Journey - Congregation of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate ...

Fall 2012
Journey
page 1
Congregation of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Scranton, PA Vol. 30, No. 1 Fall 2012
Courage
Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.
Don’t be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other
people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your
own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your
heart and intuition.
Steve Jobs

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Journey
Fall 2012
Courage
‘‘
‘‘
by Sister Therese O’Rourke, IHM
Our response to the Doctrinal Assessment would be “humble but not submissive,
robed in a solid sense of ourselves but not self-righteous;
truthful, but gentle and absolutely fearless.”
Following the 2012
Leadership Conference of
Women Religious (LCWR)
Assembly in St. Louis, Missouri,
a young woman who had followed
the news releases with great
interest sought me out to share
her feelings and her hope: “I am
sure that you and your sisters
realize that countless men and
especially women appreciate
that what you did was not just
for your congregations. You took
a stand for a future church that
hopefully will more accurately
reflect the Gospel of Jesus and
be radically inclusive.” It was a
masterful summary of several days
of intense prayer and process by
900 women religious searching
for an appropriate response to the
Vatican’s Doctrinal Assessment of
the LCWR.
We women religious found
ourselves in a position we would
never have sought and facing
an awesome and humbling
responsibility. We were standing
together and courageously
committing ourselves to accept
the role that was cast upon us. We
seized the opportunity to stand at
what the futurist, Barbara Marx
Hubbard, called a “tipping point”
in the evolution of our Church.
- Sister Pat Farrell, OSF
Numerous accusations, with the
potential to cast doubts upon our
religious commitment, had instead
led us to a global center stage.
The Doctrinal Assessment of
LCWR placed into the context of
our sustained prayer and process
the responsibility and power to
call publicly for dialogue, mutual
respect, and openness with the
highest levels of Roman Catholic
authority.
How like our God to use
those held at the margins in
the halls of power to speak a
courageous message and respond
to hierarchical authority by
inviting a new relationship of
mutuality. At this moment of
our numerical diminishment and
waning financial security, our band
of sisters stated unequivocally that
we welcomed dialogue with our
accusers but would not agree to
compromise the integrity of the
mission of LCWR.
All real courage is born of
love. Our decisions at the LCWR
Assembly were compelled by
many loves: We are sisters,
lovers of the God who called
and unites us; we are profoundly
committed to the Gospel message
of Jesus; we accept our prophetic
role as women religious and the
responsibilities that it carries. We
love our congregations, revere our
founders, and cherish our shared
history that includes a courageous
response to the vision of Vatican
II. All that we love empowered us
to refuse to participate in our own
oppression or contribute to that of
future generations.
The LCWR Assembly of 2012
was a time for courage. God’s
Spirit did not fail us, nor did we
fail our brothers and sisters who
share our hope for a preferable
future.
The words of Sister Pat Farrell,
OSF ring true: “Nothing we
do is insignificant. Even a very
small choice of courage or of
conscience can contribute to the
transformation of the whole.”
(Presidential Address, 2012)
Sister Therese serves as president
of the Sisters, Servants of the
Immaculate Heart of Mary,
Scranton, Pa.
We love our
congregations,
revere our founders,
and cherish our
shared history
that includes a
courageous response
to the vision of
Vatican II. All that
we love empowered
us to refuse to
participate in our
own oppression or
contribute to that of
future generations.
Congregation of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Scranton, Pennsylvania
Our mission as Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary of Scranton,
Pennsylvania, is to follow Jesus as a community of disciples, aware that we are sent
to be a clear and understandable prophetic witness to the presence of God in the
world. - from the IHM Mission Statement
Editor: Sister Fran Fasolka, IHM Copyeditor: Sister Kathleen McNulty, IHM
Advisory Board:
Sister Gilmary Beagle, IHM
Sister Suzanne Delaney, IHM
Sister Ann Barbara DeSiano, IHM
Proofreader:
Sister Carrie Flood, IHM
Sister Lillian Marie Farrell, IHM
Sister Chris Koellhoffer, IHM
Sister Annmarie Sanders, IHM
Journey is published by the IHM Congregation for its members, friends, donors, sponsored
institutions and supporters of the IHM Sisters and their ministries. Opinions expressed by authors
published in Journey do not necessarily reflect those of the IHM Congregation. Written portions
contained herein may not be reproduced without the permission of the IHM Congregation.
Correspondence should be addressed to the Journey editor at: IHM Center, 2300 Adams Avenue,
Scranton, PA 18509. E-mail: communications@sistersofihm.org
Journey is online at: www.sistersofihm.org/what-we-do/publications-library/ihm-journey-online-publication.html

Fall 2012
Journey
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Nurturing Courage in Children
by Elizabeth Pearson, IHM
The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience,
but where he stands in times of challenge and controversy. - Martin Luther King, Jr.
The qualities of the adult
personality appear
gradually through the
course of life, not suddenly
(unless there is a traumatic event
which elicits a strong behavior).
Courage is such a quality that an
individual develops over time
through the life span and appears
in ordinary and extraordinary
times. Courage is not inherited,
although a propensity to take
risks may seem to be genetically
connected.
Captain ‘Sully’ Sullenberger
demonstrated bravery when he
landed his malfunctioning plane
in the Hudson River. The young
man who ran to the downed small
plane in East Hampton, Long
Island to pull two victims from the
wreckage would not take credit for
heroism in these circumstances.
“I didn’t do anything. I just
helped the people who needed
help.” Several years ago, when a
distraught mother drove her SUV
into the Hudson River with her
children inside, the ten-year-old
boy in the back area, sensing the
urgency of the situation, broke
the rear window so he could get
out, saying “Mom, I’m going to
go get help.” The fourteen-yearold
girl, Malala of Pakistan, who
dared to speak out publicly for the
education of girls, was courageous
beyond measure. Her life was
threatened, she continued going
to school and was shot in an
attempted murder. Her strength
did not occur suddenly. Her
father’s advocacy and his school
for girls have fostered Malala’s
brave stance and actions. The
story of Maria Goretti or any
of the whistle blowers of big
business tell us that integrity,
self confidence, risk-taking are
core components of courageous
actions. These are examples of
extraordinary courage, but daily
events also require us to act with
great compassion and confidence.
Courage means more than not
being afraid, or risking. Courage
means to know what I believe in,
to know what is good and right,
to trust myself, to understand that
“it’s okay to make mistakes,” to
take a risk. Courage requires that
I decide, stand up, act on those
beliefs without thinking about the
cost to myself.
As we grow older, courage
takes different forms: changing
from an emphasis on the physical
to the social to the moral. A
four-year-old child’s courage
usually involves physical harm or
danger, e.g., when he jumps into
a swimming pool by himself for
the first time. The nine-year-old
child risks the punishment of the
principal and of his parents when
he knows he must tell the truth
admitting that he purposefully
hit the girl on the playground.
An eighth grade student who
is able to admit that she looked
at her neighbor’s test to check
her arithmetic answers is being
forthright, “doing the right
thing,” despite what might be the
repercussions of her behavior.
Or the teenage boy who really
wants to make an impression on
the girls may get attention (albeit
short lived) by speaking about his
well equipped bedroom, or family
room, or summer vacation.
How do youngsters come to
be courageous? Courage is a
personal quality that is developed
slowly, in small steps, in the many
varieties of life’s experiences.
Children learn to be courageous;
they learn through direct
instructions from others, personal
experience (of success or failure),
and foremost from observation.
As children develop a positive
self concept with self confidence,
they come to know who they
are, what their talents are, and
how to use them. As adults we
foster such personal qualities in
youngsters by conversation with
them, by encouraging them to
try, to risk, to come to know what
they like and don’t like. With that
encouragement comes self worth
and confidence, allowing the child
to speak up.
With experience that provides
a good feeling (not necessarily
success all the time) of progress, a
child builds his understanding that
trying leads to success and that
self confidence increases another
notch. The adult who walks
through the steps of hitting the
softball, of shifting body weight as
he swings, is instructing as well as
encouraging the youngster toward
improvement. Understanding
that striking out can be a learning
experience is a tough lesson, but
important in building stamina and
self worth. Knowing how to react
to peer criticism when he strikes
out is partly a communication skill
hopefully modeled by a coach or
parent who has helped the batter
understand the saddened feeling
and how to respond verbally.
Having a broad outlook of
the game of life helps to put one
specific incident (a strike out) in
perspective. This skill occurs
gradually in later childhood when
the youngster is cognitively able
to take another’s point of view.
Fear of failure is diminished when
he sees these events as challenges,
as growth events.
There are other related qualities
important for the development
of courage: a sense of reality
(“don’t sweat the small stuff”), a
sense of humor, of optimism, of
compassion. As adults our best
way of fostering these qualities is
by modeling positive behaviors
and having an optimistic attitude
ourselves.
So to nurture courage in
children we need: to model
courage in our behavior and talk
about our fears and hesitancies,
our risks, our successes and
failures; engage youngsters in
conversations about the important
things in life and empower them
in their decision making and
personal strengths; actively foster
the child’s true self worth, self
confidence, a sense of compassion
and optimism; offer praise for
deeds well done and instruction
for improvement. Even as
adults, we appreciate a word of
recognition for a good deed.
We need never to give up:
development of courage is a
slow, gradual process through the
journey of maturity.
“Life shrinks or expands in
proportion to one’s courage.”
Anais Nin
Sister Elizabeth serves on the
faculty at St. Joseph’s College
in Patchogue, NY.

