Two More Weeks

June 21st will be the start of another run on freedom. It will be the start of the Fortnight For Freedom, 2013 edition.

During the Fortnight, our liturgical calendar celebrates a series of great martyrs who remained faithful in the face of persecution by political power—St. John the Baptist, SS. Peter and Paul, the First Martyrs of the Church of Rome, St. John Fisher, and St. Thomas More. Through prayer, study, and peaceful public action during the Fortnight for Freedom, we hope to remind ourselves and others all throughout the United States about the importance of preserving the fundamental right of religious freedom.

Religious freedom is indeed endangered in many places on the planet, though probably not the United States so much. The USCCB seems to believe that financial entitlements are part of a so-called freedom. I’m a skeptic on much, but not all of this. The institutional church itself has not had a lily white record on religious freedom. Women, including women religious, have been targets of bishops and clergy and even the laity who misunderstood or just simply opposed their service to the Church and the world.

I was heartened to learn that the “Nuns” are gassing up the “Bus” again. And this year, they’re inviting the bishops to hang with them, at least at the bus stops.

Many U.S. bishops also opposed Network’s lobbying on behalf of Obama’s health care reform plan, while others did not look kindly on Campbell’s social justice views and her activism during the presidential campaign.

But Campbell said Wednesday that she and the American bishops are on the same page on immigration reform, and she has invited them to join her group at stops along the way later this month and in June. “They don’t have to ride on the bus,” she said. “They can come stand with us at the events.”

I like that.

Starting June 21st, we’ll join in the chorus for both freedom and our sisters in faith. I’ll do another Two Weeks of Worthy Women, and I’d like to invite interested readers to write up some favorites from history. Last year, we walked with these worthies: Maude Petre, Teresa of Avila, Mary MacKillop, Marie-Anne Blondin, Thea Bowman, Jeanne d’Arc, Juana Inés de la Cruz, Hildegard of Bingen, Mother Théodore Guérin, Anne-Marie Javouhey, Louise (Mother St Andrew) Feltin, Gertrude of Helfta, Mary Ward, and Marguerite Porete. I’d like to go with fourteen different women. I’d like to find women who have experienced harassment from religious institutions, not necessarily Catholic. Nobody living. Guest writers welcome. And your suggestions to give us fourteen worthy reads starting fifty-one days from today.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Maude Petre

Today is Independence Day in the US. It’s also the conclusion of the Fortnight for Freedom. In parallel, we will draw this series on worthy women to a conclusion. Thanks, all for reading and following. I’m especially appreciative for our guest bloggers these past two weeks: Fran, John, and Rae.

I was looking for an American woman to close this out, but I was struck by the story of Maude Petre, as an unabashed modernist in an age when aggiornamento was a most unwelcome guest in the Catholic Church. So let’s wrap up two weeks of worthiness with an Englishwoman who struggled for freedom within the Church she loyally loved and supported.

Maude Petre was born into a Catholic family in 1863. As a young adult she expressed skepticism about the faith, so her Jesuit confessor recommended she look to Thomas Aquinas. And in 1885, it was off study neo-scholasticism with some professors in the Vatican. One of her relatives quipped, “Maude has gone to Rome to study for the priesthood.”

She settled into religious life with the Daughters of the Heart of Mary, a French community of sisters who, lest you think the 19th century was all about cloisters and habits for religious women, allowed its members to live in their own houses and wear street clothes. This, friend trads, before the invention of polyester. Her apostolate included ministry to orphans and housing the poor. The once-skeptic also instructed converts to Catholicism. Her leadership skills were apparently well-regarded as she was named a local superior in 1896 and a provincial just four years later.

Also in 1900, Maude met the Jesuit theologian George Tyrrell. In her own writings, she seemed less a parrot of his ideas of a Catholicism recapturing its mystical voice, and the search for God in human experience. She promoted a Church in which people should be free to discuss such possibilities. Maude published Catholicism and Independence: Being Studies in Spiritual Liberty. For this, she was refused permission to renew her vows with her community.

Those conversant in Church history know that Pope Pius X came down brutally hard on the modernists. Fr Tyrrell was eventually ejected from the Jesuits, from the priesthood, and excommunicated. A priest friend of Tyrrell’s was harshly disciplined for making a sign of the cross over the man’s grave.

Maude’s bishop grew alarmed at her efforts to edit and publish the works of Fr Tyrrell. When she refused to sign the anti-Modernist oath, she was excommunicated.

If I am wrong, then I am so deeply fundamentally wrong, that only God can prove it to me. If I am right, then He will make good to me what I have forfeited before men.

Maude always considered herself a faithful Catholic. When she moved to London, she attended daily Mass, regularly receiving the sacraments. In his book, Blessed Among Women, Robert Ellsberg spoke of her as “exemplify(ing) a spirituality of loyal dissent.”

Near the end of her life, she wrote:

Nothing can alter the radical aspirations of the human heart, and it was for these that the Modernist contended, and for the sake of which he endured the cramping torture of ecclesiastical institutions, because in spite of their limitations, he found in them a support in the passage through this dark and troubled life: he found through them, the grace to live, the courage to die.

If the US bishops were authentically inclined to religious freedom, it would mean more than just a salve for their own consciences. Religious liberty applies within the institution, and not just to a limited interpretation of how it might be threatened from without. Ultimately, a believer is always in charge of her or his expression of faith. People like Maude Petre and other worthy women realized this. They made decisions–not always compliant, not always dissenting. But they made these choices as part of a lifelong loyalty to Christ, the Master of Liberty and provider, thanks to the Paschal Mystery, of the freedom to choose God and walk in the life of the Spirit.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Teresa of Avila

The Fortnight for Freedom is wrapping up. One of our readers urged me not to forget the doctor and mystic, Teresa of Avila.

Like Hildegard, there is a wealth of information out there about her. You can start with her books on the spiritual life. Or get it about herself from her own pen. She was born about a decade before Elizabeth I of England, and a few years after Luther took a nail to a church door in Germany.

I’ll confine my comments today on her program to reform the Carmelite observance, and return herself and her followers, men and women both, to a more strict earlier way of life, emphasizing material poverty and a life of subsistence.

