"Silk" (Samuel Hayes Johnson)
October 20, 1946- September 14, 2016
Silk died, early on the morning of the feast of the Triumph of the Cross. I appreciate that to most people that sentence probably seems funny, like a typo or a strange grammatical error. It isn’t. Silk was my friend, and more than that – he was Christ for me, in a very unique way. For over a year, I had the privilege of caring for him by shopping for him each week. The last year or so, this also meant I brought his groceries to his apartment, as he had become too weak to carry anything of any weight. I was not there when he died, though I was quietly awake, wondering why I was awake at 4:30 in the morning. But my sister was there, was able to be present to him at the end. She, like the wise virgins of the Gospel, kept vigil for the bridegroom as he came to bring Silk to the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.

Who was Silk? This question has plagued me for my whole time in community, but extends even further, to my time as a student at Franciscan University. I used to see him at St. Peter’s Church, where he attended 8:00 Mass every day for more than three years without an interruption (he was quite proud of the statistic, and actually knew the exact number of Masses in his “streak”). In those days, I knew him without knowing him – he was the shabby, skinny guy with a wispy gray ponytail who wore cutoff jean shorts and a blue sweatshirt every day and always waited until the end of the line to receive communion. He was a mystery to me then, but not a personal mystery – more like a curiosity. I think I would have been afraid of him, had he ever come up to me to speak.

I got to know Silk the summer of my first year in community, when I first spent some time at Samaritan House, our thrift store. He was a regular volunteer at Samaritan House, where he was a perpetual nuisance – arguing with and occasionally frightening other volunteers, insisting that he ran the place, and often keeping us late at the end of the day as he would insist on praying for the dead (especially dead celebrities! I have a sharp memory of praying for Shirley Temple when she died a few years ago). Actually, we all thought that we were doing him a favor, letting him come in to close the store. We realized when he first got sick and didn’t come in for a few weeks that we actually relied on him to remind us of many of the little tasks involved in closing up: every day something would be forgotten, whether it was cleaning some area or emptying the till or cleaning out the coffee carafe. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure we still forget the coffee sometimes.

I’m not really sure how I started shopping for him, but that’s the way it was with Silk – only after he’d talked you into doing something did you realize that you’d been roped into it. And the fact is that he just didn’t seem to have anyone else he could rely on. He had great charm beneath his rough demeanor and vague, cryptic language, and a way of bringing you into his world. After time with Silk, I would find myself referring to things in his special lingo, where sisters all had nicknames, St. Peter’s was “the basilica” (it’s not a basilica!), and any activity – however mundane – was a “run” (as in, “we need to run on this one!). Shopping for Silk was totally mortifying for me. If that seems like a funny statement, allow me to paint a picture for you: imagine a lone religious sister, shopping at Walmart. In her first order, she has typical “nunnish things” – frozen vegetables, generic cereal, and discount meat. She quietly pays with her debit card. In her second order, she has chocolate donuts and milk, a variety of candy bars, Hostess cupcakes, and two or three large containers of Haagen-Dazs ice cream. She pays with a hundred-dollar bill. Do you see now why it was an awkward experience? Afterward, I would bring Silk his things and chat with him for a few minutes about whatever was on his mind: usually something related to his car (he always had a car that was on death’s door); to the sisters and their assignments (he truly believed that his opinion about these things carried great weight with Mother Mary Ann and the council and was deeply grieved when sisters were moved away or when he felt they weren’t in jobs they liked); or the Blessed Mother, who was the great love of his life. We would sometimes pray for the dead, but Silk did not think I was an especially good pray-er, so he usually omitted prayer time if I was the only one there, sometimes adding commentary about the excellence of Sr. Carrie Ann and Sr. Magdala Marie’s prayers.

