Today, all over the world, about 19,000 women who have pledged their lives as Daughters of Charity renew their vows of poverty, chastity, obedience and service of the poor. On the feast of the Annunication, the feast of Mary's "yes", women are saying their own "yes" to God's call.

It's almost as if it's a wave - starting with our sisters in Australia, in Asia (Cambodia, Jordan, China, Kazakhstan, Eastern Russia, Korea, India, Laos, Lebanon, Indonesia, Phillipines, Iran, Syria, Israel, Thailand, Japan and Vietnam), in Europe (Albania, Poland, Austria, Belarus, Belguim, Portugal, Croatia, France, Czech Republic, Romania, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Germany, Great Britian, Greece, Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Switzerland, Macedonia, Turkey, Ukraine and the Netherlands)  in Africa (Algeria, Kenya, Angola, Libya, Burundi, Madagascar, Cameroon, Mauritania, Chad, Morocco, Congo, Mozambique, Egypt, Nigeria, Equatorial Guinea, Rwanda, Eritrea, Tanzania, Ethiopia, Tunisia and Ghana), in Latin America (Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama, Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay, Brazil, Cuba, Dominican Republic, Haiti and Puerto Rico), and then in the United States. (By the way, that's an average of 208 Sisters per country!)

Sr. Denise LaRock, the vocations director for the Daughters of Charity, wrote a beautiful blog post about the renewal of vows today. You can find it here - http://srdenisedc.blogspot.com/2012/03/feast-of-annunciation-and-renewal-of.html. Definitely worth the read!

Thirty-two years ago today....

A shot was heard, its sound's echo eventually reaching all the ends of the earth. As a Salvadoran archbishop prepared the gifts of bread and wine at the offertory after the homily, a shot went through his chest. He grabbed unto the altar cloth to steady himself but fell backwards, with the communion hosts now scattered on the floor, and died.

It was a shot that would eventually ring in the whole world's ears. His name was Oscar Romero. He had only been archbishop of San Salvador, the capital, for three years - certainly a short term and maybe not enough to make a real impact. But a real impact he did make.

El Salvador was at the start of a horrible bloody civil war - the military-led government against leftist guerrilla groups, a civil war that would continue for 12 more years after Romero's martyrdom. People were disappearing, people were being murdered daily, some streets littered with blood. The Church was being persecuted, as the government thought priests and nuns who worked with the poor were subversives, egging on the poor against the government. I know several Sisters that lived during that time period in El Salvador and they recall that they've never been more scared in their life. One Sister, a young girl at the time, was walking to school when she saw a young naked body lying face down on the sidewalk surrounded by military soldiers. She held her books more tightly, lowered her eyes to her feet so no one would notice her and switched to the other sidewalk. Another Sister remembers bombs going off near the convent. The novice mistress ordered them to hide wherever they could and they scattered. She hid in a closet, where she stayed for hours afraid to move even after the explosions stopped. Meanwhile, the novice mistress assumed her dead because she couldn't find her.

The time was tense and everyone who spoke out was soon killed or mysteriously disappeared. But Archbishop Romero chose not to care about that. He knew he might be killed - he even said so. It was a radical act of courage to speak up for those who were gone every day, to denounce the violence in his publicly-heard homilies over the radio. He refused to attend government functions he was invited to "until the repression stops". He wrote a letter to US President Jimmy Carter, begging him to stop sending arms to El Salvador.

But Romero wasn't radical for radical's sake. He probably never saw his ideas as "radical" and I won't even say his ideas were radical. Everything he said was said out of love. The same love of neighbor Jesus Christ called for. The same love cloistered nun St. Therese called for in his "Little Way". The same love St. Vincent de Paul called for in his love for the poor. In fact, something Romero said in February 1980 could well have been something Saint Vincent de Paul would have said some 300 years earlier: "We believe that from the transcendence of the Gospel, we can assess what the life of the poor consists of and we also believe that placing ourselves on the side of the poor and attempting to give them life we will know what the eternal truth of the Gospel consists of."

Monseñor Oscar Romero is the "unofficial" saint of Latin America, a region I feel a deep affinity for, starting in high school and continuing until now, an affinity that led me to live in Bolivia for two years and visit a number of Latin American countries throughout the years. But that is not the reason I remember him today.

