by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 29.08.2023
There is a story I heard some time ago that has lingered with me.
A young monk was in prayers with his teacher and other monks. The teacher called on him after the prayers and gave him a task to go and do. The young monk rushed away to do an excellent job on the task leaving the room quickly to get started.
When he returned, he expected the teacher to give him great praise for his work and effort.
Instead the teacher scolded him.
“You disrupted everyone leaving so noisily and without consideration. You need to learn how to leave better.”
This phrase strikes me as I am in the process of leaving one home and moving to another.
How can I leave this house better? Why is leaving so hard? How do we know when it is time to go? How do we know what to take and what to leave? Leaving is a lot of things, but it is not easy.
People often advise that we should leave things better than we found them and this is truly what the MMMs do so well. Over the history of the MMMs they have entered into communities that have serious needs and few resources. While there the MMMs meet with the local people and find out what needs to be done. When the MMMs feel that the needs of the community have been met and new resources are in place, they leave and move on to another location where the people are in dire need.
It is amazing to see how hard the MMM Sisters, staff and volunteers work to not to be needed anymore. Many organizations just continue to grow and grow and grow. They resist change and try to build an empire in one space. This is not the MMM way which is really remarkable to watch. It is not easy for the leadership to know when to leave. Then there is the “how” of leaving. I know can be a very complex exit strategy to untangle relationships after many years of service there.
The MMMs work to be unneeded and to have the local people be self-sufficient. They do not want the people to depend on them but to be able to be self-sufficient. What a great gift to empower people to help themselves rather than taking steps to create permanent dependency.
Knowing you will be leaving, allows you to weigh up what is needed to go and what is needed to stay. Knowing how to time the move and how to plan what goes where. There is a huge amount of work in leaving which is why so many people just stay where they are endlessly. But, not our MMMs. They are on the move and have learned how to leave things much better than they found them.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 27.08.2023
Until the other day I had never heard of the term. Now I discover that it was first used as a derogatory term for Catholics who pick and choose what they want to believe in, especially in the moral teaching of the Church. Now some people, among them some Catholic politicians, are taking up the term and using it in a favourable light.
Before deciding which position to take, I decided to look at the word “Catholic”. It means “universal” and can also mean “all embracing, of wide sympathies or interests”. When I think of the Church, I see her worldwide, adapting to each culture where she takes root. Nowadays our worship is done in the local language of the people, our church music and instruments belong to that culture and then seep out and influence other cultures. In a nomadic culture, it makes sense to see the Church as a tent where all gather in friendship. In a sea-faring nation, the idea of the Bark of Peter may seem more appropriate.
In all this we come down to the question of language. We struggle so hard to express the inexpressible, to wrap mystery with words. One of the great strengths of the Church is tolerance. Hopefully, we are slow to pass judgement, allowing the other person time and space to develop their thoughts and struggle with the paradoxes of life. I know I struggle. And I think Pope Francis is realising that many people are struggling, trying to marry their religious beliefs with the cultural changes happening all around us. The role of women in society, and therefore in the Church, is one example.
So, am I a cafeteria Catholic? Umm, I won’t use the term, but I will admit to continual searching. I don’t feel I am alone in this. Saint Augustine once wrote, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”
by Sr. Sheila Devane MMM Ireland 25.08.2023
Well, sure I did! I often say: “Have a good day!” and it’s often said to me too! Can I tell you about a good day I had – recently?
It was the Sunday of a bank holiday weekend; having been to the Vigil Mass the night before I had a longish sleep in and listened to the interesting and quite global programmes on RTE radio until I tuned in online to the Conventual Mass in Glenstal Abbey at 10am knowing that Brother Oscar would be making his solemn profession. I feel connected to and enriched by our Benedictine spirituality and history with Glenstal. The ceremony was inspiring and beautiful; I liked the fact that this was the profession of one person only so we could get to see him, know something of his life and meet his family who were the readers. The fact that he comes form Donegal and had a fine gentle Donegal accent reminded me of my dear late mother and all her family, the Friels of the Fanad peninsula – always a positive, supportive memory for me.
