Her name was Sister Josefa Martinez Perez. She seemed like any other Spanish Daughter of Charity in the 1930s, donned in a low white cornette and blue dress, walking the hallways of the hospital. Spain was at the height of its civil war but the Daughters continued their work, as they always had in the past during times of turmoil. Yet, as times got worse, Sister Josefa warned her fellow Sisters "Don't be afraid. We have to be courageous. Sisters, let us prepare ourselves because martyrdom will touch some of us" She was right. On October 15, 1936, she was taken away in a truck to be executed.

Her story begins in Alberique (Valencia), Spain where she was born in 1898. At the age of 27, she entered the Daughters of Charity Seminary, inspired by her membership in the Association of the Children of Mary, a co-fraternity for young women run by the Daughters of Charity. After Seminary, she was sent to her first (and what would be also her last) mission - the Provincial Hospital of Valencia. There she would stay for ten years, working in a ward for abandoned children and then one for women with infectious diseases.

In 1936, the Marxists took over the hospital and expelled the Daughters of Charity. It wasn't simply a matter of asking the 100 Sisters in the hospital to move somewhere else, but rather as a way to expel the community of the Daughters of Charity as a whole. So, for their own safety, the Sisters split up - a repeat of what the Daughters had done years ago during the French Revolution - hoping to one day be reunited and live once again as a normal religious community.

Sister Josefa stripped herself of the cornette and dress she had worn for over ten years and headed to her family's house in her hometown of Alberique. Things there were relatively calm, unlike what some of her companions were experiencing wherever they were hiding. But one day, in September, her brother-in-law was taken away for being a Catholic and doing charitable works. When they arrived, Sister Josefa pleaded "let him go and kill me! He has three small children and expecting a fourth". But they wouldn't accept her offer and he was arrested and executed anyway.

She probably had an idea that they would return. And they did, less than a month later on October 14th. However, probably to her surprise, they took away not only her but also her pregnant sister. Her sister Natalia, now a widow after her husband's execution, left behind three small children in the house when the two of them were taken away. When they arrived in the prison, Sister Josefa spent all her time in prayer, pleading to God and the militants that she would sacrifice herself for her sister's life.

Some hours later, in darkness, the prisoners were thrown into a truck. As Sister Josefa stepped into the bed of the truck, she once again pleaded for them to free her sister. Probably tired of her insistence and maybe even inspired by her sacrifice, they let Natalia go. The last memory Natalia would have of her sister Josefa is a hug they shared, in which Sister Josefa whispered "see you in eternity". With that, the truck left, leaving Natalia behind.

The truck drove to the outskirts of Alberique at El Puente de los Perros, where every prisoner in the truck were executed, including Sister Josefa, who had sacrificed her own life for her sister.

Some Daughters of Charity and Vincentian priests martyred
during the Spanish Civil War

It turned out that Sister Josefa wouldn't be alone in her martyrdom. Dozens of her companions, fellow Daughters of Charity, would also be martyred during that war, many in groups but some alone as Sister Josefa. This coming October, twelve of those martyrs, including Sister Josefa, will become Blessed by being beatified by Pope Benedict XVI.



Sister Josefa Perez Martinez, pray for us!

(More stories of these courageous Daughters of Charity to come!!)

Sources (for those interested):

• "Daughters of Charity, Martyrs (Valencia, 1936)". Vincentian Online Library Trans. Charles T. lock. <http://famvin.org/wiki/Daughters_of_Charity,_Martyrs_(Valencia,_1936)>
• Infante Barrera, Sor Angeles. "Hermanas Mártires De Valencia, Perfil Biográfico." FAMVIN Noticias. <http://famvin.org/es/2011/06/28/hermanas-martires-de-valencia-perfil-biografico/>.
• "Un Arzobispo De Valencia, 12 Hijas De La Caridad Y Una Seglar Asesinadas En 1936 Rumbo a Los Altares" Religión En Libertad, 28 June 2011.
• "Spanish Civil War (35)." Hagiography Circle. <http://newsaints.faithweb.com/martyrs/MSPC35.htm>.
• Chento, Javier F. "Hacia La Beatificación De Un Grupo De Mártires De La Familia Vicenciana En España." FAMVIN Noticias.http://famvin.org/es/2012/11/10/hacia-la-beatificacion-de-un-grupo-de-martires-de-la-familia-vicenciana-en-espana
• my research buddy, Fr John Freund CM from FAMVIN!

The Love of Jesus Sees into the Future: Mother Theresa and Me

On a large spiral staircase made of slate, between the third and fourth floors, sits a larger-than-life painting of a nun. She stares straight ahead into the eyes of the viewer. Two school girls stand at either side of her, looking up in apparent admiration.

When I first saw this painting at the Institute of Notre Dame, I had no idea who she was. She was just a two-dimensional woman I passed on my way on my way to religion class. A meek freshman coming from public school, I had only recently met a Sister. And I certainly hadn't seen a painting of one quite so large before.

Turns out I was walking not so far from where this nun herself walked. Somewhere, underneath of the building next door, where the original school sat, was evidence of her footsteps.

Her name was Mother Theresa Gerhardinger. And those were probably some tired footsteps.

