Returning to Rigden

...and the second-to-last in our series of Sister Anne Catherine ...

In the beginning of November 1820, Mother Ann Catherine Rigden developed an inflammatory disease that caused everyone great alarm. She had abscesses on her breast and other disturbing symptoms. Dr. Beaty, the monastery physician, thought there was no immediate danger, but Sr. Mary Leonard McNantz, who was ill and expected to die soon, prophesied that Ann Catherine “was never to recover from this sickness, that she would get better for a while and go about a little, but that finally she would die of it.” She repeated this twice in different company, which increased the sisters’ alarm. They prayed and said many novenas for Ann Catherine’s recovery, and in the spring she did attempt to resume work. “Alas, however,” the constant cough returned, along with pain in her chest, and a slow, burning fever. She continued to work, but by fall she lost her remaining strength. She concealed the symptoms of her decline, and sometimes after a particularly bad night she would forbid the sister who stayed in her room to say anything about it. This left the poor sister at a loss about what to say if asked how Mother was doing. Whenever she wanted to get help for Mother during a bad night, Ann Catherine would exhort her not to “disturb the spouses of Christ, for whom we should have great respect.”

Toward the end of November it became evident that she would die soon, but she didn’t express the least concern except for her apprehension of God’s judgment, “not on account of any sin which I have committed in the world, nor whilst I was a simple religious, but since I have been Superior.” She humbled herself with much sincerity before all the community, begging pardon of anyone whom she thought she might have afflicted. Sometimes she would send a sister in her name to ask pardon when she was unable to get up and do it herself, and she would ask the sister to do so in the most humble manner. She spoke to everyone with heartfelt gratitude for the care she received, and she reproached herself for any uncharitable or rash judgment she may have formed against any of them.

Seeking The Risen Christ

In today's Gospel the angel says to Mary Magdalen, "Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified." What an observation! Would that the people we encounter could say the same thing about us. As we celebrate the Resurrection of Christ, let us pray that we, by our words and actions -- like Mary Magdalen -- may reveal to those around us that we too are seeking Jesus. For more pictures from our Triduum, click here.

"Blessed are the souls that seek the Lord everywhere. For they will find Him everywhere and everywhere they will seek what they have found."

St. Jane de Chantal

Triduum Schedule 2011

Locals are welcome, as always, to join us for the celebrations and liturgies during the Sacred Triduum. Below is our schedule:

Holy Thursday

5:00pm Mass of the Lord’s Supper

7.30pm Night Prayer

Adoration until Midnight

Good Friday

7.30am Office of Readings

8.45am Morning Prayer

11.00am Daytime Prayer

3.00 Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion

7.00pm Night Prayer

Holy Saturday

7.30am Office of Readings

8.45am Morning Prayer

11.30am Daytime Prayer

5.05pm Evening Prayer

8.00pm Vigil Mass of the Lord’s Resurrection

In the Holy Night of Easter

All events underlined in bold take place in the Chapel of the Sacred Heart. All Liturgies of the Hours take place in the Monastery Choir, just down the ramp from the chapel. Please arrive a few minutes prior to the time listed, as we do not ring bells during the Sacred Triduum.

More Mini-Series

This is the ante-penultimate installment in our series about Sister Ann Catherine Rigden.

Ann Catherine Rigden worked as mistress of boarding students, who were drawn to her talents and sweet manners. She taught them many little practices of devotion, as the sister who wrote her life recalled from her own youth. Ann Catherine was especially close to Sister Isidora McNantz, who died at age 15 about three years before Ann Catherine’s death. She performed the last office for Isidora--meaning she placed her in her coffin--and she twice felt pressure on her hand from the hand of the deceased. The first time it alarmed her somewhat, but the second time it seemed fond, “either a remembrance of some compact of prayers, or as a last token of affection.” Some nuns said later that the incident might have been a harbinger of Ann Catherine’s own death not too long after, but this touch did not disturb her peace, for she had no other desire in life than being closely united with God.

She did all the most useful and laborious jobs in the house except the role of Superior, which she did not desire. Since 1800 there had been only one Superior, Teresa Lalor, whom the sisters called “the cornerstone of this house.” But an election was required at the Ascension of 1819, and “Ann Catherine Rigden became our mother, to the great joy of the whole community.” This especially pleased the sisters who had previously been her boarding students. This was a delicate time for the community, as the sisters were just getting acquainted with the rules of the Visitation as Clorivière interpreted them. However, Mother Ann Catherine’s health began to decline noticeably.