I had another appointed this time on TV as the “Songs of Praise” at 1.15pm were coming from Barts, the wonderful 900-year-old hospital where I trained as a nurse back in the 60s. Barts had everything, including no less than two churches – Barts the Less and Barts the Great! These were catholic churches until the Reformation but now belong to the Church of England. In the course of the half hour programme, we visited both churches, crossed the lovely hospital square a few times, and visited the great hall with the Hogarth paintings. A nurse who spoke of her faith was interviewed and we were taken to parts of the cardiac and cancer units – world class, and the former is the largest in Europe. Most memorable was meeting a pair of female Siamese twins now aged 25 who were separated in Barts as babies. They spoke of their lives and of the fact that they continue to have some disabilities but are surrounded by faith and family which they appreciate. They were fabulous and we met their younger sister too – also a good singer!
Between these two inspirational programmes I went off to the World Youth Day final mass in Lisbon, courtesy of RTE TV, where it was boiling hot. The mass was underway, and the message of Pope Francis was being transmitted and translated: “a church for all” was one of the main and big messages. This was welcome and hopefully will become a reality. Like so many organisations and institutions our church had/has become very preoccupied with who didn’t/doesn’t belong as much as who did/does and thus with excluding (categories of) people. Sad, but absolutely true. May inclusion become the norm. Looking at the aerial views the huge crowd reaching out to the Ocean was really impressive and drove home the breadth and universality of our church; however up-close images at the end of the mass would have one believe that it was a place for mostly while, male, middle-aged and older clerics most of whom were bishops or cardinals. We did get one or two shots of beautiful, enthusiastic choirs being led by young people, but the majority of shots were of a male, hierarchical church. Are these the ones who truly belong? The optic was frightful for me to be honest.
In the afternoon I attended the 61st birthday party of a friend living in Wicklow; there was a gathering of about 12 friends and her daughter, daughter in law and two darling, tiny grand daughters were also there. It was chatty and happy for Liz.
On the way home I spent a few hours with my MMM friends, Pauline and Isabelle, where we told stories, had great laughs, and regaled ourselves with tales from our families, MMM days in other countries and the everyday events that can be so incredibly funny!
Driving home, Irene called on the phone – yes I had indeed a good day…..a very good day!
I have many such days with faith, family, and friends.
by Sr. Leonie McSweeney (1932 – 2019) Ireland/Nigeria 23.08.2023
“He is a very sick man, Sister, and he comes from far away. I think he is hopeless, but I brought him in hoping you might be able to help him. If he is going to die soon, he would like to do so at home.”
That was the first time I saw Mfon Udo. A missionary priest had gone to see him in response to a sick call. Mfon was not baptised but wanted to be baptised now. The right side of his body was completely paralysed due to a lump in his neck which was pressing on his spinal cord.
There was a chance we could help him ad he was admitted. Slowly the lump began to reduce in size, but so slowly that the patient could not see any progress and thus the inevitable request came. Doctor had tried and he was grateful. But now he wished to return to his family. Pleading was useless so the priest reluctantly took him home again.
A few days later we went to see him as I was worried about his back. Who would give his skin the necessary care to prevent the development of bed sores? It was the rainy season and floods made the roads almost impassable, but eventually we reached our destination. We found our friend in a tiny hut, his paralysed body lying on the bare mud floor. A little boy of six years was looking after him while his wife was working on their tiny farm some distance away with the other children. The little amenities which make most of the village homes quite cosy were completely lacking.
We decided that here was a chance for the Christians of the nearby village to show how the love of Christ was active in them. We instructed them in the care of pressure areas and gave them the simple equipment required and some medicine to continue Mfon’s treatment. As we bathed and massaged him, I wondered what was in his mind – he was so silent. When we rose to go, he spoke: “Why did Sister love him so much?”
The next time we went to see him the neighbours ran to meet us. Mfon was getting better, they told us. Now he could lift up his arm. He lay on a soft mattress now and looked cared for. We raised him to his feet and showed the neighbours how to teach him to walk again. The hospital carpenter made a pair of crutches for him which were delivered the next time the priest went that way.
The last I heard of Mfon was that he had been seen walking up to Holy Communion having left his crutches behind in his seat.
by an MMM Sister Unknown Location 21.08.2023
The shelling started unusually early one morning. We knew that it was enemy shelling, and they seemed to be prepared to keep at it non-stop. For days now it had been coming nearer, but today it instilled fear into every heart.