With the approval of Rubeo de Ravenna, the General of the Carmelite Order, she founded about a dozen communities across Spain in the 1560′s and 70′s. These new communities were intent on ”back to basics,” recovering something of the rigor of Carmelite spirituality and practice as it was practiced at the beginnings, about three centuries prior. It must have caused alarm in other quarters, as the word came down from the top that Teresa was to cease her traveling and founding. Choose a place to retire, she was told, and get back into the cloister. She complied with this demand, but maintained an active correspondence intending to overturn efforts to clamp down on her movement.

In King Philip II, she found an eventual ally. Responding to her letter-writing, he called off the Inquisition–many of Teresa’s associates were subjected to greater persecutions. Pope Gregory XIII authorized a provincial to oversee the reform branch of the Carmelites, and the king created a committee to assess Teresa and her work, essentially a protection board to ward off further interference.

More convents were founded in the early 1580′s, just a few years before her death. Her reforms had more staying power than other attempts to get the Carmelites back to basics. Some clergy and bishops in her day were concerned about the proliferation of religious communities–would the Church and people support a convent in “every” town? Teresa made it a point that her communities would remain small, manageable, and self-sustaining.

As an aside, I found it interesting that she died on the night bridging the 4th and 15th of October in 1582, as Pope Gregory’s calendar reforms realigned the accustomed western dates to the solstices and equinoxes.

There is much in Teresa I admired from my reading long ago of The Interior Castle. Her spunk and determination is something I would like to see in my daughter as she approaches her life’s challenges. Her contrition and awareness of sin is something I have yet to approach, and certainly her approval of self-inflicted pain is difficult. Yet there are many aspects to her life to which I find myself drawn. Certainly, any believer can and should look for ways of rigor and challenge and place oneself at the total surrender and service to God. She declined open disobedience, yet she never drew back from pushing, persuading, or politicking. Very definitely a worthy woman to consider.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Mother Mary MacKillop

As the Fortnight for Freedom continues, so does our series looking at the freedoms and trials of various women. My good friend Rae Reilly generously offered to write an essay. Given her recent sojourn Down Under, the choice of saint seemed a natural.

I became acquainted with St. Mary MacKillop this winter while spending 3 months in Brisbane, Australia. It was the imposing sculpture of her in a little chapel on the grounds of the Cathedral of St. Stephen that ignited my interest in her.

The figure, created by John Elliott in 1998, is larger than life. Placed in a small devotional area separated from the sanctuary by a screen, it filled the space, allowing me to examine it closely. This was no static figure – it caught St. Mary mid-stride. Why was the wood so rough, so cut up? I learned it was made from the truck of a century-old tree, cut into pieces and then recombined. Why were the hands so large? There were places where it looked as though twigs had been clipped off, leaving little stubs. Why? Then there was the face – smooth, warm. I almost ignored the 4-panel screen. But then I noticed some writing and drawings. What were those about?

St. Mary MacKillop is known for establishing, with Fr. Julian Tenison Woods, Australia’s first religious order, the Sisters of St. Joseph of the Sacred Heart (1867). She was the first sister and first Mother Superior, taking the name Mary of the Cross. To her, crosses were blessings, challenging her to learn and grow. The Order’s emphasis was on educating the poor and serving the needs of the orphans, neglected children, the aged poor, and others in need. The sisters lived as the miners, farmers, and railroad workers did in the rugged outback where they educated the children. The schools they established were open to all, regardless of ability to pay. The sisters went to any rural area needing their services. They often supported themselves by begging. The Order grew and spread through Australia and beyond. By her death, 750 had entered the Order, establishing 106 houses including 12 institutions which sheltered 1000 people in need. One hundred seventeen schools had served 12,409 students.

Good story, good works. However, politics became her cross. She was another Worthy Woman who, like Mother Marie-Anne Blondin in yesterday’s “Worthy Women” contribution, DID stand up to the clergy and bishops – over and over again.

The bishop in Adelaide ordered a Commission to examine the Order. Among the recommendations – giving the local priest authority over each convent. When she presented her concerns to the bishop she was excommunicated, though that was lifted several months later before the bishop’s death.

She traveled to Rome to receive formal approval of the Rule of the Order. After more than a year, the governing structure was approved: it would be governed by the Superior General and her council. Sr. Mary of the Cross became the first Superior General. In spite of Rome’s approval, bishops in Australia continued efforts in a variety of ways and over many years to have diocesan control over the sisters’ communities within their dioceses. After yet another (the last) effort by the bishops to gain power over the Order, Mother Mary and several others successfully appealed to Rome to retain their governance, with its headquarters in Sydney.

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it. Investigations, Council recommendations, desire for power over the women. Time spent dealing with these issues keeping Mother Mary and others from their mission to serve the poor.

Throughout, Mother Mary MacKillop remained dedicated to God and her mission. She wrote often to her Sisters, encouraging them. Some of these writings are found in her handwriting on the panels in the devotional area where I first met St. Mary.

“Have courage and think of the noble work to which the Will of God has called us all. I think of the love too deep for words to express, with which God watches over this children.” (Aug. 6, 1870)

“Never see a need without doing something about it.” (1871)

“We have had much sorrow and are still suffering its effects, but sorrow or trial lovingly submitted to do not prevent our being happy – it rather purifies our happiness, and in so doing draws our hearts nearer to God.” (1883)

And from her final letter to the Sisters:
“Whatever troubles may be before you, accept them cheerfully, remembering whom you are trying to follow. Do not be afraid. Love one another, bear with one another, and let charity guide you in all your life.” (Jan. 12, 1909)

St. Mary MacKillop’s work and legacy are larger than life. The rough texture of the sculpture mirrors the rough life in the bush where she and her sisters worked and lived – and her toughness in dealing with challenging politics. The huge hands – capable and hard working. Her posture – determined and forward moving. Her face – filled with compassion for those in need and with a passion for God.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Marie-Anne Blondin

The US Bishops continue their observance of the Fortnight for Freedom, but north of the border of my country, another nation with Catholic roots observes its day today. I thought it appropriate to get informed about Canadian saints and feature someone worthy. I remembered from my pilgrimages to Montreal the stories of the mistreatments of Frere André and I assumed it would not be hard to find saintly women battered from within their own Church. And I was not wrong.

Rumor had it that Marie-Marguerite d’Youville‘s group of lay women had taken up the bootlegging business from her late husband and father-in-law. That was enough for the clergy of Montreal to deny them Communion–never mind that their group had shouldered the burden of running a hospital for the poor. The hermeneutic of complaint is well-rooted in envy.