Making Room for the Word

Jesus speaks some powerful (and painful) words in today's Gospel: "But you are trying to kill me because my word has no room among you." How often is our first response one of hostility -- even if it is contained in our hearts and never seeps out into our actions -- when we are faced with a difficult truth or an inconvenient situation? Perhaps someone has pointed out an unconscious habit we have which is irritating to those around us; maybe someone has corrected or challenged us with respect to a fact which forces us to reconsider some significant aspect of our life. More likely, it may simply be the vicissitudes of daily life that present us with opportunities to be patient and charitable. In each inconvenience that befalls us: lost car keys, an irritable neighbor, interrupted internet service, etc., is an opportunity to allow the Lord's grace to work in us -- a chance to make room for the Lord and his word, a chance to accept that which is beyond our control and trust that the Lord will use it for our growth in holiness, in patience, in charity. He will use it to continue to make our hearts bigger so that there is more room for Him and all things which are dear to Him.

As the passing days of Lent draw us closer to Holy Week and the celebration of the Lord's passion, let us welcome every opportunity which will help us to make room for the Lord and His saving word.

"So long as God’s Providence does not send you great and heavy afflictions; so long as He does not ask your eyes, at least give Him your hair. I mean, take patiently the petty annoyances, the trifling discomforts, the unimportant losses which come upon all of us daily; for by means of these little matters, lovingly and freely accepted, you will give Him your whole heart, and win His. I mean the acts of daily forbearance, the headache, or toothache, or heavy cold; the tiresome peculiarities of husband or wife, the broken glass, the loss of a ring, a handkerchief, a glove; the sneer of a neighbor, the effort of going to bed early in order to rise early for prayer or Communion, the little shyness some people feel in openly performing religious duties; and be sure that all of these sufferings, small as they are, if accepted lovingly, are most pleasing to God’s Goodness, Which has promised a whole ocean of happiness to His children in return for one cup of cold water. And, moreover, inasmuch as these occasions are forever arising, they give us a fertile field for gathering in spiritual riches, if only we will use them rightly."

St. Francis de Sales

A Distinguished Alumna

Baptized Dorothy Holly Reynolds and known to her family and friends as "Holly," she graduated from our high school in 1950. After a year and a half of college, she entered the Poor Clare monastery in Jamaica Plain, MA where she received the religious name Sister Mary Lucy of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. She was one of twelve sisters who left Jamaica Plain to begin the foundation in South Carolina at the invitation of Bishop John Russell.

Sister Mary Lucy, in the years that followed, served her community as novice mistress, abbess and, for a time, responded to a call to solitude by living in a hermitage near her community on the grounds of their monastery until her heath declined. Sister loved nature, the outdoors, animals and she raised African violets.

Our own Sister Philomena was a classmate of hers in high school and remembers her to be "extremely brilliant academically and simple soul who had great confidence in God."

Sister's health began to fail in the spring of 2010, when she returned, from her hermitage and was cared for by her community. On Tuesday 5 April 2011, Our Lord came for her and He, no doubt, found her waiting for Him, whom she had so loved on earth. Requiescat in pace.

The Drama Continues

Part III of the on-going narrative of Sister Ann Catherine Rigdon:

She mastered the rules immediately upon entering, which was unusual because at the time the sisters of our monastery had not yet received the rule books from the Visitation order, and the rules our sisters had adopted were more rigorous. “There were more fasts, less sleep, more frequent disciplines, more austerities, and fewer accommodations.” Ann Catherine immediately took on the harshest and most tedious drudge work, never sparing herself and putting up with cold, heat, and inconvenience as though she didn’t even feel it. She often would stay up at night working (which was itself against the rule), and she was good at all types of work. Despite her “modesty and unalterable meekness,” she did not seem to have a high opinion of herself. Other sisters said that she was marked by obedience, patience, mortification, “admirable simplicity,” and a childlike heart so that she did not even reflect on what she was told to do. For example, if it was her task to call the sisters to prayer in the morning, she would rise frequently in the night to check the clock. Although she knew there was no need to be fully clothed if just checking the clock, she was also mindful of the rule that one must never leave a cell without being clad and veiled, so she was always dressed for these excursions.

