Benedictine Sisters of FL

Holy Name Monastery
Founded 1889

Covid

God’s Work Through the Benedictine Sisters of Florida

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Face-to-Face Fundraising for causes that do good work in our communities is rapidly changing.  The pandemic continues to linger and people are not yet ready to attend big-group gatherings.

Giving Tuesday has become a world-wide phenomenon since it’s 2012 inception.  Amazingly giving was up even during the Year of Covid-19.  Even so, it has been sad to see that some non-profits still did not survive.  That has made Giving Tuesday even more important in making more people aware of charity.  The 24-hour event has also inspired younger people – not always prone to giving.

Income the Benedictine Sisters of Florida traditionally make both within the monastery and through jobs held, has been dramatically reduced since March 2020.  A few of the Sisters lost jobs outside the monastery as well.

Please consider being an Ambassador, sharing our story and encouraging your friends and and family to join you in donating on Giving Tuesday, November 30, 2021.  Make it more fun and more impactful by forming your own Giving Circle (email Faith Pridmore to learn how easy it is)!    hnmdevelopment@saintleo.edu

 

The “How to” on GivingTuesday:

1.  Donate by Mail:

  • Send a check payable to Benedictine Sisters of Florida postmarked by Nov. 30th
  • PO Box 2450, St. Leo, FL 33574-2450

2.  Donate Online:

  • Go to our website: benedictinesistersoffl.org
  • Click on the “Donate Now” button at the top of the page
  • Fill-in the form and designate your donation for “Giving Tuesday”

 

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Come away. To a deserted place. All by yourselves. And rest a while.

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It seems to me we would be hard put to find a more appropriate Gospel for people preparing to travel in COVID times.  Jesus invites us: Come away by yourself to a deserted place and rest awhile.  “Ah, but Jesus,” you might be thinking: “most of us are tired of “deserted places.”  But the idea of “rest while” from all the restrictions, the tangible fears, the ZOOM meeting.  Now, that’s appealing.”

And, we’d think it bizarre for a traveler not to be prepared for their journey.  We’d feel pity for the poor traveler who never read his/her itinerary and knew what the changing CDC requirements for the day of travel and at the destination.  Which of these hundreds of aircraft might go where I want to go is the most safety conscious?  Another summer the journey might not be the destination.  We might be looking forward to the great feeling of just relaxing and enjoying a drive.  Without wondering are we there yet?  Does this motel look clean?  Does this station have gas?  Another summer we might view a crowded restaurant parking lot as a sign of “good food.”  Today, we search for a place “not too crowded” for social distancing.

This week Jesus invites us, forget all that and “come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”  There are four parts to that statement – each one means something on its own:  Come away.  To a deserted place.  All by yourselves.  And rest a while.

Some people (surely not any of us) wear a badge of busyness as if it were a badge of honor.  You might hear: “How are things going?”  “Well, it been pretty crazy, I’ve been busy all day.  Not enough time for everything.”  The implicit message being: “I’m worthwhile because I’m busy.”  But, you and I know it’s not really a badge of honor – it a sign of an imbalanced life …   Remember the little saying: “all work and no play makes Jill a dull person.”  There’s a better one: “Never get so busy making a living that you forget to make a life.”

Listen closely to Jesus’ words of invitation.  He says precisely: Come away.  He doesn’t say “get away” or “go away.”  No, he says: “Come away.”  An invitation that implies companionship” with the one whose yoke is easy.  The One who promises His burden is light.

To a deserted place.  I’m reminded of a message a few years ago from our retreat director Abbot Primate Gregory Polan: “It is my conviction that monasteries are among the most important places to our world today …  what we offer is a warm welcome, whoever you are and whatever your story in life tells; we say, ‘come and be with us and find healing in the Word of God that we offer you’.”  During COVID times our message from Holy Name may have been less “come away” but it was nonetheless sincere.  Our Development Staff, with the input of some of the Sisters has reached out through Eblasts, website posts, snail mail and ZOOM opportunities.  These were, and will continue to be invitation to our readers to recharge their spiritual batteries – to take time out of their self-made busyness trenches to keep company with God.

