The final part of a story by Brian Doyle in Best Catholic Writing 2007 on The Sisters of Mount Angel (return to the beginning of the story)

If we are to properly honor and celebrate the legacy of such graceful and strong people as the sisters at Mt. Angel, who have bent their whole lives to the promise that love will defeat darkness, then we must march into our days with rage and song, with hammers in our hands and prayers in our mouths, and build us a new Church and a new world and a new, roaring poem, with all the grace and strength and sweet, wild magic we can muster. It can be done. It’s being done as I write these words and as you read them. These brave women bet their lives on that premise. My mama bet her life on that premise. Are we to tell them they were wrong, and the task is too big? I don’t have the courage to tell my mother such a thing, for she is a tart, tough, tiny Irish Catholic woman from New York City, and even my brothers, strapping men far taller and broader than I, quail at the thought of telling our mum what cannot be done; and it would take a far braver man than I to stand up to tiny Sister Alicia and tell her that the work she has chosen to do is a bust. She would laugh in my face, and she would be right.

So let us go, then, you and I, and forge a new thing. We do not know its shape, but we know the astounding idea at its heart, the idea that has driven the Catholic clan through two thousand years, the idea that remains, I believe, the key to the moral evolution of the human race, the idea that fell again and again from the lips of the gaunt, dusty man with starlight in his veins: love, love, love, love, love.

The End.

Last year my colleague Jim Manney shared with me the Foreword of a book that he had just finished editing, The Best Catholic Writing 2007 (a series that Loyola Press publishes annually). Brian Doyle, who wrote the Foreword, tells of his experience with the Sisters of Mount Angel. Loyola Press graciously granted me permission to reprint the story for you here at A Nun’s Life. The story will be done “serial-style” with a few paragraphs each day during the Christmas holiday. I’ll be interjecting occasionally to comment and to converse with you. Enjoy!

Some time ago I gave a characteristically rambling talk to a group of Benedictine nuns at their monastery in Oregon. As usual I set out to tell stories and sing prayers and tell jokes and draw tears and foment cheerful chaos and try to connect at some deep, inexplicable level that has everything to do with laughing and weeping, and as usual I was granted more epiphany and delight than I could ever have delivered, which happens to me all the time, which is one of the reasons I feel like the richest man on earth, even though my back is sore all the time and my wife is a confusing country and my children never make their beds and it rains so much here that everyone gets a little mossy come winter.

Anyway, I arrived early at the monastery and wandered around the grounds for a couple of hours, out of respect for my hosts, trying to see and sense something of their lives and loves: their salty days, the way the wind slid through their fir trees, the geometry of the gravestones in their tiny cemetery, the way the hop fields and vineyards stretched away in corduroy rows beneath their little hill, the keening of hawks overhead, the secret words that dragonflies and damselflies spelled in the air among the old stone buildings. I wandered and wondered. I walked the simple stations of the cross that someone had carved in trees along a path. I examined the old washhouse, where millions of prayers had been murmured over socks and frocks during the last century. I sat in the tall grass and prayed quietly for all sorts of things, even for the one-eyed cat glaring at me balefully from the brambles, and then I went to give my talk.

First there was a meal, of course, and before the meal were prayers, and the three nuns offering prayers were a microcosm of the monastery….

Check in tomorrow for the continuation of The Sisters of Mount Angel.

I am pleased to announce that I will be hosting author and speaker
Joan Wester Anderson for a day-long visit at ANunsLife.org!

This Thursday, October 2 — which happens to be the Feast of the Guardian Angels in the Catholic tradition – Joan will visit this blog and discuss her new book Angels and Wonders: True Stories of Heaven on Earth. Joan is the author of numerous books on angels. You can learn more at her website JoanWAnderson.com.

How this works is that Joan will be checking in at my blog from around 8 a.m. Central Time to about 8 p.m. in the evening. Both she and I will be in and out but will try to get to all your questions and comments throughout the day. I’ll create a special post for that day and start the conversation off with Joan by asking a few questions. She’ll respond via the comment section which is open for anyone to write in any questions/comments for Joan. She’s here to engage with you so please come and visit throughout the day. I am so looking forward to getting to know Joan and coming to a deeper understanding of “heaven on earth”.

Read the Introduction of Angels and Wonders courtesy of Loyola Press.

Loyola Press is also raffling an autographed copy of Angels and Wonders. Everyone who joins the Thursday online discussion by writing in (via the comments section) is automatically entered into the raffle. Readers of ANunsLife.org will also be given a special discount code to order the book. Thanks, Loyola Press!

Please join the conversation this Thursday, October 2, and bring your questions and ideas for Joan Wester Anderson.

I’ve been reading a book by Jim Martin, SJ, called My Life with the Saints (Loyola Press, 2006). Growing up I always thought of the saints as superhuman (not unlike Wonder Woman or Superman) … people with an extra dose of holiness who were able to do amazing things. I never really thought of them as ordinary people. Over the years I learned otherwise and have come to appreciate the saints for who they really are.

I love the Thomas Merton quote that Jim Martin uses to open his book: “For me to be a saint means to be myself.” (Would that it was always easy to be ourselves!) The saints are people who are truly themselves, the people God created them to be … with all their craziness, holiness, foibles, and insights. Saints are truly people whom we can relate to, not ones who are so superhuman that they don’t really relate to our own lives. That’s why I like My Life with the Saints. Martin presents the saints as our companions on life’s journey. We can look to them for inspiration, encouragement or even a good laugh.

As I’ve been reading this book, I’m reminded again how we encounter God in the most ordinary ways in our lives (e.g., a sock drawer … you’ll just have to read the book to see what I mean!). Just as the saints opened themselves to experience God in all things, we too are called to that same kind of openness and willingness to meet God.

Click here to read more about My Life with the Saints as well as other stuff by or about Jim Martin.

Today is the 450th anniversary of the death of Saint Ignatius of Loyola. The company I work for — Loyola Press — is named after him and all that we do emerges out of his vision. Many religious communities of women have been founded out of the vision of Saint Ignatius. Countless sisters, lay people, brothers, and priests have been formed by the vision of Saint Ignatius through retreats, discernment experiences, Ignatian prayers, Jesuit Volunteers, Christian Life Communities, and so many other ways.

Check out this selection from Loyola Kids Book of Saints on Saint Ignatius of Loyola. Great piece!