One day the Bishop commanded the sisters to perform good works for the souls in purgatory, which of course they did. But during the night Ann Catherine woke, worried that she had not done enough, and that perhaps some poor soul was suffering because of her neglect. She rose, went to a convenient place, and picked up a discipline (an instrument, usually cord or metal, that was used for penance). She used it unmercifully on herself. When morning was come, “she could not conceal her fatigues and pain.” Leonard Neale saw her and asked what ailed her, and she was forced to tell him. His “punishment” was to forbid her to ever use that instrument of penance again. He also deprived her of a rough hair shirt that had weakened her constitution. Since she was forbidden to use those familiar implements of mortification, she took advantage of something out of the Bishop’s reach, and she never told him of it. “Do not blame her for this, dear sisters,” wrote the nun who penned her biography, “for it seems that she was inspired to act thus...” and the nun went on to explain that Ann Catherine was silently enduring violent headaches, which seemed to stand in place of the earlier physical acts. Although the Bishop lived for several more years, she never mentioned these to him, or to anyone else except her last director, who did not feel bound keep silent after her death. She claimed that in one of her dreams she was comforted by the late Bishop, who said that by making her petition for mortification she had “rendered herself most agreeable to God.” After she was Superior, she suffered so much from headaches that the sisters asked her permission to make a novena for her relief, or to give her some remedies. They urged her to wear St. Bobola’s cap, a reference for which our archivist has not found the meaning, but she refused, saying it would be a sin to beg to be relieved from pain which had freed her from greater torment.

We Love Our Seniors!

It's that time of year again! For the second year in a row, we are having our seniors join us for a morning of reflection which begins with a presentation about "making holy the day" with suggestions from the writings of St. Francis de Sales. Following the presentation and a brief introduction to the Liturgy of the Hours, seniors join the monastery community for daytime prayer and then down to the refectory for dinner. Above, seniors enjoy a taco dinner and homemade cupcakes for dessert.

"As soon as they awake, the Sisters should cast their souls wholly upon God with some prayerful thoughts which the Holy Spirit will suggest . . . at the beginning of any interior or outward action, let them ask for God's grace and offer to His divine goodness all the good they may do . . . And let them not forget to do this even in little things which seem unimportant: eating, drinking, resting, recreating . . ."

St. Francis de Sales

Post # 600

Hard to believe, but it's true: this is our 600th blog post ... and our second in our recent mini-series:

Rigden had been engaged. When she told Leonard Neale, however, he said this was not God’s call for her, so she told her fiancé she would never marry him. He was so distressed that he threatened and possibly even attempted suicide, and he begged her not to marry anyone else. He disappeared shortly after this, and her family worried that he had succeeded in killing himself.

She asked to enter the monastery shortly after refusing to marry, but Leonard Neale wanted her to remain with her family a while longer in the hope of converting them. He also anticipated that her family would oppose her entrance and cut off her inheritance. They even threatened to set fire to the convent. After a few years Neale finally agreed to admit her on the feast of the Guardian Angels, October 2, 1806. Just before she entered, she asked for her mother’s consent. Her mother refused. By this time she was 23 years old and there were two other sisters in the family, so she bid them “an eternal adieu.” They wept and accused her of abandoning them, and she wept in return, entreating them to abandon her to God. She did not see them again for 13 years, until after she had become Superior, even though they sometimes came to the parlor, and she only did that much out of obedience to her spiritual father, who was then Fr. Clorivière.

When Rigden joined, the monastery was only a few years old, and it only had five or six sisters in it. There was much poverty and hard work, but this excited rather than discouraged the new postulant, and they received her with great joy.

Monastic Mini-Series

Due to the lengthy nature of this sister's entry in the handwritten book which contains the lives of some of our early sisters here at Georgetown Visitation, we are making this biographical sketch a mini-series!

PART I:

Sister Ann Catherine Rigden, the first American to be a mother superior at this monastery, was born in Georgetown to a Protestant family in 1782. When she was about fourteen she began accompanying a friend to catechism classes, and she studied the lessons because she didn’t want to be the only one who couldn’t raise her hand. Later she asked the priest for more lessons, which he provided. The night after her baptism she dreamed “that she was clad in white, and was sewing at the altar, having little red wings, with which she flew about, sometimes even higher than the priest’s head.” The sister who wrote her life noted that they would not have chosen to mention this dream in her posthumous biography, were it not for prophetic dreams to come later in her life.