My time with Silk was usually exasperating, frustrating, and totally heart-warming. He was intractable and impossible to reason with: I’ve often modified Paschal’s quip to refer to him, “Silk has reasons of which reason knows nothing”. He was like that to the end, scheming about how he could get a new car the last time I saw him, a week before his death. I guess he was his usually querulous self even in the hours before he died. When the sisters saw when they stopped to see him that he was dying, one stayed with him. Apparently, he kept telling her to leave. But she stayed, waiting like the wise virgins for the coming of the Bridegroom. In a sense, though, she was also waiting with him. Silk was Christ for us all in so many ways, so as Sister sat by his side, she kept watch not only with a lonely old man, but with Jesus himself. There is no way to explain this mystery, but it is the truth: Silk was Christ’s presence for us, and Jesus gave us so many opportunities to love him in Silk that I am overwhelmed by the privilege I had in knowing him.

And I can’t believe he is actually gone, now the object of my (apparently mediocre) prayers for the dead. Perhaps, then, I will borrow Silk’s prayers. Please join me in praying for my friend with the prayers he used each time he prayed for the dead:

Mary’s gonna take him for a ride.

Gone but not forgotten, forever in our heart.
-Sr. Agnes Therese Davis, T.O.R.
 
Franciscan Sisters TOR Samaritan House

This year's mission shirts say, "Discover the Beauty," printed boldly under a silhouette of the skyline of Steubenville. Looking back at the week I spent with Franciscan University students spending their spring break in prayer and service for Steubenville, I think the choice of motto was prophetic. I, for one, feel I learned a lot about vision and beauty. As I worked alongside the students and introduced them to the town and people I love, I came to a clearer understanding of what Jesus meant when he told his disciples, "Blessed are your eyes because they see."

The fact of the matter is that our eyes don't always see the truth or the full reality of a situation. A few days into our mission this year, a student came to me. "Sister," he said, "can I ask you something? Isn't it like totally depressing seeing this stuff every day? Doesn't it get heavy?"

I had to think about that for a minute before answering. How do I feel about seeing so much suffering every day? Does it get "heavy"? Of course, there are moments that are just plain sad, like when you learn that a young woman has chosen to abort her child, or when you hear that a job opportunity fell through, or when the volunteer you've spent hours with doesn't come in to work because he's drunk again. But that's not what I see when I look at my life.

"No," I answered the student, "It's not totally depressing." And I went on to explain about the beauty I have discovered in my life living and serving in downtown Steubenville. Actually, we who live at our mission house downtown like to say we are "living the dream" because we are blessed to spend our days with the same sort of people that Jesus chose as his friends. If you read the Gospels, you will notice that most of the time Jesus was completely surrounded by people in need. He was followed by crowds of the sick, he sought out a tax collector of ill repute to be his apostle, and he did not shrink from inviting beggars to follow him or the demon-possessed to be his missionaries.

In other words, Jesus did not flinch from any aspect of human reality, no matter how raw, and in every person he saw something beautiful, something precious, and something worth saving.

Our relationship with Christ begins when we allow him to look at our particular human reality and discover the beauty there, hidden though it may be under sin and suffering. And as we learn what love is from Love Incarnate, we, too, begin to have eyes to see the beauty hidden in others. That is why any life involving contact with the "poor and marginalized" is far from depressing and heavy. Such a life is a privileged encounter with hidden beauty. When I listen to people's sorrows and share their pain, it is like I am receiving a precious artifact covered in dust and grime. My listening and sharing are a kind of dusting and polishing, whereby the beauty of the person is revealed once more. This is living the dream.

In this year of mercy, may we all have eyes to see the beauty of our neighbors, near and far. May be all discover the beauty stamped on each heart and be willing to give of ourselves to reveal that beauty to others.

Sr. Agnes Thérèse Davis, T.O.R.

Why the Wild Goose?

Because there is a wildness about the Holy Spirit.  Fr. Dave Pivonka, one of our T.O.R. brothers, in a new video series called The Wild Goose, tells how the ancient Celts used to call the Holy Spirit the Wild Goose, precisely because of this wildness.

The Spirit blows where he wills! (John 3:8)

I can attest to this in my own life.  I grew up living the life of a faithful Catholic.  I went to Mass on Sundays, served my parish in different ways, and was even beginning a prayer life towards the end of my College career.  But I was just going along with life, until I went to a Steubenville Youth Conference as a chaperon.

At the retreat they talked a lot about knowing God's personal love, having a relationship with Him and living a life in the Spirit, the Holy Spirit.  I was hesitant because I hadn't heard any of this before.  But at the same time I saw in the speakers and most of the teens around me something that I didn't have and I wanted it!  They had a zeal for life, and love; they had the Holy Spirit!

