By Dr. Thomas Ignatius Hayes
Seven years ago, I wrote an essay for The Tablet conceding that though my age could be counted in scores I was still “Learning from Nuns.” The sub-heading was: “Nuns Teach Lessons Beyond Normal Subject Matter.”
That missive focused on two religious sisters from different congregations, one a former classmate from my grammar school and the other my late mother’s sibling.
Their only link, or so I believed, was me. Such is not the case as I have recently come to understand. There is a harmony between them, a unity of spirit that is central to their vocation.
It led me to posit that what links them applies to the many in religious life that similarly have a dedication to their ministry, a perseverance that denies descriptive attempts like devotion or obligation.
I admit to not having considered previously what “retirement” was for nuns.
Actually I had not given the concept of my own retirement the attention I should have until I grasped that, in fact, I was retired. Says something about me I suppose, the idea of putting off the inevitable, but that’s problematic.
Empirically there are very few occupations or professions that are held for life as opposed to working life. Sure, I accept that once a Marine always a Marine but, thankfully, we don’t see octogenarians in camos with weapons boarding transport for distant battlefields.
Order and Discipline
Religious life is indeed one of those very few callings that lack an easy demarcation. Putting aside the ascetic and mystical aspects of some religious traditions, my layperson view sees two groups: contemplative, a life of solitude with God and working, a mission of using skills to help others. Both require order and discipline and within the latter there is logically a component of the former as one surely does not decide on a life-mission without meaningful introspection.
With that as my premise, I return to my classmate of half century ago. Her many years were spent as an educator, a teacher of young children, someone who helped form the mores of a generation-plus of students. She was also an administrator, a skill that has led of late to having non-clinical responsibility for the care of elderly members of her order. At times, I wondered how she felt about this responsibility and naively, how long her services would be needed.
I think she felt my musings. Actually, I know she did as I received a hand-written reply to a message I had sent. The first half in wonderful Palmer-method cursive was a response to my note. It was followed by personal exchanges about family and a singular comment noting she was delighted that we still keep in contact. Normally that is how her note would end but it continued on a second page.
She spoke of her life becoming increasingly busy as the number of elderly sisters is growing. For these special women it is their time to receive back the care and comfort they have given to so many throughout their lives. She declared her commitment to her ministry, “As long as God allows me to move and think and serve.”
She closed with the title I elected for this piece: “Bloom where you are planted” as she explained “This has become my reality.”
I can feel her innermost joy in what she wrote. Sister is happy with her place in God’s vision for his Earth and for the creatures he has placed on it and for the path He has chosen for her. Indeed, there is a path for each of us. Her joy is in finding and accepting it.
I thought of my aunt and how she has had a life of multiple and dissimilar “plantings,” some differing by continent and language and all of which she accepted with a verve of more than enthusiasm. I spoke to her about the note and I could feel her smile across the phone connection.
As it should be, her nephew was still learning from nuns.
Dr. Hayes is an international public health specialist who has worked throughout the developing world. He lives in St. Petersburg, Fla., where he also writes missives and essays. This one is based on tangible facts and actual people. He is a graduate of Brooklyn Prep and Fordham University.