Rigden embraced the Catholic faith, but she met great opposition from her family. Her father ordered her tutor not to allow religious books unless they were Protestant. Both parents prevented her from observing the rules of the church, even trying to trick her into eating meat on days of abstinence by disguising it in her food. They also invited Protestant ministers as guests, but she paid no attention to them. When her parents forced her to attend parties, she responded by dressing plainly and refusing to mix the other young people, to the point that “it was evident that her heart was not where her body was.” Her exasperated parents finally sent her to live with a wealthy aunt across the river in Alexandria, Virginia, just a few miles away from Georgetown. The aunt had two elegant daughters, and Rigden’s parents hoped the girls would prevail upon her to begin to dress more fashionably. She continued in her plain style, however, to the point that one day her frustrated aunt tore a garment off of her, and “our Sr. Ann Catherine, without proffering a murmur, procured another.” The aunt was so incensed that she did it again, but this only made Rigden more resolute. Despite this conflict, she was sociable and gentle; she said her rosary and other prayers in private.

The first Catholic priest to guide her was the Rev. Francis Neale, founder of Holy Trinity Catholic Church, but in his absence she appealed to his brother, the Rev. Leonard Neale, who had founded our Visitation monastery two blocks away. They were immediately taken with one another, and Leonard Neale became her spiritual director, guiding her in “the paths of perfection.” She was obedient to his instruction, and thereafter would only visit her aunt in Alexandria with his consent. In a notorious incident that probably happened on a feast day, she was staying in Alexandria with his permission, but he had encouraged her to go to church in Georgetown. The aunt refused to grant permission for a carriage; echoing a remark made by St. Jane de Chantal when she, too, was refused the use of horses for a long journey, Sr. Ann Catherine said she would walk, for “Obedience has very good legs.” The aunt finally gave in and called for a carriage. Stay tuned.

Boxing Lessons

No, we haven't taken up a new sport ... but some of us did have a lesson in building boxes this weekend. As part of a homeless awareness event, a group of our students, sisters and parents slept outside on our campus in cardboard boxes, heard testimony from formerly homeless people and reflected on ways in which we can be more attentive to those in our society who experience homelessness.

After a night in a cardboard box, students attended Mass with the sisters and shared some of their experiences with them in the parlor after Mass. After cleaning up "box city" the homeless-for-a-day had time to journal and reflect on their experiences. To see more pictures from this powerful event, check out the photo album on our Facebook page.

"And therefore the same charity which produces the acts of the love of God, produces at the same time those of the love of our neighbor. And even as Jacob saw that one same ladder touched heaven and earth, serving the angels both for descending and ascending, so we know that one same charity extends itself to both the love of God and our neighbor, raising us to the union of our spirit with God, and bringing us back again to a loving society with our neighbors; always, however, on the understanding that we love our neighbor as being after the image and likeness of God, created to have communication with the divine goodness, to participate in his grace, and to enjoy his glory."

St. Francis de Sales

Daylight Dividends!

The advent of daylight savings means a LOSS (usually of sleep) for most of us. For some, however, it is a gain. With an extra hour of daylight, it means that we can recreate outside when the weather permits. Last night found a few sisters taking advantage of the extended daylight and the warm(er) air for a game of bocce.

Even harder than aiming at the pallino was the task of teaching our dogs, Nicholas and Gabriel, that we really don't want them chasing these balls. They are normally quite obedient, but the sight of four bipeds tossing around nine balls is enough to confuse them as to why we really don't want them chasing the balls (at least not until the round is scored!)

The green team narrowly stole a victory from the red team with a sneaky point-busting ball tossed by Sister Rose which kissed the pallino and broke up a big 3-point score for the red team. The setting sun ended the game with a 10-7 score. One could hardly tell from the laughing and (gentle) shouting which duo won and which did not ... it seems the only "losers" were the crestfallen canines.

"Walking, harmless games, music, instrumental or vocal, field sports, etc., are such entirely lawful recreations that they need no rules beyond those of ordinary discretion, which keep every thing within due limits of time, place, and degree. So again games of skill, which exercise and strengthen body or mind, such as tennis, rackets, running at the ring, chess, and the like, are in themselves both lawful and good."

St. Francis de Sales

From the Archives

Those of you who have visited our campus, will note that Founders' Hall is named after the three founding sisters of our community. The classrooms on the second floor all begin with "McDermott" after the honored memory of our dear Sister Mary Francis McDermott.

Sister Mary Frances McDermott, nee Maria Corballis, was born in Dublin, Ireland ca1750. Her father was a learned man who made certain this youngest daughter received a good education. She had a vivacious disposition, but she was also studious, pious, and known for her compassion to the poor. Her oldest sister was a nun in the order of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin in Dublin; there were also two brothers with similarly sparkling personalities who died young.