When we went on duty in the hospital at 7.30am we were not greeted with the usual, cheerful welcome. Those who were well enough were fully dressed, awaiting orders to go to the front. Every man was on edge and alert. We took consolation from the fact that a large bridge, which we knew to be mined, lay between us and the advancing army. Retreating soldiers arrived in large numbers soon after we went on duty. They were exhausted, dejected, down-heartened men. They had spent weeks in the trenches without a break. The sound of shelling blasted their eardrums, and they were often without food or water or a night’s sleep.
Soon there was a tremendous explosion. Their helicopter was on a bombing mission, but exploded and disintegrated almost immediately. This dampened morale considerably. The casualties soon poured in, most of them suffering excruciating pain as well as extreme mental anguish. Many of them were deaf or dumb or both, from shell shock. Some were at death’s door. Others died on arrival, or shortly before it. The will to fight was gone. The men were completely played out and exhausted. Soon there would be another large explosion. We knew it was the bridge near the hospital. This meant that the army would have to re-group and change their position to attack. We continued to receive heavy casualties throughout the afternoon. Just before nightfall we received our orders.
Everyone was to leave the area before morning as it was within shelling range. We now joined the band of wandering refugees and had that most frustrating experience of being displaced persons. It was an education and taught us how little we really understood the drives and instincts, the anxiety and anguish which lay behind these people’s surface behaviour and emotional reactions. But our suffering was not as intense as the local people. There were many convents on the periphery of the battle zone where a warm welcome, a good meal and shelter always awaited us.
Our indigent refugees had to trek their weary way for many miles until, well out of the war zone, they would meet a refugee camp. There the conditions, by any standard, were often appalling. They were overcrowded, with bad sanitation, scanty food, and disease already prevalent. Or they would return to their village of origin. If, fortunately, it was in a peaceful area, where their kith and kin gladly shared their frugal meals and earthly possessions with them, pleased to know that at least a few women and children were safe. Some of these people had had to flee at least twice before.
We all shared the relief of being away, at least for the time being, from the noise of the battle front. There were no clouds of smoke in the distance, but we no longer had first-hand information of how the fighting was going. We all lived in fear and wonder. All, irrespective of creed or nationality, entertained a common desire that God would hasten the day when “mercy and faithfulness shall meet each other, and justice and peace shall embrace”.
by an MMM Sister Unknown Location 19.08.2023
One Sunday morning when we returned from Mass, we noticed a bus outside the hospital. We had never seen a bus in the area before. We took a hurried breakfast and went on duty. For the first time we witnessed the gruesome effects of war. From now on subjects which to us had been the topic of a novel or film were to become stark, cruel reality. There was no glamour, but plenty of challenge. It was an experience which I now appreciate, and which proved most educative. We were to witness to witness the horrors and widespread effects of treachery and betrayal side by side with stalwart patriotism, warm generosity, and courage. Noble, heroic deeds gave us courage and a new will to continue in the face of difficulties.
Most of the soldiers who were admitted to the hospital were Catholic. Most of them were excellent ones and took advantage of their visit to hospital to receive the Sacraments. Missionary priests who still lived in the area heard their confessions and attended to the dying at the battle front. Later, displaced indigenous priests and non-Catholic clergy were appointed army chaplains and this considerably relieved the burden of the overworked missionaries.
Our hospital was now indeed a military hospital. Only one ward was left for civilians. Extra beds were put up in the houses outside the hospital for battle casualties. New procedure had to be adopted. Instruction to our patients included: “Please unload your gun and check the barrel.” The most able-bodied of the patients were requested to deposit guns, rounds of ammunition, and hand grenades at the office before going to the wards. An officer collected the remainder.As well as dispensing medicine and looking after the patients’ physical and spiritual needs, we had to boost morale. Morale was of paramount importance. Although we experienced extreme suffering, life was not without its bright side. We received courage from each other and ‘supported one another in charity’. Once “the boys” got over their initial pain and fatigue, they were usually ready for a chat and a joke. We endeavoured to have a film twice a week for them, but they only appreciated war films from which they could learn tactics. Sometimes we played records and the more able-bodied danced. But the soldiers were never off duty. They were always alert for a strange sound, an enemy plane, or distant shooting.