The Saturday night of the retreat I told the Lord that I was going to give him one chance to show me this Holy Spirit and if nothing happened that was it, I was done, and I would stay content with the way I was living my life.

I opened the door of my heart a tiny crack and he absolutely flung it open!!!  I experienced His love pouring into me.  I didn't just know in my head but knew in my heart that I was personally loved by God.

 It was so overwhelming.  I was filled with His peace and joy!  His presence was so deeply personal and so intimate.

I can honestly say that from that day, from that moment, my life has never been the same.

He has taken me on a great adventure that I never could have imagined.  It has been a journey into greater freedom as I have come to know my identity as a beloved daughter of God the Father, and with many unexpected turns it has even led me to the convent!!!

Have you experienced the Holy Spirit?  Do you desire more of the Holy Spirit?

There isn't a better time to ask for this Experience and for more of the Holy Spirit than in these next 50 days between Easter and Pentecost (May 15th).

Join us in preparing for Pentecost by taking part in a Video Novena.  Over the next 50 days we will post 9 (of the 14) Wild Goose videos on our Facebook Page, that's about one every 5 or 6 days.  Each one focuses on a different aspect of the Holy Spirit and how to live a life led by Him.  Each one is only about 25 minutes but they are packed with powerful teachings and testimonies.  And they even have subtitles in Spanish!

In between each video spend time reflecting on Fr. Dave's challenges and invitations (resist the temptation to binge watch!) and begin to experience the wildness of the Holy Spirit for yourself!

Check out the trailer for the videos below:



As part of the novena, join us each day in praying the prayer below:

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love.  Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created.  And you shall renew the face of the earth.  O, God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy His consolations, through Christ Our Lord,  Amen.
-Sr. Sophia Grace Huschka, T.O.R.
The following is a poem written by one of our sisters, fitting for today's mysteries.

"Gifts"

The Father poured gifts on his Beloved,
     his Son,
As he slumbered on the Cross
     and in the tomb.

I am one such gift:
     the Son's waking dream
     the child of his heart;
     bone of his bone
     flesh of his flesh,
He clings to me.

I am my Beloved's
He is mine.

I am the Father's gift to his Son.
Christ is the Father's gift to me.
Never has possession been so sweet;
Never has dispossession been so welcome.

The man and his wife were both naked, yet they felt no shame.

Visit Imprisoned Mercy Franciscan Sisters

Works of Mercy: Visiting the Imprisoned

Sr. Maria Teresa gave me a training session on the drive down to the prison a couple weeks ago. I had never ministered to prison inmates before and wanted her to share everything she could.

She started by telling me the story of the first time she visited a prison. One of the inmates tried to intimidate her by boasting of his crimes against women, but she saw through his rough exterior and found herself calmly saying words to him she wasn’t even sure she herself believed:

“The only difference between you and me is that your sins imprison you exteriorly, and mine imprison me interiorly.”

Sr. Maria Teresa would go on to become his godmother later in the year, when he was baptized into the Catholic Church. She also came to believe what she had said, and has continued visiting inmates on and off for what is now 16 years.

Her story moved me deeply, but I still found myself approaching the ministry with certain expectations. I envisioned a very institutional setting—a massive, impersonal room with stark or no religious symbols—and unfriendly inmates with blank faces and orange jumpsuits. If they were really the same as me, at least on the inside, I thought I was going to have to look past an awful lot to see that.

The two of us got our security badges, walked through a metal detector and two automatically locked doors (“You’ll never forget the sound of it shutting behind you,” Sr. Maria Teresa told me) before we made it inside the prison campus. We walked on a path across an open, grassy space where men in different-colored uniforms were standing and talking in groups. Five or six greeted us as we walked into the “multi-purpose” building, where all religious services are held. I felt the Lord was telling me to be myself, and, as I smiled, they smiled back.

We walked into the “chapel”, full of shabby chairs set up for Mass, a wall of bookshelves filled with well-used hymnals, missals and worn paperback Bibles, a makeshift altar and a small, cheap keyboard.