I eventually settled on the woman who was born Esther Blondin, and who later founded the Sisters of Sainte Anne. Religious orders seemed to be sprouting everywhere in the 19th century. Esther Blondin didn’t start one, at the start. She worked as a convent servant for the Sisters of the Congregation of Notre Dame in her home village of Terrebonne, Québec. She learned to read and write in her early twenties. But poor health scuttled the possibility of being a member of that community.

Esther became a schoolteacher instead. In the 1800′s separate schools for boys and girls were mandated, men teaching boys and women teaching girls, of course. For poor communities, building one school could be a challenge, let alone supporting two. You can imagine that between the boy’s school and the girl’s, which would be built. Esther, however, thought that the problem of illiteracy was a bit more grave than the separation of the sexes, so she conceived a plan for girls and boys to be educated in the same building. She proposed to her bishop, Ignace Bourget, that a religious congregation be founded to address this situation. Bishop Bourget endorsed her limited plan, mindful that colonial authorities were already in favor of saving money by combining the education of children under one roof.

And so in 1850, Esther Blondin founded the Congregation of the Sisters of Saint Anne, and to her community, was known as Mother Marie-Anne. Nothing attracts abuse like success. Within a few years, Mother Marie-Anne had a thirving community of teachers, but the clergy swooped in to take control. This bit from the Vatican’s own web site:

The new chaplain, Father Louis Adolphe Marechal, interfered in an abusive way in the private life of the Community. During the Foundress’ absence, Father changed the pupils’ boarding fees. Should he be away for a while, he asked that the Sisters await his return to go to confession. After a year of this existing conflict between the chaplain and the Foundress, the latter being anxious to protect the rights of her Community, Bishop Bourget asked Mother Marie Anne, on August 18, 1854, “to resign”. He called for elections and warned Mother Marie Anne “not to accept the superiorship, even if her sisters wanted to reelect her”.

As quickly as nineteenth century apostolates were discerned and communities founded to serve, it seems men in the Church could not refrain from taking over. I would like to report that Mother Marie-Anne and her community followed in the footsteps of Mother Guérin, but that was not the discerned path of this worthy woman. She was banished from taking any leadership role in the community she founded. Twice in the 1870′s, her sisters elected her, but clergy put a stop to any return to leadership.

Serving in the community’s laundry, and ironing the sisters’ clothing continued to give a profound witness to newcomers to the Sisters of Sainte Anne. Mother Blondin herself commented on her role:

The deeper a tree sinks its roots into the soil, the greater are its chances of growing and producing fruit.

The depth of roots are hidden, and alas, by hiding, it seems that the fact of persecution was hidden as well.

I hesitated about writing this essay. I’m reminded of a quote attributed to Thomas Aquinas, “To bear with patience wrongs done to oneself is a mark of perfection, but to bear with patience wrongs done to someone else is a mark of imperfection and even of actual sin.”

Did the fledgling community identify themselves with the founder so closely that they saw her bearing wrongs as a burden they too should shoulder? Was the education apostolate placed at the absolute forefront of their service to the children of their schools? Did their witness have any impact on the men who brutalized them? People are made saints and see the fruits of ministry whether they resist oppression or accede to it. Is there a difference?

Some men wish separation from women, but it seems that many of them just can’t keep their hands out of the doings of women, especially when the fruitfulness of an apostolate is obvious.

In the end, I decided this story required sharing. Not every worthy woman stands up to the clergy and bishops. Some of those who do not have found their lives very much in God’s hands. I struggle mightily with perceived slights, as my friends and foes well know. I don’t know that I would have the strength to walk Mother Blondin’s path. But I feel compelled to respect it, and present it to the readers here. Like her more uppity sisters in the US, France, Mexico, and elsewhere, she is now “Blessed” and her persecutors are criticized even on the Vatican’s own web site. None of them achieved veneration for worthy service to the Gospel. That is perhaps significant testimony that permits us all to breathe easier.

Happy Canada Day, northern friends.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Thea Bowman

As the USCCB’s Fortnight for Freedom continues, we take an alternative track here. I’ve been promising more voices, and today, guest blogger Fran Rossi Szpylczyn contributes a stirring testimony for a stirring woman of our times. You can find more of Fran’s work at her personal blog, There Will Be Bread and also at The Parish Blog of St. Edward the Confessor.

No review of worthy women of our Church can exclude the woman who would not be excluded at any cost – Sister Thea Bowman, FSPA. As a woman religious who stated that she wanted to “go home like a shooting star,” she also lived that way; her life was like a blazing tale of God’s glory, against the sky of her life.

Born to a teacher and a doctor in Yazoo City, Mississippi on December 29, 1937 and named Bertha Bowman, she was reared as a Methodist in Canton, Mississippi. Her beginnings were humble but noble, given that her grandparents were slaves. An only child who was extremely bright. At the age of 9 asked about becoming Catholic, which her parents agreed to. Bertha’s, (soon to be Thea’s) vocation began like the birth of a star, with various elements coming together to create a unique light.

At the age of 15, she moved to LaCrosse, Wisconsin, home of the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration, to begin her novitiate. These sisters were here teachers in Mississippi, and she was profoundly influenced by them. As the only African-American in her community, Thea encountered challenges in retaining her own cultural identity, which for her, was at the heart of who she was as a child of God.

Gifted in many ways, Thea excelled in her studies and earned a PhD in Linguistics and English Literature from the Catholic University of America. In 1989, she also received a Doctor of Religion from Boston College. Her work as a woman religious found her in the classroom where she generously shared her knowledge, along with God’s love, with great joy. Having taught elementary, secondary and ultimately university level students, Sister Thea illuminated many minds through her work as a teacher and professor.

At the core of her vocation was a fiery passion for unity and justice. Breaking down barriers and inviting all to live in one in Christ was her focus, above all else. Sister Thea had an enormous drive to communicate Christ across barriers, no matter what the cost. If she could facilitate bringing people together through and in God, that is what she would do.

Eventually Sister Thea was asked to become the consultant for Intercultural Awareness in the Diocese of Jackson, Mississippi. This was a role in which she flourished by breaking down barriers at home and afar, by bringing people together. Sister Thea often made over 100 speaking appearances a yer. Her gift to shine light in dark places, and to reveal Christ as unifier and redeemer was realized in many ways. She was undaunted by challenge, and always pushed forth by her beloved Jesus.

