I had to kiss the floor in the chapel and my stall. I had not had a penance (T’Shuvah) like that since I went to confession to Fr. Meriwether. And it struck me that Fr. Kelsey reminds me of a young Fr. Meriwether, not just in his fervorinos in confession, but in his reverence when he has offered Holy Mass here. Maybe it was a small way the Lord (and Fr. Meriwether) were assuring me that they were still looking after me. Although, Fr. Meriwether never gave me an added penance to forego desserts for three days. Oy.
Chapter Nine
KarpasParsley, Lettuce, Watercress or any other green herb and a dish of salt water into which it is to be dipped before being eaten. Also to remember the “dipping” of blood onto the coat of many colors of Joseph, sold into Egyptian slavery.
“And you shall eat the meat [of the paschal lamb] on that night, roasted with fire, and unleavened bread; with bitter herbs you shall eat it.” (Exodus 12:8)
I wasn’t dozing off or daydreaming at all, but I was rinsing a colander full of parsley helping Sr. Bernadette in the kitchen prepare what we call a “festive meal” to celebrate Mother Rosaria’s being our new prioress. It would be on Sunday and actually be a roasted turkey dinner with sweet potatoes, stuffing, and French-style green beans. Rinsing the parsley took me back to my childhood again, helping Mama prepare all the dishes for Pesach. The karpas, which was usually sprigs of parsley, was eaten first, very ceremoniously as we all dipped a sprig in a small bowl of salt water. It was combining the hope of spring (the parsley) with the tears of slavery (salt water). It didn’t have much significance for us kids except in the context of the “Maggid,” the telling of the story of the Exodus. One has to go through some bitter times (karpas and maror) to fill a bowl with your tears and cling to hope. Someone once said, I don’t remember if it was the rabbi, Ezra, or Fr. Meriwether, that the parsley was like the hyssop which the priests would use to sprinkle the altar and the people with the blood. And we know that it was a hyssop sprig with vinegar offered to the Lord on the cross. Such thoughts I should have rinsing off the parsley!
Lent was beginning next week; Mother had scheduled a House Chapter for Monday night to announce the new assignments and charges. I had an appointment in the morning with her…I didn’t know what to expect: parsley or salt water! And I had a parlor planned with Mama and David on Tuesday at which I would remind them that I would not see them till after Easter.
Silly, but I broke off a piece of parsley and put it in my apron pocket, and would put it in my habit pocket later and carry it in with me when I have my first meeting with Mother Rosaria. I don’t know why. I guess it was like a rabbit’s foot for good luck, something which the novices never heard of; or maybe it was just like a relic from my past, for security and luck.
The turkey dinner was a great success. Mother Rosaria was very pleased with it all and didn’t even notice that she dripped gravy on her scapular, till she stood up to make a little thank you speech. On seeing the gravy, she said out loud: “Oh look I’ve already made a mess of it.” We all laughed, given the context of the comment. Recreation that evening was also a little celebration with ice cream and cake, and we presented Mother with a bib from Red Lobster. She thought it was hysterical and said that she would certainly use it, especially when we had spaghetti or gravy. We actually have a box of plastic bibs for the sisters in the infirmary. It saves on the wear and tear of linen napkins.
The next morning, I stood at Mother’s door, thinking that this was my fifth prioress; same door, same place. I took a deep breath and knocked.
“Enter.”
“Laudetur Jesus Christus” I began with our traditional greeting.
“In aeternum, Sister, do come in.” And Mother may have been the fifth, but she was the first to come out from behind her desk and embrace me. “Who-da thunk it, huh?” were her first words of wisdom.
I squeezed her. “The Holy Spirit, that’s who-da!” And we both laughed. “I can’t tell you, Mother, how happy I am that you are ‘Mother’ and I hope you can lean on me in any way you need to. I’m really so glad it’s you behind that desk and not me!”
“Thank you, Sr. Baruch. Dear Sister Mary Baruch, we’ve been through it together almost from the beginning. To think that our dear Mother John Dominic used to sit behind this desk. Could we ever forget her smile and how we needed it when we were novices?’