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Journey
Fall 2012
Claiming the Gift of Beginning Again
A Justice and Peace Perspective
by Sister Chris Koellhoffer, IHM
In her poem, “Because we spill
not only milk,” Nancy Shaffer
offers a litany of objects and
experiences in our lives that, like a
glass of milk accidentally knocked
over, can never be recovered in
exactly their original state. On
her list of what can be broken,
flawed, or lost, Shaffer names
relationships. She observes that,
“Because we are imperfect and
love so
Deeply we will never have enough
days,
We need the gift of starting over,
Beginning
Again: just this constant good, this
Saving hope.”
The question becomes, after
the milk has been spilled, after the
harsh word has been unleashed
by us or towards us, after the
misunderstandings are in place,
after the conflict has been named,
where do we go? How do we
restore right relationship, which is
another name for justice? We start
over, we begin again, and we stay
in the struggle, day in and day out.
This gift of starting over
requires a particular courage, the
courage of right relationship. In
the ordinary and the everyday, it’s
often unnoticed but always a sign
of God’s reign breaking through
into our own lives, into the lives
of those who inhabit our corner of
the world.
For a look at that brand of
courage on a global scale, revisit
1994, when an unimaginable
genocide was carried out in
Rwanda against the Tutsis. The
outcome: 800,000 people brutally
butchered with machetes and
swords, sometimes by members
of their own families, more often
by neighbors with whom they
had shared friendship, tea, and
conversation. The film Hotel
Rwanda brought to life with
horrifying detail the atrocities
committed against the innocents
and the courage displayed by those
who tried to save them.
I’ve come to believe that an
even more challenging brand
of courage was needed in the
aftermath of the killings. How
could those who had survived the
slaughter and witnessed the brutal
murder of their loved ones ever
again look at the murderers with
anything but hatred and a desire
for revenge? Where could they
find largeness of heart and enter
into the ongoing, excruciatingly
painful work of forgiveness and
reconciliation? Was it possible
to start over in the midst of being
totally dispossessed of the beloved
mothers, fathers, husbands, wives,
children, friends who were forever
lost?
We might find an answer
in one of the survivors of the
Rwandan genocide, a woman
who now works as a prison guard
in a facility that houses some of
the same people who butchered
her entire family. She is in daily
contact with the perpetrators, and
when asked how she could relate
to them with compassion, she
replied that, because their actions
were so terribly cruel and violent,
these individuals were also in need
of great love to help them move
towards wholeness.
What’s the learning for us on
a smaller scale in the aftermath of
the genocide? It is that nurturing
and sustaining right relationship
takes tremendous courage, even
in situations nowhere near as
profoundly traumatic as Rwanda.
In reality, most of us will never
have such a tragedy thrust on us.
Most of us may never be called
to forgive to that degree. But all
of us are called to the courage of
the everyday, the courage to be
in right relationship with family,
friends, co-workers, all those who
are an intimate part of our daily
lives. Do we transform the hurt
and wounds that have come to us,
or do we transmit them to others
in our relationships?
When we look at our world
from a person-to-person
perspective, we see myriad
ways in which the call to right
relationship is lived out: in the
adult alienated by old wounds
or selfish acts but working to
look through the lens of love and
forgiveness. In the husband or
wife struggling to move beyond
criticism or words thrown in anger
to utter the first spoken syllables
of a halting, healing conversation;
in families faithfully tending to a
rebellious child who lashes out,
who slams the door and seems to
refuse their love; in our emphatic
choices not to flee the sad and
lonely and wounded places of our
intimate or familiar relationships,
but to stay at the table and remain
open to deep listening; in all the
holy ones who pray and work for
justice and who reflect on personal
brokenness as an invitation to
be in deeper communion with a
wounded world.
...nurturing and
sustaining right
relationship
takes
tremendous
courage...
Nancy Shaffer observes that,
“…we spill whole lives, and only
later see in fading light
How much is gone and we hadn’t
intended it.”
Ah, but here’s the thing: though
we can’t change the fact that milk
has been spilt, in God’s time it’s
never too late to restore the justice
of right relationship. Let’s keep
on summoning our courage and
starting over, again and again.
Sister Chris serves as councilor
for spiritual development for the
IHM Congregation.

Fall 2012
Journey
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When history marks
the courage of our
forefathers with
memorials in town squares and
statues in the parks, it often
focuses on the kind of courage that
comes readily to mind when we
think about courage: the bravery
of battlefields, of sacrifice, of
lives lost in service that others
might live. Far less tangible are
the memorials to the innumerable
other kinds of courage, among
them the courage to raise a family,
to endure in the face of tragedy,
to live by a code of honor and
integrity, to challenge injustice in
everyday life. Far too often, this
means that history has ignored the
achievements of our foremothers,
whose courage has nonetheless
left its mark on the world in which
we live today. In this short essay,
I would like to begin to remedy
that by meditating on the nature of
courage displayed by an ordinary
Frenchwoman who lived in the
fourteenth century.
In 1389, the twenty-five
year old Christine de Pizan had
every expectation of a successful
future. Well educated by a father
who was physician to the king
of France, happily married to a
favored courtier, mother of three
small children, she had achieved
the pinnacle of what her society
deemed womanly success.
Tragedy struck in the nature of
three deaths in rapid succession—
the king whose patronage meant
her family’s fortune, her adored
father, and worst of all, her
beloved husband, who died in an
epidemic while travelling for the
king. These deaths left Christine
the head of her household,
responsible for the care of her
mother, niece, and three children.
Worse still, the family income,
already greatly reduced, became
entangled in lawsuits, while
unscrupulous friends robbed her
children’s trust funds. For fourteen
years, Christine writes, the legal
battles she fought gave fodder to
The Courage to Take Up Her Pen
gossipmongers
who lasciviously
speculated
about why she
visited so many
lawyers.
In sorrow,
Christine
turned to the
scholarship that
had brought
her pleasure
in early youth.
She writes of the difficulties of
widowhood: her loneliness and
the spiritual, emotional, and
financial burdens she carried.
As word of her poetic prowess
spread, she turned increasingly to
writing popular love poetry and
thence embarked on a prolific
writing career that enabled
her to support her family. This
decision alone shows remarkable
courage; poetry was a means of
attracting patronage in that era,
not a way to earn a living. Most
male poets in Europe worked for
the court; Geoffrey Chaucer, for
instance, served as a comptroller
of wool customs and clerk of
the king’s works overseeing
construction of building projects.
As Christine’s fame spread, she
was commissioned by the Duke of
Burgundy to write a biography of
his brother King Charles V, was
sponsored by the upper echelons
of French nobility, and was even
invited to join the court of Henry
IV, an honor she declined because
she considered the new English
monarch a usurper and therefore,
untrustworthy. Over the course of
her writing career, she not only
penned hundreds of love poems
but also a chivalric romance,
a book on arms and chivalry,
a treatise on government, a
collection of prayers to the Virgin
Mary, even a series of letters
advising royalty to unite against
English military ambitions. Most
of all, she wrote a series of works
protesting the treatment of women
in her society and celebrating their
by Erin Sadlack
achievements.
In a time
when the ideal
woman was
deemed to be
chaste, silent,
and obedient,
Christine thus
dared to forge
a career by
writing, a path
that daunted
even the best
male writers of her day.
With each new endeavor,
Christine’s writer’s voice grew
ever more confident. In one of her
earliest works, The God of Love’s
Letter, Christine pretends to be
Cupid’s secretary, penning “her
employer’s” displeasure at poets
such as Ovid, who, instead of
admiring and respecting women,
portray them as loose, fickle,
and deceitful. Christine signs
her name as “Creintis,” meaning
“fearful” but also an anagram for
“Cristine.” Her authorship is there,
but hidden. For her next work,
Christine emphasizes her scholarly
persona by imagining that she has
found a letter in the archives from
the goddess of wisdom, Othea, to
the Trojan prince Hector, giving
him advice on how to be a good
chivalric king. Christine claims
to be only a scholar glossing the
letter’s allegory, but in reality
she is the author in its entirety.
In 1401, she became involved
with several male scholars in a
humanist debate over the morality
of the popular poem the Romance
of the Rose. Again Christine
champions the women’s position,
noting that many of the characters
in the Rose are misogynists whose
speeches have inspired real acts
of domestic violence. Notably
here she claims strong authorship,
writing that “I, Christine, tell you
this” and citing her experience as
a woman as a source of authority.
Christine collected these letters,
presenting them to the French
queen. She later wrote letters of
consolation to the queen and other
noblewomen after the disastrous
battle of Agincourt. Finally,
Christine came out of an eleven
year retirement to celebrate Joan
of Arc, who, as a woman who
saved France, was the embodiment
of Christine’s twin political ideals.
Over the course of her career,
Christine’s voice thus increasingly
grew in boldness.
Christine’s most famous
work is the Book of the City of
Ladies, a dream vision in which
she imagines herself in her study,
worn out by reading misogynist
tracts, questioning why God
would make her a woman at
all. God sends three allegorical
ladies, Reason, Rectitude, and
Justice, to tell Christine stories of
great women throughout history,
from Amazon queens to learned
inventors to biblical heroines
such as Esther and Judith to the
Virgin Mary. They want Christine
to accept the task of building a
city of ladies fit to house these
women and tell their stories to
refute misogynist portrayals of
women. The result is a remarkable
collection of “herstories,”
Christine’s own version of a statue
in the park celebrating the courage
and achievements of her sex.
Together with her other works, she
has forged a memorial of women’s
wit and courage, one that waits on
bookshelves for new readers to
discover.
Erin Sadlack is associate
professor of English and the
Honors Program director at
Marywood University in Scranton,
Pennsylvania where she teaches
medieval and early modern
literature. Her first book, The
French Queen’s Letters: Mary
Tudor Brandon and the Politics
of Marriage in Sixteenth-Century
Europe, is a biography of Henry
VIII’s sister Mary that examines
the nature of queenship and
women’s power in the sixteenth
century and is available on
Amazon.com.