The view from the street here at the monastery offers sight of our grounds that are seen as an oasis for world-weary guests.  But the seeds we plant must be sown more deeply than the grass.  How good would a farm be if the owners only painted the silos and mended the fences?  But never sowed seeds: no veggies, no fruit = no dinner.

Just in case you missed it, the invitation Jesus extends is to be “All by yourselves.”  Jesus really means it.  We have to find and take advantage of moments of quietness and prayer.  The traffic can be whizzing by but in the quiet in the car I’m driving – maybe with gentle music in the background – can afford us time for “tightening the bonds that bind us ever closer to God and each other.”

And finally, Jesus says: Rest a while.  This isn’t laziness.  It’s not a perpetual state.  It’s temporary.  It’s for a while.  But, for that while, it’s about rest.  We cannot just minister to others day by day, month by month.  We won’t be able to take care of others if we don’t make time to cater to ourselves and our own needs.  We need to embrace the spiritual practice of rest.  And, while some may think you’re a little crazy (or lazy)…you’ll be crazy in all the right ways.

First, forget technology exists – except maybe for some soft, calming music.  Build in down-time to explore your feelings and get to the core of changes you need to make.  Seize the opportunity to enjoy nature, the glorious sky, the rolling clouds and that rainbow.  Take time to just BE.

Little by little you’ll discover that these “desert times” when you “come away awhile by yourself” with God can lift you out of life’s ruts and be restorative balm for body and spirit.

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress

 

First Reading  Jeremiah 23:1-6     Second Reading  Ephesians 2:13-18
Gospel Mark 6:30-34
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“Do Whatever He Tells You”

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Did you hear that?  Jesus said: “Ask for whatever you want and it will be given you.”  I wonder how many times he may have said that to his parents?  Isn’t that the same directive Mary gave the wine servers at the wedding feast at Cana?  This is May and May is traditionally the month of Mary.”  As one author notes: “Many Christians (particularly Catholics) consecrate themselves to the virgin Mary … to become ‘another Mary for Jesus, a faithful, loving, and trusting companion of the Savior.”  We see that trustful relationship between mother and Son at that wedding feast.  It seems to me that’s a good message to ponder in the time and space we find ourselves in this week.  “Do whatever He tells you.” [you may recall some of what comes next …]

The miracle at Cana has never ceased happening.  Every moment of every day Christ pours himself into the empty jars of our lives.  He is the GOOD WINE – extravagant, abundant, endless.  We can’t understand how it happens.  We don’t know how it happens.  We only know that it does happen.  We’ve experienced it and witnessed moments when death is turned into life, sorrow into joy, and despair into hope.  We’ve been surprised when fear was transformed into courage and we’ve seen people do things they never thought possible.  We’ve done what we thought was impossible!  We’ve known moments when empty lives have been filled back up. So …

When the wine runs out and you are confused –  but others are looking for answers – (recall what Mary told the wine servers) – DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When the wine runs out, and troubles swirl about you so your head is a muddle … When COVID is raging and safety guidelines are restrictive, turn to our Savior who was constrained on a Cross …  and, DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When the wine runs out, and you know aridity and still you struggle to be upbeat … When the wine runs out, when a loved one dies or a friendship withers, DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When good intentions don’t fill the void but only seem to pave the road to you-know-where – DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When your illusion of self-sufficiency is shattered and your spirit is empty, and you shake your water jar and hear the sound of hollowness, don’t despair – just … DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When the day is a disaster, an embarrassment, a failure, grab your empty jar, fill it with what water of your tears and then DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When your wine is running low, and no one else seems to notice, listen to your mother; remember what she told you: DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When life lacks vibrancy and the future is colorless, fill your jar with the water of common life, not bottled water, not Dasani or Zephyrhills water … the water of your everyday life, and DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When hope wears thin and faith is shaky; when you’re filled with guilt for deeds left undone and offenses given, bend your knee and bow your head and, DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When life is full of changes that threaten, lean into the One who is changeless.  When you have more questions than answers, there’s an answer for any query … DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

When your best efforts fall short and your life-glass looks more than half-empty, breathe deeply and, DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

“They have no wine,” Mary said.  But they will.  The miracle always begins when the wine gives out.  Regardless of how it feels or what we think about it, the day the wine runs out is the beginning of a miracle.  Christ does not simply refill our glasses.  He transforms our lives, turning water into wine.  That which was colorless becomes vibrant.  That which had no taste now tingles the tongue.  That which had no fragrance now has a full bouquet.