Thea was also passionate about the revelation of African roots and the impact of those roots in the Church. For Thea, inclusion was not negotiable and recognition of how we are all created in God’s image was essential.

In 1984 Thea’s parents died and then she was diagnosed with cancer. When confronted with this disease her response was typical of her resolve, as she said she would “live until I die.” And live she did, for several more years. Thea kept going, making her final years, burn with the brightest fire.

In 1987, Mike Wallace interviewed her for 60 Minutes. Reminding us that we all have something to give, she told Wallace, “I think the difference between me and some other people is that I am content to do my little bit. Sometimes people think they have to do big things in order to make change. If each one of us would light the candle, we’ve got a tremendous light.”

In June of 1989, the US Bishops were meeting and they asked Sister Thea to address them on the meaning of being black and Catholic. It was here that she began a 30 minute address by asking what it meant to be black and Catholic out loud and replying to herself, and the bishops, by belting out, “Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child.” It is worth noting that as she was introduced, the bishop introducing her joked that she was on 60 Minutes and not because she was the subject of a “criminal investigation.” Hearing those words from a bishop at this time made me wince with discomfort!

Sister Thea then launched into a wide ranging talk, filled with her signature passion, and all delivered from her position in a wheelchair. If you watch the video of the talk, well worth your 32 minutes, you will see a wide range of reactions and emotions on the bishops’ faces, including eyes that are welled-up with tears. At the end of the talk Sister Thea asked the bishops to cross arms and clasp hands and to join her in singing, “We Shall Overcome.”

Most of the bishops appeared to follow her instructions, but some did not. Some of the bishops appeared, to my eye anyway, visibly uncomfortable, others appeared moved. The video of her talk to them is a testament to a worthy woman living a remarkable moment.

Brother Mickey O’Neill McGrath wrote about Sister Thea in “This Little Light of Mine.” (The image at the top left of this post, as well as the one to the right, are from his website and are gratefully used with his permission.)

Brother Mickey often shares an anecdote about Sister Thea’s meeting with the bishops. In what sounds like an astounding moment, according to what he heard from someone who was present at the meeting. Apparently as her wheelchair was being wheeled out of the hall, the bishops formed an honor guard and knelt before her as the chair passed by.

Sister Thea remained focused on a vision of strength in unity throughout her life. She would often say, “You walk together and you won’t get weary. You might get tired, but you won’t get weary.” May her legacy be to keep us together, tired perhaps, as we continue to encounter injustice, but to never grow weary, as we walk together in Jesus’ name.

Sister Thea Bowman to the US Bishops from Rocco Palmo on Vimeo.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Jeanne d’Arc

As the Fortnight for Freedom, continues, let’s keep with our examination of worthy women, many of whom were hassled, persecuted, or even martyred by their own Church. The legend of the 15th century peasant girl, Jeanne, is well-known to practically every western Christian. For today’s installment, I’d like to recount the details of her betrayal, and note that just twenty-five years after she died, the pope declared her a martyr.

Here is where Catholics failed to follow the proper procedures following her capture as a prisoner of war:

• French royalty declined to pay a ransom, as was customary for the family of a prisoner.
• Instead, the English bought her from the Duke of Burgundy.
• Bishop Pierre Cauchon did not have the proper jurisdiction to conduct an ecclesiastical prosecution.
• No evidence could be found, let alone collected for a heresy trial. Nonetheless, the proceedings advanced.
• No legal adviser was provided for the defendant, and Jeanne’s request for these was ignored.
• Jeanne infuriated those attempting to entrap her, unable to penetrate her intelligence. Portions of the transcripts were altered.
• Jeanne was held in a secular prison, instead of being confined to an ecclesiastical location under the guard of cloistered nuns.
• The English made threats, subtle and some not so subtle (death threats) to compel clergy, and even the inquisitor, Jean LeMaitre to satisfy their wishes for a conviction.
• The articles of accusation do not match up with even the changed recordings of the proceedings.
• Jeanne’s proper appeals to a Church council (what we now know as Florence had begun in Basel, Switzerland) and to the pope were ignored.
• Heresy was only a capital crime if it were a repeated offense.

This is perhaps the most notable time when a prelate used ecclesiastical authority to further a political or personal vendetta against a lay person. It was certainly not the first or the last. A generation later, after the end of the Hundred Years’ War, Pope Callixtus III authorized a “re-trial” at the request of Jeanne’s family and some members of the hierarchy.

Needless to say, Jeanne was vindicated for future veneration as a saint. Bishop Cauchon himself was cited as a possible heretic for his role in using ecclesiastical procedures to further a political situation.

And what was the heresy thing, anyway? Jeanne dressed in men’s clothing. Some Catholics today retain that fixation on confusing clothing with the matter of God’s grace.

It seems little different today, except that the Church lacks the arm of physical enforcement of its wishes. Otherwise, bishops are still influenced by political agendas inside and outside of the Church, rules are ignored when inconvenient, evidence is hard to come by, and the written record is not always aligned with what actually happened or was said.

Have human beings changed much in six centuries? Perhaps you can find an optimist to suggest that we’re a kinder gentler species. But perhaps more conservative Catholics would contend that the hope to make progress, as a culture, from barbarism and sin is useless. In which case, draw what conclusions you will from present-day persecutions within the Body. Sainte Jeanne, pray for us.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Juana Inés de la Cruz

As a response to the US Bishops’ Fortnight for Freedom, I’ve invited a few friends to supply appropriate essays on women who have exemplified the faith in the face of persecution, even at the hands of religious authorities. Today, my friend John Donaghy offers a contribution from the Latin American Church, where he has served in the mission apostolate for the past five years.

Religious life for women in the middle ages and the early modern period was not always what we might think of as the cloistered life. That’s why there were reformers like St. Teresa of Avila for the Carmelites.

Often families would send their daughters to a convent with a nice dowry. There they would have a chance to learn but also, in some cases, to entertain their friends, male and female, in the convent parlors.

Yet the convent was almost the only place where women would have a chance to use their talents.

One very interesting woman who joined the convent in seventeenth century Mexico is Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, because “given the total antipathy I felt for marriage, I deemed convent life the least unsuitable and most honorable I could elect.”

