Month: November 2019

I hesitate writing about Sister Rose Christy.  She was SUCH a character that I know I cannot do her justice.  Other sisters know incidents in her life that make her so very unique.  I hope in writing this that other stories about Rose come forth.

Here are a few tidbits.  Rose was a nurse in Oxnard where there was a small enclave of very conservative nuns.  Sister M. Theophane was one of them.  She was a convert to Catholicism and was shocked when she felt that we were beginning to espouse some of the things she felt she had left behind as a Protestant.  I know that firsthand through music.  Theophane chided me for introducing “those Protestant hymns” into our repertory. Those were not proper for our Roman Catholic liturgy!

Rose’s conservatism was expressed in politics.  It was said that she was almost a “Bircher.”

I don’t know if it was before her stint in Oxnard or after but I do know that Rose was a nurse at St. Joseph’s in Phoenix.  She had met up with Loretta Young.   They became very good friends, a friendship that lasted throughout Loretta’s lifetime.  It was in Phoenix that Rose began to take an active part in politics.  I know that she worked for the recall of the Governor.  At some point Sister M. DePaul, the hospital administrator, spoke in an interview that got into Time Magazine.  She stated emphatically, “The opinions of Sister Rose Christy do not reflect the positions taken by St. Joseph’s Hospital.”

Rose was stricken with back trouble and she was confined to bed.  Now she had time to read and read she did.  She was transformed from her far-right views to far-left.

My first experience of Rose was when she was recuperating as a resident in the Motherhouse.  It was an exciting time.  We were to decide who among us was to be our representative at the Community Chapter. Things were changing in the Sisterhood.  Previous to this Chapter important matter to be taken up would be such things as “Should we take the bottom pin out of the Veil?”  Now the times they were a’changin. 

Each house sent a delegate to the Chapter.  Now in the Motherhouse Mother Monica, a member of the General Council, would be an ex- officio member of Chapter.  We felt that we should have an additional member to represent us along with Monica because she was already going.  We felt strongly about this.  We were spurred on by Sister M. Madalen Ward.

Sister M. Madalen Ward was visiting in Southern California at the time, but she got herself home pronto so that she could rev up the troops and cast her vote.  

Unfortunately the “powers that be” heard about our underground movement to elect an additional person to attend Chapter.  Well, they did what they thought was the proper thing to do.  They consulted a Jesuit Canon Lawyer, Fr. Richard Hill, and of course he said that we were wrong.

We were meeting for our house vote in Coolock Hall, now the Sequoia.  In rolled Rose on a stretcher to cast her vote.  She voted on the losing side but her vote was cast in a dramatic way.  Rose excelled in drama.

Rose had worked for Native Americans in Arizona and she was good at raising money for them.  Someone on the General Council thought she would be good as a fund raiser for the community.  So began a new phase of her life.  During her time in this new venture she launched a “Nun-Run” that took place at Coyote Point.  All of us who could manage one foot in front of the other were recruited to be in the nun-run (actually she wanted to call this venture “The Forty-Nuners” but that name had already been taken by some other enterprising group.)

Even our dog, Andy, was a part of the action.  He never figured out what was actually happening but he posed for some cute pictures near the water station.

Rose could be seen all over the Bay Area.  She figured any publicity was good publicity.  One of our friends said she saw Rose in the City with what the woman termed a Bumble-Bee outfit.  She had taken to wearing hats at this time and she was quite a sight in her bright yellow and black outfit.

The climax came when Rose called a press conference in the front of the convent.  The place was swarming with print media.  The next day the local papers had us plastered all over their front page.

That evening I was facilitating Taizé prayer in Antioch.  The woman who introduced me said to the assembled group, “I don’t know if you read in today’s Chronicle that Sister’s community is badly in need of money.  I have left a basket on the piano here, and I invite you to put some money in that basket.” Well, I could hardly make it through the prayer, my head sunk deep into my lap.

One night Rose was watching the evening news and she saw the  plight of orphans in Romania.  I don’t know if Rose already had a passport, but I do know that she got herself to Romania in record time. There she worked to get help for those orphans, and knowing Rose, she did it in a big way.  As she worked in Romania, she found that the problem was more systemic than institutions housing orphans and so she began to work with family units.  She even had a radio program.