Sister's parents both died in 1774 when she was 24 years old. Two years later she married Martin McDermott, who encouraged her work with the poor. They were a pious couple who responded to need and distress so freely that friends warned them they would ruin themselves through giving. They lived by the maxims of the gospel, however, and gave freely of the abundance with which the Lord had blessed them while considering themselves only stewards of those gifts.

Two years after their marriage, Roman Catholics were so persecuted in Ireland that they sailed for America, settling in Philadelphia where they soon became known for piety and charity. Martin McDermott died in 1793 of the yellow fever that was ravaging Philadelphia. They had no children, and soon McDermott declared her intention to enter religious life. Her spiritual director was the most Reverend Leonard Neale, who was in the process of establishing a nunnery under the rule of the Visitation. She resolved to join the other two ladies who were beginning this with him, but because of the many obstacles they encountered, she had to remain in the world longer than she had hoped. Finally, in June of 1799 the two ladies were sent to Georgetown, Rev. Neale followed soon after, and McDermott was invited to come a few months later. On her arrival in Georgetown she was able to relieve their many needs considerably. Her dowry of $3,000 paid for their first house, and she also donated many necessary items such as furniture and silver plate.

These three ladies comprised the community for a long time; no one yet had had the courage to enter with them because of their poverty. Also, because of the French Revolution and the ensuing Napoleonic Wars, religious life had been banned in Europe and the monasteries dispersed, so there was no possibility of sending for anyone. Gradually they took on pupils and built Visitation into a well-respected school. Sister's good education, thanks to her father, was vital to this endeavor. When the community was officially accepted as a Visitation monastery, Sister made her solemn profession. Her lively faith manifested itself in a tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin and to St. Joseph, whom she frequently called upon along with other favorites saints Teresa of Avila, Peter of Alcantara, John of the Cross, and Francis Borgia. One of her favorite occupations during her last years was making small, tastefully adorned boxes to hold relics.

The nun who wrote McDermott's biography said she contributed to the education of "many of us," yet sometimes her zeal meant she became over-anxious for the girls' welfare. She had a good heart, though, and quickly acknowledged it humbly whenever she let this intensity get the better of her. Naturally of a robust constitution, she remained healthy until her final two years, during which she suffered brief, frequent bouts of illness. In early June 1820 she developed dropsy, an inflammation of the limbs now known as edema, and it caused her much suffering. Several times she tearfully asked pardon either for the trouble caused by her sickness or for her previous tendency to excitability, and she styled herself a great sinner when she spoke movingly of God's goodness toward sinners. She received the last sacraments from Fr. Clorivière in the presence of the whole community, after which she survived only three days, speaking often of eternity and God. She died in tranquility on October 26, 1820, at the age of 70.

Corporal Works of Mercy Revisited

Today's first reading from Tobit puts before us the corporal work of mercy known as burying the dead. Christians seeking to perform corporal works of mercy may, at times, feel limited by their circumstances if they are unable to go out to visit the sick or imprisoned, etc. Without diminishing the value of performing one of these noble tasks, perhaps there are ways in which we, daily, may perform these acts in a spiritual way. And in doing so, we can keep the fire of devotion -- and desire -- burning in our hearts until we have an opportunity to perform these acts physically.

We may not have direct access to help feed and to give drink to those who need it. We can, however, be attentive to those who are starving for attention and who are parched -- whose spirits are dried up -- in need of a kind word or a loving touch to restore hope to their hearts. We can feed those who are hungry for the things of God with the promise of prayer; we can feed those who are hungry for loving attention with a moment or two of our time as we listen to their troubles or inquire about their day.

Perhaps we are aware of a colleague at work or a classmate at school who is especially vulnerable. Perhaps he does not seem to fit in and appears to be painfully aware of it. We may clothe the nakedness of his vulnerability by going out of our way to include him in conversations or casual gatherings at work. Maybe someone in our parish is naked because rumors -- be they true or false -- have begun to circulate about her personal life. We can clothe her in her nakedness by reaching out and demonstrating by our actions that we are unaffected by the unkind words which have fallen from the nasty bird of gossip.