Born out of wedlock, and raised by her maternal grandmother, she was a precocious child. At three she followed her sister to school and persuaded the instructor to teach her to read. She soon started to devour her grandfather’s library.

At sixteen she became a lady-in-waiting for the wife of the Spanish viceroy.

She at first joined the reformed Carmelites but left, probably because it was too strict. She subsequently joined a convent of the order of St. Jerome. (Jerome was assisted in his work, including his translation of the Bible, by several learned aristocratic women.)

In the monastery, by no means austere, she, like some other nuns, had a servant. Over the years she amassed a library of more than 4,000 volumes. She wrote letters as well as plays and love poems. She met with her friends for discussions.

She had her duties in the convent but that did not stop her from her literary and musical works. These “secular” works disturbed the archbishop of Mexico, who according to Octavio Paz was “fiercely misogynistic and strongly opposed to secular drama.”

But it was her ventures into theological reflection that caused problems. She shared with the bishop of Puebla, a long-time “friend,” her critique of a famous sermon. He asked her to put it in writing and then, without her permission, published this Missive Worthy of Athena. But he included, under the pseudonym of Sor Filotea de la Cruz, a preface admonishing Sor Juana for her being too concerned with worldly affairs. Some friend!

In her 1691 Reply to Sor Filotea, Sor Juana defended the right of women to education and the need to have older women as teachers. Using scripture, philosophy, and the fathers of the church, she defended the right of women to be educated. Her pen was acerbic: “You foolish men, accusing women for lacking reason when you yourselves are the reason for the lack.”

The reaction came swiftly. As Octavio Paz wrote: A “very saintly and ingenuous Abbess, who believed that study was a thing of the Inquisition,” ordered her not to study. Her confessor denied her spiritual help for two years.

In 1693 after so much pressure she stopped writing, though not before composing songs in honor of Saint Catherine of Alexandria, the patroness of philosophers.

In 1694 she signed several documents and seems to have turned her back on her intellectual endeavors. But did she? She wrote no more and died a year later, taking care of the sick, during a pestilence that ravaged Mexico City.

Some suggest that she had a conversion experience which included distributing all the books in her library as well as her musical and scientific instruments. But it seems as if she gave in, under pressure from church authorities.

I venture that Sor Juana is not the model for many sisters today, especially in terms of her life style. She was hardly the example of poverty. Yet her use of her intellect, her brilliant critique, and her defense of the education of women are worthy of respect.

I see her as a victim of a culture and of church authorities who were threatened by women who are intelligent and are not afraid to speak boldly.

She follows in the tradition of the women followers of St. Jerome like St. Paula. She is, in some ways, the precursor of some modern Catholic women theologians.

All too long the wisdom of women has been neglected in the world and in the church. The People of God need to hear all the voices, especially those who have been marginalized.

From one of her poems:

You foolish men who lay
the guilt on women,
not seeing you’re the cause
of the very thing you blame;

if you invite their disdain
with measureless desire
why wish they well behave
if you incite to ill.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Hildegard of Bingen

Paralleling the USCCB Fortnight for Freedom, today’s worthy woman alternative is the doctor-to-be, Hildegard of Bingen. Her apostolate as a musician and composer is the most interesting aspect of her life … to me anyway. Others admire her as a mystic, a feminist symbol, or a Benedictine. Given her criticism of corrupt bishops, I’m a bit surprised she wasn’t more deeply persecuted in her day. Perhaps it helped to have friends and patrons in powerful places.

She is probably the most well-known of the worthy women so far in this series. Because of that I will refrain from rehashing old information about the woman. I recommend the film (reviewed here) and any number of books about her. And recordings, especially by Sequentia.

As an elderly abbess, Hildegard did have a run-in with the hierarchy, and though we don’t have the complete details, it seems like something of a wrong note.

She permitted a nobleman knight to be buried in her community’s cemetery, but the local bishop objected. He insisted that the body be dug up; the person had been excommunicated. Hildegard assured that the man had reconciled with the Church before his death and had received the sacraments. The bishop insisted on disinterring the body. The abbess resisted. The convent was placed on interdict: no sacraments for the entire community. And more, the sisters were to refrain from singing.

Hildegard complied with the interdict, but still refused to surrender the body. She appealed to higher authority, namely the Archbishop of Mainz, and eventually, the punishment was lifted. However, the archbishop chided Hildegard for an action for which his brother bishop had, he felt, legitimate questions. The abbess in turn objected to the punishment as a means of coercion:

Before you close the mouth of a community, … (you) have to consider to be led by the eagerness of justice and not by indignation, unjust emotions or feelings of vengeance.

It is illustrative that eagerness is put in opposition to emotions. It seems that both sides in the burial dispute were stubborn and insistent. It is difficult when people in the church come to such an impasse. We do not tend to behave well in such instances. The urge to insist on our way is perhaps more eager than the discernment of justice. Would that we had more worthy women, and men, too, to lead the way.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Mother Théodore Guérin

The US Bishops continue their Fortnight for Freedom. We continue here with worthy women.

Anne-Thérèse Guérin was only thirteen years younger than yesterday’s featured worthy woman, but also French. After caring for her widowed mother and younger siblings, she entered religious life in her mid-twenties. Sister St Théodore was an award-winning teacher who also visited the poor and the ill. A new call presented itself to her when the first bishop of Vincennes (in Indiana) sent a recruiter to his homeland.

Impressed with the abilities of Mother Elizabeth Ann Seton and her Sisters of Charity in his early years of ministry in Maryland, Bishop Bruté was enthusiastic for the possibilities of committed women religious in pioneer America. The Sisters of Providence were approached, and their superior general suggested Sister St Théodore lead a small band of women religious to Indiana. After some initial reluctance, she reflected later that a line from her congregation’s rule inspired her to respond to the call: “The Congregation being obliged to work with zeal for the sanctification of souls, the sisters will be disposed to go to whatsoever part of the world obedience calls them.” And that part was in the forests of the American Midwest.

Bishop Bruté died before the women arrived in the States. The replacement bishop seemed to have a different approach from the collaborative nature of his predecessor. Bishop de la Hailandière got along well with Mother Guérin at first. She praised his “compassionate” heart. When she returned from a fundraising voyage to France, however, she found that her new bishop had, in her absence, admitted novices to the community, opened and closed schools, and called for a community election to replace her. Further, he accused her of stolen money.