She was then in her fifties, the hair under her wimple and veil probably fading into gray. Her life journey hadn't been an easy one and perhaps her body already reflected that. During her childhood, the Napoleonic Wars had unfolded before her. Her beloved Catholicism faded away from Bavarian society - monasteries, convents and even schools (including her own) closed, property and possessions stolen from churches. She saw people formerly friends begin to hate each other. This led her, with the help of a friend priest, found the School Sisters of Notre Dame some years later. It wasn't an easy task - her friend priest died, the local people resisted her and she didn't have any money. But somehow, by the grace of God, she did it. And now she had gone along to bring the Sisters to the United States, leaving behind comfortable Germany and stepping into a new culture, a new language and a new need. After some other failed projects, the Institute of Notre Dame was founded as a boarding school for German immigrant girls.

Mother Theresa didn't stay for long, leaving for the German motherhouse soon after. It's more likely that a majority of those footsteps around the original school were her Sisters, bustling around to teach all different grades, to wake up the girls and feed them, to be there for emotional and spiritual comfort.

Although Mother Theresa physically may have left the school, her legacy never did. In those first years and years to come, American vocations from the school would pour into her new community. But then, more recently, as with most Catholic schools in the United States, the number of vocations from the school, either to the SSNDs or any other religious community, dwindled away to almost nothing. But yet, decade after decade, Mother Theresa was still there all the same, smiling over those girls who grew from timid freshmen to seniors ready to go out and change the world. She watched them come and go, and then watched as their daughters, and then granddaughters and even great granddaughters walked those same steps. I was one of them.

Students and alumnae agree that there is some sort of spirit in that school. God knows there's enough ghost stories set in the 160 year old building, but it's something deeper than that. It's a spirit of love and understanding motivated by deep faith in Jesus Christ. A spirit that I believe stems from the spirit of Mother Theresa Gerhardinger. Something occurred to me in high school, something I now attribute to the spirit of the school and her - a religious awakening, a metanoia, I don't know what to call it - but one day, in junior year, the idea popped in my head "maybe I'll become a nun". The thought terrified me. But every day, walking those slate steps to and from classes, I passed a painted nun with a tender face that told me "Look, this is what your life could be..." I mostly tried to ignore it, but other times it led me to deep interior reflection.

Now, I know that Mother Theresa was there, watching over and praying for me during those discernment years in high school. In her day, she was one passionate about religious vocations, often quoting the parable about the workers in the vineyard in her letters. Although I never knew much more about her in high school than a few of her words and brief biographical facts, she taught me that, if you have a burning desire in your heart, even if it means much sacrifice, even if that means giving up marriage, being misunderstood, or traveling to a different country, you can change the world.

She essentially said this same message to her Sisters before she left for the United States, telling them "Dear Sisters, why do we submit to religious obedience and not let our own will prevail? Why do we renounce property and love of earthly goods and voluntarily live poverty? Why do we remain celibate and separated from the world? Why should we unceasingly try to sanctify ourselves? Is it not that, being free from the cares of this life, we can better meet the needs of the dear children as spiritual mothers who meet our Savior in them?" 

A few weeks ago, I returned to the Institute of Notre Dame, my old high school, and talked to juniors about immigration and also about my own calling. I had an absolutely wonderful time and it took me back to my own days in high school. I once again passed by that painting of Mother Theresa Gerhardinger and reflected on everything she meant to me. And although she may be a bit disappointed I didn't join the School Sisters of Notre Dame and went to the Daughters of Charity instead, I really don't think she minds. She told her Sisters, also before her trip to the United States, "the reign of God will be extended when many virtuous, devout, obedient, and diligent young women go forth from our schools and to their families. This is our daily prayer" And I pray that I may be one of those young women from her schools that extends the reign of God.

And just as Mother Theresa Gerhardinger has done for more than a century, from her permanent place in heaven and from the wall on the slate stairs, she continues to watch over and pray for all those girls that pass through the halls of the Institute of Notre Dame....and I like to think perhaps most especially those girls silently discerning religious life in their hearts as I was. And it is by her prayers and spirit that, 133 years after her death, she continues to change the world.

(This next Saturday, Blessed Mother Theresa Gerhardinger will celebrate 27 years of being beatified in the Catholic Church. Let us pray for her canonization!)

Inventive, Even to Infinity: The Story of Sister Hilary Ross

Saint Vincent de Paul said to the Daughters of Charity "Love is inventive, even to infinity". That inventiveness is something that first struck me about the Daughters of Charity - whether it's doing art ministry like Sr Maria or teaching at a university like Sr Anne.

Sister Hilary Ross was one of those inventive ones.

I first saw her picture in an article about the "Women of Spirit" museum exhibit traveling around the United States. And, of course, it's pretty unmistakable that Sr Hilary was a Daughter of Charity.

Sr Hilary was not a doctor or a nurse or even a physician's assistant. No, she was a biochemist and a pioneer scientist. She published in many scientific journals and soon became renown for her research in Hansen's Disease (leprosy) Meanwhile, she lived and worked in a leper hospital in Carville, Louisiana.

But researching leprosy at Carville isn't where her story ends nor where it begins. Sr Hilary was a Californian, the daughter of immigrants. At the age of 11, tragedy struck when her father drowned in the San Francisco Bay. Just a few months later, the famous San Francisco earthquake took everything. So, the Ross family, both fatherless and homeless, lived in emergency shelters until they were able to afford a house in Berkley, CA. Affording the house, however, meant that everyone in the family, even the children, had to work to pay the bills - including Hilary, once she finished eighth grade.

