ivory and blue robes. At the close of Mass, they walked down the aisle to cheers and applause, and the 12 priests were sent out, like the apostles who had come before them. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