I remember him today as an outstanding example of what I, as a believer in Jesus Christ and follower of the spirituality of Saint Vincent de Paul, should be. I'm not called to be an archbishop, probably not called to be a martyr, probably not called to speak out against injustice publicly despite fear of death, but I am called to love all, most especially love the poor as St Vincent, St Louise, St Elizabeth Ann and Monseñor Romero did....for that is where Christ is and that is where the gritty work of the Gospel lies. Love is what will win, love is what Christ tells us to do more than anything else.

“Let us not tire of preaching love; it is the force that will overcome the world. Let us not tire of preaching love. Though we see that waves of violence succeed in drowning the fire of Christian love. Love must win out; it is the only thing that can." - Archbishop Oscar Romero (1917 - 1980)

Who is one of your personal heroes? Why do you remember them?

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.

The Vows: A Church's Rebellion Against Our Culture

It's quiet in the house. Then again, it's almost always quiet here - a result of living with all introverts. But today it's especially quiet - not a footstep is heard, not any snippet of a conversation, not a creaking of the stairs.

Today, the four Sisters I live with are in retreat in preparation for renewing their vows next Monday. Usually these retreats, since they are universal for everyone in the house, are made in the house rather than a retreat center. Not a word is spoken out of respect for the contemplative nature of the retreat, which explains why our little house on Ward Street is so still today.

If you were observant, you noticed I said something that is not typical of other religious communities - "...for renewing their vows next Monday" Religious orders only renew their vows in the juniorate -otherwise, there are first vows and final/perpetual vows. The Daughters of Charity are not a religious order. Rather, we're a Society of Apostolic Life, one of St Vincent de Paul's genius inventions for us. Unlike the description on Wikipedia, the Daughters do take vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, just like any other religious order.  The difference is they renew them every year (with the intent of forever) instead of making one perpetual vow.

This retreat allows the Sisters to mentally, emotionally and spiritually prepare themselves for their renewal of the commitment to poverty, chastity, obedience and service to the poor (that being the fourth vow). The silence allows myself, not technically on retreat, to reflect on the vows that I hope to one day make.
I believe that my generation longs to rebel against our current culture. We're sick of the materialism, sick of the sex and violence blared at us 24/7, sick of the judgment. I believe that that's why Catholicism has seen a burst of vocations to the contemplative and cloistered life, indeed a beautiful thing. The 20-somethings, such as myself, maybe not even just those in the Catholic world, are aching for something different.

Each of the four vows the Daughters of Charity take - poverty, chastity, obedience, and service of the poor - screams against our modern culture. Poverty is at odds with the materialism of the world, chastity at odds with our sex-centered culture, obedience at odds with individualism and egoism, and service of the poor contrary to our society's need to materialism and comfort. I am, in no way, rejecting the world. There are positive things in our culture, such as our need to keep learning, a need for every voice to be heard and a continuous effort to be tolerant of all races and religions. There are good people in the world and I believe there are more counter-cultural people (against the negative aspects) out there than we realize, maybe even more counter-cultural people than "cultural". Taking these four vows is something truly radical and not easy. It never has been, not even back in the 1600s when the community started. I have a real admiration for those who make these vows, Daughters of Charity and other religious orders alike. The vows are a way the Church rebels against our current culture. In that way, we try to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, who is counter-cultural both in His time and ours.

When I think of the Sisters I live with as 'rebels', it makes me chuckle because these are women who (seemingly) quietly live out their lives as school principals, pastoral associates, homeless shelter directors, etc. Yet the truth is they are rebels. Our culture tells them they shouldn't be working for free, tells them they shouldn't be living on a simple monthly "allowance", tells them they should be with husbands or boyfriends. But these four Sisters - ranging from ages 79 to 51 - say "no, thanks", make a yearly promise to go the opposite direction and, by doing so, rebel against what our culture is constantly telling them to do. It truly is an audacious thing to do.

Not all of us are being called to make these radical vows - poverty, chastity, obedience and service to the poor - but each of us is called to rebel against our culture in Christ's name. We are called to rebel against the negative things of our culture, even if it's simply showing the world our rebellion by something like the vows all religious take. The question is - how do you rebel? How do you embrace the positive things in our culture and reject the negative? How do you follow in the footsteps of the counter-cultural Jesus?