“No, Mother, we could never forget. I prayed to her to help the Lord choose the one He wanted, so she’s smiling upon us.”
Mother Rosaria may be behind the same desk, but she had added a couple new things, like two padded straight back chairs against the side wall with a small table between them. “Let’s sit there,’ she waved with her hand, and proceeded to the chairs. Once settled she said: “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the charges. I think you would make an excellent sub-prioress, BUT, I want to keep Sr. Anna Maria there for now. She’s much more organized than I am, as you know, and she keeps things under control. She’s a born administrator, I think you’d agree.” I nodded. “Now, you have a wonderful way with both the older Sisters and the young ones…I’ve admired that in you all these years. I would love you to be the novice mistress, BUT, I’m torn by what charge to give Sr. Agnes Mary. Next to Mother John Dominic, Sr. Agnes Mary was a wonderful prioress, as you know. Like you, she loves the life, and lives it fully. But she’s also getting up in age, as we all are…” (I chuckled, and touched the parsley resting in my tunic pocket, not knowing what was coming next.) I would like to name Sr. Agnes Mary Novice Mistress for now, and you as Assistant Novice Mistress. I am telling Sr. Agnes Mary that I want her to ‘train you’ for the job, but actually, Sister, I want you to keep a close watch on her and be able and ready to assist her in any way you can. I suspect the teaching will mostly fall to you, and on your part, the ‘sandpapering’ of the new Sisters in a way Sr. Agnes Mary isn’t able to do. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes, I think I do, Mother. I am very happy to do this; I am honored, really, to be Sr. Agnes Mary’s assistant, and I’m very happy to be part of the formation of the young ones, if God is pleased to send us some. And I was raised in the sandpapering school here!”
“Weren’t we all! My dear, how times have changed, huh? Now, I don’t want to lay too much on you, so please tell me if this is all too much, but I’d like you to keep up with the Sisters in the infirmary, not as infirmarian, but as you have been, AND (finally an ‘and’ and no more ‘buts.’) if you could still be at least ‘part-time’ correspondence-secretary to the prioress.”
“Of course, Mother, I’d be honored to.”
“Thank you, Sister, I’m already leaning on you a lot, but I think we’ll make the most of it—a new springtime for the monastery.”
She actually said “springtime.” I wanted to pull the parsley out of my pocket and eat it right there in front of her, but I restrained. I was good at that now. We can have all sorts of crazy thoughts at times, and even desires, but we learn how to...well, keep them in our pocket.
She stood up, which was my cue to stand too. Again she hugged me, and said: “Such a blessing, this place.” We both laughed and agreed that indeed it was. “It’s a great life, if you don’t weaken.” Those were her parting words of wisdom. I left her office elated.
Outside her door, I looked both ways, blessed myself, and ate my parsley on my way to the chapel to thank the Lord for all His blessings. (I’ll probably have to kiss the floor again!) Assistant Novice Mistress—imagine that! Please, Lord, send us lots of novices to assist! I was humming Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, as I genuflected before the Lord waiting for me in our weekday monstrance, hoping He didn’t hold it against me for eating between meals again…it was only parsley, Lord.
I had a wonderful hour of guard both that evening after Compline and again in the morning. Being Assistant Novice Mistress would mean I would be moving from our cell to one in the novitiate. It had been a while since I even visited the novitiate floor, so I spent a little time “snooping” around, and seeing
what rooms were available. There were too many, actually, as we only had two white-veiled novices – Sr. Mary Kolbe and Sr. Diana – and two black-veils – Sr. Myriam and Sr. Maureen. One stays in the novitiate after taking temporary vows for two years.
Sr. Mary Kolbe was dear to me, as she had a special devotion to both Maximilian Kolbe and Edith Stein. Sr. Kolbe was from White Plains in Westchester County. She graduated from Hunter College which is very close to St. Vincent’s which she knew very well. She went to daily Mass there if there was not a conflict with class. It was really there that she first met the Dominicans, and it was Fr. Kelsey, our new confessor, who told her about us, as well as the other Dominican monasteries in New Jersey and the Bronx. She was attracted to the Carmelites because of Edith Stein and St. Teresa of Avila, (more than the Little Flower, my first friend in the faith). She was also deeply devoted to the Immaculata, a title for Our Lady which St. Maximilian Kolbe promoted. She visited a couple Carmels. But in the end it was the rosary that attracted her to us; plus we seemed to study more. This was all in the three years after college. She entered two years ago, and has one more year before profession. We have a two year novitiate now, which is a change again from my time…the “old days.”