The sisters of St Mary of the Woods, however, unanimously reelected their leader.

Mother Guérin was conciliatory, and offered to resign outright. From a letter to the bishop:

My conscience is my witness that I have done all that I could to avoid this misfortune, for I love Indiana with my whole soul. To do good there, to see our Congregation solidly established there before I die, was my whole ambition; the good god her permitted that you did not wish it; may his will be done.

It was not enough for the bishop. In a subsequent meeting, he locked her in his house, until she consented to his rewriting the rules of the sisters. When her sisters came in search of her, he declared Mother Guérin released from her vows, and exiled her from Vincennes. When the community made plans to follow their superior to another diocese, Bishop de la Hailandière threatened to excommunicate all of them.

Before the conflict escalated further, a rather curious thing happened. A pro forma letter of resignation to the new pope, Pius IX, was accepted, and Bishop de la Hailandière (though the same age as Mother Guérin) found himself heading back to France for retirement. Upheaval between the Sisters of Providence of St Mary of the Woods and their diocese vanished, and Mother Guérin’s community thrived in the state of Indiana. This worthy woman was declared a saint in 2006.

More histories are written about saints than their persecutors. Even so, Bishop de la Hailandière comes across as somewhat unbalanced. The insistence of a bishop to rewrite the rules of a Catholic women’s community remains with us, if the reasons and motivations behind it are somewhat cloaked and not quite so clumsy.

Mother Guérin’s legacy is more than being the target of a bishop’s power struggle. Though we can appreciate her tart assessment of the hierarchy: “I have the greatest aversion to this kind of administration. It seems to me it would keep our sisters in a species of slavery.” We can also appreciate the 5200 daughters who have called St Mary of the Woods their motherhouse. And the works by which they have served the Church and their Indiana neighbors. Worthy women, all.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Anne-Marie Javouhey

Worthy women are everywhere to be found. But as I research them, it seems as if France has a great share. Continuing a parallel observance to the Fortnight for Freedom, let’s look at a bit of the persecutions endured by the founder of the Sisters of St Joseph of Cluny.

The French Revolution provided a background of persecution in the young life of Anne-Marie Javouhey, known as Nanette to family and friends. It did not deter her from teaching neighborhood children in her youth. When convents were eventually restored, Nanette joined the Sisters of Charity. Before final vows, she experienced a vision of children of different races and cultures. “These are the children God gives you,” she was told.

Other women were attracted to Nanette’s vision and apostolate. Her new congregation, based in an abandoned monastery in Cluny, opened schools for the poor. And not just in France, but across the world from the Caribbean to French possessions near Madagascar.

French Guiana became a testing ground for Mother Javouhey. Up to the time of her efforts there, praise for her and her fledgling community was universal. Her efforts with children in a French colony were on matter. Wholly another were her congregation’s efforts with freed slaves. White farmers seethed over the success of her efforts to help Blacks build a fruitful community. They complained to the bishop, who also steamed over the sisters’ independence. So he excommunicated her.

Mother Javouhey did not fare much better in her homeland. Bishop Bénigne-Urbain-Jean-Marie du Trousset d’Héricourt, of the see of Autun, insisted on his right to depose her and become the order’s superior general, thus being able to control finances, rules, mission efforts, and travel of members of the congregation. Unsuccessful, Bishop d’Héricourt attempted to dissolve the order.

The Archbishop of Paris offered a respite, inviting the sisters to relocate to his diocese, and offering his full support.

Years later, Mother Javouhey had these words for her adversary:

We ought to think of (him) as one of our benefactors. God made use of him to try us when as a rule we were hearing around us nothing but praise. That was necessary, for since our congregation was succeeding so well we might have thought we were something if we hadn’t had these pains and contradictions.

Opposition to goodness, even if a saint herself counts it as an opportunity for holiness, remains a grave sin. These worthy women show us that the path of saintliness lies in a believer being able to labor mightily on behalf of others, especially in relieving their sufferings and injustices. And yet, we cannot stand idly by and watch persecutors have their way with the oppressed.

 

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Louise (Mother St Andrew) Feltin

Continuing our alternative to the USCCB Fortnight for Freedom, I’d like to offer a story outline of Mother St Andrew Feltin, a 19th century missioner in the American West. Professor Anne M. Butler profiled her courage in the NYT last month.

One recurring theme in the petty persecution of religious women is that they spend inadequate amounts of time in the cloister. When it suited them, 19th century American bishops had no such qualms. They recruited and sent women religious into the mission territories of the West. These women attracted postulants and they seeded the West with small Catholic schools.

Louise Feltin was born in Alsace in 1830. At nineteen, she became a postulant for the Sisters of Divine Providence, and realized her apostolate as a teacher in Lorraine for many years afterward.

Countryman Claude Marie Dubuis was inspired with the missionary appeal of Texas. The priest recruited heavily from his native France. Nicholas Feltin was one of his protégés. Father Feltin in turn, inspired his sister, who arrived in Texas with one companion. Within several years, she attracted women to join her, and together, they founded schools across the state.

By the mid-1880′s, a new bishop sat in the cathedra in  San Antonio. John Néraz was inclined to listen to the complaints of his clergy who insisted he remove Mother Feltin. Bishop Néraz had already met with resistance when he insisted the Texas Sisters of Providence cut ties with the motherhouse in Lorraine. The bishop went into action, removing Mother Feltin as superior, warning her sisters he could disband their community. It wasn’t enough to be rid of Mother Feltin; he excommunicated her. He blackballed her attempts to join other congregations. Even California was too near to suffer Sister Feltin. Louise had no options remaining in religious life. For several years, she cared for a widowed brother’s children, setting aside religious habit and living in the world.

In 1900, Mother Feltin’s earthly story came to a happy end. Professor Butler’s observations:

Six years after Bishop Néraz died, Mother St. Andrew petitioned her congregation for readmission. Donning her habit, she renewed her vows amid a warm welcome from sisters who understood too well what she had suffered.

Then as now, not all priests and bishops treated sisters badly, though the priests who reached out to nuns in a spirit of appreciation, friendship and equality could not alter the church’s institutional commitment to gender discrimination. And, as now, some bishops, dismissive of the laity, underestimated the loyalty secular Catholics felt for their nuns.

In the case of Mother St. Andrew, tenacity and spirituality triumphed over arrogance and misogyny. The Vatican would do well to bear this history in mind as it thinks through the consequences of its unjust attack on American sisters.