(Picture from the Vincentian image gallery, believed to be a French vow day card)

An Open Letter to St. Louise de Marillac

Dear Sister Louise,
As a good writer, I feel every letter, especially to someone I've never written to before, needs an introduction. But as I wrote to Monsieur Vincent, I'm not sure that I need to write one to you. Do you already know who I am? Do you and Vincent have conversations in heaven, or even laughs, over your postulants?

It was awkward in the beginning to write to Vincent in a familiar way, yet I do not have that awkwardness writing you. Did you know, Sister Louise, that you're the one saint that I wish I could talk to face-to-face? Don't get me wrong - Vincent is great and so are the million others. But if God gave me a proverbial coffee-shop date with one saint, I would pick you (even though you seem more like a tea person).

You're probably wondering "well, why me?" It's not because, as a good Daughter of Charity postulant, I should pick the foundress of my community (though that may have a bit to do with it) It's for a more personal and maybe superficial reason. See, I think you and I are more alike than both of us may think. Please know I mean that in the most humble way. I certainly don't mean my canonization process is coming anytime soon.

We're both avid perfectionists, both of us probably to an annoying fault. From the almost 400-year old writings/letters we have from you, that's pretty darn obvious. You even write about how there were points where you were even afraid to receive Communion because of your inadequacy! Truthfully, your perfectionism makes me smile....because I think "Yes, thank God I am not the only one!" So my question, Sister Louise, is how did you deal with it? How did you reconcile that scared perfectionist self with the self that is on fire with love of God and charity?

Our proverbial coffee-shop conversation may actually be egotistical on my part, to which I apologize. My poor excuse is that I believe it is during religious life formation is like a mirror of our selves, showing a reflection we've never fully seen before. That reflection sometimes leads to lots of questions, whose answers aren't too easy to find. And as for me, I have lots of questions.

But enough about me - those questions will have to wait for another letter, not an "open" one. Next Thursday (the 15th), we celebrate 352 years since your death. I like to think you already know but, just in case you didn't, your Daughters are strong, a characteristic both borne out of you and their spirit of humility, simplicity and most of all love of Jesus Christ.They're truly servants of the poor, our Masters, but in ways you couldn't have even possibly imagined back then. There's even conversation going around about how we can use our cell phones for outreach in your spirit! Yes, cell phones! The Company isn't perfect, yet I can imagine you being awfully suspicious if it were. I can imagine you telling Vincent "there's something going on here that no one's telling us about...." Yet I think you would be proud of your Daughters. Please keep praying for us. Please keep interceding for us. Please continue to watch over us...and maybe even have a few laughs while you're at it.

I have a deep-rooted feeling that one day that proverbial coffee-shop date will happen - though be it in heaven, where I'll come to you with even deeper questions. Or maybe I won't even say anything, maybe the two of us will sit and drink our coffee (or tea) in silence and smile, as only two really good friends who have spent such time together can do. Meanwhile, though, I remain here on earth, clumsily trying to follow in Jesus' footsteps as you yourself did, and hope that I'm doing you and the Company proud.

In love of Jesus crucified,
Amanda

Discernment

I beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them, and the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

- Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Back in high school, I loved going to the bookstore (heck, I still love going to the bookstore) and looking through novels in Spanish. I would flip through them, see the letters jumbled in an order I didn't understand with their mix of accents and tildes and think to myself "One day, I'm going to be able to read this. And without a dictionary" I was only in my second, third or fourth year of taking Spanish, but I had the die-hard ambition of reading those novels but I knew I couldn't just pick it up and read. I would be looking up every other word in the dictionary, mistaking verbs for nouns, not following the tense. So instead I waited and I learned in the meantime. About four years later, in college, I'd be reading the 380-page novel Iacobus in Spanish. Even later still, I'd be in Bolivia, pulling out Spanish novels in our personal library to read for fun.

I think that's what discernment is like.
It's about waiting.
It's about learning.
It's about frustration as we impatiently want the answers NOW and/or as we get frustrated with ourselves for not knowing the answers.
It's about confusion as we navigate through the jungle of vocation and temptation.
It's about discovery, the discovery of who we really are and why God made us.
It's about mystery as we watch our life unfold before us.

