Our Preaching_Vol2 Iss2.qxd - Dominican Sisters of Amityville

Stained-Glass Glory by Fr. John McGowan, C.SS.R.
I
felt so small sitting in the choir stall
in St. Albert’s Chapel at Queen of
the Rosary Motherhouse in Amityville.
The Dominican Sisters had invited me to
preach their yearly weeklong retreat.
Everything was spacious: the grounds, the
buildings, the long shining corridors, but
especially St. Albert’s Chapel. The ceiling
seemed to stop at the basement of heaven.
The marble floors winked at me from the
sunlight pouring through the multicolored
stained-glass windows. It was the
windows that really dwarfed me.
Behind the tabernacle, a wall of blue
and white mosaic glass of every shade and
hue formed the outline of a colorful glass
cross on the sanctuary floor. I sat in the
front stall and let the light, the silence, the
splendor of the place fill me up. I could see
holiness. I could smell it. I could even hear
it in the holy silence. I felt so small, so
insignificant.
What really took hold of me were the
six stained-glass windows on the wall across
from me. Each window was about eighteen
feet tall and held the image of a single
figure with a name at its base. There was
St. Hyacinth. I wondered who he was and
why he was being prominently displayed in
gleaming glass in this Motherhouse chapel? I looked at the next
window—St. Antonious. Hmm! Who was he? My eyes moved to
St. Peter of Verona. Unfamiliar names to me. You would expect
stained-glass scenes of the life of Jesus or the mysteries of the
rosary. The next one was St. Raymond of Pennafort. I had heard of
him, but could not tell anyone a thing about him.
As the brilliant light poured through each tall and colorful
image, a light finally clicked on within me. Each figure was dressed
in a white Dominican habit. They were all Dominican saints! I was
facing six stained-glass likenesses of Dominican saints. That was
when I began to shrink. We Redemptorists have only four
canonized saints and a few blessed.
Then I turned around. Behind me were another six magnificent
windows with six more Dominican saints. Up front near the
sanctuary, was St. Dominic, founder of the Order of Preachers.
There he stood holding the book of the Gospel in his hand with a
rosary dangling from his fingers. Next to him came St. Catherine
of Siena, mystic and doctor of the church. There was St. Albert the
Great, teacher, bishop and scientist holding the globe in his hand.
If Albert was there, where was his pupil Thomas Aquinas? There he
was, standing across the sanctuary floor facing Dominic.
I felt as if I was in Heaven’s Hall of Fame. The Dominican
Cooperstown. Saints, popes, mystics, preachers came one after
another. Some lineup! I gazed fondly at St. Rose of Lima and then
Summer 2007
found St. Martin de Porres. I was in the
presence of the All Stars of the Ages. And I
shrunk even smaller. Twelve All Star saints
lined the walls in colorful glass in this
beautiful chapel, some dating back to the
13th century. I not only felt small, I felt
young as well. We Redemptorists began in
1732. We are infants in the realm of
religious orders and congregations. The
Dominicans and all their saints and blessed
comprised a holy dynasty. The Yankees of
heaven. The heroes of halos. The words of
Paul’s letter to the Hebrews echoed in the
vast chapel: “We are surrounded by this
great cloud of witnesses.” There I sat,
encircled by the divine dozen.
Then the thought struck me. What are
you doing preaching a retreat to a religious
order of Sisters who belong to the Order of
Preachers? How dare you presume to tell
these women how to be holy! All I really
had to do was invite them to sit in these
choir stalls and look at the windows before
and behind them. Here were visual aids and
living color reminders of their beautiful
motto: “Laudare. Benedicere. Praedicare.”
Praise. Bless. Preach. Sitting in that chapel
was a very humbling and grace-filled
experience for me.
At lunch that day, I remarked to one of the Sisters, “You have
quite a lineup of Dominican saints! Each one is an MVP—a most
valuable preacher! We Redemptorists have only four saints and a
few blesseds.”
“Well, we’ve been at it longer, Father.” Sister was being kind.
“We only celebrate the feasts of our saints because if we celebrated
our blesseds there would not be enough days in the year. And
everyday would be a feast day. We will have to take you to the
Holy Rosary Chapel in the other building and show you our
blesseds. They are all over there painted in murals. And you’ll have
to visit our choir loft. We have more of them up there.”
The Motherhouse not only boasted of their saints in stainedglass
glory, but also witnessed to their residents—the living saints
of the Amityville Motherhouse. These women are still praying, still
believing, still ministering in word and action. Most of the Sisters
who live at the Motherhouse are in their 80’s and 90’s. One of
them is 101 years young. Still praising, still blessing, still preaching.
Before I left the Amityville Dominicans, I came to an amazing
conclusion. “I know why all you Sisters are of a great age,” I said.
“Why, Father?” they asked.
“Well, it’s because heaven is so crowded with Dominicans that
there’s no room left. So God is keeping you here with all of us to
make heaven here on earth.”
Laudare. Benedicere. Praedicare. What a wonderful motto!
3