Simply remember this – plant it in your heart: when the wine runs out,

DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU.

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Sister Find Sustenance

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Sisters find spiritual sustenance during year of COVID-19 hardship

~Article by Elizabeth Eisenstadt Evans for the Global Sisters Report, a project of National Catholic Reporter

 

Sr. Marie Duffy had it all planned out, she said.

Settled comfortably into her congregation’s retirement facility, Camilla Hall, the 87-year-old Immaculate Heart of Mary sister, a former guidance counselor, would embrace the “second calling” in her life. “I can’t wait until I can have coffee, have time to pray and not to drive, and just be with God,” Duffy said she remembers thinking. She enjoyed a year with friends on the independent living floor.

Then came the pandemic. After that, a fall. And on Sept. 11, 2020, Duffy entered a local hospital, where she had three surgeries on her leg and hip. For five months, she was bed bound.

“It was a year of very mixed emotions,” said Duffy. “I felt that God was playing a trick on me.”

Cut off from community life and aware that many others were struggling with the impact of the COVID-19 virus, she felt a “deep sadness” even though she was being treated, she said, with love and tenderness. “I found it difficult to talk with my God. I would say, ‘Where are you? Where are you, not just for me but for other people?’ ”

For Catholic sisters, as for many others in America and across the globe, it’s been a brutal year.

Isolation. Disrupted schedules and forced adaptation. Dark nights of the soul. Loss.

Sisters have experienced the death of community members, separation from loved ones, painful months of isolation, and uncertainty. Some sisters shared in candid reflections how the past year had brought not only lifestyle changes, but also prompted them to grapple with deep spiritual questions, such as the purpose of suffering, community and what it feels like when God seems to go quiet. Some provided examples of how — in addition to prayer — spiritual practices rooted in activities such as cooking, acts of kindness and dancing provided a sense of peace and stability.

‘Not in control’

“The pandemic has reminded us that we are essentially not in control of our lives,” said Sr. Sallie Latkovich, a member of the Congregation of St. Joseph living in Chicago who serves as spiritual director and as part of her congregation’s leadership team. “For sisters there’s a fundamental belief, but [also] a new kind of questioning, coming to new awareness and probably actually a deepening of faith.”

Spiritual directors like Latkovich have logged many hours, mostly online, with those navigating uncertainty amid the pandemic. Their directees, a diverse group who often include people of faith who aren’t sisters, are struggling to find meaning and purpose amid pandemic upheaval, loss, and sacrifice.

Requests for spiritual direction have gone up by about 10% during the pandemic, estimated Sr. Carole Riley, 78, a member of the Sisters of Divine Providence who directs the West Virginia Institute for Spirituality. “I can only communicate with people through Zoom, and it’s been intense,” said Riley, who used to travel regularly to Pennsylvania and Ohio. While older sisters have had more training in quiet contemplation, “the loss of touch and ability to communicate [in person] has increased the need for spiritual direction, particularly among the younger 30s and 40s age group.”

The sheer number of people dying sparked deep reflections for her directees, she said, including wondering what they are supposed to be doing with their lives, and how to live them more fully.

Suffering, pain and anxiety were themes that surfaced often in conversations with sisters. Her directees had something else in common: “Across the board, they are talking about decluttering, how to lead a less hectic life. I don’t think we realized how hectic the [religious] life was,” she said. “Then we had to stop, there was a lockdown, and in the face of possible death we were forced to look.”

“My own policy is to feel the fear and the anxiety, acknowledge it,” said Riley. “My first step is to feel the feelings before I turn to prayer or Scripture.”

In New Orleans, Sr. Dorothy Trosclair, a Dominican Sister of Peace, said that her directees, who include sisters, have found themselves bringing their most profound emotions into prayer. “They find God working amid contemporary suffering, political unrest, racism and violence. All of these seem to bring people into deeper dependence on God and each other. They wrestle with suffering and understand on a deeper level that God is also suffering.”