It wasn’t what I thought. In its homeliness and poverty, there was something attractive about it, something dear. The same was true of the men themselves. I immediately felt at home.

The first man I met—I’ll call him Brad—tore down every mental image I had of a prisoner. It was hard to define his age; his beard was salt-and-peppery, his face gentle and smooth. He had kind eyes through which I saw what I thought must be a pure soul. Brad told me how good it was to meet someone from “the Outside.”

We got to talking, and he started describing the “house” he lives in, widely known as the worst on the prison campus for behavior, conditions, and who knows what else. When he first arrived, he noticed the response many men have when you ask them how they’re doing—“Just another day in paradise”—and he started using it himself, with bitter sarcasm.

But then one day, the Lord asked him if he knew what “paradise” was. He replied, “Eden.” “And what happened in Eden?” the Lord probed. Adam and Eve walked with You, Brad thought. “And I’m walking with you,” he heard. From then on, although he kept using the same phrase when someone asked how he was, he meant it sincerely.

Brad clearly found so much joy and peace in his conversations with the Lord. He knew Him; that was easy to see. None of the other inmates had quite as much peace as he did, but each, in his own way, was on the journey.

It was a great grace to talk and joke with them as ordinary men—without the uniforms, I wouldn’t have known the difference. Perhaps, knowing my own need for God helped remove any barriers between us.

Without His protection over my life, how easily could circumstances have led me to be in the same place?

We ended the visit with Mass. The inmates led the music, read the readings, and served at the altar. The prayers we pray every day took on a new meaning for me: “I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned …” Together we filed up to the front to receive communion—Jesus’ body, broken and sacrificed for all. In God’s eyes, we are all equal: His beloved children.

I found brothers at the correctional center that day. We are the same on the inside—sinners who know the Lord’s mercy.
-Sr. Mary Gemma, T.O.R.



one of the hermitages on our property

Franciscan Sisters Hermitage Reflections

For two weeks after Christmas, Sr. Agnes Thérèse and Sr. Teresa spent time in prayer and solitude in what we call a hermitage experience. This time apart enabled them to work and pray in intercession for the world and their specific intentions. Enjoy their reflections!

A Return to Nazareth


Hermitage, prayer, Sr. Agnes Therese, Franciscan Sisters
The two weeks I spent as a hermit this Christmas praying for peace were an amazing gift. I felt in many ways that it was what Pope Paul VI writes about in the Office of Readings for the feast of the Holy Family (celebrated the Sunday after Christmas): “How I would like to return to my childhood and attend the simple yet profound school that is Nazareth! How wonderful to be close to Mary, learning again the lesson of the true meaning of life, learning again God’s truths.”

As I accomplished simple jobs, prayed, and lived in silent community with Sr. Teresa, I felt very close to Mary, and did learn again about the true meaning of life. It is this simple: God loves me, created me, and takes care of me. Everything else is a footnote.

-Sr. Agnes Thérèse, T.O.R.


The Generosity of God’s Mercy

Franciscan Sisters TOR prayerJust after Christmas I entered into a hermitage experience to be even more given to prayer, silence, and sacrifice, doing work that was contemplative in nature and offering it all up for a particular intention. I thought my hermitage experience would be a time of offering up difficult experiences as a form of intercession. Instead, since the Lord cannot be outdone in generosity, it was a time of being immersed in His merciful love for me.

That experience was very fitting, because I offered up the time for those who do not know or believe in God’s mercy. I offered it for those who have separated themselves from God, and in not knowing His unconditional, tender, all-powerful love for them feel empty, alone, sad, abandoned. I also offered it for those for whom God’s heart breaks, that by the merits of Christ’s Passion, the Gospel truth would pierce and transform their hearts and bring them to know and glorify the generosity of God’s mercy.

-Sr. Teresa Reyes, T.O.R.

Today ends the year of Consecrated Life in the Church (November 30, 2014-February 2, 2016).  It has been a year of many graces and beautiful opportunities.  As consecrated religious, we were invited by Pope Francis to focus on three things during this year:

 to look to the past with gratitude, live the present with passion, and to embrace the future with hope.