Sr. Diana just became a novice after almost a year as a postulant. She’s from New Hampshire and was taught by the Sisters of the Presentation of Mary. She worked in various restaurants, working her way up to sous-chef in a French Restaurant in Newport, Rhode Island. She loved Newport and thought she would be there forever and ever. She had a friend from college who worked at Regina Mundi College, and for a couple months lived in a carriage house of the Sisters of Jesus Crucified. Clare, her name in the world, was not very religious; she called herself a “Sunday Catholic,” and that had been instilled in her from the Presentation Sisters. She found herself joining her friends at the priory of the Sisters of Jesus Crucified, and their living the religious life with such joy in the midst of all kinds of illness and physical handicaps changed her heart about a lot of things. She found herself reading more spiritual kinds of books and after work she began to walk along the Cliff Walk with the ocean splashing below praying the rosary. After the friend moved out of the carriage house, a Dominican Sister moved in for a couple months, and Clare became “Sunday friends” with her. The Dominican Sister was on a long retreat to discern whether to enter a cloistered monastery in Brooklyn, New York, or continue as a Dominican Sister of the Sick Poor. The Sister never joined us, but Clare found her way here and became a regular visitor. She landed a job in another French Restaurant in Manhattan, and got a furnished room not far from us.
She reminds me of our Sr. Simon, who is our baker, but has slowed down. It’s like God has provided another baker for us, perhaps. Mother was impressed that she put down “Diana” as her first choice for a religious name. Mother Agnes Mary said: “We have a Sr. Amata, but not a Sr. Diana. How amazing that she would have a devotion to one of the first nuns at the time of St. Dominic.” Only after she became a novice, and Sister Mary Diana, did we learn she didn’t know about Blessed Diana, but was a big fan of Princess Diana, who was killed in 1997, some months before Clare entered here as a postulant.
Sr. Maureen was our colleen right from Ireland. Well, she was born in Dublin, but came here with her family when she was just beginning high school. She went to Sacred Heart Academy in Hempstead, Long Island, and then to Franciscan University in Steubenville for two years. Her name in the world was Moira Caitlin Burns. She wanted to keep Moira, but Mother gave her Maureen instead. If she perseveres she will definitely be one of our chantresses; she’s got a lovely voice. She also has a wonderful Irish sense of humor which she learned to temper a bit in the novitiate. For instance if the priest made a funny remark in his homily, it was okay to discreetly laugh along with a gracious smile directed to him. Sr. Maureen, however, would laugh out loud, too loud, and look around at the other sisters in sisterly camaraderie, but she learned from Sr. Catherine Agnes: “it isn’t our way.”
Sr. Maureen loves the life, however, and can be a bit too enthusiastic over little things or get all red-faced when she’s controlling her temper. She begins integration the First Sunday of Advent and will help in the kitchen and refectory. Integration is when a temporarily professed sister moves over to the professed side of the house, and is “integrated” with them, meaning, her cell is now there, and she would attend recreation with them, and be given a more responsible charge. It was also a good way for the professed nuns to get to know her before voting on her for Solemn Profession. She’s also great with the sisters in the infirmary, and can get them all singing together – in harmony, no less – which is no small task.
Sr. Myriam was in second year vows when Mother Rosaria was elected. She was integrated into the senior community before Lent began. She is from Philadelphia. She went to Providence College in Providence, Rhode Island – the pride and joy of the Dominican Friars of the Province of St. Joseph. Her uncle is a Dominican Father, Fr. Aelred Eberhart. Ellen (Sr. Myriam) has her BA in philosophy and a minor in classical languages, namely, Latin and Greek. “Uncle Aelred thought I’d go into a teaching order, but Thomas Merton’s The Seven Story Mountain changed all that.” It was Uncle Aelred who introduced her to Mary, Queen of Hope monastery. We’re happy he did. Sr. Myriam is our little scholar, tackling St. Thomas, as she puts it. She’ll wind up teaching us!