Many faces of loss

In many communities, particularly where older sisters lived in large numbers, those who stayed healthy have been keenly aware that others were not as fortunate. Since May, 47 sisters in Camilla Hall have tested positive for COVID-19, with seven deaths caused by the virus or strongly related to it, according to Immaculate Heart of Mary Sr. Anne Veronica Burrows, Camilla Hall administrator.

“Being in a nursing home, you really do think of suffering and how you would relate to it,” said Camilla Hall resident Sr. Anne Kelly, 83. But “being in a situation where everyone is experiencing some diminishment, you can feel blessed. We pray for the sister who is in great suffering.”

Even younger sisters admit to at times feeling overwhelmed by the pain around them. In the early months of the pandemic, 40-year-old Sr. Erin McDonald, a member of the Congregation of St. Joseph in Detroit, Michigan, who serves as chaplain, said she felt helpless, unsure and scared. She wrestled with some big questions, she said, “how do I respond to the dear neighbor? How do I stand in solidarity with the needs of the time? How do I pray?”

She sought solace by adding two long walks a day to her routine, and a lot of cooking from scratch. “Cooking for me is a contemplative practice,” she said. She answered the question of how to pray by praying more, adding 45 minutes to her evening prayer practice.

Sr. Amanda Russell, 29, said that she’s been praying for a year to be a light in a sometimes-dark world. “I think we religious have had a very important role in the midst of this pandemic,” she said. Given the blessing of time to pray, said the Immaculate Heart of Mary sister, “if we don’t share what we’ve received as grace, then I don’t know what we are doing. Even if it is saying, ‘This is a struggle for me,’ and standing with someone in their struggle.”

She’s had her own struggle, moving from Philadelphia to Savannah, Georgia, to be a teacher at St. James Catholic School mid-pandemic. Because of the timing of the move, she had to miss her renewal of vows ceremony. Though she’s adjusted to her job and the sisters in her new convent, she’s ached for the companionship of her family, still living in a Philadelphia suburb, and her close friends.

“Virtual isn’t the same in any sense as being able to spend time with people.”

In spite of the difficulties, she has tried to do everything in a spirit of joy, she said “because you’re doing it for other people, for God. It all sounds beautiful and holy and sacred until you have to live it.”

Praying through a plague

Prayer, whether it was personal, communal or part of the Mass, was an anchor, many of the sisters said. The upside of a lockdown is that there’s “lots of extra time for prayer,” said Kelly at Camilla Hall. “I have spent a lot more time in the chapel and feel a closeness with the Lord. There are no distractions.”

In addition to solitary devotions, she participates in the liturgical cycles of morning prayer, evening prayer, special prayer services for national events like the election and the insurrection, and community Mass.

“During the shutdown, we had Mass every day in the convent chapel with the priests of our parish. It is hard to put words on what that was like,” wrote Immaculate Heart of Mary Sr. Danielle Truex in an email from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where she is the principal of Sacred Heart School. “First, I felt very privileged and guilty that I was able to attend Mass and receive the Blessed Sacrament when so many others were going without. At the same time, I felt blessed to be able to carry all that was in the hearts of God’s people with me during that time. One of the most meaningful things we did in my local community was to have Adoration each afternoon in our chapel. Normally, our school schedule wouldn’t allow for that amount of time for prayer together and it, along with Mass, became the pillars of each day.”

Some sisters said that they were taking advantage of the opportunity to experience virtual liturgy outside their normal parishes or convents. “I certainly do miss being in person with the community of faith.  However, there is a sense of the community as people post comments through the service,” said Latkovich, who noted the “exquisite” quality of the eucharistic liturgy at Old St. Patrick’s Church in Chicago. “It’s as good as livestream liturgy gets,” she wrote in an email.

Riley said frankly that she doesn’t miss attending Mass. She’s enjoying the experience of exploring online services in other venues — like the Vatican. “Emotionally, I’m free to pray rather than fret I’d bring home the virus and kill my sisters,” she emailed.