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Journey
Fall 2012
Proceed as Way Opens
by Sister Ancilla Maloney, IHM
Many of you who are
reading this article
remember the day at
our Assembly 2010 when Sister
Norma Poma Arpi went to the
microphone and invited us to
come to Peru for a visit—to get
to know her and experience the
people, culture, and ministries
of the sisters there. Without any
hesitation I literally experienced
myself walking across the room
and saying to Norma, “Yes, I´ll
go”— for a visit in the summer of
2011. (My mother had just died
the previous winter so I was free
to go.)
I went to Peru for a visit the
next year and spent a week with
Sister Eileen Egan in Sicuani and
then two more weeks in Lima with
Sister Mary Elaine Anderson and
Norma as well as with Rosalvina
Aliaga Apaza, a young lay woman
who was living with the sisters.
On my return flight home I had no
thoughts of returning. I was just
making a visit. For years, probably
since the first sisters went to Peru,
I had kept in touch with them.
Sister Michael Marie, who was in
the first group sent to Lima, and I
had lived together at Cresco, and
I was mindful of how hard it must
have been to be so far away from
community, family, and friends
in the States. On Founders´ Day
or Christmas I often sent cards,
small gifts, or made phone calls. I
was, however, deeply involved in
teaching in various high schools,
and as the years rolled by, I also
needed to be present to my mother
as she moved into her 80s and 90s.
Sister Fran Fasolka, in her
invitation to write this article,
posed the question, “Where did
the courage come from?” How
do I have the courage to pick up
and move to Bolivia for language
school for a total immersion
experience, which includes
living with a Bolivian family
and only speaking Spanish, and
then heading for mission in Peru?
Neither from Norma´s invitation,
nor Eileen´s urging, nor even
awareness of the congregation´s
need for sisters to go to Peru.
The invitation came very
clearly from God in the week
after I returned from Peru. Every
day in my prayer, in my spiritual
reading, in my contemplation of
life as I was living it, I listened as
the song says “with the ear of my
heart.” And I knew clearly that to
offer to go to Peru was what God
was inviting me to do. At the end
of that week I answered the phone,
and it was Sister Terry looking for
Sister Mary. I took the opportunity
to tell her that I would be open to
going to Peru if the congregation
would want to send me. I had
turned seventy-two the previous
May, so maybe the congregation
would not think this was a good
idea. The following February
Sister Terry confirmed that “Yes,
the leadership team would be
happy for [me] to go!”
But this is not really the answer
to the question that Sister Fran
posed. I think it all began in the
1970s with the Latin American
Bishops´
Conferences
at Medellin and
Puebla and their
enunciation of
the message of
Jesus and his
“preferential
option for the
poor.” I was
stationed in
Oyster Bay, NY,
and I had invited
a priest who had
volunteered with
the Christian
Appalachian
Project in eastern
Kentucky to speak
to our students.
This grew out
of a class on
mysticism given
by Benedict
Groeschel, OFM
that a group of
sisters and I were
attending. I was
deeply touched
by his saying
that he never accepted people
for spiritual direction unless they
were volunteering each week
to help someone who was poor.
“Then you will see the face of the
God whom you seek,” he said.
So I felt that the students might
be encouraged to volunteer to
go to eastern Kentucky to work
with the people of Appalachia. I
myself had finished my studies
at Notre Dame, and the previous
summer I had been asked by
Sister Patricia Matthews to teach
a second summer at Marywood
College. I talked with her and
she affirmed my desire to work
with the people of Appalachia
while assuring me that others
could teach the classes. Thus
began more than twenty years of
working directly with the poor and
involving hundreds of students in
the Center for American Progress
(CAP) in this venture. I was more
deeply convinced than ever that
“constitutive to being a Christian
was action for justice.”
Life at CAP was a challenge—
having insufficient nourishing
food, sleeping in a roasting hot
dormitory with twenty other
young lay women, having a huge
rock overlooking the lake for my
chapel. Years later I heard God´s
invitation to begin volunteering
in North Carolina working with
our sisters, my students, and
colleagues from Aquinas High
School in the migrant camps and
parishes with migrant children
who had little chance for religious
instruction. We lived in trailers,
rectories, and rented homes and
worked in 100 degree heat with
sheets for our “classrooms.”
During these years I had
studied Spanish with Sisters
Dorothy McCaffrey and Amanda
Del Valle, in the Dominican
Republic and for three years in
class with the students in Holy
Cross High School.
So when Sister Fran asked
“Where did you find the courage
to make this huge step?” the
answer I think lies in years of
listening and responding to God
in my personal and communal
prayer, daily spiritual reading
where I have always heard God
speaking to me, and in the voice of
God in people and in the everyday.
The groundwork had been laid for
years. Patricia Loring, quoted in
Catherine Whitmire´s collection
of Quaker writings Plain Living,
reflects, “It takes time to sift
ourselves and the matter at
hand for ego, self will, sincere
mistakes . . . for the will of God,
the movement of the Spirit, for a
Way to open, for discernment to
take place.” Also, over the years
I have always availed myself of
good spiritual direction to help me
listen to God. Gordon Matthews in
Whitmire´s book reminded me,“if
we dwell in the presence of God,
we shall be led by the Spirit.” The
key is to pay attention.
Four or five years ago, I
realized it was time to make
a move, to transition out of
teaching, but the question was
continued on page 16

Fall 2012
Journey
page 7
Ann’s Story of Courage by Sister Mary Jo Gallagher, IHM
Ann and Mary Jo
Courage weaves throughout
the story of my sister, Ann,
sixteen months younger
than I, both of us the children of
our beloved parents Frances and
Joseph. Growing up with Ann, I
remember a bright, loving, feisty,
creative girl who became more
beautiful with every year.
After earning a bachelor’s
degree from Marywood College,
a year living in Utah through the
outreach program, Extension, and
another year earning a master’s
degree from Boston College, Ann
began her career as a teacher and
champion of children’s rights
and Catholic education. Soon
Ann married the love of her life,
Tom Brennan, and became the
cherished mother of Tom, Erin,
Joe, and Ann. A few years ago
young Tom married Cathryn, and
now Ann is a grandmother to their
twin boys, Johnny and Tommy.
Almost fifteen years ago when
her youngest daughter was yet in
high school, Ann began to lose
things, forget dates and directions,
become anxious or distracted,
seemingly needlessly. All this was
quite disturbing to her as well as
to her family, yet she tried to grasp
what was going on and she fought
to hold on to her life.
She railed against her losses
but kept doing what she could
do. She had retired from teaching
but continued her keen interest
in the education of her children.
She found comfort in daily Mass
at her parish where she found
parishioners who befriended her.
She loved visiting our mother and
waiting for her youngest daughter
to come home from school when
the two of them would visit the
local diner for a good dessert. She
loved her home which she herself
had designed, was devoted to
her family, continued her love of
reading and research and kept on
trying to do things right.
Finally, after a few years of
misdiagnosis, she and Tom were
told that Ann had Alzheimer’s
disease. By this time it was clear
that there was something very
wrong, yet I was shocked when I
heard the diagnosis. I attributed
her anxiety, forgetfulness, and
fears to any number of sources. I
protected myself from thinking
that she might be suffering from a
dementia that would mark all her
days to come.
That was ten years ago and
since that day of diagnosis my
whole attitude changed as I
looked at my sister differently.
No longer was I annoyed by her
anxiety; now I was focused on
alleviating it. No longer did I
tease her about again forgetting
where she left something; now I
became attentive to what could
lessen such incidents. I became
more patient, more helpful, more
compassionate, and I mourned the
loss of how Ann was once able to
be for us.
Grief and anxiety about Ann’s
life filled me with a heaviness of
heart and a deep sense of loss. I
felt an anger that kept me awake
at night—anger that this happened
to Ann, anger for the losses for her
family, anger for my own loss. I
watched Tom and their children
deal with their own grievous
losses during the various stages of
this disabling disease.
Like the members of her
immediate family, I found ways
to engage Ann and ease her
anxiety—listening to music, rides
in the car, short shopping trips,
snacks in the local eateries—little
things we both enjoyed.
As I reflect on those earlier
years, I am amazed at Ann’s
courage. She never gave up
trying. While she was able, she
would write down little memos,
dates, facts, or plans so she could
remember or understand. Ann
always had a strong faith in God
and incredible love for her family.
In the middle of the day she would
drive to her husband Tom’s law
office and seemed reassured and
safe just to be there with him.
As the disease progressed, she
focused on whatever the present
moment offered.
Courage abounds in Ann’s
family as well. After initial shock
and sorrow and through confusion,
heartbreak, loss, and all kinds of
challenges, each member of her
family—her husband and each of
her children—has loved her with
patience, attentive care, faithful
companionship, enjoyable food,
laughs and hugs and music. Tom’s
own family reaches out to support
him as well as to help Ann,
offering respite for an evening out
or a short trip away from home.
Fran, a special caregiver, provides
Ann with personal care and loving
affection.
During this time it has taken
courage for all of the family
(including myself) also to be
faithful to their own personal lives,
growth, professions, relationships,
and commitments. As I look
at the members of the family, I
see courage, wisdom, hope, and
generosity to deal with this loss in
their own distinctive ways, within
their own unique lives. Now the
family has two more people to
include in this heritage of love
and fidelity and courage: Tom and
Cathryn’s two little boys.
During these past few
years Ann has seemed quite
comfortable, peaceful, and
pleasant. My comfort is that Ann
does not seem to be suffering the
anxiety, confusion, and fear that
she experienced for some years
before. While she has “forgotten”
how to do so many simple human
tasks, like walking, I think she is
enjoying little pleasures—good
meals and hugs and chatter and
naps and the company of people
who love her so much.
As I reflect on courage and
the experience of my family, I
think that courage is really the
culmination of other qualities like
love and commitment, gratitude
and generosity, faith and hope.
Last year Ann’s daughters
initiated a group to walk for Ann
in the Alzheimer’s Annual Walk
in Scranton. Our family and
friends gathered with other family
and friends of loved ones to raise
consciousness and understanding
of Alzheimer’s disease, to raise
funds for research for a cure, and
to walk in support of one another
and of the families of other
victims of this disease.
My sister’s youngest daughter,
also named Ann, had shirts made
for the occasion for all our family
and friends to wear: a bright green
shirt with these words on the
front:“TEAM BRENNAN
We walk for Ann”
On the back of the shirt were
words from that searing, beautiful
poem by Dylan Thomas, written at
the time of his own father’s death:
“Do not go gentle into that good
night… Rage, rage against the
dying of the light.”
Sister Mary Jo is the director of
spiritual/pastoral care at Our
Lady of Peace Residence in
Scranton, Pa.