Choices of the Heart: Why My Heart Chose the Daughters of Charity

Let me set the scene -
Three good friends, two postulants and one discerner. Three amazing vocations directors, one from Baltimore, one from Indiana, one from California.
Setting: Evansville, Indiana - home of many geese, jokingly the "Witness Protection" capital of the country, and home of the Seminary (novitiate) of the Daughters of Charity and a Sisters' retirement home.

All of that made from an amazing retreat.

It really led me to reflect on how much I absolutely love this community. There is no perfect community (if you're a discerner looking for one, sorry but you won't find it) However, the Daughters of Charity are the perfect community for me. There's something exhuberantly joyful about not only fitting into a community, but also them "fitting into you". The Daughters aren't for everyone - some are looking for something more contemplative, others are looking for a community that are only teachers or nurses, others are looking for a community without a habit, others are attracted to the spirituality of St Francis or St John Bosco or St Paul, etc - but they are definitely for me.

So, why do I love the Daughters? Here are my top 10 reasons:

The Motherhouse chapel

10) Our motherhouse is in Paris, France. I mean, come on, have you been there? Okay, me neither. But to know that as a Daughter of Charity, I will be visiting Paris at least once in my life is pretty awesome. On a related Paris note, our Superior General (the Superior General of the Vincentians) grew up just a few miles from me (in the US, not France)

9) They still have a habit. Certainly not reason #1, but there's something comforting about a Sister in habit, even our simple dress in blue. Plus, there's the option of the wearing the coif (veil) or not.

8) Their life is a balance of contemplation and action. St Vincent emphasized that service doesn't mean anything if we don't pray as well. We pray as a community twice a day as well as at meals. We have "Sharing" every week, which is a way for us to share spiritual reflections with each other, whether it be about our ministry or something else. In preparation for a life of service to the poor, the Daughters have Seminary, similar to a novitiate in a religious order - almost two years of contemplation, prayer, and reflection.

7) They're worldwide. Like really worldwide. There are about 20,000 Daughters around the world serving in more than 91 countries. On a smaller national scale, I got to see that in Evansville this past weekend as I visited the retirement home and local communities and met Sisters I had never seen before in my life.

6) The Daughters of Charity have a long list of saints and blesseds, with more on the way. Of the saints, we're the community of the patron saint of social workers, a young woman whom Mary appeared to, and the first American-born saint. Of the blesseds, there's a long list including martyrs of the French revolution, the first beatified Brazilian and a French Sister who served the poor (and rich) without counting the cost.

5) Their history is fascinating. From the founding in 1633 when St Vincent de Paul discovered a sly way of getting around the canonical rule that Sisters had to be cloistered, to the French Revolution when so many Sisters were martyred, to the 1800s with St Elizabeth Ann Seton and her community (which eventually combined with the Daughters) to the present with so many Sisters serving in so many different ways.

4) Despite the fact that their vocation was something revolutionary in the Church at the time (there were no 'apostolic' Sisters before) and they live a radical life, they also cling to what is considered traditional. The Blessed Mother appeared to St Catherine Laboure, a Daughter of Charity, and was the inspiration for the Miraculous Medal. Every Daughter has a deep devotion to the Miraculous Medal and postulants (like yours truly) receive a Miraculous Medal to wear. Every year, the Company is consecrated to Mary.

3) The Daughters are so down to earth. Maybe it's part of their charism - after all, our Founders Prayer says "at their school, teach us to love in the strength of our arm and the sweat of our brow". Or their history - they were the first Sisters that went out in the world to serve others. Whatever it is, they don't pretend to be perfect and don't show themselves as anything more or less than servants of the poor. Another related reason - besides the habit, none of them are the same. There is no "cookie-cutter" Daughter of Charity. One saying goes "when you've met one Daughter of Charity....you've met one Daughter of Charity"

2) Their entire mission is to serve Christ in the poor. Nothing less. And that means doing it in whatever way is needed, where it is needed, etc.

1) I feel a strong urge that God is calling me here. Things aren't perfect (but what is?) but I truthfully feel the most joyful when I am with them. I couldn't imagine myself happy anywhere else.

And that means everything.