In 2000, we had one postulant, Sr. Emma, who was from Florida, near Sarasota. She’s very humorous and said she always wanted to join the circus when she was young. I think she has a second cousin who is a clown with Ringling Brothers, whom she calls Uncle Bo. I wondered if Uncle Bo would ever appear here in our parlor, if Sr. Emma perseveres. When she was young she studied gymnastics and modern dance, but her body couldn’t take the rigors, so she quit, along with dreams of being a trapeze artist. Her other passion was the clarinet, which she could handle well enough to get in to the Rome School of Music at Catholic University of America. She graduated from there with a Masters in Instrumental Music, majoring in woodwinds. She was accomplished in both oboe and clarinet. She also played the piano and several other wind instruments, but had never played the organ. We all just smiled. And prayed she’d persevere. She had been with us just a month at the time of Mother’s election.
These were the sisters who would be under our care in the novitiate. They were each unique and different. They had the special charge to pray for more postulants to enter. We were all feeling the decrease in vocations, but took Our Holy Father’s words to heart: “Do not be afraid. Have hope.”
Monday evening’s chapter went well: no real surprises as everyone knew ahead of time what one would be doing. Sr. Mary George remained Bursar and Sr. Thomas Mary stayed in maintenance, which she (and all of us) were happy about. Sr. Antonia remained in the library, which was also good, as she was converting the entire card index onto the computer.
I had my hour of guard at 2:00 A.M. Tuesday morning. I loved the early morning adoration time, once I was awake. We were allowed to have a mug of coffee, if we had the time, before our hour began. It was not the kind of coffee Mama would have liked, but it did the trick. I began as usual with reading the Gospel of the day to myself, and then took out my beads. I rarely dozed off when I had the early morning guard. If necessary, one could stand and even walk around a bit, but I preferred kneeling. My meditation, however, was not always on the mysteries of the rosary, but the events of the day, and there were lots of events in early 2000.
Later that day I would see Mama and David. This was such an extraordinary “event,” seeing as I went through years—more than twenty-five years—of not seeing either one of them. The reconciliation still filled me with such awe and gratitude, tinged always with the realization that it was Ruthie’s sudden death that brought about the reunion with Mama. And now, even David, my older brother, “the doctor,” was coming to the “nunnery” to visit with me.
They had been on their cruise and were planning another. David was so good
to Mama, it somehow took the edge off of my judging him as such a worldly hedonist. He was that, but Mama managed to keep a corner of his heart open. I hoped that was true with Sally, too. Distance didn’t help in Sally’s case. I let it all go before the Lord; joining everything to His Sacred Heart. The best I could do in all of it was simply to pray. Just sitting with the Lord without any words was becoming more and more how it went.
Mama and David would be coming around 3:30, so I could visit the infirmary in the morning. After doing correspondence for Mother Rosaria for about an hour; I made my way to the infirmary. Sr. Gertrude always liked knowing if and when I was having company. She and Mama had become friends, and hopefully she could pop into the parlor this afternoon and work her charm on David.
We sat in front of the large picture window looking out on the cemetery.
“The snow has almost melted, don’t you miss it?” Sister Gertrude knew my fondness for snow. Some years ago now, we were able to spend a couple hours “playing” in it, that is, building a couple snow-nuns with carrot noses and sticks for arms.
“Yes, I do. But it’s early yet; we may get one more blast of it. It would be nice for Lent.”
“Ah, yes. Lent. I’m giving up listening to my Broadway musicals. “
“Now that is something! More sacrificial than candy or ice cream.”
“Or cottage cheese, which I always gave up for Lent, because I hated it.” We both laughed.
“Why such a sacrifice this Lent, if I may be so nosey as to ask.”
“Of course you can.” She got silent for maybe twenty seconds. “I don’t know how many Lents I have left; this could be my last, so I want to make it a good one.”
The Middle Ages of Sister Mary Baruch (Sister Mary Baruch, O.P. Book 2) Page 10