Meanwhile, Hilary, along with the rest of her family, was baptized Episcopalian but she frequently branched out into other Christian religions. She volunteered with the Salvation Army and also frequently attended Catholic Mass with a friend. Eventually, at the age of 19, she reached the decision to become Catholic. Her conversion made quite the splash in her house. It became the butt of jokes for her brothers and her mother was so upset that she constantly cooked meat on Fridays to spite Hilary.

Things must have calmed down by the time that Hilary announced she wanted to be a Daughter of Charity two years later. Her mom consented, although she didn't want her to go. As a Daughter of Charity, Hilary became a nurse (a quite popular occupation of the Daughters at the time) It wasn't before long that her newly-learned skills were put into practice, as the influenza pandemic of 1918 hit her hospital in Milwaukee. It grew to be something she'd never forget - the hospital filled to the brim, so many dying around her.

Shortly after, Hilary, now Sister Hilary, had to get a mastoid operation - an operation to remove an infection in the mastoid bone (the bone behind the ear). The surgery was somehow botched. she was left with facial paralysis. Since the first surgery was unsuccessful, Sister Hilary went for two more. Both would have great complications - first she contracted typhoid fever, then pneumonia, and then headaches that would never leave her for the rest of her life. When asked about it years later, Sr Hilary shrugged it off, saying "one learns to live with one's ailments"

Mainly because of her facial paralysis (which slowly decreased but never went away), she could no longer be a nurse. The Daughters of Charity, instead, sent her to study pharmacy. Soon, she was sent on her first mission as a pharmacist - to Carville, Louisana to the Carville National Leprosarium, one of only two leper hospitals in the United States. It was a mission that probably terrified her family and friends, who probably thought for sure she'd catch the contagious disease. But she herself had no fear - "I just had a job to do – and I had to give God the best of what I had. He’s always been my boss, you know."

Her job as a pharmacist soon turned into that of a biochemist. From 1927 on, she began to publish medical studies, especially on the changes that take place when the Hansen's bacteria enters the body. Thanks to her investigations, the world would have a greater knowledge of all the aspects of Hansen's Disease (leprosy). She, a humble Sister who never even went to high school, became recognized in the science industry as a pioneer. When an interviewer commented on her various awards and how great it was that she was now an international figure, she replied, probably with a roll of her eyes or a wave of her hand, "That’s all a lot of bosh. I just did my job as well as I could. And there were a lot of other good Sisters and people doing much better than I."

Sr Hilary stayed at Carville - researching, investigating and generally caring about the welfare of her poor sick - for 37 years. In 1960, she retired at the "old age" of 66. Perhaps people thought she'd finally slow down now that she was officially retired - but Sister Hilary thought the opposite, saying she still had much more life to give to the poor. Instead of taking it easy, she volunteered for the foreign missions - more specifically to Wakayama, Japan - to work in a hospital for crippled children.

And this is where Sister Hilary's story turns black for me, as I couldn't find any other details about her past her move to Japan, except this interview of her on the Daughters of Charity website. I do know that she died in 1982, at the age of 88, still living and working in Japan.

Sister Hilary was truly inventive in her love for the poor. (After all, do you know any other Sisters that are famous biochemists?)
She was courageous.
She was a fighter.
She was strong.

Yet, following in the footsteps of Saint Vincent de Paul, she was so humble in the face of such international fame, saying "I just did my job. Now you take Father Damien of Molakai. He’s the real hero in the fight against leprosy. I’ll have a lot to tell him when we meet in heaven!"

Not Left Forgotten: Guided by the Spirit of Ita Ford

Forty-some years ago, in a house on Westminster Place in Saint Louis, just a few blocks away from the current Provincial House of the Daughters of Charity, a thirty-something woman completed her novitiate. She probably spent lots of time in the chapel, praying about her future vocation as a missionary. She may have wandered the garden, backyard, or the neighborhood, reflecting as she walked. She may have had funny stories there because of the antics of her and her fellow novices. But soon her life would change and Westminster Place would become only a memory. Soon, she would be sent on mission to La Bandera, Chile.

By now, this woman would be 72 years old, perhaps approaching her last years of foreign mission or maybe joining the other elderly Sisters at Maryknoll's motherhouse in Ossining. But none of that was meant to be. In December of 1980, at the age of 40, Ita Ford was martyred, along with three others - Sr Maura Clarke, Sr Dorothy Kazel and lay missionary Jean Donovan.

I found that house on Westminster Place, paused, and prayed. This was no ordinary former novitiate to me, of which there are plenty in St Louis. This was not just a historical building. It meant something deep to me that it was the former residence of Sr Ita Ford, who has been a personal hero of mine since high school.

Don’t know who she is? I didn’t either until then. In high school, I was somehow introduced to her. I can’t remember now if it was through Spanish class (as my Spanish teacher knew Ita’s companion in death, Maura Clarke) or religion class. Ita had died before I was even born in a far away country I didn’t know, yet I somehow felt connected to her. That intimate connection continued for years, although all I knew about her was from her short biography Missionary Martyr and anything I could find on the Internet.

Ita was a New Yorker, a relative of the Maryknoll martyr of China Francis X. Ford. She entered the Maryknoll Sisters after graduating from high school but was asked to leave the novitiate right before vows because of poor health. That didn't deter her, since she entered again seven years later. This would be her time at Westminster Place, certainly a more peaceful time for her than the first. She had changed and things had changed. The Maryknoll Sisters took on the spirit of Vatican II, taking on a healthier and less institutional formation. She would take her vows in St Louis and then be missioned to La Bandera, Chile. She would stay there for years and then, following the plea of Archbishop Oscar Romero, would volunteer to go to El Salvador and, just a few months after arriving, that is where she would be murdered, killed for all that she was doing to serve the poor.

