Last night a gathering of 300 Catholic Sisters under 65 from 25 countries and 6 continents prayed as one during the opening ritual of Hope 2025. This 4-day event, held at Fraterna Domus retreat center outside Rome, is an opportunity during this Jubilee year for the next generations of religious life to explore the current and emerging realities of and concretely experience the gift of the global sisterhood. About two-thirds of us are here in person, with the rest participating online.
We began singing with our special musical guests, Gen Verde.
This is our dream, across the oceans and deserts, we’ll join our hearts to walk together.
A world of Hope, is our tomorrow if only we learn to live for one another.
And we will see we are one.
Looking around the room, sitting at my table with sisters from Australia, Dominican Republic, Korea, New Zealand, Vietnam and the US, I felt that the dream is becoming reality in our midst.
In the opening ritual sisters from the continents brought our foremothers and founders to the circle. We prayed with all of our charisms, different aspects of the charism of religious life to witness to the Gospel in our wounded and weary world. I was literally brought to tears, tears of Hope and Joy and Possibility.
And to think we have four more full days to bask in this global sisterhood.
God is good. All the time God is good. Sometimes we are just more aware of that reality and this graced experience I know is one of those times.
Yesterday I had the opportunity to watch the opera Dead Man Walking performed at the Meteopolitan Opera House in New York.
The story and witness of Sister Helen Prejean is familiar to me. I have read her memoir and of course saw the movie. On a personal note, when I was sharing my surprising news of becoming a Catholic Sister, she was a helpful reference point. More than once I found myself saying, “Think more Susan Sarandon in Dead Man Walking than Sally Field in Flying Nun,” especially to my non-Catholic friends.
I have also met Sister Helen, several years ago, when she spoke at an event for one of our CSJP sponsored ministries and I have heard her talk several times. I was delighted to discover that the Opera does justice to her sense of humor. I have long thought that her sense of humor must be part of what keeps her going in her ministry as an advocate to stop the death penalty.
Yesterday afternoon, absorbed in the Opera, I also saw depicted what I also suspect is part of what keeps her going … being part of a community.
From the very beginning of the Opera, she is supported and challenged by her religious sisters, from her decision to visit an inmate on death row she has been writing all the way through the heartache of accompanying him to his final breath. There is one scene at the beginning of Act II, pictured above, where one of her sisters hears Helen cry out in a nightmare and comes to check on her. Their duet is lovely and real and grounded in the charism of the Sisters of St Joseph of Medaille to serve the dear neighbor. Sister Rose neighbors her friend Helen. More than that, she shares the journey with her sister and friend in a very real way.
You can feel as Sister Helen takes the next heart breaking steps of the journey with Joseph, the man on death row, that she brings the strength from her community with her. She builds a relationship with Joe, as she calls him. She neighbors him.
We have a saying in our community, where one of us ministers, we are all there. This depiction of Sister Helen’s story, the combination of the beautiful music and the creative if stark staging and incredible performances somehow made this clear. Even when it was only Sister Helen on stage with the warden or the priest or Joe, or with the victims’ parents, I could sense her sense that she was not alone. God was with her, and so were her sisters.
To be honest, despite the costume choice (all the sisters were wearing the same drab gray dress rather than the clothes of the day Sister Helen and the CSJs actually wear), the opera was one of the best expressions of apostolic religious life lived in community I have ever seen in art.
This past week at the LCWR was awe and wonder filled as close to 700 elected leaders of women’s congregations explored what it means to be the presence of love in our weary world. I am still processing and finding words for the experience.
We used the practice of contemplative dialogue throughout our days. I was invited into the privilege of being one of the designated listeners who paid attention to the movement of the spirit and the wisdom emerging among us.
On Friday, we began our last day with a converation on the stage amkng four of my age peers in leadership. After their sharing, some of the listeners were invited to reflect. This is what I shared as a reflection on what I was hearing and noticing. We are called to conspire together to disrupt the narrative of diminishment and witness to the emerging narrative of communion.
We are called to widen and overlap our circles, to be BIG together just as we become smaller diverse parts of the holy whole:
… living God’s dream, singing God’s song of love in our hearts, in OUR heart, for the sake of the world
… to be good news in a world longing to hear even the faintest whisper of inclusive love, extravagant love, fierce and diverse love, transformative love.
We are called to be present and accountable to love and each other.