Few of us are able to open our doors to the homeless and provide the shelter that they need. Many of us may be able to help support agencies which provide these services, but all of us can provide protection from the "bad weather" which comes upon our friends and family members from time to time. Perhaps one of our students is experiencing a painful situation at home; we can listen and offer a loving space in which she can feel safe to talk about it. Maybe a coworker has just been let go; instead of allowing the awkwardness of the situation to keep us apart, we can protect him from the cold night of shame or humiliation by reaching out and offering to help him make contacts and update his resume.

Visiting the sick and imprisoned can be done in person or by a thoughtful greeting sent in the mail, over email or by other means. A spiritual bouquet is a beautiful way to give a gift to someone who is sick or imprisoned. We can also visit those whose prisons are not Lovelace's stone walls and iron bars. Perhaps we have a classmate who is in an abusive relationship or who suffers from addiction. These situations can be as confining and painful as a physical experience of incarceration. We can "visit" those among us who are imprisoned by their circumstances by offering our company, our friendship and our moral support.

It is usually a sad day when we have the opportunity to participate in the corporal work of mercy described in today's first reading. Burying the dead, however, is a gesture of respect for the earthly body that housed an eternal soul. We can show respect to the souls of the deceased by how we speak of them. If someone is bringing to light the shortcomings of a deceased friend or family member, we might find a gentle way to balance the remark or to overshadow it by recalling the virtues of the deceased. In doing so, we protect the reputation of one who is unable to defend himself.

This is not intended to suggest that we may dispense ourselves from seeking opportunities to perform corporal works of mercy. Rather, it is merely an invitation to seek new ways of performing these acts of charity. In addition, we can always unite ourselves to those who are directly engaged in these works by praying for them and those whom they serve. We will never know how many good works go undone or unfinished because there was no one to pray for their success; we can never underestimate the importance of praying for those who perform these corporal works of mercy.

"It is always a work of love to join with others and take part in their good works. And although it may be possible that you can use equally profitable devotions by yourself as in common with others . . . nevertheless God is more glorified when we unite with our brethren and neighbors and join our offering to theirs."

St. Francis de Sales

Another Archive Article!

Catharine Clare Agnes Lancaster was born into a wealthy English family ca1785, and she had six brothers and one sister; she was the youngest daughter and the third child. She was considered thoughtful and unworldly. Her sister often reproached her, calling her foolish and even stupid, and due to her natural meekness she generally received this in silence. If she did answer it would only be to say "I cannot help it."

That older sister desired to marry an equally wealthy man, but her parents refused because he was Protestant, although otherwise he would have been a fine match. Independently, and in opposition to them, she "bound herself to this man for life," a monastery euphemism for a Protestant marriage not recognized by Catholics. She continued to practice her Catholic faith until her death just a little over a year later in 1808. This tragedy inspired the younger, surviving sister to wish to "bid adieu to this deceiving world" by entering our monastery, although her grieving parents asked her to remain at home. They were worried because she was used to a certain level of domestic comfort, and religious life demanded certain austerities, so she stayed at home.

About three years later her mother died, and she remained with her afflicted father who suffered from what was known as apoplexy, probably some sort of stroke. For three years she "shared in both his confinement and in his sufferings." Although she continued to long for consecrated life, she was not free of family obligations for the next eight years, even after he died in 1810. When not busy with her father she performed acts of charity including visiting the sick, ornamenting churches, reading spiritual books (especially the lives of the saints to whom she was so devoted), and various other "pious exercises." After her father's death she had control of her own time, and she liberally shared her inheritance with the sick and needy, traveling with her servant to bring whatever was needed. She was also known for excellent taste and for sewing skills, and so was able to richly serve her church, where she was a voluntary sacristan.

She still aspired to religious life, and came to this monastery on June 1, 1818. She was so weak at that time that she spent a great portion of her probation in the infirmary, and it was not until her reception to the habit on July 2 (then the great festival of our order, although the date has been changed to May 31 on the new Roman calendar) that she began to recover her health and spirits. She began her novitiate joyfully, and even though her novice mistress was several years younger than she was, she was strictly submissive, never resisting obedience and sharing her interior thoughts with candor and simplicity as is recommended by our holy rules. She was honest without reservation about her many temptations and trials, and at the same time she expressed her gratitude to God for having called her to a religious life.

"She was a person of few words, and never related anything that would cause disunion or trouble. Her actions clearly proved that she considered her sisters as her superiors, for no sooner was she requested to do this or that, than she complied without any will or apparent thought but that of obedience." During her novitiate she was made assistant to the sacristan, and she held this office for most of the last two years of her life. She also helped care for boarding students, and even as her health faltered she continued this work until ten days before her death. When it was clear she had to leave the school, she agreed with her usual sweetness and a smile, but everyone knew she might not return.

