In Praise of Sisters

Recently, the stodgy old men's club known as the Vatican decided to launch an all out inquisition of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious. The allegations concerned the group's apparent focus on ministering to the poor and suffering among us, rather than focusing on more important issues like, you know, speaking out about abortion and making sure that people don't use condoms or birth control pills. The Vatican went as far as calling this group of American nuns "radical feminists." I was reminded of Inego Montoya's line from the Princess Bride "I don't think that word means what you think it means."

I guess by radical feminism the Vatican means that these Catholic religious women look to God, rather than their religion's all male hierarchy for guidance in their ministry. How absolutely Christ like of them!

Needless to say, more than a few current and former Catholics are disturbed by the treatment of their Sisters by the leadership in Rome. For many of us, Sisters have served as a tremendous influence especially in the foundation of our faith and personhood. Despite our jokes about rulers, rapt knuckles, and roller skates, almost everyone I know, myself included, has heart warming memories of the Sisters from our childhood.

For me, it was my first Principal at St. Mary's School in Baldwinsville, New York. Sister Eucharista was simply the kindest person I've ever met. Although she was no pushover, she loved teaching and even moreso loved children. In return, we loved her back.

Sister Eucharista knew that the true meaning of the axiom "spare the rod, spoil the child" referred not to physical discipline, but to parental guidance, steering the pupils under her care in the right direction. Still to this day when I come upon two people facing each other having a conversation, I go out of my way to go around them or, if stepping in between them is unavoidable, doing so as unobtrusively as possible and apologizing as I do. This is because in my tender years, I unknowingly walked between a conversation she was having with someone and was stopped by Sister Eucharista and told, quite gently, that this was not the proper way to act and told to apologize. This was not done in a way to embarrass me or to be mean in any way, it was done to teach me and done with firm kindness because she understood I had not encountered this situation before. This is how you teach children, and this is why I think of her each time this happens to this day.

But more importantly than her guidance and her leadership, Sister Eucharista was our strength when we needed it, too. This was most apparent to me in an incident which happened to me in First Grade.

Up until I had my tonsils and adenoids out when I was 7, I was a rather sickly child. I had constant ear infections and nasty tasting thick pink penicillin was a mainstay in my Parent's refrigerator.
I was suffering an ear infection on the day of the incident.

Now, to understand this story, I have to explain something about the winters in Central New York and the clothing of the time. On this day, just like on most days, we were having a fairly heavy snow fall. The boots we wore for some reason that I can't quite remember required the wearing of plastic bags over our feet which we would then place in the boots. This, combined with the hats, scarves, mittens, and snowmobile suits that we would layer on each morning made the arrival in the classroom rather time consuming as we commenced the inevitable disrobing necessary to get ready for class.

On this particular day, my bus which covered the neighborhoods of Seneca Knolls and Village Green was late arriving due to the heavy snow. My fellow classmates on the bus were doing our ritual disrobing, placing our boots under the heater to melt the snow, placing our school shoes on our feet and so on, while the morning prayer, pledge, and announcements were being read over the loud speaker.

Inevitably there was some kind of commotion going on as would be expected of 6 and 7 year-olds on a snowy winter morning. Our teacher, the rather stern Sister Charles Dorothy not taking kindly to the commotion decided to make an example of one of us and for no particular reason at all chose me. She asked me to repeat what the announcement had been. I could not tell her since I had not heard the announcement. She assumed it had been because I was goofing off. What she didn't know is that I couldn't hear it because I was suffering a raging ear infection and my ears were filled to the brim with fluid and puss. Her punishment was banishment and I was made to leave the classroom and stand outside in the hallway.

Of course, it didn't take long for the tears to start flowing. As I stood alone in the hallway with tears streaming down my face, Sister Eucharista happened to walk by. She asked me why I was in the hallway. I explained what happened and why I had been made to stand in the hallway. She asked if I had been talking during the announcement and I explained about my ears.

Sister Eucharista very calmly told me to return to the classroom and asked me to have Sister Charles Dorothy come to speak with her. After a couple of minutes the most incredible thing up to that point in my life happened. Sister Charles Dorothy returned to the class and apologized for having made me stand in the hallway.

Now, looking back on the incident, I can see this with a whole lot of perspective I didn't have at the time. First, in my memory, Sister Eucharista went up one side and down the other of Sister Charles Dorothy. I know for certain this didn't happen. I imagine that she treated the younger, less experienced teacher with the same firm kindness with which she treated me when I walked in the middle if her conversation - not to embarrass, but to guide. And, looking back Sister Charles Dorothy is not the ogre I thought she was at the time either. She was a very young woman, inexperienced and in over her head trying to control a bunch of hyperactive First Graders while trying to impart the basic foundations of education. Like all of us, she was doing her best and sometimes coming up short.

But what Sister Eucharista did was in fact extraordinary because what she was able to show a sickly, skinny, scared little boy was that it was ok to stand up for yourself when you are right. She did that not with words but with actions. She taught me to stand up for myself by standing up for me when I couldn't. I never forgot that and I am forever grateful.

Everyone has experiences like this. The Catholic women religious are the heart and soul of the church. It pains me to see what they are being put through with this investigation which seemingly aims to cloister them, returning them to the meek, silent stereotype of nuns spending their time in secluded prayer and meditation.

I have heard many of the leaders of the LCWR interviewed about this. They are inevitably asked why they don't just leave the church, or if they would consider doing that if the commission comes down harshly against them which is everyone's expectation. They always respond with great sadness. Leaving the church to which they have dedicated their life is like a death to them. It is almost inconceivable and a choice which they should not be forced to make, but which they know they may have to. My heart breaks for these incredible women who have done nothing but do the thankless dirty work of their faith, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, comforting the afflicted, and yes at times afflicting the comfortable. In other words, they are doing the work that Christ himself did in his ministry.

It is my sincere hope that the Sisters are able to carry on as before, or at least to find a place of comfort within the faith to which they have dedicated their lives. If they don't find this place of comfort, I know that they will find their place, as I have, elsewhere in a faith that stands with its arms and hearts open to offer comfort and loving acceptance of the gifts that they offer every day of their lives.

For our Sisters, let us pray. Amen.