Religious freedom is indeed an important issue. We Catholics would do well to attend to it, guard it, and stand up for others who find themselves oppressed and persecuted for the faith. To be an honest endeavor, it must be less a selfish desire to live according to our own standards while ignoring others. We Catholics and our bishops can keep in mind the story of worthy women such as Louise Feltin. At her funeral, it was noted that she endured “hardships, trials, and humiliations . . . known to Him alone for whose sake they were borne so generously.” We can only be as generous in the needs for liberty expressed by our sisters and brothers in need.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Gertrude of Helfta

My good friend Fran sent the following essay for Worthy Women.

As I think about worthy women, thoughts just keep coming to me over and over again, fed by a potentially unhealthy, but steady diet of church news. Reading about the frequently criticized work, and position of women in the LCWR, my mind keeps traveling back to the 13th century. Some might imagine as this era as the good old days, when nuns knew their place. I am imagining a saint and mystic of the Middle Ages, one deeply associated with devotions to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, in the context of the recent assessment by the CDF of the LCWR.

Saint Gertrude, also known as Gertrude the Great, or Gertrude of Helfta was born in what is now Germany, in 1256.

In a move not unusual for her time, she was brought to a monastery to be raised at the age of 5. It was in that monastery that she grew up, among women, books, music, liturgy, and God. It was in that monastery that she became a mystic and a visionary.

Gertrude was a particularly bright child, with an appetite for learning, and she ardently pursued all manner of studies. In fact, her first studies were more secular in nature, and it was only after a vision, a mystical experience of God, that she began to focus on God alone.

Once we get beyond the fact that she was a woman at a time when women were often little more than property, we can take in other facts. In Gertrude’s era, books were hand-copied parchment and other texts, yet she was well read. That must have been no small feat. Her studies included Scripture, theology and the early church. Gertrude also had interests in music and art, and of course, the liturgy that was so much a part of her life. It was out of this foundation that the saint also became a mystic and a writer. The incubator for her work was a community that was one of women.

Today we can look to Gertrude’s published works, The Herald of Divine Love, and The Exercises. There is some evidence today that she was not the sole author, but that they were authored in community. The Book of Special Grace, which is attributed to Gertrude’s sister and former Beguine, Mechtilde of Magdeburg, may have also been written that way. Devotions to the Sacred Heart of Jesus are thought to have come out of mystical experiences by Gertrude and Mechtilde, as well.

During Gertrude’s time, monasteries and communities were often isolated and separated, with news and information flowing slowly, if at all, from one place to another. The distance between Rome and these many monastic outposts in this pre-Reformation world had a profound impact on how these communities lived the Gospel. These women were not docile and passive, but they actively pursued knowledge, lived their faith and ultimately expressed so much in writing.

In the Middle Ages many communities of women were likely often without a priest in residence at all – or at least for significant periods of time – including Gertrude’s. What was the knowledge and practice of liturgy in these enclosures? Most importantly, what about the Eucharist? We don’t truly know all that there is to know, and may never will. Having said that, I see a picture emerging of strong women, focused on communal life as lived in Christ. This was true to the Church and teachings in a full and rich sense. It remains so today.

One of the criticisms in the current situation is that many women religious have forgotten their place in the church and the world. The assessment from the CDF says that they do not stand by enough of the moral teachings, and they tend to focus on issues that are in question. I wonder what those critics would say to a woman such as Gertrude? What was her place in that world, or in our own? There is a great tradition of women mystics in the Middle Ages that would challenge the many might find challenging if they scratched the surface.

If one of the concerns against the LCWR is that they are more self-centered than God-centered (which I do not agree with), it makes me wonder how the CDF would treat Gertrude the Great and her companions? These women were strong, bold, bright and extremely focused on God. They fought against all kinds of challenges to make their way in the world, and they prevailed.

We are called to live Eucharistic lives, centered on the great Sacrament. What happens when due to having no priest, the Eucharist is not available? This was a reality in the 13th century and it remains a reality today. What happens then? I am not saying – I am truly not saying – that anything goes. We all know that Catholic moral theology instructs us to know that the ends never justify the means. But what are we to do? How are we to live? Some feast and others starve?

The life of Gertrude the Great, also known as Gertrude of Helfta, gives us a unique look into the rich communal life of women religious. This look offers us great food for thought and prayer about how we live eucharistically and communally today. There is a world of remarkable women, hiding in plain sight in the Church, then as now. Thanks be to God.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Mary Ward

Today I’d like to continue my alternative to the US Bishops’ Fortnight of Freedom. For the next thirteen days, I plan to profile a few of the many women who suffered a good bit at the hands of petty churchmen. I hesitate to call this religious persecution as such, just as I hesitate to look upon federal policy, as misguided as that might be, as an explicit attack on organized religion. It’s not nearly as grave as the countless opportunities the institution and individual believers face on a daily basis.

In profiling worthy women, I’m searching for people who made extremely difficult choices and suffered consequences because of their religious convictions. Hopefully we can observe their conduct in the face of freedoms denied and perhaps gain some needed perspective away from the current political tussles.

Crystal suggested Mary Ward this morning, and interestingly enough, she’s in the queue right behind Marguerite Porete.

Mary was a Catholic in Elizabethan England. There is a legend that as an infant the first word she uttered was “Jesus.” She also survived an arson attack on her home at age ten, praying with her sisters untiul her father rescued them.

Turning into the 17th century, Mary’s options for religious life would have been a choice of convents. And none of those options would have been provided in England of her day. So she crossed the Channel and settled with the Poor Clares as a lay sister for a while. Life with cloistered women didn’t fit God’s call for Mary, who was eventually inspired by the example of the Jesuits. Her notion was to assemble an institute of women independent of a bishop, living in non-cloistered community, and performing apostolic ministry in the world.

Her English ties were strong, and she returned to her homeland and recruited a small band of like-minded women until she was found out by the authorities. Her death sentence was commuted in return for exile. Returning to Europe, she was not free of opposition from Catholic clergy. She was mocked as a “Jesuitess” and though some admired her efforts in educating Catholic girls, many in the hierarchy insisted she make her institute look like nuns of the day.