page 8
Journey
Fall 2012
Brave as a Bear
by Bernadette Snyder
The name Bernadette
means “brave as a bear.”
I remember learning that
as a child and wondering why
I couldn’t have been named
something cooler. What would
I ever need to know of bravery?
No courage required for my
routine life in suburbia. And
to top it off, no one called me
Bernadette—it was always Berny,
a name that can easily go for
either gender. Fitting, I suppose,
since my parents were expecting a
boy when they got me. God had
different plans for my life, plans
in which I would indeed live up to
my name.
I never felt the desire to be
married or have children. I fell
in love with Jesus on a retreat in
eighth grade and wanted to give
him all of me. I looked for him in
everyone—and found him—and
decided I could not pick just one
man through whom to love and
serve Christ. I thought for a while
this meant I would become a nun.
However, each religious order
has its own charism, or ministry,
and none of them seemed to click
with who I was. At eighteen, I
figured I had no option aside from
marriage. A consecrated single
life never crossed my mind, and
why should it? I knew of no one
who lived that way. And I was
too much of a people person to
imagine I’d choose to live alone.
Later that year I met a woman
who belonged to the Order of
Consecrated Virgins: women who
live in the world but dedicate the
time they would have spent with a
husband and children to ministry,
prayer, and outreach instead.
There is no rule of life, except that
which the consecrated virgin (CV)
writes for herself. She is free to
work where she wants, serve how
she wants, and all the while be
married to the big JC himself. I
finally found my vocation.
Since I was madly in love with
Jesus, I couldn’t understand when
people told me the lifestyle I was
choosing would require courage. I
was so happy and I didn’t have to
worry about
anything—my
husband
would take
care of
me. He has
courage,
anyway, so
why would
I need any?
I’m not sure
if every
young brideto-be
is that
naïve about
marriage,
though I like
to believe they
are. I look at
my parents
after fortytwo
years
of marriage
and wonder
if anyone
warned them
it would take
courage to live
every day for
someone else.
Yet, they have
weathered the
storm thus
far, giving
me hope and
faith that my
own marriage
will still be
flourishing
when my hair turns gray.
My first hint that courage was
needed came nine years later
as the date for my consecration
ceremony drew near. Consecrated
Virginity is a sacramental rite in
the Catholic Church that requires
a bishop to receive the woman’s
promises to “persevere to the end
of [her] days in the holy state of
virginity and in the service of God
and His Church.” As I work in
the central administrative offices
of my diocese, word spread
about what I was doing. I was
the first CV in my diocese; most
people had never even heard of
the vocation. The editor of the
diocesan newspaper wanted to run
a story on
my vocation,
and while
I was not
thrilled with
the prospect
of putting
myself out
there, I was
excited to
give the
sacramental
some
publicity.
I wanted
other girls to
know they
have this
vocational
option. The
local paper
caught wind
of it and
wanted to
run its own
story, as did
several other
papers in
Virginia. A
few of my
friends sent
me online
links to these
and other
articles.
There were
plenty of
comments
from readers,
many critical and condemning.
My sister told me to ignore them.
She said, “Those anonymous
people are cowards. They write
nasty comments because they
cannot be traced back to them.”
I was not a coward. My name
was out there for everyone to see,
bearing witness to my convictions.
I was the brave one.
Courage is an interesting
notion. Many people believe
courage is something reserved
for battle or for a dangerous or
devastating situation. I used to
think this way. However, I have
realized over more than the past
four years of consecrated life that
courage is more the whisper in
I have realized over more
than the past four years
of consecrated life that
courage is more the
whisper in the wind than
the mighty thunder clap.
My vocation fills me with
a peace that surpasses
all expression.
the wind than the mighty thunder
clap. My vocation fills me
with a peace that surpasses all
expression. I often say if women
could feel for even a moment the
joy in my heart because of my
marriage to Christ, I would not
be the only CV in the Richmond
Diocese. Yet there are times, as
in any marriage, when remaining
faithful takes great effort. Certain
things I have seen or experienced,
ways in which life has not played
out the way I expected or hoped:
these have challenged both my
faith in the Catholic Church and
in my husband’s love and justice.
I have felt tremendous guilt over
my struggles to accept that my
husband does not always act in the
ways I want him to. Who am I to
question God? What kind of CV
am I to question the Church? I
am a courageous one. I am taking
to heart my husband’s directive
to “ask, and the door will be
opened.” I am trusting the Church
to be as full of contradiction and
mystery as I am—me, who by
nature of my vocation symbolize
the Church.
So what’s in a name? Maybe
nothing. Bernadette was the one
name my parents could agree
on when they were surprised I
wasn’t going to be Daniel. Maybe
I would be the same if I had
been named Danielle or Jenny or
Charlotte. Maybe.
Ed. Note: The Order of Virgins
is a form of consecrated life.
Through their pledge to follow
Christ more closely, virgins are
consecrated to God, mystically
espoused to Christ and dedicated
to the service of the church when
the diocesan Bishop consecrates
them according to the approved
liturgical rite.
Code of Canon Law, Canon 604
Bernadette is a research analyst
for the Catholic Diocese of
Richmond and a graduate student
in the Pastoral Counseling
program at Loyola University
Maryland.

Fall 2012
Journey
God Works in Strange Ways
by Colleen Mary Traub
page 9
Colleen delivered this speech at
the annual Marywood University
Scholarship Dinner.
Sister Anne Munley,
members of the Board of
Trustees, administrators,
faculty, staff, fellow students
and benefactors of Marywood
University, good evening and
welcome. My name is Colleen
Traub, and I am a member of the
class of 2014 here at Marywood.
Colleen and Sister Anne Munley, IHM
I am honored to speak to you
this evening and to represent
all of the scholarship recipients
at this university. Like every
scholarship recipient in this room,
I have a story about how your
scholarship gifts have changed
my life. Tonight, I have the honor
of sharing my particular story
about my Marywood experience,
an experience that would not
have been possible without your
scholarship assistance.
Until three years ago, I
had lived in New Hartford,
Connecticut my whole life. It’s a
small town, about 99% Caucasian,
home to mostly middle class
families. It’s a lot like many of
the towns around here. Maybe
it’s like the town you grew up in.
I went to school with the same
kids in that small town, worked
in that small town, and spent my
childhood growing up there with
my six brothers and sisters. I loved
life in New Hartford and I still do.
That small area of Connecticut
was all I ever knew of the world.
I had never been on an airplane.
I had never gone anywhere too
far from home. Disney World
was the farthest I ventured, but I
can’t say that the Magic Kingdom
offered me much perspective. I
had a narrow and sheltered view
of the world. It’s a view that a lot
of people have their whole lives,
but for me, coming to Marywood
has given me the opportunity to
change that view.
Each
year here at
Marywood,
my eyes
have been
opened
more and
more to the
real world
around me.
During my
freshman
year, I got
to know this
little world
of Scranton
and saw how different it was from
New Hartford, Connecticut. As
a Marywood student, I had the
opportunity to serve Scranton’s
homeless population, to work in
the local hospitals as a nursing
student, and to gain a bit more
perspective on the real needs of
our local community.
My experiences and changing
perspective did not stop there
though. This summer, I got the
chance to go on an airplane for
the first time. Not just any plane
ride, but a twenty-hour plane
ride across the world to a village
called Morogoro, in the country
of Tanzania, in Africa. This small
town girl who had never seen
more than the Magic Kingdom in
Disney World got the chance to
live among the people of Tanzania,
to live in a third-world country
and experience the problems and
the needs there first-hand. I lived
for two weeks as the minority, a
Caucasian American girl in an
all-black, all-African community.
They would point at me, and call
me mazungu, white person, but
they welcomed me with open arms
and taught me so much about the
world and about myself.
I could stand up here for hours
telling you about my experience
in Tanzania, but I think I can best
describe how it changed me by
telling you about my little friend,
Katherine.
Katherine was six years old
when I met her—a girl with the
biggest, goofiest smile and two
front teeth missing like most sixyear
old children. She had dark
chocolate skin and big bright eyes
that took in everything around
her. Katherine lived in Morogoro
where we stayed. This little sixyear-old
was a ball of energy
and always wanted me to play
with her. But there was one big
problem. We did not speak the
same language. Katherine would
jabber away in her six-year-old
Swahili and I would nod and smile
and pretend I knew what she was
going on about. There was a bit of
Katherine and Colleen
a disconnect there—you can only
go so far with the nodding and the
smiling.
Then one day, I brought
Katherine a special gift. It was
a small, purple bottle of clear
liquid, with a white screw-off cap
and the wand inside. I had loved
playing with bubbles as a little
girl, but I wasn’t quite sure how
the kids in Africa would take it.
Would they understand what the
bubbles were? Would they think
I was crazy when I blew into a
plastic wand and streams of round
shimmering globes came out? I
had packed this gift to give to the
orphans we would later visit, but
when I met Katherine, I decided to
give it a try with her. I unscrewed
the cap, took out the wand, and
as Katherine quizzically watched
me, I blew into the little circle of
clear liquid at the top of the wand.
As the stream of bubbles emerged
from the circle, Katherine’s eyes
widened in amazement and she
laughed with the joy that only a
child can have. I pointed to the
magic I
had made
and said,
“Bubbles.”
Katherine
laughed and
repeated
the English
word
after me,
“Bubbles.”
I could
almost
see the
light bulb
going off in
Katherine’s
head, the
connection
being made
between my
language
and hers. It
really was
magic.
continued on
page 16

page 10
Journey
Fall 2012
A Courageous Heart —
“Come back and practice your
writing lesson.” “We want to
play; we’re having so much fun.”
“Kaze (KAH-zeh) come back this
instant and get to your studies or
I’ll cut off your braids,” shouted
seventeen-year-old Anthony,
her seminarian brother. Kaze
responded, “Catch us if you can!”
Tug, snip—the horrified eightyear
old looked down at her brown
braid lying forlorn on the ground.
Sobbing in her mother’s arms, she
was consoled that the hair would
grow back quickly. Still sniffling,
Kaze mulled over the incident
and resolved to be faithful to her
studies. This fun-loving girl grew
up to be a very courageous and
holy woman.
Casimira Kaupas (nicknamed
Kaze) was born in Gudeliai,
Lithuania in 1880. Her father, a
leader in the village, allowed his
home to be the center for Sunday
common prayer and a secure
stopover for “book smugglers,”
men who secretly carried
manuscripts to and from Germany
for printing in the forbidden
Lithuanian language. To be
caught as part of this movement
would be instant imprisonment by
the Russian Cossacks. Kaze loved
her father deeply and resolved to
imitate his virtuous prayerful life.
From his example she was imbued
with a fidelity to prayer and
courage to hold to what is right.
At age fifteen, her calm
and peaceful life was greatly
disturbed when Anthony, now
a priest and ministering to the
many Lithuanian immigrants in
Scranton, PA, wrote asking that
Casimira be allowed to come
as his housekeeper. She was
deeply attached to her
family and so her heart was
terrified. Nonetheless, she
conformed to her parents’
wishes and outwardly
displayed courage so as
not to offend her loved
ones. Her troubled heart
sought solace in prayer, seeking
the strength to leave her family
and face the awesome voyage to
America— alone.
In May 1897, seventeen-yearold
Casimira began the harrowing
journey as she traveled by train at
night and then by day concealed
under a canvas on a wagon filled
with grain bags. The Czarist
government, then governing
Lithuania, forbade the youth to
leave the country and so she had
to be smuggled out. She and
a few other escapees were led
by men who were paid to bring
them safely across the border
into Germany. While climbing
a high bank someone screamed
and the men took off without
her. She ran breathlessly to catch
up. When she did, she found
out that they had successfully
crossed the border and were soon
met by an armed guard. She
was experiencing the fate of
immigrants even as some of them
do today.
Casimira remained for four
years as Father Anthony’s
housekeeper but was forever
homesick. Her father passed away
and she longed for her mother’s
companionship. Her prayer life
grew strong through the depth of
her spiritual reading, but her heart
remained lonely. One day while
on the streetcar she saw sisters for
the first time in her life. She asked
her brother with great interest who
they were, to which he responded
that they were women who lived
for God alone. Here was the
answer to her continuous search
for meaning to her life. When
she expressed interest in joining
the convent her brother tried to
dissuade her by buying her lovely
clothes, but Casimira remained
focused and knew she would never
regret giving up anything.
To her brother’s
disappointment, Casimira did
return to Lithuania. While there
she finally resolved to return
to the United States and enter
a convent. Meanwhile the
Pennsylvania Lithuanian
Priests’ League decided they
would build schools if they
had Lithuanian sisters, for it
was the only way to help the
immigrants preserve their
faith and culture. Casimira’s
name came up and Father
Anthony wrote asking if
she would be the foundress
of this new congregation.
She heartily agreed and
her brother sent her to
Switzerland to study. Here
many challenges surrounded
her daily: loneliness, learning
the German language, and
learning to live the life of a
religious. The source and
strength of this courageous
heart was found in her great
love for the Lord, her dearest
Friend.
Arrangements were
made for her and her two
companions for further
religious studies in
America. Mother M. Cyril,
IHM, welcomed them to
Marywood in Scranton. In
Casimira’s autobiography
she wrote that she, “was
familiar with Scranton and
had occasionally seen those
sisters from a distance.” It was
their very example that drew
her to the convent. With the
greatest joy she thanked Divine
Providence; she was going, as
it were, to her true home.
With joy Casimira, in 1907,
professed her vows as Sister Maria
in the new congregation, the
Sisters of St. Casimir. The Sisters,
Servants of the Immaculate
Heart of Mary (IHM) guided the
fledgling community until 1913
when Sister Maria was elected the
superior general. The friendship
between Mother M. Cyril, IHM
and Mother Maria matured and
deepened throughout their lives.
The following years were
both blessed and challenging for
Mother Maria as her congregation
Sister Margaret Petcavage
presenting the “Positio” to
Oblate School of Theology
president, Rev. Ron Rolheiser,
OMI, and San Antonio
Archbishop Gustavo Garcia
Siller, MSpS.
grew and schools and
hospitals were staffed.
In 1920 the Bishops
of Lithuania, now
experiencing freedom
from Czarist rule, invited
Mother to return to her
homeland to establish
Mother Maria