Eyes open in a strange room
rested (but not)
ready for what comes next
filled with a wondering
bubbling up
encompassing me in possibility, promise, a wee bit of trepidation.
What if?
What if God is inviting us?
What if God is inviting us, through it all, to return home to one another?
What if, through the movement towards smallness, God is inviting us to reach out to those we did not need in our exceptional BIG moments?
What if, through the roller coaster of our geopolitical sphere, not to mention the soap opera of our national whatever is the opposite of civil and reasonable discourse, God is inviting us to love each other out of the fear and division?
What if, through the reckless disregard of our very planet–our common home–and our disposable attitude toward people and things, God is inviting us to bless what is near and dear while we make all of God’s creation our own concern?
What if our Triune God–Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier–is beckoning us, cheering us, drawing us near one another despite ourselves so that we can be one in all our wonderful crazy-making diversity?
Just as the Abba is always that, and the Son is always that, and the Ruah is always that …
Just as together they are also more …
Just as together they transform …
Just as together they bless and permeate and dance the story of all that is and was and will be.
This is my prayer upon waking, that I … that we … live into the questions, wonder at the wondering, and embrace the invitation to dance.
Amen.
Leaders of all 3 conferences of religious men and women in the United States bless those gathered at the 2017 Leadership Conference of Women Religious in a powerful moment of communion at the closing liturgy.
November is a time for remembering. In our Christian tradition we remember all saints and all souls. We also remember our veteran’s on November 11th, which is known as remembrance day in the UK to remember the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month when the first world war ended. November 11th is also the day I professed final vows five years ago.
I now have another reason to remember on November 11th, because this Friday my dear friend, leadership teammate and local community member Sister Kristin Funari passed away after a rapid yet valiant struggle with cancer. It was an honor and a privilege to accompany her on this journey. We spent many precious moments together these past few months. She has taught me so much about living and leading and loving. My heart aches that she has left us, but she is now free and one with her loving God. As for me, I am a better person for having shared life with her these past two years.
In her last days, she planned her funeral with an old friend who shared the notes with me when the time came to plan the service for real after her death. It was a surprise and a great honor that Kristin wanted me to give the welcome at her funeral liturgy. These are the words I shared at the funeral yesterday:
We gather this morning to celebrate the life of a shining light in our lives, Sister Kristin Funari, who burned with a passion for everything that is good.
Many of us are used to Kristin herself giving the welcome at an occasion such as this. I know I am, yet it is also a deep honor and a privilege to be the one to welcome you today on behalf of Kristin, her family, and the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace.
We gather in this beautiful sanctuary, yet we pine to be at home in our own Chapel. As you know, those of us who live at St. Michael’s experienced a major fire last month, and we are still adjusting to our new reality. We are grateful to be able to find shelter here at St. Anastaia’s. As it happens, I discovered this weekend that Kristin took Anastasia as her confirmation name when she was a young woman, so perhaps this was meant to be.
We welcome Kristin’s brother Ralph and his wife Chickie, along with their children Felicia and her husband Stephen, Renata and her husband Craig, Anthony and his girlfriend Kim, and three of Kristin’s grand nephews Ashton, Nicholas and Sebastian. We also welcome Kristin’s cousin Sandra, het husband Joe and their daughter Kristin.
We remember too Kristin’s parents Ivo and Helen, her Auntie Viola, Uncle Joe, and her sister Ricky. I have no doubt that they are enjoying great Italian meals and catching up on all the news of the Funari family among the stars.
When 20 year old Elaine applied to enter the Congregation in 1965 as a postulant, she wrote in her application that she wished “to bring myself and others to God.” Decades later, in an interview with Jan Linley, Kristin reflected that “seeking God and seeking truth is part of why I stay and why I entered. You know, really wanting to know God.” Kristin has finally lived into the deep desire she expressed in her final vows, “to live in the joy of a celibate love that does not lie in a separation from but a deeper penetration into the universe.” She is now at one with God, with the angels, and the stars.
But we all know that Kristin’s life shined bright like the stars when she was with us. She was passionate about community, her family, and poor and marginalized people. She was passionate about good food and a nice drink at the end of the day. She was passionate about life … and of that, any of us who were ever on the losing side of an argument with Kristin, have no doubt.
When Kristin was featured in an article in the National Catholic Reporter in 1996, she outlined her passions.