The biggest impact the pandemic had on her, said Felician Sr. Desiré Findlay, 34 was that as vocation minister for her community she couldn’t travel to the schools and churches visited regularly before. Nor could she lead in-person retreats. Yet as she moved retreats and discernment opportunities to Zoom, Findlay found that “it opened up an opportunity for us to journey with a wider audience.” Findlay, who has long expressed her spirituality through movement, also began to host liturgical dance Zoom groups.

‘Powerful learnings’

Several sisters said that they made an intentional connection between the social unrest of the past year and the tragic impact of the virus. The killings of George Floyd and others by police, the resulting Black Lives Matter protests of last summer and grappling with pervasive racial injustice will always be intertwined with their experience of the pandemic, they said.

A member of the Adorers of the Blood of Christ, Sr. Mary Kevin Rooney called this past year a “backward grace” that offered the possibility of awakening to some uncomfortable truths about American life. “We can never walk away from what we know about the injustice to our Black brothers and sisters. We can’t go back to ‘that doesn’t involve me.’ ”

The epidemic of inequality has reinforced the “urgent need to look at Black lives in general,” said Findlay. “It definitely got me to ask more questions about these issues. When people of color say that they are worried about getting the vaccine in the first place, I get it.”

In St. Louis, Missouri,  Sr. Clara Mahilia Roache, a member of the Apostles of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, said in an email that the hardest part of the pandemic for her had been “seeing the disparity across the nation in handling the pandemic and the effect on the poor.” For help, and a sense that God is present she has turned to “prayer, podcasts and people,” recommending in particular the podcast “Ask Father Josh” and the weekly audiences held by Pope Francis.

Sisters said that they have developed an even deeper appreciation of the bonds of community. “I see people learning to appreciate the time we can spend with each other, celebrations, all those things,” said Findlay. “God gave us each other, and what we do affects the other.”

In addition, she said, the pandemic has sparked creativity and a deeper desire for connection with sisters here and around the world. A discernment retreat she hosted via Zoom included women from the U.S., Nigeria, Australia, Ireland and Canada. Some have continued these conversations once a month via Zoom, she said.

That sense of community goes beyond congregations. Latkovich praised the mutual care taken by neighbors in her apartment complex, where residents often now check in with each other or offer to shop for someone else when going to the store. “There’s a new sensitivity and a desire to help. The gospel of ‘love your neighbor as yourself’ is happening. I find God present in all of that,” she added.

For sisters here and abroad, the pandemic has been a time of “powerful learnings”, suggested Sr. Lynn Levo, a member of the community of St. Joseph of Carondelet. “We have been strongly reminded that we are relational, emotional beings, with a humanity that is rooted in connection with others,” said Levo. A therapist, Levo said she has been busy since last March helping American and global Catholic leaders, sisters and first line responders understand the impact of the pandemic and how cope with it.

As spiritual people, sisters already know that their own pain is integrally connected to that of others, she said. “It means the opportunities to respond in some way to the injustices happening all around us.” As one elderly sister in a meeting Levo facilitated put it: ” ‘It’s o.k. to be sad.’ I was there offering assistance, and here was a sister who allowed accompaniment.”

In such an unsettled time, cultivating human relationships based on similar candid self-disclosure is crucial, added Levo. She recommended that everyone to have a go-to confidante, even if they aren’t a close friend. “Now we have the gift of time, not only to talk to God but to feel the support of a loving God. One of the things we want to include is our feelings, which are really a deeper sense of who we are.”

New beginnings, new hope

Now on a walker after months of confinement, Duffy is retooling her original game-plan. Still hopeful that she will be able to return to the independent living floor by August of this year, she’s also willing to adjust her expectations if she can’t.

In the meantime, she’s making the best of the situation, taking the opportunity to talk with those on her floor with Alzheimer’s that she sees on her walks up and down the hall, or who stop by the door of her room to chat. That may be, she said, a way she is being called to serve in these circumstances. “I feel that God is somehow using this as a teaching moment for me,” she said. “This is why you have a second calling: time to reach out to people.”