Fall 2012
Journey
A Courageous Journey
by Sister Margaret Petcavage, SSC
page 11
Kaupas
a religious congregation of
educators, who would bring
hope and help to the war torn,
impoverished nation. She traveled
there along with four other
sisters. She was given a beautiful
Mosaic at the sarcophagus of
Mother Maria in the motherhouse
chapel of the Sisters of St. Casimir
seventeenth century
Camaldolese monastery as
their motherhouse. Upon
closer inspection she saw
that it was terribly damaged
by WWI soldiers. She also
inherited forty abandoned
hungry and sick orphan boys
housed there. With heartfelt
compassion the sisters spent
much time cleaning, feeding,
and teaching the little ones
while at the same time trying
to recruit young women to
religious life. Mother Maria
suffered much from various
groups who would meet
with her and try to install
their organizations into the
empty space within the huge
monastery. She remained
adamant in refusing anyone
but young women who
desired religious life.
Consequently, she was
called with disdain, “that
American Millionairess.”
A skirmish also continued
between Lithuania and
Poland, so the bombing, although
eight miles away, was constantly
heard in the monastery. It was
Mother Maria’s deep faith in
God’s loving Providence that gave
her the courage to put up a good
front for the other sisters
and even joke that at least
the fleas were flying off
their clothes, thanks to the
bombing.
The Lithuanian
congregation grew and was
successful. Twelve years
later while visiting there,
Mother Maria was called
by the local bishop and
told to hold an election so
that he would have his own
diocesan congregation with
no further involvement
from the Chicago
contingent. Mother Maria
was shocked and further
dismayed when he asked
her to conduct elections
to replace herself with a
new local superior general.
Greatly saddened and
brokenhearted she did as she was
told. A few weeks later she left
the Mt. Peace Monastery, never to
return. Arriving home she calmly
explained the situation to her
sisters, asked them not to speak
about it and never mentioned it
again. Her courageous heart, once
again, gave her firm faith to move
forward and recognize the Lord in
the present moment.
That year she was diagnosed
with breast cancer. If true
saintliness shows itself in radiating
God’s love, Mother Maria did
so with a special human touch.
Even while recuperating, she
responded with compassion to
the Lithuanian sisters who wrote
to her, encouraging them to be
obedient to the new leaders, show
great love to those to whom they
minister and most especially to
live according to the spirit of
Christ. Her exhortations ever
reflected her way of life: “Never
judge others.” “Consider yourself
the servant of all.” “Always more,
always better, always with love.”
Every letter was signed, “Loving
You, Mother Maria” —affirming
her great love for all.
Throughout the remaining
eight years of her life, and despite
the cancer settling in her bones,
Mother Maria governed the
congregation with kindness, joy,
and a vision. She prepared well for
death and longed to see her “best
friend, Jesus.” April 17, 1940, at
age sixty, and after three weeks of
intense suffering, she breathed her
last. Upon her death a beautiful
mosaic of her courageous life
emerged as witnesses testified to
her holiness by examples of her
kindness, generosity, love for the
poor and compassion for them,
their families, and all whose lives
she touched. She was proclaimed
Venerable Servant of God on July
1, 2010.
To what end do we celebrate the
life of this holy woman? Surely,
it was an ordinary life lived in an
extraordinary way. Her deep faith
in the Lord’s providence moved
her to take risks: her journey to
America, the establishment of
a community in Lithuania, and
acceptance of being deposed as
superior general but continuing to
go on with love and forgiveness
while encouraging others to do
the same. Mother Maria went
beyond the circle of comfort,
modeling for us the courage to
have a voice for the voiceless. Her
loving heart, which experienced
pain, disappointment, and sorrow,
mirrors for us how to embrace and
embody holiness in the challenges
of life’s experiences. Her life
encourages us to go further than we
ever thought we could go; our lives
too, can be that of “Loving You.”
Sister Margaret Petcavage, SSC
is the vice postulator for the
Beatification/Canonization Cause
of Mother Maria Kaupas. Sister
has written the Positio supporting
the heroic, virtuous life of Mother
Maria. Rome’s acceptance of
this book named Mother Maria
Venerable.
Prayer for the
Beatification of
Mother Maria Kaupas
O loving Jesus,
we beseech you,
grant that your servant,
Mother Maria, who
was imbued with your
Eucharistic Presence
while on earth, may
through the intercession
of your Immaculate
Mother and Saint Casimir,
be glorified by visible
signs and miracles;
so that for your glory
and salvation of souls,
she may by your power
be declared blessed.
Amen.

page 12
Journey
Fall 2012
Enter with Courage into the Dance:
Celeste Speaks to Her 21 st Century Sisters
by Terrence Moran, CSsR
I
am Julia Crostarosa, known
in religion as Sister Maria
Celeste. I am so happy to be
among you. Even though some of
you may not even know my name,
I had a profound influence on
your life. My spiritual intuitions
about living the life of the Gospel
were what compelled Don
Alfonso de Liguori to found the
Redemptorists. I loved him and
he was a saint, but he was also,
if I may say, overly cautious—
and without a push from me,
who knows what would have
happened? And so what I called
“Gospel seeds” were planted in
the heart of Alphonsus; they took
root in different soil in the heart
of Father Louis Florent Gillet;
watered by the River Raisin, they
flowered in the heart of Mother
Theresa Maxis—and here you are
today!
Do you know the famous
Italian song O Sole Mio? This
song was written many years after
my death, but it communicates so
well the environment of my native
city, Naples, and the temperament
of its people. Under the bright
Southern Italian sun I was born
and grew up. I was born in the
same year as Alphonsus,1696,
but his family was—how do you
people say?—dysfunctional,
compared to my warm
and loving family. All
my life the sun would
be a favorite image
of God’s love for me.
Listen to what I wrote in
my Autobiography: One
day the Lord called her
by an interior voice, and
said to her:
“Look at the material
sun, how it illumines
the plants of the earth,
warms them and makes
them grow, so that they
may give back flowers
and fruits, and it makes
the whole world happy
with its brightness. So
whenever you look at
this material sun, you
will remember
everything I have told you, and
this shall be your continual
prayer.”
At the age of 21, with my two
sisters, Ursula and Giovanna,
I entered a Carmelite Convent
which soon closed because of
conflicts with a noblewoman
benefactor. My sisters and I
ended up in a convent in Scala,
with a breathtaking view of the
Amalfi coast. From my youth
I had enjoyed what I called my
“secret companionship” with
Jesus, which became more and
more intense. I became convinced
that God wished to use me for
the foundation of a new religious
institute in the Church, an institute
that would take its inspiration
from the Gospels, and one in
which the members would be a
“viva memoria,” a living memory
of the life of Jesus. Under the
inspiration of the Spirit, I wrote
for the institute a rule which has
nine chapters for the nine months
a child spends in its mother womb,
for are we not all children in the
womb of our Mother God? Do
you think I was bold to put these
words on the lips of God?
God says, I am your Mother. You
are the little child, who in the
womb of its mother lives more
by her life than by its own. I am
your Mother. I engendered you in
my womb, and I sustain you in the
womb of my eternal love.
The habit of the new institute
was brilliant red, the color of
the earthen clay from which we
are made, the color of blood by
which we were redeemed, the
color of the fire of the Spirit which
empowers us, the color of the
rising and setting of the sun, my
dear image for God.
Father Thomas Falcoia,
the spiritual director of our
monastery, called in a priest with
a great reputation for holiness,
Father Alphonsus Liguori, to
examine me and my visions.
To Father Falcoia’s surprise,
Father Alphonsus recognized
the true spirit of God in me and
recommended that the monastery
begin living under my rule. And
in 1731 the monastery of Scala
became the first house of the
Order of the Most Holy Redeemer.
But the God of surprises was
not finished. I was inspired to
suggest to Father Alphonsus
that God also wanted the Order
to include missionary men who
would preach the abundance
of God’s love to those most in
need of God’s Mercy. When
I suggested this to Father
Alphonsus, people outside said
they could hear his yelling in the
streets! But finally the heart of
Alphonsus saw in my visions the
fulfillment of his own dreams.
And so, on November 9, 1732, the
Congregation of the Most Holy
Redeemer, the Redemptorists, was
founded in Scala.
These exciting days of new
beginnings were soon to be
followed by a dark night of the
soul. Father Falcoia had by now
become a bishop and was jealous
of my influence over the nuns, and
he wanted to change our Rule to
something more according to his
spirituality. He demanded that
I take a vow of absolute blind
obedience to him for life and he
had me locked in the convent attic
until I would agree. This is not
the way of freedom I had learned
from God’s spirit. So I escaped
with my two sisters to the town
of Foggia where we established
a monastery where we could live
our original rule. Alphonsus was
pained by this rift between Falcoia
and me, but he always stayed a
faithful friend, visiting the convent
in Foggia and sending the man
you know as St. Gerard Majella
to be our spiritual friend and
guide. Conflicts between women
religious and bishops! That’s
a story that women religious
know well. Be sure that in your
current experience of a Vatican
investigation, I am with you in
prayer and solidarity.
On September 14, 1755, I was
called home to God. I asked that
the Passion of John be read at
my death bed—as I had wished
my life to be a living memory of
Jesus, so I wished my death to be.
Because of my separation
from the officially approved
Redemptoristines, my name
became a distant memory for my
sisters and my true spirituality and
my writings were unknown even
by those who wore my red habit.
The Redemptorists had no idea of
my role in their foundation. My
friend Alphonsus became a saint
and a doctor of the church—and I
became an embarrassment and a
faint memory.
continued on page 16