That is pretty much all I knew about her until 2005, when a collection of her letters and writings, titled "Here I Am, Lord", was published. She was suddenly made real. She was witty and sometimes sarcastic. She was a writer. She was reflective. She struggled with the love God and others had for her. She had a great love for the poor. She, strangely enough, has reminded me of myself sometimes. For reasons I can't explain, I believe she was one of those people that led me to Bolivia in 2007. I have read her letters and writings many times - as a college student interested in foreign mission, as a missionary in Bolivia, as a woman who left her religious community and now as a postulant - and she speaks to me every time in a different light.

As I stood before her old novitiate, I thanked her for what she was meant to me - she was a woman I never met, whose voice I've never heard, whose work I've never seen, yet a woman who has lived on through the influence she has had for me. Saint Therese, certainly a saint quite different than Ita Ford, commented that she wanted to spend time in heaven doing good for people on earth. Although Ita never said anything like that, I believe she has done the same for me. And I believe, as I go through formation with the Daughters of Charity and as I later go through various missions serving the poor, she is and will continue to be with me.

Hearts on Fire: Quiet Heroines of World War II

It was tomorrow seventy-two years ago that the capital of France, Paris, fell into German hands. Suddenly, Nazi flags began to fly, road signs were put up in German, soldiers roamed the streets. The war had now become real, as if it weren't before.

And there, in the middle of Paris, sat 140 rue du Bac - the motherhouse of the Daughters of Charity, a religious community that had celebrated its 300th anniversary not too long before, and home to the chapel where the Blessed Mother appeared to St Catherine Laboure the century before. The Daughters, by this time, had already spread throughout the world. There were Sisters in countries under Axis and Allied occupation. And now, the city of their motherhouse, the home of the community, their whole history was now under the Germans.

Sister Helene Studler

Meanwhile, a French Daughter of Charity by the name of Sister Helene Studler, had already prepared for the Axis occupation. Sister Helene had already been carrying out her work for a year by the time France officially fell. She had been to the border various times, assisting those who had been evacuated. A few days after the occupation, prisoners arrived, having marched there. Taken by surprise, Sister Helene cleaned and bound their wounds. It was this event that would change everything. Just a month after the Axis occupation, Sister Helene set up an escape system to save French soldiers from the Gestapo. Almost 2,000 Frenchmen escaped under her direction. She was arrested in 1941 but released before her year sentence was up because of poor health. She went straight back to her work, though she quickly escaped to Lyons when she discovered the Gestapo were after her again. Frustrated by their inability to find Sister Helene, the Gestapo arrested the Superioress General of the Daughters of Charity and grew even more frustrated when she refused to release any information about Sister Helene's whereabouts.

Sister Agnes Walsh

As Sister Helene hid in Lyons, seven hours away in Dordogne, France, lived another Daughter of Charity - Sister Agnes Walsh. Sister Agnes was actually British, an Allied citizen living in an Axis-occupied country. She had to lay low, for the danger of the Nazis finding out she was British was simply too great. She had accidentally received an Irish passport earlier, which bought her some leeway, yet her accent quickly gave away her English heritage. And she had already seen the way the Gestapo went after the French Jews. Yet one day, a man named Pierre Cremieux knocked on the door of the convent asking the Sisters to hide him, his wife and three children. Hiding them would mean even extra danger for the Sisters - after all, they were already hiding the fact one of them was British - but Sister Agnes pleaded their case to the superior and the family of five remained with them, hidden in the convent.

Sister Marejanna Reszko
Yad Vashem Photo Archive 

But Sister Agnes was not the only one hiding Jews. Countries away, in Poland, the Daughters of Charity were hiding Jews at St Anthony's Orphanage, under the direction of Sister Marejanna Reszko.Not too far away, Sister Bronisława Wilemska, along with Bishop Małysiak, hid Jews in their institution for the eldery and disabled. In fact, hiding Jews started to become the unofficial ministry of the Daughters of Charity in Poland. All in all, Yad Vashem has recognized five different Daughters of Charity from three different Polish cities.

In nearby Hungary, Daughters of Charity hid Jews in an all-girls school. The Sisters there were crafty, making the school a fake military workshop until that city was liberated and the hidden Jews were saved. The provincial house in Hungary, under the leadership of Sister Klara Rath, also served as a hiding place. The Nazis constantly appeared wanting to search the house, yet miraculously went away every time because of Sister Klara's doings - whether it be distracting them with drinks, claiming the children there were all baptized Christians, or quoting a dangerous line of the Hungarian anthem. All the Jews there were also saved.

The war was trying for the Daughters of Charity, yet it seemed that it only set their heart even more afire for love of the poor, the persecuted, the abandoned. Paris was liberated on August 25, 1944 and the war would end within the year. Sister Helene, that brave non-violent woman of the French Resistance, wouldn't live to see the end of the war. In December, just a few months after the liberation of France, Sister Helene died of a painful cancer. Sister Agnes, however, did survive the war as did the Jewish family she hid. She lived to the age of 97 and was posthumously honored as one of the British Heroes of the Holocaust. Sister Klara of Hungary also survived the war. She died in 1991 and now has the title "Righteous Among the Nations".

