I never met Sister Valsa, but she is my sister and yours. My heart breaks for the congregation, family and friends of Sister Valsa John, SCJM, a Sister of Charity of Jesus and Mary who was killed a week ago. See Stephanie Nolen’s piece for the Globe and Mail – Activist nun who fought Indian mining companies brutally murdered (November 17, 2011). Here are some quotes:
Sister Valsa, 52, was from Kerala in south India, and 24 years ago took her vows as a member of the Sisters of Charity of Jesus and Mary. She was one of the remarkable breed of Indian religious figures who are grassroots social activists, who immerse themselves in the most marginalized and impoverished communities and work on literacy, basic health care and human rights. Sister Valsa said she did Jesus’s work by teaching the aboriginal people – known in India as adivasi or “tribals” – about their rights to their land….
Sister Sudha [Varghese, her close friend], who attended the funeral Thursday, said most who knew Sister Valsa believe it was people from the Santhal community, in the pay of the mining company, who killed her. “This is what the companies do: they divide people. When people are this poor, when someone gives them a little money, they can do anything,” she said. “Valsa knew it, and so many times we asked her to leave. But she said, ‘These are my people and I cannot leave them.’ ”
While the proverbial jury’s out in terms of who is actually responsible, news sources tend to name the coal company or possible local people who were angry with Sister Valsa for reporting to police the rape of a woman in the village.
Said Bishop Julius Marandi of Dumka, “Her violent death was a terrible shock and a great loss to the Church. We seek justice, but while we mourn this loss, our mission for the poor, the weak and voiceless will continue, strengthened and renewed by the blood of Sister Valsa, who now intercedes for human rights, justice, dignity and hope of these people.” (source: AsiaNews)
I’ve been reflecting a lot on Sister Valsa’s life and her death. No one knows where one’s vocation will lead — for some, to be a person of compassion, for others a teacher or a missionary or a parent. For all of us, our vocation leads to our death — not directly, perhaps, but in one way or another we find in our death that final statement of how we have lived our life. For some, one’s vocation necessarily entails facing death. I remember my own Sister Alice Baker, IHM, talking about her trip to the Holy Land. She talked about having to discern the possibility of her own death because she was going on a peace mission in a volatile region. I can’t even pretend to know what that means.
I lead a relatively peaceful existence with no threats to life other than the usual ones that all of us human beings face. Sure, I’ve had my share of “close-calls” but I’m intact for the most part! I am blown away by those like Sister Valsa and Sister Alice and so many others who have faced the real possibility of death. For some like Sister Valsa, death has come directly as a result of living fully one’s vocation.
You know, I’ve always wondered why in Compline — night prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours — the last prayer always reminds us of death. “All powerful God, grant us a restful night and a peaceful death.” I think it may be a reminder of our ultimate source and end in God and a reminder to take to heart our vocation. Not sure, but I will definitely keep pondering.
How do you understand “a vocation unto death”?