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Saint Jane de Chantal
Happy Feast of Saint Jane de Chantal! Today’s guest blogger is Marsha West who has spent time with the Visitation Nuns who were founded by Jane and Saint Francis de Sales.
SAINT JANE DE CHANTAL (1572-1641)
Founder, with St. Francis de Sales,
of the Congregation of the Visitation of Holy Mary
Married at 20 and widowed at 28, Jane de Chantal devoted herself to raising her children, managing her household, that of her father-in-law, and doing works of charity. Still young and beautiful, Jane vowed never to marry again. Struggling with grief and a difficult life situation, her faith deepened.
In a dream, God promised to send her a spiritual guide. That guide was Bishop Francis de Sales. Together they founded the Congregation of the Visitation of Holy Mary – a congregation open to widows, the elderly, the disabled – women not up to the rigorous austerities of religious life in that time. Visitation sisters would live a life of prayer, going out occasionally to serve the needs of the poor and sick in the neighborhood.
Their community grew quickly. New foundations were made. The church wasn’t ready yet to accept the idea of sisters leaving the cloister to go out in ministry, so Visitation sisters became enclosed contemplatives, whose prayer was grounded in the gentle spirituality of Francis de Sales. Over time, many of their foundations came to have apostolic work attached, like schools, but prayer remained their paramount focus.
THE NUNZ-IN-THE-HOOD
Four hundred years later, four sisters in Minnesota heard a call to take Visitation to the inner city. Their superiors agreed, and a new foundation was made in Minneapolis in 1989 – one that would embody a new form of Visitation life, one very close to the original dream of their founders– an urban monastery, grounded in prayer, but open to serve the needs of the world. I went to see it for myself . . .
Six sisters live in two houses, a block apart, in an aging, sometimes violent neighborhood. They live a monastic life, chanting the office four times a day. At prayer time, a sign is put on the door:
The sisters are at prayer.
If you would like to join us,
ring the doorbell.
Neighbors – street people – teenagers – mothers with children – sometimes victims of violence – come to pray; they stay to talk, or to share a meal.
The doorbell rings all day. Each time, a sister goes to answer, she expects to encounter Jesus at the threshold. She will try to “be Jesus” for that person.
Three times a week, mass is celebrated in the living room. Neighbors join them. All are welcome.
The nuns are loved in the neighborhood. Greetings of Yo! Sisters! resound wherever they go. Children help themselves to books from the porch shelves. Teenagers drop by to say hello on their way down town. Some leave with a sandwich to eat on the way – or with bus tokens in their pockets. A mother, out of food stamps, gets a cash card for a couple bags of groceries. A group gathers to plan a project for neighborhood improvement. A neighbor weeds the garden.
It’s all very simple. It’s all very real. It’s an amazing expression of what Jane and Francis envisioned 400 years ago:
- to be a peaceful, prayerful presence to others –
to LIVE JESUS every day.
Thanks, St. Jane! What a great idea!
Happy Feast Day!
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{ 2 comments }
i so love the welcome to prayer. i’d love to be there myself, just to see all the pray-ers who come in response to that invitation.
great blog, marsha.
Ah, the people that came . . . it was amazing. I never saw the gospel lived out in such a powerful, practical way. One encounter after another left me speechless . . . they do LIVE JESUS! with each other, with the neighborhood. Here’s one story I didn’t have room for on the blog itself: a teenage boy who grew up in the neighborhood now lives under a bridge – a street kid. He came one morning in dreadful shape. He’d been beaten up during the night. His shirt had been torn off and his wounds were very visible. He wanted a safe place to sleep. Ordinarily the sisters don’t let people sleep on the porch – but permission was given. The sister went and got ointment – washed and treated his cuts and bruises – found him a T-shirt and he slept the rest of the day. And went back to his life on the streets. They can’t fix things. But they do what they can.
I asked one of the sisters how they keep from being pulled down into a morass of discouragement when there is so much wrong that can’t be fixed. She told me, “You look for the next best step.”