Fall 2012
Journey
page 13
It ’s Pumpkin Spice by Sister Rachel Terry, IHM
She smiled as she left the
office that crisp autumn
afternoon. The blue sky
was bright with October sunshine
and the air smelled of wet leaves
tinged with a hint of coffee.
The chilly air pinked her cheeks
and filled her with good spirits
as she walked from her office
to the coffee shop across the
street for her afternoon caffeine
fix. She was craving a latte, and
pumpkin spice would be a perfect
complement to the beautiful
weather. As she approached the
entrance of the shop, she noticed
that there was a woman sitting on
the sidewalk and next to her was
a sign that read, “Homeless and
hungry. Please help.” She smiled
to herself as she put a dollar into
the crumpled cup in front of the
sign and decided that she would
be ordering two lattes that day.
She was feeling quite pleased with
herself for her thoughtfulness and
generosity. As she left the shop,
and presented her gift she said
cheerfully, “It’s pumpkin spice.
My favorite.” She was expecting
a grateful smile, but with sad, tired
eyes the woman under the blanket
looked up and said, “No, thank
you.”
The woman was taken aback,
surprised at the rejection and
surprised by how hurt she felt.
She was not at all expecting her
gesture of good will to be refused,
and she didn’t know how to react.
She stood there for a moment
holding the unwanted gift, feeling
discomfited and a bit angry. Her
hurt pride told her to just walk
away, to throw the coffee in the
garbage and forget the whole
thing. Her chided ego told her
to pity the poor soul who didn’t
know a good thing when she had
it. But, there was something
stronger than her pride or her ego
urging her to stay and to try to
mend the mistake she had made.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I
know that pumpkin spice is my
favorite flavor, but I didn’t bother
to ask you what yours might
be.” “Caramel,”
help but think
said the woman
of the woman
under the blanket,
she had met at
“and thank you,
the coffee shop
but I’ve had
that day and
three already
the lesson she
today.” Both
learned from her.
women laughed
This is what was
softly, mostly
on her mind as
to themselves,
she opened her
but in a way
favorite spiritual
they laughed
blog which she
together about the
frequently used
circumstance they
for reflection.
found themselves
This evening
in. “Is there
the post was
something else I
about the gift
can do for you?”
of fortitude. It
the woman with It is seeing through said, “The gift
the latte asked.
of fortitude is
“I appreciate the God’s eyes that takes one of the most
money you gave
necessary and
me. That will help the greatest courage often overlooked
with the gas.” “I
gifts of the
know it isn’t much of all, for when one Holy Spirit.
and it isn’t going
Many believe
to fix anything, but
sees through the eyes
that courage
please take this,”
is needed only
of God all is revealed—
she said as she
when one is
pressed $20 into
faced with
need and fulfillment,
the woman’s hand.
adversity or
The woman under
persecution or
pain and pleasure,
the blanket looked
tragedy. But
toward the ground
grief and grace, and
every day we
and slipped the
need to be
twenty into her the very small part we fortified by the
pocket. “Thank
Spirit in order to
you,” she said
play in it all. avoid evil and
without looking
do good without
up. The woman
becoming
turned slowly
discouraged.
and began the
Evil is subtle
walk back to her
and powerful
office, carrying
and the gift of
two lattes and
fortitude allows
the burden of not
us to be steadfast
being able to do
when we are faced
enough to relieve
with temptations,
another’s suffering.
no matter how
That evening,
big, but even more
the woman sat in
so, no matter how
her oversized chair
small. In the small
with her laptop and
everyday moments
began to browse the
in our lives we could
blogosphere. As she
easily forget that we
pulled her afghan over
even know God, let
her legs, she could not
alone need God. It is in
those moments, when our human
weakness tempts us to think not as
God does but as humans do, that
we need the courage to overcome
our humanity, to overcome
ourselves.”
As she read she realized that
she had experienced the gift of
courage that day. She saw in
the eyes of the woman under the
blanket the courage to ask for
help and the courage to face the
humiliation of receiving contempt
or pity along with whatever help
came her way. She also saw
courage in herself and her own
actions. It took courage to admit
that her good intentions were
selfish and misguided and to
apologize. This was not the kind
of courage that makes heroes and
headlines, but it was the kind of
small matter that shapes a person’s
character. Turning away from an
uncomfortable situation was the
kind of small temptation to which
she could have easily given in
to without even knowing it had
been a temptation. She realized
that it was the voice of the Spirit
that spoke to her in the feeling
of discomfort and offered her an
opportunity to see not as humans
see but as God sees. It is seeing
through God’s eyes that takes
the greatest courage of all, for
when one sees through the eyes
of God, all is revealed—need and
fulfillment, pain and pleasure,
grief and grace, and the very
small part we play in it all. She
closed her laptop and said a short
prayer of thanks to God for the
grace she received, asked for relief
for the woman she encountered
that day, and asked to be open to
hearing what she should do next
in this situation, and in all of her
daily matters, without becoming
discouraged.
Sister Rachel teaches music at
Little Flower School in Bethesda,
Md.

page 14
Journey
Fall 2012
IHM Symbols of Courage
by Sister Michel Keenan, IHM
Years ago, there was a retreat
at Marywood directed by
a Jesuit priest who spoke
of IHM beginnings in Monroe.
“You are orphans,” he said.
“And orphans spend their lives
searching for their birth parents;
that’s how it is with you. You
want to know who you really are.”
That was before Vatican II, before
many years of digging deep into
congregation roots, charisms, and
Vatican documents, discovering
that, indeed, the congregation is
apostolic, not monastic. That one
substantial change had a ripple
effect on its ministries, community
life, and prayer life. The
expression of “who we are” took
shape in revised constitutions,
mission, and charism statements.
This article, however, speaks to
an unwritten characteristic of IHM
Sisters, namely, courage. To this
writer, “courage” means “heart,”
and “heart” is an identifying
characteristic of the Sisters of
IHM.
Mother Theresa’s Courage
It is difficult to select which
of Mother Theresa’s actions best
exemplifies her courage. Surely,
to leave the Oblates of Providence
and travel from Maryland
to Michigan, to unknown
circumstances, to begin a new
congregation would rank high on
the list.
Mother Theresa’s leadership
of the original little band of
IHMs in Monroe did not falter
after the untimely departure of
Father Gillet, the congregation’s
cofounder. She faced both
the poverty of frontier life and
the unfriendliness of Bishop
LeFevre. She demonstrated
tremendous courage in seeking
approval of the rules which would
give the fledgling congregation
official standing in the Church.
Responding to Bishop John
Neumann’s invitation to
Pennsylvania left her jubilant,
not fearful! The details of Mother
Theresa’s story are well told
elsewhere, but it is important
to note here that her surviving
eighteen years of
exile with the Grey
Nuns of Canada
was no small act of
prayerful courage.
The Courage of the
Builders
It is courage
which characterizes
those sisters who
have been the “brick
and mortar” builders
of the congregation. Poverty
was our condition, frugality its
remedy. The congregation has
always been willing to take the
risks involved in furthering its
mission. One has only to look
back to 1902 and the responsibility
assumed by Mother Cyril
Conway for building the original
motherhouse; or to 1924 when
Mother Casimir Murray launched
Marywood College’s Liberal Arts
Building, followed in 1926 by St.
Joseph’s Hospital, Carbondale,
and in 1928 O’Reilly Hall (now
Regina Hall), a residence hall
on Marywood College campus.
Mother Marcella Gill initiated a
$2 million construction program
in 1952 which added four
college buildings: Fine Arts,
Physical Education, Science, and
Immaculata Residence Hall. She
was also the planner behind the
groundbreaking in 1954 for the
$1.5 million first wing of the
Marian Convent.
In 1956 Mother Kathleen
Hart approved the request of
Sister Cor Mariae Schroth for the
building of the Marian Hall as the
nurses’ residence for St. Joseph’s
Hospital; in 1957 she approved
Sister Rebecca Doyle’s plans
for the construction of the new
IHM Academy in Coeur d’Alene,
Idaho; and in 1960 she initiated
the construction of the IHM
Novitiate.
When Sister St. Mary Orr was
president of the college in 1963,
Mother Beata approved a request
to add Madonna, Emmanuel, and
Nazareth Halls to the campus, and
in 1965, $8 million for additional
buildings, including a new library,
psychology clinic,
power plant, and
additional labs
for the Science
Building. In 1968
Sister Cephas
(Mary) Ryan
received approval
for a $1.5 million
debt for St. Joseph
Hospital Convent.
In 1985
approval was given
by Sister Michel Keenan for an
$11 million loan to add a patient
tower to St. Joseph’s Hospital.
The 80s, 90s, and early 2000s
witnessed two presidents of
Marywood University, Sisters
Mary Reap and Anne Munley,
adding eight facilities to the
campus and renovating several
others, including the former
Marian Convent as a residence
hall and chapel.
During Sister Mary Persico’s
term of office, a new building
was erected for IHM elderly
and ill sisters. Called The
Pascucci Family, Our Lady
of Peace Residence, it opened
in 2006, replacing the former
Marian Convent which had
been purchased and utilized by
Marywood University.
The congregation has been
blessed in having, throughout
the years, women who have that
futuristic vision required for
reading “the signs of the coming
times,” and who find the resources
to realize that vision. In addition
to the leadership teams, there are
also hundreds of IHM sisters,
“courageous builders,” who have
participated in fundraising for
each new project and in praying
for its success. It is courage born
of faith in the mission which
has enabled and will continue to
enable all the builders.
United Courage
Some incidents can be
categorized only as “corporate
courage,” a united courage
shown by all. Among these was
the response of every sister in
the congregation and many of
their families, co-workers, and
friends, especially the personnel
of Marywood College, to the
motherhouse fire in 1971. Sisters
came, even from distant missions,
to bring clothing, drugstore
items, books, paper supplies, and
money for replacement items.
Faculty members sponsored fund
collections and took victims of the
fire to buy new shoes, eyeglasses,
or whatever else a sister needed.
Mr. Kennedy, the maintenance
director at the time, was seen
retrieving personal items from
each sister’s room in the burnedout
structure. In the months to
follow, sisters displaced by the
fire courageously faced their
uprootedness.
The decision to build Our
Lady of Peace Residence was
another such example. The sisters,
presented with all the options
for the future care of our ill and
aging sisters, voted to approve
plans for constructing a new
facility. Knowing that they were
all taking on the responsibility of
an approximately $20,000,000
debt (including interest), showed
courageous faith in the future.
This reflection began with a
story about being orphaned and
wondering “who we are.” Many
other examples of courage in IHM
history exist, but these serve to
reveal something that has not been
written down, namely, that the
members of the congregation are
“women religious of courage.” The
ways in which the Holy Spirit has
been enabling the congregation
to build upon its foundations,
both in the fragile internal stuff of
spiritual growth and in the bricks
and steel of external development
are well known. The response
to the Holy Spirit has added a
significant dimension to the many
documented descriptions of who
the IHM Sisters are. This response
has called for great heart; its name
is courage! This is the continued
response needed for the future.
Sister Michel serves as a
researcher for the IHM
Congregation Archives.