“I’m passionate about the gospels,” she said. “Passionate about the economy. I want to get more passionate about the poor. Get more passionate about the violence in our cities in the United States and say what can we do to change that. … I get passionate about the suffering that’s caused by all that and then the wrong people who are blamed. Passionate about the beatitudes. Passionate about the truth being the way. None of us have the total truth. Passionate about us being able to peel that apart together and break it open together and single-mindedly staying in community, pursuing those gospel truths. That’s what makes my passion. I get passionate when I see real struggle around who we say we are or want to be.”
Community was a constant in Kristin’s life. She built community wherever she was. As a social worker in Rockleigh and in Jersey City, at St. Boniface and of course, the York Street Project, Kristin loved and learned from those she served and accompanied them as they made positive change in their own community. In Congregation leadership, Kristin challenged us to face the future with gratitude and hope, while staying true to our roots as what she called meat and potato women. Before her death last year, Sister Jeanne Keaveny, who taught Kristin in Penns Grove, described Kristin to me as someone who had one foot firmly in the past, and one foot firmly in the future.
Kristin was unforgettable. We heard many stories to that effect last night at the wake. She left a lasting impression on everyone she met. I would often joke that Kristin would even make the local dog catcher feel like he was her dear friend. You felt like a valued whole person in her presence. Relationships and community, presence and hospitality were part of Kirstin’s core. Who among us did not enjoy her delicious cooking, her infectious laughter, her open heart, her willingness to always make room at the table for one more?
And so today, we gather at this table, to celebrate this shining light in our lives. We know that she is now one with her loving God, penetrated by love. Let us now give thanks for her transformation from death into life through the celebration of this liturgy.
Susan Francois, CSJP
My novitiate classmate Sister Chero texted me this morning to remind me that ten years ago today we were received as novices and added “Sister” to the beginning of our names.
Then I wrote on my old blog: “Mostly I’m deeply happy and grateful to God for this invitation and the whatever it took to finally say yes. Not to mention this amazing community of friends I have found to journey with. Wow…”
Now, ten years later, I can only say that my joy and gratitude has deepened in ways I could not have even imagined then. I continue to be amazed at the joy, love, grace, and blessing that comes with being a Sister of St. Joseph of Peace.
Life is filled with many Holy Saturday moments. Time upon time we must let go of what was before we can even begin to be open to what will come. I think of the way the first Holy Week after my own mother’s death was different than any other before or since. I felt it in my bones. I think of friends who have lost their job and struggled to find their feet again, or friends who have lost a child far too soon, or seen the end of their marriage. There is always that messy middle space of witnessing the love lived and lost before something new emerges to call us forth to witness to love and life in new ways.
Theologian Shelly Rambo identifies Holy Saturday as the “middle day, as the site of witness to a more complex relationship between death and life” (Spirit and Trauma: A Theology of Remaining, pg. 46.). And what is at the core of this complex relationship? Love of course. “Between death and life, there is a testimony to Spirit, to a love that survives not in victory but in weariness” (pgs. 79-80).
This weariness is real and of the Spirit. It attests to the depth of love that has been lived. But it also can keep us from seeing the new life that is before our eyes. Think of Mary Magdalene at the tomb, mistaking Jesus for the gardener!
I can’t help but ponder the shifting landscape and transformations taking place in religious life through the lens of Holy Saturday. As I wrote in a Global Sisters Report column last year, “Middle space represents this time as an almost Holy Saturday moment. Much is breaking down, we know something new is emerging, but this is a moment pregnant with not yet.”
On this Holy Saturday morning, I found myself reading an article featuring some younger Catholic sisters I know who are members the Sisters of the Holy Redeemer. It is a great article that focuses on the new life that is present and emerging, even as the sisters are letting go of the structures of the past. “Now they are crafting a brave future in which the sisterhood may be minuscule, but its work will go on.”
We are indeed living in a Holy Saturday moment. “We can say, ‘Oh, isn’t it sad, our sisters are aging, nobody is coming, we’re dying out’ – and that’s real,” said Sister Anne Marie Haas, provincial supervisor of the community’s Montgomery County headquarters. “But we have a choice.”
And that choice is love, even in its weariest and messiest forms. As we say in our CSJP Constitutions, “Confident of God’s faithful love, and collaborating with others who work for justice and peace, we face the future with gratitude and hope.”
Sister Alicia (in white) with me and Sister Eleanor
This week the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace celebrate the life of Sister Alicia Cavanaugh, CSJP who passed away late Saturday night at the age of 82.