On the tenth day of her confinement her pain became so excruciating that she was given a painkiller. This deranged her in a manner from which she did not recover, and it prevented her from receiving the Viaticum, though she had received holy communion four days before the festival of the Assumption of Our Lady. She always had a particular devotion to the holy Virgin Mother of God and St. Joseph, and she always placed herself under their singular protection; when she had been in the world she said daily the Little Office of the Blessed Mother. Due to her delirium it was only possible to administer the holy extreme unction. A few hours later she quietly passed "from the rank of choir sister to the peace of the children of God." This was August 19, 1820, and she was 35 years old, having been professed for 13 months and 17 days.

An Evening with a Saint and Some Angels

On Friday evening some lovely ladies from the Court of Our Lady of Good Counsel, Catholic Daughters of the Americas of Georgetown University made an evening of reflection here on campus. We listened to some spiritual lessons from the life of St. Jane de Chantal, colored some magic scratch angels, made some paper-bag mailboxes, enjoyed some great food, joined the monastery community for Compline and had some quiet time before the Blessed Sacrament. Among the highlights was the "Guess that Gospel Passage" game ... where we had two winners who were able to name the Gospel passage from which the title "Our Lady of Good Counsel" is derived. Check out our photo album on Facebook to see more pictures from Friday evening. Below, one of the "Holy Hoyas" shows off her mailbox and her angel.

Nun Run

It's a long way from Atlanta, Georgia but the St. Thomas Apostle Life Teen group that arrived here on Monday was bright-eyed and enthusiastic for the first leg of their six-day, four-stop nun run. Pictured above are the valiant youth ministers and their four angels gathered in the novitiate lounge after a question-and-answer session with our postulants and a couple of sisters.

The delightful gang arrived in time for Vespers. They enjoyed a supper of soup and wraps with homemade cookies for dessert. After Night Prayer the group gathered in the novitiate lounge and watched "A Season of Restoration" about our 1993 fire. Questions, answers, and lots and lots of laughs followed the movie. We enjoyed our time with the St. Thomas pilgrims and we hope they come visit on their next trip through DC!

Quite a Find: the Foundress!

As we continue our series of archival accounts, we share here a brief account of the life of the Foundress of our monastery, Alice Lalor.

Alice ("Allie") Lalor was born in Ireland during the era when penal laws prevented Catholics from attending school. When she made her Confirmation, she made a vow to give her life Christ; her spiritual director urged her to devote her energies to establishing a Catholic school for girls. Her family immigrated to the United States when she was 16, in 1794. She left her home country promising to return when she was of age.

Soon she met the Rev. Leonard Neale, who convinced her that she was called to work in the U.S. They began a school in Philadelphia, but when yellow fever ravaged that city, her companions in the enterprise all died it had to close. In 1799 she joined Neale, who had been appointed President of Georgetown University (then just a small school), in Georgetown to try again. She and her two companions were known by the neighbors as the "pious ladies," and they established an Academy and a Benevolent School for orphans. Neale had initially allowed the women to make simple vows, but they took formal vows as Visitation Sisters in 1816, and Alice was renamed Mother Teresa Josephine Lalor. During her lifetime, Visitation began to expand throughout the country. As she lay dying in 1846, she joked with the sisters who were leaving to make a foundation in Frederick not to wait for her funeral. She did not want her approaching death to slow down God's work.

At some point, when the sisters renewed their vows, Alice mistakenly vowed herself to "Poverty, Charity and Obedience." Ever after, she was conscious of that fourth promise, keeping her vow of charity as faithfully as she kept the first three. She was noted for her cheerfulness, kindness, her charity -- especially in her speech, humility and sense of humor. She died September 9, 1846. She spoke so little of herself that we do not know her date of birth.

Treasures from a Different ARK-hive

Recently we've been posting highlights from our archives. In light of today's first reading, we have two humorous pieces to share. Perhaps some of our readers received this first ditty in an email; it seems to have been in circulation for some time. This particular version of the "modern ark" story is from appleseeds, a Franciscan website.