These women, although their history now dates back seventy years or so, still remain alive to me. Their stories still resonate with me. Their bravery inspires me. I thank them for their service, I thank them for their dedication to our mission as Daughters of Charity, I thank them for the example they give to me and all the Daughters of Charity now and to come and pray that they will never be forgotten.

An Ode to Sister Anne

Spiritual writer and Dutch priest Henri Nouwen wrote, in his book “Letters to Marc About Jesus”, “it is very important for you to realize that perhaps the greater part of God's work in this world may go unnoticed”

Sr. Anne Higgins, with her quiet reflective demeanor, fades into the background – wandering the former Provincial House in Emmitsburg, tending her garden, writing poems, watching the birds eat from her birdfeeder – yet I count her as one of the most influential Sisters in my life. When I think of that quote by Henri Nouwen, I think of Sr. Anne and how God truly worked (and works) through her in practical obscurity.

I first met Sr. Anne in August of 2003. I was a soon-to-be college freshman on a retreat given by my future alma mater, Mount St. Mary's College. Despite my adventurous self, I was nervous to be attending a college where I knew no one. Sr. Anne, an English professor at the college, was one of those giving the retreat, along with others in Campus Ministry. I don't remember much about that retreat, but I do remember how truly approachable and friendly she was. While older, it seemed like she fit right in with the college students. Yet, even more than “fitting in”, she seemed to understand them.

Just a few months later, she invited me to my first discernment retreat – which turned out, perhaps to the surprise of Sr. Anne but mostly myself, to be my first step in my discernment journey with the Daughters of Charity. I wouldn't have Sr. Anne as a professor until a few years later for one of her few non-English courses, Christian Spirituality. We read everything from St. John of the Cross to the poet Rilke. It would turn out to be one of my favorite courses at the Mount. Somehow, Sr. Anne made the readings come alive and led me into understanding the significance of these writings in my own life. Without her even knowing, she held my hand through a rough spiritual patch and walked with me on the journey to discover my own personal spiritual charism. Many of those books I never gave away, including my copy of “Dark Night of the Soul”, which is still full of highlighted passages and notes in the margins.

“May you never take the attitude of merely getting the task done. You must show them affection; serving them from the heart; inquiring of them what they might need; speaking to them gently and compassionately; procuring necessary help for them” (St Louise, A.85) Although St. Louise was speaking of caring for the sick, one of the first ministries of the Daughters of Charity, I feel her advice exemplifies Sr. Anne's attitude in her ministry as a college professor.

Sr. Anne takes her job of teaching English seriously and she takes her second unofficial job of being a published poet seriously as well, but most of all, she puts charity for the students above all else. When I say “charity”, I don't mean this in the superficial academic sense – deadline extensions, excused tardies, etc - but rather charity in what the Daughters of Charity believe it to be and practice – love, love you would give Christ Himself. Sr Anne listens to the students, not just about their academics but about their lives. Former students, even from her days when she was a lay teacher at Seton High, remember her with affection and most still stay in contact with her. More than any other professor, it was Sr Anne who made time to teach me guitar or have coffee chats with me, a good almost-five years since my graduation.

Sr. Anne's own poem, “Elizabeth Seton: Light and Grace” (found in her book “Digging for God: Praying with Poetry”) reminds me of her physical example as a continuation of Mother Seton's dedication to her students. The last stanza reads:

Her words to a student far away:

“My heart has gone home with you”

Home with us, with

light to know,

grace to do.

While Sr Anne may not have intended it that way, I like to think of the “us” as the Daughters of Charity – always with the heart of Mother Seton, with the light of faith to know deeper every day, with grace to do through their works of charity. Perhaps I feel an even deeper connection with Sr. Anne because we basically have the same personalities (INFJs) and we are both teachers and writers (though I am admittedly not a good poet!) but mostly it is because she was the first Daughter of Charity I ever met and it was her who introduced me to the approachability and compassion of the Daughters, not by inviting me to a discernment retreat, but rather by her own personal demeanor of charity.

Because of her quiet nature and her simplicity, Sr. Anne usually blends into the woodwork. After all, teaching English and writing poems isn't as “glamorous” as founding a homeless shelter or being a social worker in an inner-city hospital, but her work is amazing all the same. While her ministry isn't the norm for the Daughters, it has done a wonder for me, vocations to religious life, and all Mount students throughout the ten years she's taught there. And for that, I think St. Vincent de Paul, St. Louise, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and all those before her would be proud.

Be Joyful! I Say It Again...'Be Joyful!': Blessed Giuseppina Nicoli

So I posted about the feast day of the Martyrs of Angers, not even realizing that the Daughters had two other feast days within a week - Blessed Giuseppina Nicoli today and Blessed Rosalie Rendu next week. I've already done a post on the life of Blessed Rosalie Rendu, one of my Daughter of Charity "favs", but Blessed Giuseppina Nicoli is even lesser known.

Sister Giuseppina was Italian, as you may have guessed already by her name. After becoming a Daughter of Charity, she spent most of her life ministering to the poor on the island Sardinia (yes, I had to look it up too) She became Sister Servant (the superior of the house) there and did something that may have been revolutionary in its time - she introduced the Sisters to the womens' prison. The Sisters then began to visit the incarcerated and minister to them. She organized the first youth group volunteers and taught catechism to the poor, illiterate and those without religious education.