Pope Urban VIII at first seemed open to Mary Ward’s plan. But in 1631, The Institute of the Blessed Virgon Mary was suppressed. Mary was soon thereafter taken into custody as a “heretic, schismatic, and rebel to the Holy Church.” Though released after a brief imprisonment in a convent, Mary’s plans for her age were in ruins. She returned a final time to England and died in 1645, decades before her institute was rehabilitated and enjoyed a worldwide reach, just as the spiritual sons of Ignatius Loyola now enjoy. Today, a pope praises her, and has officially set her on the path to recognized sainthood.

Still today, many Catholics think women and women religious have their place. People shake their heads and wonder about the seeming opposition from clergy, bishops, and Rome. But there’s nothing new here. Good ideas are often stifled before they can blossom into a true apostolate. And the urging of the Holy Spirit in men and women is nothing to be trifled with. In Mary’s case, she was not even recognized as the founder of the Loreto Sisters until 1909. But I am sure her calm persistence in the face of danger from the enemies of the Church and mockery from the lips of brothers in belief contributed to the spirit of this worthy woman, and those others she has inspired. May we all be dedicated to learning and discernment, and honor Mary Ward as a model and inspiration for faith today in a difficult time when challenges to religious freedom present themselves, especially from within the Church itself.

If in need of an optimistic word …

Remember that he (God) be the end of all your actions, therein you will find great satisfaction and think all things easy and possible.

 

Two Weeks of Worthy Women: Marguerite Porete

As a response to the US Bishops’ Fortnight of Freedom, I’d like to offer an alternative. My readers here know of my skepticism with the USCCB campaign. It strikes me as politically motivated, possibly. And even if the bishops protest that it’s not, groups such as the NRLC have inserted themseves into the opportunity to make it so.

Starting today, and running for two weeks, I’ll offer up daily reflections on good and holy women. I have a few guest-bloggers coming in, and I’m open to more. And your suggestions–not every slot is filled as of this morning. Hopefully we can observe the conduct of holy women in the face of freedoms denied and perhaps gain some needed perspective in the spiritual life, not just for political purposes. Not all of the featured women were “red” martyrs for the faith. But all suffered, usually cruelly, at the hands of men who seemed concerned less for the freedom of others and more for their own privileges.

Marguerite Porete of 14th century France seems a good place to begin. Speaking of which, Marguerite was a beguine. Beguines first appeared in what are today the low countries, Belgium, Netherlands, and Luxembourg around 1100AD. The first Beguines took no vows, devoted themselves to prayer and apostolic action, and lived alone or sometimes in small communities on the fringes of villages and towns. A woman could choose a temporary or lifelong commitment. There were no rules, official ecclesiastical recognition, or such. Beguines were just lay people who followed the prescriptions of the Gospel: loving God and neighbor.

And so we have free women, outside of a cloister, praying like religious, performing charity, and operating outside of institutional Catholic structures. The movement seems more serious than third degree associations or volunteer corps. Less rigorous than permanent monastic life. It seems reasonable to me that not every Catholic woman fits into one of two slots: household or convent. Clearly Beguines inhabited a well-discerned place apart from these two.

Naturally, some believers were suspicious of them. Various heresies were attributed to some groups. But the lack of organization along the lines of traditional nuns likely meant that “heretical” Beguines were individuals, not the movement as a whole. And indeed, many well-regarded saints favored the Beguines. And it might also have been that like today, “heresy” was more about “stuff we don’t like” than material that was actually counter to the Christian faith.

We know only two things of Marguerite. She wrote a book. And the Church invested considerable resources to try her for heresy, ensure her conviction, and erase her apostolate from influence. This passage from the beginning of her work might sting a bit in some quarters:

You who would read this book,
If you indeed wish to grasp it,
Think about what you say,
For it is very difficult to comprehend;
Humility, who is keeper of the treasury of Knowledge
And the mother of the other Virtues,
Must overtake you.

Theologians and other clerks,
You will not have the intellect for it,
No matter how brilliant your abilities,
If you do not proceed humbly.
And may Love and Faith, together
Cause you to rise above Reason,
Since they are the ladies of this house.

For the early 1300′s, The Mirror of Simple Souls had good things going for it: a huge following among lay Catholics, written in the vernacular, and it was backed up by what looked like a promotional tour. My parish’s library has a copy of Mirror, but it’s been checked out for a while. I haven’t read it, but I’ve seen it described as building on the premise that communion with God and love for neighbor places one on the path to spiritual perfection. It’s an interesting personal confluence, as I’ve been reading Meg Funk’s Thoughts Matter and I’ve been struck there by her suggestions toward the discipline of thoughtless prayer with the aim of achieving a certain spiritual purity before God. From Marguerite:

Thought is no longer of worth to me,
Nor work, nor speech.
Love draws me so high
(Thought is no longer of worth to me)
With her divine gaze,
That I have not intent.
Thought is no longer of worth to me,
nor work, nor speech.

Marguerite came to the attention of the Inquisition because she was a popular traveling preacher, and unattached to a community like other Beguines. And she was not shut up behind a cloister wall. Or shut up by superiors. After her conviction in April 1310, she was handed over to the secular authorities. Less than two months later, she was burned to death.

The parallels with today are obvious. I was thinking about the Archdiocese of St Louis that wanted a secular court to evict the dissenters at St Stanislaus Parish, and complained when the judgment didn’t go their way. In the 14th century, alas, the Church was thick with secular authorities, and could merely turn over people it didn’t like for punishment, or worse.

The Mirror of Simple Souls continued to circulate for centuries, without an author’s byline. It wasn’t until the 1940′s when Catholics rediscovered that it was written by a “heretic.” By that time, the book had received an imprimatur and nihil obstat as an anonymous work of medieval spirituality. Others have noted that Juan de la Cruz covered a lot of Marguerite’s material in a similar way in The Ascent of Mount Carmel. Love, and the love of God, seems irresistible. Death cannot stop it. Fire cannot quench it.

Today there is an international society devoted to the woman and her witness of faith. And I’d like to leave off with a reflection that suggests something of 1 John 4:7ff:

I am God, says Love,
for Love is God and God is Love,
and this Soul is God by the condition of Love.

I am God by divine nature
and this Soul is God by the condition of Love.

Thus this precious beloved of mine
is taught and guided by me,
without herself,
for she is transformed into me,
and such a perfect one, says Love,
takes my nourishment.

I like Marguerite. Audacious. Simple. Worthy.