by Sr. Rita Kelly, MMM Ireland 17.08.2023
Reflecting on religious life in Ireland one wonders what the future holds for this way of life. Many congregations/organisations are facing ageing, dying and diminishment. Some would ask the question do we continue the ministry of vocations awareness and promotions. Within our own MMM European Area, I have heard Sisters saying “we should be winding down”. Do we continue to sow the seed? Yes, for some orders, after due discernment, they have decided to gradually come to a closure. Personally, I don’t think this is an option for the Medical Missionaries of Mary. We are an international Order. At this moment, the energy and vibrancy for ministry is in our African and South American Sisters.
Three Sisters from Nigeria and one Ugandan Sisters were visiting the Motherhouse recently. They shared with us their experiences of Ministry and Mission. I was impressed. They represented many of our Sisters, continuing to share the Healing Charism throughout the world. I was struck by their faith and commitment, working in solidarity with people in areas of political unrest. Through PowerPoint presentations, there was a sense of joy and celebration among us as we revisited missions where we had worked. Not only did we see the development of Health Care Programmes which we had founded, but also the way our Sisters were collaborating with the many lay staff we had trained In the autumn/winter season of our lives we felt blessed in seeing the fruit of our labours. To see such energy and life gave us all great hope. They continue to sow the seed.
For “everything there is a season and time for every matter under heaven” (Eccles 3: 1-8). In this part of north-west Europe we experience four seasons of spring, summer, autumn and winter. Every life has its own cycle. Religious Life is no different. In 1967 when I entered there was big numbers in the Novitiate, which was no different from many other Missionary Orders. It was the spring and summer time of Missionary Orders. Now we are experiencing autumn and winter. Winter has its own beauty. It is time for the soil to rest. But the soil is preparing itself to receive and nurture the various seeds for spring. Wendell Berry writes “The soil is the great connector of lives, the source and destination of all. It is the healer and restorer and resurrector, by which disease passes into health, age into youth, and death into life. Without proper care for it we can no community, because without proper care we can have no life”.
Not only has Religious Life has changed in Ireland. There is a changing demographics of the population. Since the year 2000, Ireland has changed from being a country of emigration to a country of immigration. When Austin Iveragh was launching the book “ Let us Dream a path for a better future “ by Pope Francis, via Zoom, a question was asked “ acknowledging the low morale of the Church in Ireland could he suggest a path for a better future for Ireland?” He was silent and then said it will be the new Irish who will help to re-energise the Church.
The questions we might ask ourselves “are we open to seeds that maybe planted?” Some the seeds may fall on hard soil, among thorns, but hopefully, with the help of the Holy Spirit, we may continue to respond to the call of sowing seeds of the Healing Charism as we continue our journey of faith.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 15.08.2023
One of the great joys of my work with the MMM Sisters is being part of so many exceptional and empowering missions in some of the poorest and most neglected parts of the world. I am honoured to know the MMM Sisters and their work intimately because there is so much unlimited good that is being done in so many ways. We are at work in every area of humanity where healing is needed. No two missions are alike and every MMM Sister is also unique. The MMMs were founded on the calling of the Visitation, when Mother Mary rushes to her cousin Elizabeth’s side , when both women are pregnant. This is the MMM ethos. You need us and we will come in your hour of need, no questions asked. When I see the mission work in person and witness this coming together of MMM Sisters, staff and volunteers and the community members in most need, I am moved deeply.
Back in the office in Ireland, I work with a wonderful team to tell and show the stories of the MMM healing charism to the world. This must be so easy one would think with so much goodness flowing. But, it gets tricky.
In Philippians 2:3 we read, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, in humility consider others better than yourselves.” This is really at the heart of the humility that the MMM Sisters practice on a daily basis. So, no matter what wonderful acts of service are done or amazing work that happens with very little resources available, there is little said about it often. If an MMM Sister meets with tragic conditions in her day, then it is faced with humility and she moves on as best she can with the comfort of her MMM Community to support her. There is little said about anything incredibly good or bad. When we want stories to share with the world, we have to beg. Everyone is too busy to share anything with us. They are also unable to see what is special about what is done, because it is just a normal day.