A few years later, she was called to Turin (Italy) to serve as adminstrator of the province and then directress of the Seminary (noviciate), but soon the community realized that the climate of Turin wasn't doing well to her health and how attached Sardinia was to her and vice versa and sent her back there. Upon her return, she opened a School of Religion for young people and worked with sick infants and children. During World War I, she used her time to care for wounded soldiers.

But perhaps the greatest part of her reputation comes from her work with a group called Monelli di Maria, a group of orphaned, homeless, and abandoned children. Originally, these were just a group of street children that knocked on the Sisters' door asking for food, money, etc. Sister Giuseppina re-named this group something to the effect of "Mary's Street Kids" While she did make sure they went to Mass and were taught catechism, to Sister Giuseppina, serving them meant also serving Christ in the person of her neighbor. So she taught them how to read and write, as well as a trade that would give them a job and off the streets. By teaching them about God and His love for them, she also made them aware of their own dignity - they who had been denied an education because of their poverty, they who had been kicked out of their homes by their parents, they who had been orphaned, they who the world left behind.

Sister Giuseppina died in 1924 at the age of sixty one. Her last words were "Yes! Thank you!" That picture of Blessed Giuseppina Nicoli is probably one of my favorites of any Daughter of Charity in the cornette. She is so full of joy and energy in the picture - as if the photographer caught her at the end of a laugh. And when you think about all she was doing at the time of that picture - working with kids at the orphanage or school or working with the street kids - it really is amazing that she had all that joy and energy. Here's a pearl of wisdom she left us:

Joy is a great remedy. I recommend it to you and I do so very enthusiastically...! Be joyful! I say it again 'be joyful'! When we are joyful, we are less aware of evil and are cured more quickly. Cast all your cares on God; He is the best of fathers and will look after you as well as possible. (Blessed Giuseppina Nicoli)

Yet Another Daughter of Charity Feast Day!

It seems like every month, there is at least one Daughter of Charity feast day. In November, we have three in a row!

Today's feast day is for Blessed Marie Anne Vaillot and Blessed Odile Baumgarten, two martyrs of the French Revolution, part of a group known as the "Martyrs of Angers" (a town in France). Another martyr of the French Revolution, also a Daughter of Charity, Marguerite Rutan, was beatified less than a year ago.

You can find a great homily about these two martyred Sisters here by Fr Richard McCullen, one of our former Superior Generals.

How blessed am I to belong to a community with so many saints!

(Picture from the Daughters of Charity Australia website)

Elizabeth Ann Seton: Wrestling and Dancing with God

I have always loved reading journals and personal letters of other people, most particularly holy people. I like Henri Nouwen's books, but I devour his journals. Thomas Merton's Sign of Jonas struck me way more than Seven Storey Mountain did. Mother Teresa's Come Be My Light allowed me to connect with her more than anything else would. It almost seems contradictory, considering I've been journaling regularly since I was 16 and, although I may share parts, I have never let another person read them.

There is a deep personal part of our soul that is shared in journals and perhaps in letters. Our soul becomes raw, in openness, a willingness to share our weaknesses, our wrestles with God and our joy. We hold nothing back. To read someone else's journal is to dive into their soul, to dive into the mystery of their being. And for our saints, for those holy people we admire, it is diving into the human soul of someone we may not think of as human, diving into the soul of someone who both wrestled and danced with God.

I've been reading the book Friendship of My Soul: Selected Letters by Elizabeth Ann Seton 1803 - 1809 by Sister Betty Ann McNeil, DC. I've known Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton since 2003 when I first started attending Mount Saint Mary's College in Emmitsburg, where she lived and died. I've been through the museum a handful of times and thought I knew almost everything about her. But in this book, Sister Betty Ann publishes Elizabeth Ann's most intimate letters with her best friends. Elizabeth Ann paints the picture of everything leading up to her husband's death....the ship, the conditions, the smells....and then the sorrow she feels upon William's passing.

In one letter, we find her complaining about the singers at the Opera House in Italy and says that anyone who finds that pleasurable must not have never known real pleasure (when I read this, I looked up at the icon of her on my wall and laughed, trying to imagine her saying that). A few letters later, we find her wrestling with herself and with God over the thought of Jesus' Real Presence in the Eucharist, an idea contradictory to herself, a good Episcopalian woman. You can feel her confusion, grappling over what she truly believes.

Suddenly, Elizabeth Ann became real to me. The book description  "rarely does a story come along where a reader feels effortlessly transported back through time—where words and thoughts vividly convey a feeling of life some two hundred years past." is accurate. Every time I pick up the book, I feel transported back in time, as if I were face to face with Elizabeth Ann herself, as if I could emphatically feel her pain, feel her confusion, feel her anxious doubt.

As you can see, I haven't even gotten to the point where she finally decides to convert to Catholicism. That's where Elizabeth Ann's story really takes off - from losing some close friends because of her conversion, from fleeing New York to Baltimore, from founding the first American religious order and starting a new life in Emmitsburg, from losing so many, both family members and Sisters.

I invite you to read this book as well, or at the very least, research our dear Elizabeth Ann Seton. She, our first American-born saint, is truly a hidden treasure. Her name may be familiar, but I feel that her story is obscure. Her story is one that we all need - a story of pain, of human struggle, but also of a saintly trust in God. Yet it is also important to remember that saints are real, not just stories. Elizabeth Ann was in fact real, a woman who apparently hated opera and whose heart broke a little at the passing of her husband, with her children still so young, and a woman who spent her life both wrestling and dancing with God. May we learn from her example.