And the Lord spoke to Noah and said: "In six months I’m going to make it rain until the whole earth is covered with water and all the evil people are destroyed. But I want to save a few good people, and two of every kind of living thing on the planet. I am ordering you to build Me an Ark." And in a flash of lightning He delivered the specifications for an Ark."OK," said Noah, trembling in fear and fumbling with the blueprints."Six months, and it starts to rain," thundered the Lord. "You’d better have the Ark completed, or learn how to swim for a very long time."And six months passed. The skies began to cloud up and rain began to fall. The Lord saw that Noah was sitting in his front yard, weeping. And there was no Ark."Noah," shouted the Lord, "where is My Ark?"A lightning bolt crashed into the ground next to Noah. "Lord, please forgive me!" begged Noah. "I did my best. But there were big problems. First I had to get a building permit for the Ark construction project, and your plans didn’t meet code. So I had to hire an engineer to redraw the plans. Then I got into a big fight over whether or not the Ark needed a fire sprinkler system. My neighbors objected claiming I was violating zoning by building the Ark in my front yard, so I had to get a variance from the city planning commission..Then I had a big problem getting enough wood for the Ark because there was a ban on cutting trees to save the Spotted Owl. I had to convince U.S. Fish and Wildlife that I needed the wood to save the owls. But they wouldn’t let me catch any owls. So no owls. Then the carpenters formed a union and went out on strike. I had to negotiate a settlement with the National labor Relations Board before anyone would pick up a saw or a hammer. Now we have 16 carpenters going on the boat, and still no owls.Then I started gathering up animals, and got sued by an animal rights group. They objected to me taking only two of each kind. Just when I got the suit dismissed, EPA notified me that I couldn’t complete the Ark without filing an environmental impact statement on your proposed flood. They didn’t take kindly to the idea that they had no jurisdiction over the conduct of a Supreme Being.Then the Army Corps of Engineers wanted a map of the proposed new flood plan. I sent them a globe. Right now I’m still trying to resolve a complaint from the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission over how many immigrants I’m supposed to hire, the IRS has seized all my assets claiming I’m trying to avoid paying taxes by leaving the country, and I just got a notice from the state about owing some kind of use tax. I really don’t think I can finish your Ark for at least another five years," Noah wailed.The sky began to clear. The sun began to shine. A rainbow arched across the sky. Noah looked up and smiled. "You mean you’re not going to destroy the earth?" Noah asked, hopefully."Wrong!" thundered the Lord. "But being Lord of the Universe has its advantages. I fully intend to smite the Earth, but with something far worse than a flood. Something Man invented himself—GOVERNMENT!"

The second ARK-hive treasure is this children's song. There are several versions of this available but the animation on this particular version is sweet. Enjoy!

Archive Installment

As we continue our historical series, we share some biographical information about our Sister Elizabeth Augustina Greenwell.

This sister, who was born c1786, had a more difficult childhood than most. She fell when she was 18 months old and broke her arm and leg. Doctors removed a bone from each limb, causing them to grow out of proportion to the rest of her body, and she remained lame all her life. The monastery sisters later deemed this disfigurement a blessing in disguise, however, for they credited it with preserving her innocence in childhood. Unlike the other sisters, who always seemed to be more pious than the other children in their youth, this sister's piety developed only as she became older.

She became known for charity to the poor and the sick, and for getting up to pray every morning at 4 a.m. (typical in the monastery but not in private life). Before she entered she did not enjoy worldly pleasures as much as her sisters did, preferring to be alone or spending her time working for the Church. She went to confession and was allowed to take communion every eight days, a rare privilege in that era, making her an example of piety in the world.

She petitioned to enter this monastery, was admitted, and received the white veil from our founder, Archbishop Leonard Neale. She had a sweet, easy temper and obliging ways, and she carefully concealed her extreme weakness and pain, participating in all the duties of the community as much as she was able. She was given the rank of choir sister, meaning she was educated and could read or recite Latin to chant the Divine Office.

She contracted tuberculosis that caused incontinence, and faintness, and she coughed up blood. She moved to the infirmary of the monastery where she remained for the rest of her life. During her last six weeks she was short of breath and could not even lie down. Too much sitting caused dropsy in her feet and legs. All of this she bore with great patience, expressing her gratitude to others for the smallest services. As she grew worse she asked for the entire community to assemble in the infirmary, and she begged their pardon for all her failings. She received the Viaticum, and she often called upon God during her suffering. She was in extreme pain, but exhorted herself to patience by saying, "My spouse suffered more for me." She also asked the infirmarian to speak and read to her of Christ's sufferings.

She died on April 14, 1820 at age 34.