Throughout the year we reflected on our past by having Days of Renewal dedicated to prayer on specific themes relating to our charisms and the vows.

One of the ways we embraced the future was by attending the National Symposium hosted by the Council of Major Superiors of Women Religious (CMSWR) where we heard speakers present on "Religious Life as a Prophetic Witness".  There were over 500 women religious in attendance from all over the country. Religious life is alive and growing in the Church!

But what about "living the present with passion"?  Pope Francis asked us to ask ourselves this question:

 "Is Jesus really our first and only love?" 

This is a question that I was able to reflect on in a profound way by professing perpetual vows in July of 2015, during the year of Consecrated Life.

Sr. Sophia Grace (right) during her perpetual vow ceremony
As I was preparing, I was led to reflect on my preparation before professing my vows for the 1st time, nearly 5 years ago.  Our motherhouse complex and Father of Mercy Chapel was nearing the end of construction.  The building was scheduled to be completed in June but as we moved into July we were still having work parties to help clean, paint, and clean some more!

July happened to be when my classmates and I began a more intentional reflection on each of the vows, praying with one of them each week.

The first vow we took was chastity.  It happened to be the week that I would walk through the cloister and see men, young attractive men, right outside my bedroom window as they were re-siding the existing house.

It made me stop and think.  

For almost a year our property had been bustling with all kinds of carpenters, masons, plumbers, and electricians (a good portion of them men) and I never experienced any major temptations against the vow of chastity.

 Why?  Because THE Man, Jesus Christ, had wooed my heart and I desired to belong only to him!

The next week we began cleaning and setting up bedrooms on the new side of the house so they could be part of the tour on the day of the Chapel dedication.  It was a bit of a sneak peek for our guests before we started living in the rooms and they became part of the cloister (where only sisters are allowed to go).

That particular week a sister came to me with a plea, "Sister, we don't have enough bed spreads for the rooms.  Can I use yours?"  To which I responded, "Sure, why not." It was shortly after this exchange that I recalled we were reflecting on poverty that week!  The Lord is so good in helping me concretely live it out and, at least in this instance, be more attached to Him than to things!

Week #3.  Obedience.  Hearing the will of God through my superiors.

My assignment at the time was co-coordinating the kitchen, which during the month of July became a small catering business as we provided lunch for the volunteers who came to help us at our work parties.  I began experiencing the busyness and stress of it all during this final stretch of preparation and finishing the building.

I was trying to do what was asked of me in the kitchen but I didn't feel like I could fully enter into my preparation for 1st vows with all of the chaos that was happening around me.  I went to my formator in tears and she encouraged me that my human emotions were normal and expected.  She gave me tips to help with the demands and encouraged me to see God in the midst of it.

What was God saying in all of this?  What was his will?

The revelation of His particular love for me!  In preparation for vows I was also praying with the ancient Jewish wedding feast, basically what a proposal, engagement, and marriage celebration would have looked like in Jesus' time.

Our chapel under construction
Part of the process is that after the bridegroom and bride are engaged the bridegroom went back to his father's house and began to build the bridal chamber.  Meanwhile, the bride prepared herself and waited for the bridegroom's return, which was when the bridal chamber was complete, and always at an unknown hour.  Then the marriage would take place.

The day before first profession, as we were just beginning the rehearsal in our new chapel, a sister came through excitedly waving a paper in her hand.  "It's official!  We just got the final permit!  We can move in!"  The building had passed all necessary inspections.

As I stood there listening to her words what I experienced the Lord saying to me was, "The bridal chamber is complete and now I am coming for you at this unexpected hour, to be married the following day."

In Our Lord's providence and passionate love for me, He allowed me to experience my own preparation to give myself to Him alongside His building the bridal chamber, our new chapel.

Yes!  Jesus is my first love!  And in the ups and downs of the last five years the Lord has taken me deeper into his passionate love.  In professing perpetual vows I freely gave my heart to him and desire Him even more to be my ONLY love!

I pray that this passion between the Lord and I leads and guides my interactions with each person, as I desire everyone to experience that same depth of love in their lives!
-Sr. Sophia Grace Huschka, T.O.R.
Sr. Sophia Grace recieving commnion during her perpetual vow ceremony

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