 

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One Year Later

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Our hearts and prayers go out to the many monasteries and convents that have lost Sisters due to the pandemic.  While the Benedictine Sisters of Florida have suffered financial loss, we have been immensely blessed.  None of the Sisters have become ill with the virus nor suffered any serious illness during the pandemic.

With the coronavirus, we are faced with the fragility of life.  Our day will come to meet our Lord and Savior which should be a reminder to be ready.

 

One year later, it’s impossible to know how much we have lost to COVID-19

 ~Article by Dan Stockman for the Global Sisters Report, a project of National Catholic Reporter

 

When the COVID-19 pandemic began a year ago, I read The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History by John M. Barry about the 1918 influenza pandemic.

The book tells how, when the number of infections exploded in Philadelphia, the first major city in the United States hit by the deadly flu, 2,000 nuns from all over the country came to nurse the sick. Hospitals were overwhelmed, so sisters set up clinics anywhere there was space. As a result, 23 of them died from their close contact with the infected.

It occurred to me that hundreds of women religious must have died in that terrible outbreak. There would have been deaths not just among those caring for the sick, but in convents across the country. After all, an estimated 50 million people died worldwide from what became known as “Spanish flu,” and an estimated 675,000 of those deaths were in the United States.

But I could not find any organization that kept track of how many sisters died in that pandemic, let alone told their stories. Hundreds of sisters killed in the United States, and we have no comprehensive record of it beyond those 23. It is an incalculable loss made incomprehensible as it is lost to history.

As I was reading and pondering this in March 2020, convents were going into lockdown, trying to keep sisters safe from the virus that has ravaged their age group. Visitors were barred, travel was canceled, events were postponed.

But it wasn’t enough.

The most insidious part of the COVID-19 virus, of course, is its long incubation period: One can be infected and infect others for up to 14 days before having any symptoms. Some apparently healthy people were, in fact, contagious, and the virus worked its way into convents, retirement homes and assisted-living facilities, where it exploded among the vulnerable population.

As sisters began to die, it quickly became clear that once again, no one was keeping comprehensive track of the religious we were losing. Their ministries, the people they touched, the mountains they moved: All of those stories are in danger of being lost.

I have tried to track them as best I can through Google Alerts and the reader tributes submitted to Global Sisters Report. At least once a week, it seems, there is another sister lost, and sometimes, there are horrible strings of them — a slow-motion story of pain and grief. Occasionally, there are shocking bursts of them all at once.

On April 9, 2020, there were reports that four sisters at the Our Lady of the Angels Convent in Greenfield, Wisconsin, a suburb of Milwaukee, had tested positive for the virus and another had died. Four days later came another death. Then a third, until eventually, six sisters had died at the convent, which specializes in memory care and is shared by the School Sisters of St. Francis and the School Sisters of Notre Dame.

Then came the awful news that four Maryknoll Sisters had died, then a Sister of Charity of Nazareth, a Sister of Mercy, and on and on and on, week after week, month after month.

Among them was Sr. Annelda Holtkamp of the School Sisters of St. Francis in Milwaukee, who was 102. She ministered for decades as a homemaker at convents in Illinois, Nebraska and Wisconsin, serving her fellow sisters until she retired at age 87.

Sr. Raquela Mesa-Acosta from Colombia died while ministering to the Hispanic community in Bridgeport, Connecticut. In her early years in the Congregation of Missionary Sisters of Mary Immaculate and St. Catherine of Siena, she served as a personal assistant to the order’s founder, St. Laura Montoya.

Sr. Georgianna Glose, a Sister of St. Dominic of Amityville, New York, spent 51 years serving people kept poor in Brooklyn’s Fort Greene neighborhood. She also helped sound the alarm on sexual abuse by priests within the Catholic Church. I met her in 2017 while working on a story about Sr. Sally Butler, with whom she lived, and she was outgoing, gregarious and passionate about her ministry.

Sr. Irene Loretta Cassady was beloved at the schools where she taught in Philadelphia. One student said she helped save his life when he was in a coma from a rare blood disorder: She held him in her arms while a priest said last rites. Another time, she insisted on visiting a student in the hospital even though she was in a wheelchair after a severe back injury. She died after nearly 70 years in the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

How many others, though, will we never even know about?