Bl. Marguerite Rutan Joins Company of Four Other Martyred Daughters of Charity

Blessed Marguerite Rutan, who I recently wrote about, joins the company of four other beatified Daughters of Charity - Sister Marie Madeline Fontaine, Sister Marie Françoise Lanel, Sister Thérèse Madeleine Fantou and Sister Jeanne Gerard - who were also martyrs of the French Revolution. Today is the commemoration of the 217th anniversary of their death and, if it were not Sunday, would be their feast day.

They have a fascinating history which I will only briefly explain here. (If you want to know even more information, famvin hosts an interesting article about it here.) Sister Marie Madeline was the Sister Servant (superior) of the house during the Revolution. The Daughters, which numbered six in the French town of Arras, tried to continue serving the poor while trying to avoid any political elements, including the town administration. This plan was working until a new mayor was instated that attacked the Sisters and their works. He, at first, removed the Sisters from running their hospital and then eventually expelled them from there.   

The Daughters, however, continued to serve the poor in other ways and even helped some escape to Belgium. As time passed, two Catholic men who attended meetings of those with revolutionary ideals, tipped off the Sisters saying it would be best if the two youngest Sisters escaped to Belgium. So, the two youngest Sisters disguised themselves and were able to escape to Belgium, where they continued their lives as Daughters of Charity. Then, there were only four left in the house - Sister Marie Madeline, Sister Marie Françoise, Sister Thérèse Madeleine and Sister Jeanne, the four Sisters that would later be beatified. 

Soon afterwards, the four Sisters left were arrested for not taking the oath. They were thrown into prison and remained there for four weeks before they were brought before a tribunal. The tribunal found them guilty of having counter-revolutionary material in their house (which had been planted) and were sentenced to remain in prison. Three months later, they were taken in the middle of the night to another town, where they were not known. They were brought in front of another tribunal, where the judge told them they would not be executed if they took the oath. The Sisters, during the tribunal, kept saying the Rosary and they absolutely refused to take the oath and they were sentenced to death by guillotine.   


As they were paraded to the town square, which was strangely silent (meanwhile, during other executions, the townspeople applauded), Sister Marie Madeline said to the crowd "Christians, listen to me! We are the final victims. Tomorrow the persecution will be over, the scaffold will be dismantled, and the altars of Jesus will rise glorious once again!” With that, they were executed. (Sister Marie Madeline would turn out to be right, by the way)


They would be beatified in 1920 and forever remembered by me, other Daughters of Charity and the Church for their charity, bravery and faithfulness.

Another Daughter of Charity Beatified!

Today, in France, the Catholic Church put another Daughter of Charity closer to sainthood. Sister Marguerite Rutan (1736 - 1794), a dear servant of the poor, was a martyr of the French Revolution, guillotined by her countrymen for refusing to sign the national oath that would betray her faith. Sister Marguerite is one of the many Sisters, Daughters of Charity and others, martyred during the bloody time of the French Revolution. 

Blessed Marguerite Rutan, pray for us!

Below is a video about her, in French with English subtitles:

UPDATE: The Vincentians have some awesome pictures of the beatification here. 

Mother Suzanne Guillemin and the Vatican II "Revolution"

Being just 25 years old, I was born well after the Councils of Vatican II. It wasn't until college when I started studying theology and discerning did Vatican II really come into my life.

Internally, without thinking, every time I met a religious community, I evaluated in my head their faithfulness to the spirit of Vatican II – on both sides of the spectrum, too much change or too little. Outside of my own thoughts, the actual topic wasn't brought up again until I was handed a book on Mother Suzanne Guillemin, Superioress General of the Daughters of Charity during Vatican II. She was not only that but, after the second session of the Council, she was one of only eight religious women invited by the Pope as auditors to the Council. She was integrated fully in the Third and Fourth session, sharing her opinion.

Mother Guillemin did a lot for the Community and I want to say she “revolutionized” religious life in the community but I feel as if she wouldn't like that phrase....so I will say instead that she helped guide the Daughters of Charity into an evolution to fit today's world, to be daughters of Saint Vincent in a world that is utterly changed from when he was alive. She changed the governance of the Daughters, modified the habit, encouraged cooperation with the laity, and pushed Sisters to be professionally trained in their ministry. As I read her reflections, I can imagine the strength it must have taken to write this and perhaps the fear she must have had to take away something that had existed from the very beginning, the cornette:

“Tomorrow, everyone should be able to recognize without the help of the cornette, the Daughter of Charity, humble without affectation, attentive to everyone, disengaged from herself, truly available, an outcome of the love of God in order to give this love to all. We should be obsessed by this true charity and examine and revise our interior and exterior attitude continually to readjust it to charity. Wherever we are, we ourselves should be the expression of charity.”

On a less serious note, the cornette
inspired a certain 1960s TV show...

Why take away something like the cornette, the basic symbol of the Daughters of Charity? Mother Guillemin and the rest of the Daughters didn't implement this change for the sake of change itself, but rather to evolve the life of a Sister in today's world. St. Vincent and St. Louise founded the Daughters of Charity essentially with no specific habit. They all wore the cornette so as to blend in with the French peasants, the poor they were serving. Over the years, French fashion among the poor changed but the Daughters never did.