Now, we are working to put together our MMM annual yearbook. We know that there is so much to share with the world about what the MMMs are doing, but they are too busy to tell us or too humble to share. So we have to strive to find that harmony between being informative and being in any way boastful, because that lacks dignity and humility. It is in humility that we strive to stay. Graciousness is such an important trait I have learned from working with the MMMs but it is veiled in a tenacious approach that allows very hard work to be done with little resources in often impossible places.
The MMM Sisters, staff and volunteers are tenacious and silently doing God’s work in a whisper. This is something both beautiful and challenging for those of us sharing their tales. But, take it from me, you can know in your heart that miracles are happening daily and quietly.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 13.08.2023
I am fascinated by stained glass. It is such a simple mixture of colour and light. Without the colour, we would hardly see the glass, but without the light, the patterns, imagery and meaning would not be seen at all. Isn’t this like so much of life, this inter-dependence of things (and people!) to bring out the best in both.
Recently, on a visit to Tanzania, I came across a church that had “old-fashioned” stained glass windows alongside new, modern design. The old glass had been ‘rescued’ from a church in Ireland that was being demolished and was transported carefully for use in this new African church. The new glass was a recognition that local art is alive and well in the area. I like to think that the juxtaposition of the two types of stained glass in the same church is also a reminder that all for part of the Church, the young and the old, the “old-fashioned” and the radical. I think that is why I love the word “catholic” – it means all-embracing, universal.
Stained glass is constructed of coloured glass pieces connected and outlined by strips of lead. Here in Drogheda, in the Motherhouse we have a set of stained-glass windows by the artist Phyllis Burke. Originally, they were in the chapel of the Nurses’ home but came over to the convent when the convent was undergoing reform and the Government was assuming ownership of the hospital and associated buildings.
Each day as I pass along the corridor I gaze in fascination at the snake, the eagle, the wheat and all the other symbols. I am reminded that we learn our stories as much from visual memory as word memory. I guess the cave paintings by our remote ancestors were the first stories ever told! I also remember the stained glass windows in the church I attended as a child. There was one of St. Therese, kneeling before the Pope, asking to be allowed to enter religious life at a young age. I remeber shaking my head and thinking, “She is too young to take that decision.” Of course, I took the same decision only a few years older than Therese was at the time!
So today I just want to thank God for artists, painters, and architects, all those who by their work bring so much beauty into the world.
by Sr. Mairead Carroll MMM (1931-2022) Ireland 11.08.2023
Coming from the hospital here in Uganda, at the end of a busy day, I met Solo. He works with us occasionally. We stopped and greeted each other and went our respective ways. Having gone a short distance, he stopped, turned, and said with a smile, “Sister, you are well done”. Then he turned and walked on. I continued smiling and musing. I was puzzled about what he meant.
Did Solo mean, like meat on the fire, that I was “well done”? Which I was. Or did he mean that I was “done in”. Which I was. Or that I had “done well”? Which I hadn’t, and anyway, how did Solo know? We hadn’t met for a few weeks, maybe more.
I continued conjecturing. Smiling as I thought of all the unusual turns of phrase. Phrases to which we are not accustomed and because we aren’t, they make us stop and think. Frequently they help us laugh at ourselves and our expressions. After all, what are words? What is language? It is a poor vehicle for expressing thought and spirit. Yet, though the words are muddled, the meaning and thought come through.
A woman called Josephine works with me in the pharmacy. When questioned sometimes about having carried out a certain duty, she says, “Yes, Sister, I did it.” To make certainty even more certain she adds, “Yes, Sister, I’m steady with that.”
Yes, and I am steady with one thing. When at the end of my day I come to my Heavenly Father, there will be no questions if, after greeting me, He smiles and says, “Sister, you are well done.”
Editor’s Note: Sr. Mairead was a tall, soft-spoken and quiet Sister with a wonderful smile. She was a trained pharmacist and worked in Spain, Tanzania and Uganda. She had a lovely singing voice and took part in MMM recordings during her time in Drogheda. She was a kind person, known for her unobtrusive, gentle counsel to those in need. She worked in pastoral care in her later years, a ministry that seemed to suit her personality well.