I first met Alicia when she opened her home, and her heart, to me as a novice. I lived with Sisters Alicia and Eleanor for 3 months during my novitiate ministry year. I was placed in two very challenging ministries–three days a week working with survivors of human trafficking, two days a week helping women emerging from domestic violence situations attain restraining orders. Every day when I would come home from work after hearing stories of such hardship and suffering, there would be Alicia inviting me to sit down with a cup of tea and tell her about my day. She was always interested, always inviting, always engaged.
She was also extremely generous. She had a number of people in the neighborhood who would stop by regularly for a visit and a little bit of help. Whenever we went out in the car, she always had a small stash of one dollar bills to give to folks begging on the side of the road. And on more than one occasion, when I came home from work to make dinner, I’d find that the food that had been there in the morning when I’d made my plans for the evening meal was no longer there. Alicia, I’d say, do you know what happened to the tuna fish or pasta or rice? Oh, she’d say, so and so came to the door and she was just so hungry …. We of course made do and never went hungry ourselves. She’d always help me find something else in our ample pantry that would suffice … It was a good lesson for me.
During her time as a Sister of St. Joseph of Peace, Alicia shared her generous heart with many people. She was a teacher in schools in New Jersey, California, and Kenya! She worked as Director of Religious Education and Catechist. But I will remember her for the lessons she taught me through daily living and compassionate care for all of God’s children, especially the poor and vulnerable.
My latest column has been posted on Global Sisters Report. This one is more of a reflection where I mull over the communion of saints and what their witness and presence means to us today:
There is great wisdom in our Catholic tradition of setting aside time in the liturgical year to remember all the saints and souls, just as we take time to remember and celebrate the impact of our loved ones upon their passing. As theologian Flora Keshgegian writes in Redeeming Memories: A Theology of Healing and Transformation, remembering is meant to be oriented to ‘affect present action'(p. 25). We do not remember to stay in the past. Rather, we remember for the present, and dare I say, for the future.”
I am fresh off four days of laughter, prayer, and meaningful conversations with 70 other younger Catholic Sisters at the national Giving Voice gathering. Giving Voice is a grassroots peer-led network of younger women religious. The mission of Giving Voice is to “create spaces for younger women religious to give voice to their hopes, dreams and challenges in religious life.”
We gathered in Kansas around the theme “Crossing Boundaries in Religious Life.” We heard challenging words from our conference speakers, Sisters Sophia Park, SNJM and Teresa Maya, CCVI. Our peer GV leaders created a space where we could be present in the moment, an emerging theme of the days. We are living religious life with our elders as we let go of what was, and we are often looked upon as the future of religious life. These days together helped us to remember that we are also the present of religious life. We have touched the religious life that was, and we are building the bridge to the future. Yet we cannot forget that we are also the present. We are here now, called by the love of God to join in prayer, ministry, and service to the Gospel and God’s people in need.
CSJPs at GV! (with St. Joseph of course)
It was a joy to reconnect with old friends and to make new ones. It was also wonderful to be there with two other CSJP Sisters to share the experience. This was also the first Giving Voice conference in many years that I did not help plan. I had no jobs and was able just to come and be present and enjoy the light, laughter, and love of my peers. There were also five of us at the gathering who have stepped into the ministry of leadership for our Congregation. This was yet another gift of Giving Voice in my life, to have time to process and connect with peers in the midst of a similar life changing experience.
We were a beautiful embodiment of God’s diversity, coming from different congregations and parts of the country/world. While more than 90% of US Catholic Sisters are white, we are representative of the diversity of the US church. At one point of the speakers asked how many present were born in another country to raise their hand … almost half of the room raised their hands! What was perhaps most beautiful to me was how comfortable we are with each other. We laughed and shared, and laughed some more. We had fun and we had poignant moments and we were present to each other. And that, my friends, is pure gift and food for the journey.
Life is filled with many Holy Saturday moments. Time upon time we must let go of what was before we can even begin to be open to what will come. I think of the way the first Holy Week after my own mother’s death was different than any other before or since. I felt it in my bones. I think of friends who have lost their job and struggled to find their feet again, or friends who have lost a child far too soon, or seen the end of their marriage. There is always that messy middle space of witnessing the love lived and lost before something new emerges to call us forth to witness to love and life in new ways.
At the Corner of Susan and St. Joseph 