This chapter of Rose’s life must be recorded in our archives.  It should occupy a major part of those archives. This was the action of a woman with a big heart and lots of energy, a woman of whom we are very proud.  (Sister Marilyn Gouailhardou will tell you that she couldn’t spell.)

By Sister Suzanne Toolan

This may have been 1984 or 1985.

The family from El Salvador that lived with us longest was the MontSols.  They were connected with Montsalvat Community and lived on the third floor of the McAuley wing.  They were Tomasa, Anna, and Cristo.  Anna took some classes at Mercy High School.  She loved the high school community and spent her evenings in our community room where she played with Andy, our dog, and attempted to teach me a few Spanish songs.

The family was eventually settled in Edmonton, Canada where they had a hard time adjusting to the weather.  Unfortunately, Anna had an idealized memory of her time with us and had a very difficult time.  She attempted suicide once.  Her family sent her back for a visit a couple of years later, but it was not the same for her.

Among the families that lived at the Lodge was a mother, father and these little boys, Oscar, Moises, and Isaias.  To keep them busy I invited them to help me greet Interns coming in for a month-long program in Spiritual Direction at Mercy Center.  I asked the oldest to go along in the car to pick up interns as they arrived at the airport.  He was very proud of himself but the other two were jealous.  So I invited them to help bring in luggage of interns as they arrived.  I gave them a dime (!) for each little item they brought in.  I didn’t realize the interns were tipping them quite generously.  By the time the big-shot brother got home from the airport trips the little guys had a pocket full of money.  We could hear sounds from a big fight brewing.

There were other refugee families that lived at the Lodge.  They would come up to the convent to eat their meals.  I remember one little fellow leaving to go back to the Lodge.   He had his pockets overflowing with food.  They were evidently so used to not having enough to eat that when they saw such plenty, they put some away for leaner times.

As families came to stay at the Lodge we soon realized that it was difficult for them.  They were not near other refugee families and far from public transportation.  So which ever Sister was in charge (I don’t remember who it was) relocated them in the City.  I had one family come from the City every Saturday to help out with projects in the Center.  They did a lot of painting.  I was able to pay them with cash that I had stashed away from income cash through the Center.

Airport

When we first started to go to the airport to help transfer refugees from one plane to another we found they needed some quick protein.  Sister M. Amadeus (well into her 80s) would boil 300 eggs each night.  The group in charge of refugee resettlement would come and pick the eggs up to give out.  

We took our high school kids along with us when we went to help at the airport.  The kids were great.  They related so well with the refugees.  We would leave the convent at 5 a.m. and pick up the refugees at a motel the resettlement group would have provided.  The refugees would have so little with them, sometimes a piece of needlework that would remind them of home.  Many of them were going to cold states and the fabric of their clothing was very thin.  One time a young man was going to a very cold place and he didn’t even have a sweater.  I gave him my school sweater.  I was sorry afterward because it was acrylic and looked warmer than it was. If he had had no sweater at all I know someone would have provided him with a nice warm one.  (Not to be outdone, the next day Sister Jean Evans gave someone her shoes.)

When I write about refugees I am so conscious that other sisters were the ones who were in the forefront of caring for them, especially Sisters Marilyn Lacey and Ellen FitzGerald.   My part and other high school sisters’ part was very minor.

Marilyn’s endeavor developed into important ministry in San Jose in Refugee Resettlement and now her extraordinary work with Mercy Beyond Borders.

Anyway, back to some experiences that come to mind.  I was helping a group find their way from one plane to another that would take them to their destination.   We all attempted to board when a very officious looking flight attendant accosted us.  She drew herself up to her full height and rather haughtily said, “I suppose they are bringing all sorts of germs into our country.”

I heard coming from my own meek and cowardly self this retort, “These people have all been recently checked by a doctor.  Can you say the same thing about the rest of your passengers?”  She THOUGHT she had met her match, and she stepped out of the way, even helping a bit.

Another time I was waiting for check-in with a group.  Many people were giving us frosty looks that seemed to say, “More foreigners coming into our country!” Then approaching from behind was a young woman with a baby.  She was delighted to see all of us and edged closer.  Far from being worried about what “these people” were bringing in, she reached into her baby’s stroller and brought out snacks for all.  She gave them out with a welcoming smile.  I was so proud of her.  She had been in the Chorale when she was a student at Mercy, Burlingame.