Fall 2012
Journey
An Irresistible Force
page 15
by Sister Eleanor Mary Marconi, IHM
Although she was born in
the nineteenth century
and died in the early
part of the twentieth century, I
didn’t come to know of her until
the beginning of the twenty-first
century.
As a young student in Catholic
grade and high school, I often read
the lives of the saints and heroes
of the spiritual life. The life of
Father Damien of Molokai, the
leper priest, was one that captured
my imagination. His selfless and
courageous spirit in caring for
lepers in the far distant Hawaiian
Islands touched my youthful spirit,
desirous of doing heroic deeds for
God. While my perception at that
point in time held the romantic
fervor of youth, still there was
something deeper that I believe
connected my spirit with Father
Damien’s. So through the years
as my faith grew and matured, I
continued to be inspired by the
example of his life.
While Father Damien’s life
was unfolding in the Hawaiian
Islands, a woman who was his
contemporary, Barbara Koob, was
invested in1862 as a Sister of St.
Francis in Syracuse, New York.
Born and baptized in Germany in
1838, Barbara Koob emigrated
with her parents in 1840 to Utica,
New York where she was raised.
She came to be known as Mother
Marianne Cope who, from 1864
through 1869, served as a member
of the governing group of her
religious community and as
superior and principal in convents
in New York. In 1870 she became
the superior of St. Joseph Hospital
in Syracuse, NY, the first hospital
of the city.
Mother Marianne was known
for the innovative strategies
of sanitation she instituted at
St. Joseph Hospital, relying on
techniques being practiced in
Europe and in progressive areas
of the United States. The research
being conducted showed how the
washing of hands could reduce
infections in patients being treated.
Mother Marianne’s meticulous
efforts in carrying out these new
concepts were to prove invaluable
in later years.
Elected provincial of the Sisters
of St. Francis in 1877 and again
in 1881, she was the one who
received the request in 1883 from
Father Leonard Fouesnel who was
assigned to the Catholic Mission
in the Kingdom of Hawaii. He
was a member of the same
congregation as Father Damien.
He came as an emissary from the
King of Hawaii, who was looking
for nursing Sisters who would take
charge of hospitals and those who
might be in charge of schools.
In a letter that Mother
Marianne wrote to Father
Fouesnel, she says: “I hardly
know what to say. . . . Shall I
regard your kind invitation to join
you in your missionary labors
as coming from God? This is a
question that has been constantly
on my mind. . . . My interest is
awakened and I feel an irresistible
force drawing me to follow this
call.” In August of 1883, at a
Chapter held in Syracuse, the
sisters decided to accept the
mission to Hawaii.
In November of 1883, seven
sisters of St. Francis sailed to
Honolulu. Mother Marianne,
though provincial of the Order,
went with them promising to
return. Initially, Mother Marianne
and the sisters ministered in the
hospital in Honolulu and at the
Branch Leper Hospital. In 1884,
at the request of the Hawaiian
government, another hospital
was subsequently established
by Mother Marianne. Mother
Marianne’s experience and
diligent work at St. Joseph
Hospital in Syracuse afforded her
the necessary skills to carry out
this task.
In the fall of 1888, Mother
Marianne made her first visit to
the Settlement at Molokai, and in
November of that year she and two
sister companions arrived at the
Settlement where she became the
official superintendent of Bishop
Home, the home for girls. During
his sixteen years of ministry there,
Father Damien had established
a home for boys on Molokai. In
1889, Father Damien, who was
now himself a leper patient, was
ministered to in his dying days by
Mother Marianne and the sisters.
Mother Marianne promised that
none of her sisters would contract
the disease of leprosy. To this day
none has.
While much of what has been
written can be found in books and
web sites that detail the lives of
both Father Damien and Mother
Marianne, there is something more
personal that moved me to write
of this period of time and piece of
history.
In 2005, the year of Mother
Marianne’s beatification, I had
an opportunity to visit Hawaii.
While I did not visit Molokai,
I stayed with the Sisters of St.
Francis who had been involved in
the exhumation of the remains of
Mother Marianne for transport to
Syracuse, NY. Earlier that year I
had the opportunity to be present
at the cathedral in Syracuse when
her remains were brought home.
It was this event, more than others,
that excited my soul and touched
my heart. In leaving her known
world in 1883 to travel to the
unknown world of the Hawaiian
Islands, she promised her sisters
that she would return. That day,
122 years later, she was welcomed
home by her sisters.
Mother Marianne died on
August 9, 1918, at Bishop Home,
Kalaupapa Kalawao County
Hawaii. In 1941 in an interview
by a Utica reporter, Mother
Marianne’s nurse stated: “Mother
Marianne was the gentlest, the
cheeriest and the most dignified
person you could imagine, and
a disciplinarian, too. . . . She
revolutionized life on Molokai,
brought cleanliness, pride and
fun to the colony. People on
Molokai laugh now—like other
people in the world, laugh at the
same things, the same dilemmas
and jokes.” Mother Marianne
treated and cared for the lepers
on Molokai with compassion and
natural medicine long before the
discovery of drugs in the 1940s
Sister Eleanor Mary Marconi, far right, at the canonization of
Mother Marianne Cope continued on page 16

page 16
Journey
Fall 2012
Proceed - continued from page 6
where. For many years during
retreats, in steady reflection
with my spiritual director, in my
reading and prayer, I searched and
listened for the answer. I earned a
certificate in English as a Second
Language, which allows me to
teach anywhere in the world. But
no direction as to what next—until
the Way opened.
So, as Sandra Schneiders
pointed out, our decisions grow
out of our past choices and
experiences. We need to listen to
them. From all my life choices
came the courage to take this step,
confident it is “of God” and that
I am sent by the congregation.
“Who sends me?” Fran asked.
Obviously, it is the Trinity leading
me in love. But in addition, as
I began to tell my colleagues
and friends one by one, the
reaction was dismay at first, then
universally they said, “I can see
you doing this.” I feel that their
confirmation of my decision also
sends me forth. The Church sends
me forth in the spirit of God´s
pilgrim people and its preferential
option for the poor.
“Leadings start from where
we are, from Something which
touches our lives and hearts in
some way . . . . leadings rarely
include instruction sheets or
directions. The specifics only
develop as the Way opens. The
witness to the Light Within gives
us the courage to be faithful . . .
the results of our actions are not
ours to control.” Whitmire, p.130
Finally, I read the other day
that Saint John of the Cross
advised the bogged down, “If you
want to get on a new road, you
have to get off the one you are on
now.” Montaldo, p.30
Ed. By Jonathon Montaldo
and Robert G. Toth, Bridges to
Contemplative Living: Traveling
your Road to Joy, book 5, Notre
Dame, IN, Ave Maria Press, 2011
Whitmire, Catherine, Plain Living:
a Quaker Path to Simplicity, Sorin
Books, 2001.
Sister Ancilla serves as a pastoral
minister in Sicuani, Peru.
God Works in Strange Ways
continued from page 9
After that magical moment,
Katherine couldn’t get enough of
the bubbles. And while playing
with those magical bubbles, I
was able to teach Katherine many
English words. Throughout the
two weeks I was in Morogoro,
I taught high school students
English grammar, gave tender
love and care to orphans there,
and helped the people of the
community build better lives.
I was able to give so much and
learn so much from the people
in return. But it was Katherine
who taught me the most about
friendship, connectedness, and the
joy of life. As I sat on that porch
stoop with Katherine until every
drop of bubble mix was gone,
and as we watched the bubbles
drift up into the sky, I knew my
life would never be the same. I
knew I was changed, because
of her, because of this little bit
of magic, and because of all of
these experiences, in Scranton,
in Africa, and right here on the
Marywood campus. I would never
be the same.
Marywood has given me
more opportunities than I
could have ever imagined. The
community here, the classes and
the professors, the service and
leadership opportunities have
not only changed my view of
the world but they changed my
place in the world. I would not
be the person I am today if I had
not come to this university. And
being one of seven kids, I would
not have been able to come to this
university if it were not for the
generous scholarships that you
benefactors make possible for me
and for all of the students here in
this room.
God works in strange ways.
He works through people. He
worked through Katherine to
change me and to open my eyes.
He has worked through Marywood
alumni and benefactors to bring
out generosity and kindness as
they make these opportunities
possible for students. And God
works through us students too, as
we further our education and use
our gifts and our talents to start
changing the world.
Let us take just a minute, to
thank God for this opportunity, for
wherever he has brought us, and
for whatever he has allowed us to
do. Let us remember that it is a
gift to have attended Marywood or
to be attending Marywood, to be
giving or to be receiving. Let us
never take that for granted, and let
us appreciate every day, whether it
is spent in Africa, in Scranton, or
in small-town New Hartford.
Thank you.
Colleen is in her sophomore
year in the Marywood University
nursing program.
Sister Maria Celeste
continued from page 12
But God’s Spirit had the last
laugh. The mighty winds of
the Spirit that blew through the
Church in the Second Vatican
Council also blew the locks off of
old archive cabinets. My works
were rediscovered and translated
into many languages and once
again my sisters and others cherish
my works and are nourished by
my words. Do I remind you of
anyone you know? A woman
who was too creative for her own
good, too loud, too insistent, too
energetic? Your own Mother
Theresa Maxis was such a woman!
Please join me in a prayer that I
wrote. I hope this story of my life
inspires you to join with courage
in the dance of the Spirit!
O dancing, lover God,
how wonderful that you should
call my name,
invite me into the dance of your
Spirit,
in which we lean and sway as one
body,
with one intention,
never apart,
never beyond our sensuous
communication.
How incredible a development!
How incredible a love
played out in a dance of fire.
The voice of Celeste is channeled
by Redemptorist Father Terrence
Moran. Father Moran is a
spiritual director and has given
retreats and other programs
on theology and spirituality
throughout the United States and
in twenty-five other countries.
Mother Marianne Cope
continued from page 15
that would eventually help to cure
the disease.
Early in my life, Father Damien
was to me an example of courage
and total commitment to God
as a priest who gave up all for
his ministry to those afflicted by
leprosy and who were banished
to the Island of Molokai. Today,
the example of Mother Marianne
Cope inspires me with courage
and a desire to surrender as she
did in total commitment as a
woman religious bringing God’s
unconditional love to the poor and
abandoned.
On October 11, 2009, Father
Damien was canonized by
Pope Benedict XVI in Rome.
On October 21, 2012, Mother
Marianne Cope was canonized
also by Pope Benedict XVI in
Rome.
Mother Marianne followed in
the footsteps of Jesus and Francis
whose lives show that compassion
to the poor ones in our midst can
bring untold joy and blessing into
our own lives. In 1903 she wrote:
“I wish you all the blessing you
may stand in need of to become
a perfect child of Saint Francis,
that you may say with him in all
sincerity, My God and my All.”
The Sisters of St. Francis continue
to minister to the people of
Molokai, remembering with tender
regard and gratitude the legacy of
Saint Marianne Cope.
Sister Eleanor Mary serves as
assistant administrator at Our
Lady of Peace Residence in
Scranton, Pa.