Before anyone thinks Mother Guillemin changed too many things or was too radical, let it be known that she, in my opinion, embodies that perfect “in between” of Vatican II that I was searching for. She did not change so much that her community left the ideals of the Catholic Church or their Founders behind, but rather she clung more tightly unto the two. She remained always faithful to the Roman Catholic Church and her fidelity to the Pope was impeccable, obedient (and pushing all the Sisters to do the same) to all the decrees of the Holy Father. Of all the changes happening during Vatican II, she wrote: “let us acknowledge clearly that evolution is not revolution, renovation is not innovation. It is not a question of making a clean sweep of the past, of rebuilding everything into something new.”

The Daughters of Charity today live on Mother Guillemin's legacy. They no longer wear the cornette, yet they continue on a “uniformity” as Mother Guillemin wanted for the community. The Sisters wear their “uniform” of blue with pride. Though the clothes themselves may be different, the blue color and the skirt/blouse combination unites them all. As an alternative to the scratchy starchy cornette, Sisters may also choose to wear a dark blue coiffe, a short veil. The governance Mother Guillemin set in place continues today, allowing for a wider and greater communication between the Motherhouse in France and countries all around the world. Her push for Sisters to complete professional training in their field evolved into what it is today, an encouragement to pursue higher education for the sake of better serving the poor.

The Sisters also follow her example of charity, which she had followed from St. Vincent and St. Louise and Sisters before her. Mother Guillemin did everything from work in an orphanage, heal and comfort the wounded of World War II as air raids played out all around her, and serve her fellow Sisters as a Sister Servant (superior of a house), Visitatrix (superior of a province), and Superioress General.

Mother Guillemin died unexpectedly in March 1968, shortly after being nominated by the Pope as a consultor of the Congregation of Religious and before the end of her term as Superioress General. Yet, I believe what St. Vincent said to the Sisters about St. Louise's death can ring true for Mother Guillemin as well: “Mademoiselle Le Gras is praying for you in Heaven, and she will not be less useful to you now than she was before, nay, more so, provided you are faithful to God”

Sr Denise: Vocations Director and True Daughter of Charity

I actually took this picture! It was at
my behavioral assessment needed for
the prepostulancy application!

I believe highly in thanking someone when they've done something incredible for me. And next Sunday, I'll be able to thank personally a Sister that has helped me, guided me, and served me so amazingly on this road to pre-postulancy (she's at the beach vacationing it up right now). It may not seem like a big deal to start pre-postulancy, but it is for me, it's a VERY big deal...because it's the beginning of the road to my true vocation, what I've been searching for for years.

Usually, when I write about specific Sisters, the impact they've had on my life and their dedication to the charism of the Daughters of Charity, it's on Sister Denise's blog. Today is different...because today, I want to talk about the author of that blog - Sister Denise LaRock.

I first met Sister Denise in 2004, on my first discernment retreat. She was not then vocations director yet, just a Sister that accompanied us on the retreat. It was there, with her help, that I was shown the humanity of Sisters. And the hilarity of Sisters. Namely her, who has a dry sarcastic sense of humor that always makes me crack up.

We wouldn't meet again for another six years, when I decided to contact the Daughters of Charity again after living in Bolivia, and it would actually take a few months before we realized that we had met before! When I emailed her about my renewed interest, Sister Denise invited me to her house for prayers and dinner. I, although sort of admittedly scared, agreed. After that night, while the prayer life, down-to-earth-ness, and mission of the Daughters attracted me, what really struck me was something Sr. Denise did. Soon after I accepted the invitation to come over for prayers/dinner, she asked "I usually serve at a soup kitchen Thursday nights before dinner. Want to come?" So, I accepted that invitation too. In the basement of that church, we served the Baltimore homeless dinner and I watched as she did more than serve - she sat and talked with the homeless, asked them how their day was going, how the kids were doing in school, etc.

On the car ride back, she told me that that particular soup kitchen wasn't run by the Daughters and she added "I love being vocations director and it's an important job but, at the same time, it doesn't allow me a lot of service with the poor. So I go there when I can" That night began a great attraction to the Daughters for me and it was that simple comment and act that meant more than anything. I saw that Sister Denise didn't serve the poor out of pure obligation to the mission of her religious community but rather it was something she wanted to do. By her example, I saw how devoted the Daughters of Charity were to the poor. I had seen it before in Sr Mary Elko in Bolivia but it was Sister Denise who showed me that the Daughters of Charity was not an institution, but rather a group of individuals completely on fire with love for the poor.

I obviously continued in my interest in the Daughters of Charity. And Sister Denise was one of the best vocations director a person could ask for. She was so completely down-to-earth; I felt like I could ask her anything (and I mean anything) and she would give me a clear-cut answer. She would take time out of her schedule to set up visits or meet at McDonald's or Double T to talk or choose books for me to read. To my shock, she was completely okay with me emailing her a gazillion times in the day with questions or reflections or anything really that popped in my head. And I never felt pressured into anything, I never felt like I was being "recruited". When the time would come, Sr Denise would just say "Well, here's what we could do next. What do you think?"

It was true that I was scared to contact Sister Denise at first. Partially because I had been in another community before and I didn't know what the Daughters would think of that, partially because I was afraid to contact a vocations director (it's usually scary to share these private thoughts with someone you don't know!) I know this fear is an issue with most discerners - at least it was for me. I wrote this post to thank Sister Denise and show the world her awesomeness but also a message - if you're discerning, don't be afraid to contact the vocations director of whatever community you might be interested in. Even if you later find out it's not for you, you won't regret contacting them. Believe me.

And if you're thinking about the Daughters of Charity, don't be afraid to contact Sr Denise because...well, she's awesome.