I suspect we all question life and death and God’s plan and what it all means when there is a death close to us. But watching these reports come in week after week, the litany of lives ended too early, left me a little numb.

Then I saw the pain up close and in person.

The Congregation of the Sisters of St. Felix of Cantalice, or Felician Sisters, in Livonia, Michigan, lost 12 sisters from April 10 to May 10, 2020, and a 13th on June 27, 2020. Making the Felicians’ anguish even worse: They could not observe their usual traditions when a sister dies. In fact, they largely couldn’t leave their rooms at all, in an effort to stop the spread of the virus, and spent months in something like solitary confinement.

They were in shock. They had been through profound trauma and had almost no way to express it — until I reached out and asked whether they might be interested in telling their story to GSR. Once they were out of quarantine, I visited them, spending a day doing masked interviews conducted at least 10 feet apart. I was probably the first guest at the convent in months.

They had suffered such incalculable loss, but they wanted to tell their story. They wanted the world to know about these women, who had been teachers, a librarian, an organist, a nurse. They found some comfort in telling their story and even more comfort from the reaction: gifts, notes, love and condolences from around the world.

I had to enter their pain to write about it, but I took comfort that their story was told and that it brought them some measure of healing. You cannot share in someone’s grief and not be changed.

The reports of sisters dying continued through the summer, fall and winter. And my efforts to track them are completely inadequate: The Google Alerts and reader tributes only find the late sisters that someone wrote a news story about or sent in to GSR. If there is only an obituary, the sister’s death won’t show up in a news search; a search of obituaries would miss any that do not include the words “COVID” or “coronavirus,” which is most of them. My sifting of sister deaths overseas is even worse, as it only includes English-speaking countries or English-language coverage.

This poor accounting has found 95 sisters lost to COVID-19 in the United States, but the true number must be at least triple that. The deaths I know about outside the United States number only 155. I hate to even think about what the real number — and scope of the loss — is.

One community I talked to explained they have a standard practice when a sister dies: An obituary is published, and she is added to the list of deceased sisters on the website. They do that whether the sister was well-known with significant public achievements or whether she had a ministry of prayer. To issue a press release or allow a news story about only some sisters who died simply because of what caused their death wouldn’t be right, they told me.

I understand that. But the greater church needs to know the extent of our loss. We have no full concept of what this pandemic has cost us. We cannot fully mourn these sisters if we don’t know they’re gone.

We’re supposed to learn from history, yet we are repeating it. I can only imagine someone 100 years from now wondering what the toll was among those who dedicated their lives to serving God and his people and finding that no one counted them.

Perhaps this is a job for researchers rather than reporters, or each country’s umbrella organizations for religious. I don’t have the answers, only the questions that need to be asked.

This reaping is already tragic. We owe it to those who died to be able to tell future generations what we lost.

 

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That in All Things God May Be Glorified

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The Benedictine Sisters of Florida respond to the needs of the community in multiple ways.  While we are more conscious now more than ever about food insecurity due to the coronavirus crisis, one of our ongoing ministries is running the local food bank and thrift shop, Daystar Hope.  One of our Sisters, Sister Jean Abbott, is the executive director and other Sisters volunteer to ensure those in need have access to food, clothing and other necessary items for living.  For the past several years, 8 to 10 tons of food have been distributed monthly.  Once Covid hit, all the food distribution centers closed.  Daystar quickly reopened knowing the intensity of the need.  We network to obtain donations from individuals, churches, stores and various groups to add to what the USDA provides.

For 24 years the Sisters have provided a Thanksgiving Day dinner for the poor and those alone.  A sit-down dinner is held at Saint Anthony of Padua’s parish hall on the day with all the trimmings for 250 to 300 guests.  Along with our faithful volunteers, we also deliver meals to those who are home-bound.  The night before Thanksgiving is fun as we gather with volunteers to peel 125 pounds of potatoes!

Of course the 2020 event had to be cancelled due to Covid.  However, perseverance prevailed and we partnered with the Knights of St. Mark the Evangelist parish and First Presbyterian Church, Dade City to provide special food baskets.  God is good.

 

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