Fall 2012
Friends of God
Journey
In Memoriam
and lovers of the dream
page 17
M. Clarita Maloney, IHM
February 19, 1923
June 4, 2012
by Jane Frances Dunnigan, IHM
Sister Clarita had the IHM
spirit deep in her heart throughout
her whole religious life and also
when she attended high school at
St. Dominic’s in Oyster Bay, New
York. She often told me what great
teachers she had there. She even
loved more the spirit of the sisters
when they sat on the wraparound
porch in the summer and would
laugh, sing, pray and enjoy life.
It is ironic that I should be
writing this as we near the election
of a President for 2012-2016.
When I taught with Sister Clarita
at St. Dominic’s, her students were
always up-to-date on politics. They
had debates and every four years
ran their own political campaigns
with speeches, decorations and
posters and cast their ballots with
real voting machines borrowed
from the district.
Sister Clarita was number one
cheerleader for all sports teams.
Who could forget her very dear
friend, Sister Judith Gavigan?
They shared traveling and fun for
many long years. We remember
Sister Clarita’s trip to India and the
pictures of her riding the elephant.
She shared all these stories and
adventures with her family and
friends.
She loved her family and when
her brother Mike needed her, she
came promptly and no sacrifice was
too great.
As we read in the Aeneid,
“no day shall erase you from the
memory of time.” And as Jesus
said, “Well done, good and faithful
servant.”
When we visit Our Lady of
Lourdes shrine, we will stop and
say an Ave. We loved you in life
Clarita, and we love you in death.
Kathleen Theresa O’Dea, IHM
October 4, 1931
July 2, 2012
by Richard Mary Peters, IHM
Sister Kathleen O’Dea was a
woman of lively, heart-warming
spirit.
I met her in her younger days
when as sector superior she
came and visited our convent, St.
Dominic’s Convent in Oyster Bay.
How we all enjoyed her visits!
Happiness prevailed and we always
persuaded her to do some Irish
dancing for us. She was truly a
champion.
These were the days when many
were leaving the congregation.
During my talk with her she
assured me that if ever I or my
friends needed help she would do
whatever she could to help us. I
have never forgotten that kindness.
Professionally, she was an
excellent teacher, principal, and
administrator. Those were her
younger days.
When Sister Kathleen came as
a resident to the Marian Convent,
I was a resident and staff member
there. We shared friendship in the
last eleven years of her life.
Just as trees in late autumn and
winter drop their leaves and reveal
to all what they’ve done with their
time of growth, so do we show
clearly what we have become in
our later years.
Sister Kathleen continued to
minister to others by her prayers,
hospital visits, prayerful visits
to the bedsides of the dying and
generous gifts to the needy.
In household 4A, Sister
Kathleen was mindful of everyone
and was an uplifting, kindly
presence.
In her last few months, we could
clearly see her concern for others
and her love of God. She was
confident in God’s love and mercy.
Sister Kathleen, “may you keep
safe in the gentle, loving arms of
God.”
Kathleen Alice Newett, IHM
September 17, 1932
September 1, 2012
by Mary Newett, IHM
Recently I read that God needs
images to bring God to life and
be known to all. Sister Kathleen
Newett, IHM, who died on Sept. 1,
2012, was that image of God’s love
in our world. Her life was filled
with love for her God, her IHM
Community, her family and all she
met along the way.
Sister Kathleen wanted to be an
IHM and to serve God. Being a
teacher was not her priority, doing
God’s work was. How well she did
that! No matter what was asked
of her, she smiled and tried her
best to accomplish the task. As a
teacher she was remembered not
for the English lesson she taught,
but for the way she responded to
the students in front of her. She
reached out and touched them with
her words, her compassion, and her
laughter.
Life was not easy for Sister
Kathleen. Her illness at an early
adult age slowed her body down
but not her spirit. Each time she
was hospitalized, she ministered
to the doctors, the nurses and
the aides with her laugh and
her determination to get back to
“normal.”
When teaching became a burden
physically, Sister Kathleen would
sit at the reception desk in school
and greet all who came through the
door with her smile and her love.
She was a woman of prayer, love,
joy and laughter. All who knew her
were blessed. How well she was the
living image of her God. Her life
ended as she lived—with a smile.
Her request for her funeral Liturgy
was that all would wear bright
colors because we would rejoice
that she was with her beloved.

page 18
Journey
Fall 2012
Walk closely by our side until that day
In Memoriam
when we shall meet again.
M. Sarita Gesler, IHM
November 25, 1920
October 1, 2012
by M. St. William Lynch, IHM
Sister Sarita was a faithful and
true friend for the last 70 years.
She was a senior novice when I
was a postulant. From then on we
both journeyed in Pennsylvania and
North Carolina, she in Goldsboro
and I in Rocky Mount. Later we
were stationed in Baltimore and
Bethesda, Maryland.
While working on our
kindergarten courses during
summer school at St. John’s
University, the daily subway ride
from Forest Hills, NY, was quite an
experience. We had many laughs
and stories to tell when we arrived
home each day.
Spiritually we prayed for each
other, exchanged good spiritual
reading books, and enjoyed our
retreats either at Marywood or at
St. Alphonsus Retreat House during
the summer.
For many summers Sarita,
Jeanne Gallagher, and I spent our
vacation with my brother and his
wife in Tarpon Springs, FL.
During the last eleven years
when Sarita was confined to the
Marian Convent and Our Lady
of Peace Residence, I took every
opportunity I could to visit her.
Kelly, one of the nurses at
OLP would announce my arrival,
“Guess who is here to see you?”
Sometimes she would say “St.
William” and other times she
would ask, “Who are you?” As
soon as she would hear my voice,
she would smile.
We had many happy memories
to share and yes, I will miss her, but
I know she will not forget me. May
she rest in peace.
Eva Marie Zlotucha, IHM
January 22, 1937
October 15, 2012
by Susan Brown, IHM
With Thanksgiving having just
passed (and Sister Eve’s favorite
holiday) I write with gratitude
about the best friend and mentor
a person could ever have. Sister
Eva Marie was my friend but also
a friend to so many people. Sister
Eve was diagnosed with cancer in
1992 and was given 3 months to
live. Trust me, she lived it well.
Eve loved life and cherished every
moment of it. She was so thankful
for every day that God gave to her
and she lived life to the fullest.
My memories of Sister Eve are
her smile, her laugh, reading, eating
seafood, and loving life. She was
kind to everyone she met and loved
to be with other people, especially
her community of IHMs.
She loved to teach and be with
her students, and all the faculty
members loved her.
Eve fought to the very end and
never complained about her illness.
So I will have to say, during
this season of Thanksgiving, let us
all be thankful for Sister Eve and
all the lives she touched. She will
never be forgotten.
Obituaries for
IHM Sisters
may be found on the
Sisters of IHM webpage
www.sistersofihm.org
IHM Heartworks
Online Store
Buy downloadable artwork,
graphics, and photography
created by IHM Sisters!
This downloadable artwork
can be used for publications,
program covers, bulletins,
flyers, and posters. These
high resolution files can
be printed and framed to
enhance home, office and
ministry site. All artwork
is reasonably priced and
immediately usable. Visit
our store today:
http://store.ihmheartworks.org/
merchant2/

Fall 2012
Journey
IHM Community Highlights
page 19
Several members of the entrance band of 1964 gathered at Newton Lake October 12–15 for
a weekend of fun and sharing. Pictured front L-R: Ginny Stockhousen, Jeanne Marie McAuliffe,
Ellen Carney, Patty Wilson Schmitt, Kathy Kelly, Beth Munley, Christine Mihelich,
Franziska (Gisela) Laudascher, Meff Sciulli. Back L-R: Mary William Philbin, Nancy Mesaris
Silfee, Karen Curtis, Sandy McMahon, Judy Romans, Carol Suktiz, Jane Snyder
More than sixty people
gathered at the IHM Center
on Friday, November
20, in prayerful solidarity
with thousands gathered at
the gates of Fort Benning,
Georgia, in peaceful protest
of WHINSEC (formerly
known as the School of the
Americas). The school is
associated with graduating
military officers who have
been responsible for human
rights violations across the
Americas.
A day-long experience of the Awakening the Dreamer Symposium
was held October 20 at the IHM Center. Pictured
above are members of the IHM EarthCARE Committee who
planned the day. L-R standing: Sisters Jean Coughlin, Amy
Zychal, Maryalice Jacquinot, Kathryn Kurdziel, Lenore
McAllister, and Peg Mahoney. Front: Sisters Donna Korba
and Alphonsa Concilio.
Pictured L-R: Harold Chalfant, Sister Helen Prejean, Janet
Chalfant, and Sister Jean Louise Bachetti attended a day of
retreat at Holy Redeemer Provincialate in Huntingdon Valley,
PA. Sister Helen Prejean, CSJ, offered reflections on the
sacredness of God’s creation.
Sister Maria Rose Kelly’s students from Marywood
University’s Women and Religion class got to know their
IHM roots during a visit to the IHM Center.

Journey
IHM Center
2300 Adams Avenue
Scranton, PA 18509-1598
Non-Profit
Organization
U.S. Postage
PAID
Permit No. 39
Scranton, PA
Celebrating IHM Founders’ Day
IHM Sisters, Associates and friends celebrated Founders’ Day at the IHM Center
with a festive meal followed by prayer. The IHM Congregation was founded
November 10, 1845, in Monroe, Michigan, by Sister Theresa Maxis Duchemin and
Father Louis Florent Gillet.
Congregation of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Scranton, Pennsylvania
Courage
Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.
Don’t be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of
other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions
drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the
courage to follow your heart and intuition.
Steve Jobs