SSMO Power

I recently spent a few hours with the Sisters of St. Mary of Oregon. It was the annual Covenant Day where lay associates, like me, recommit ourselves to praying with the sisters and carrying out a common charism of service in our daily lives. The nuns realized about twenty years ago that, with the number of new vocations declining, they should consider reaching out to lay men and women who shared the same ideals and practiced the same values so that they could connect with the world in a broader way. The journey has been an education for all of us.

Two friends and I were among the first of seven people who answered the invitation those many years ago; now there are over fifty lay associates, not counting about fifteen who have died, including one of my two friends. The three of us were originally the only ones from Eastern Oregon. Although more from our neck of the woods eventually joined us, most of the associates always came from the Portland-Vancouver area, closer to the SSMOs. Because we traveled four hours to get there, we were invited to stay the weekend at the convent. It was enlightening for both the nuns and us.

I think it was hard at first for the sisters to adjust to being invaded by strangers, albeit only a few. We were fascinated with everything and wanted to check out each corner of the convent: the dome, the balconies, the bells, the beautiful grounds, the various sitting rooms, the communal bathrooms with two dozen sinks lined up in a row, the phone closet, the craft room, the dormitories where high school girls and novices had once stayed. We laughed too loud, stayed up too late, and got lost too often, not always staying where we were supposed to be. Poor Sr. Catherine, our contact, was always walking a fine line between upholding the proper decorum and having fun with us.

In turn, we found out that nuns were as individual as the rest of us. One sister, with whom we shared a living room, was an avid Blazers fan and became quite animated during the game. Another loved crafts and had quite a few projects going. A third was athletic and went running every morning, another liked to fly kites, and another took care of the flowerbed outside the kitchen, admonishing anyone who dared to pick even one of the beautiful buds that resulted. As regulations relaxed, some of the women had gladly thrown off wimples and veils and exchanged habits for regular clothes in the traditional navy and white of their order, while others stubbornly clung to the familiar. One nun in her 80s still wore her habit daily, but occasionally pulled on top of it a bright red pullover sweater that she loved. What a rebel. Another sister donned worn street clothes several times a week and visited the homeless along Burnside. Some taught at the school that they ran, some worked at the nearby nursing home that was managed by a different order, and a few worked in parishes. Whatever earnings they made were pooled to provide for the entire convent and big decisions were made by consensus. In their spare time, they took care of their cooking and laundry, the grounds, the school, their extended families, the retreat center, and the retired nuns in their infirmary. They disagreed, they were quirky, they laughed, they prayed, they communed, and they moved mountains. And, boy, could they sing. They were educated, and smart, and determined, and daring, and who wouldn’t want to be connected with them in some way?

Although it has been a strange association to try to explain to people, (no, I’m not becoming a nun; I’m just going off to play with them periodically), it became quite important to me. Hearing from the sisters throughout the year about what they are doing and knowing that they are watching my back with prayer, as I do for them, fortifies a bond between us. When I make a student feel valuable and cared for in my work as a teacher, or when I take Mom for a day of shopping or help someone with memory loss wash their hands, I am joining forces with some very strong-willed, compassionate, radical women who are also using their various gifts to make a corner of the world a better place.

For me, going back to the SSMO convent is like making a pilgrimage to a second home. I know the secrets of the physical place, the faces of its heart, and the pulse of its longing. I plug into the spiritual flow of these women who are so different and yet so akin to myself and return renewed and re-grounded.

SSMO Power: I need it in my life.