Conflict and relationships
by Liana de Jesus, MMM Brazil 04.10.2025
Conflict is part of life. When two people live together always, they will disagree with each other. I will give some examples: in religious communities, conflicts happen because religious people are normal people, with their limits and their ways of expressing love. In families, we also have conflict and disagreement between the husband, wife and children even the preference of children in the family. Amongst us as siblings we have our differences and disagreements etc. At the parish levels the different groups want to show their best and when they are not recognized it can bring conflict of interest. I am wondering how we can address the way of living and minimize or to avoid these in our relationships in a healthy way? Conflicts are not all negative, it be positive and helps us to become mature people and to grow in learning how to respect one another.
The choices we make to live together with other people demands responsibilities from each one of us in terms of taking the initiative to be a peacemaker, which must start from me. Nobody else. it demands courage for a person to express her ways of care and to love without fear. This can be one way to face our differences and to accept that conflict is part of life and discover ways to solve it. We need to have more meaningful conversations with one another because of how we understand conflict. We have learnt it is a negative and disturbed by emotions.
We need to educate the new generations the deeper meaning of relationships among family and our differences. Without losing our values we can learn from each other. However, this is a journey that demands commitment from all of us. If I take a step towards being the best I can be in community, family, workplace, and in groups at parish we all benefit from the mutual dialogue that allows us to understand history, motivations, challenges, past and current realities. All these are part of our lives and our world.
At family level we need to do our homework to develop a future with strategies where the parents respect their children, make their decisions openly and talk about the reality of life. Together they choose values that build meaningful relationships amongst themselves. Families are the essential building blocks of communities that provide the foundation for individuals’ growth, values, and opportunities. The support and love within a family extends beyond the household to contribute to the broader community’s cohesion and prosperity for a better world.
In the local parish and community, it is a place for us to feel at home, everyone is welcome to participate and to share their talents and gifts without competition or comparison who is best. We work together in to help build a Christian community. This will bring to the environment an opportunity for our children to learn joyful and meaningful relationships and promote a better world for all of us.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 01.10.2025
I have a phrase that I sometimes use that delights one of my co-workers. It is: “It is easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.” It speaks for a liberty of spirit and freedom from restrictive, unnecessary rules. Let me tell you how I learnt that phrase.
One day, when I was a young Sister on mission, I was dithering about doing something a little bit differently. One of the more experienced Sisters said to me: “It is easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission: go ahead with your project.” She was not giving me permission – she had no authority to do so, but she was giving me words of encouragement and asking me to trust my own judgement.
Why is it that people seem to be divided into two groups – those who recklessly go ahead with their own plans and projects (like some of our politicians!) without regarding the consequences of their actions, and a second group who see so many difficulties ahead that they become paralysed and attempt nothing?
Often, I ask myself which of these two groups do I belong? I am tempted to say that I am among the second group. At times I need to be pushed, or at least strongly encouraged to set out on a new path. The old ways are so comfortable, aren’t they?
This is when I think back to Mary, going in haste to her cousin, Elizabeth, at her hour of need. She had no GPS to guide her, but she probably took someone along with her for protection on the road. But she went – and the Gospel says she “went in haste”. No dithering for Mary.
Mother Mary Martin, our foundress, was also a woman of action. She saw the need for care of women at the time of childbirth and for the promotion of family life. She went to World War 1 to nurse, and then on to Nigeria as a lay missionary.
Today we are also called to action – to save our planet, to work for peace and justice. We cannot do it alone. We need to work together with others, in coordinated action. We need to trust God to be with us as we struggle. But we are called to get up and do something.
So today I say “Forgive me – I am going ahead with my plans” and pray that God will guide me.
by Jo Wardhaugh Doyle Ireland 27/09/2025
The farmer’s wife is secondary to the land, a mistress of sorts and most certainly during the summer months she not only feels this, but she also knows it. The farmer himself is a great man. He is a hard worker, the man who labors all hours and dreams of a good harvest, a prize bull, a great yield of hay, silage, straw, and a good price for the corn. Then you see a strutting walk, a puffed chest, a smile full of joy, shining, glowing, an exuberance of manly pride. It says look what I did this year.
“Isn’t it great Mary,” he’d sigh rubbing his head before putting back the lucky harvest cap. “I did well this year love.”
“You certainly did Dan.” Would be the yearly reply. “You certainly did my love, well done.”
She’d clean away the dishes and the table, while Dan shaved and washed by the sink saying he was off for a well-deserved pint. Mary would nod in agreement saying,
“Yes, well deserved indeed.”
Relief that at long last the misery of waiting for good weather was over. The heavens could throw open hailstones now for all she cared but these long summer months of listening that the corn might lodge, or the wheat might sprout, or it was cold or windy or the crows and rabbits would decimate the corn. There’s too much rain, there’s no sun, there’s too much sun, it’s damp, it’ll get all moldy before it’s dry enough. Then the corn gets cut and the sky opens, and you slowly watch as the golden straw starts blackening, just like the mood in the house. It’s more exhausting waiting for the weather than working like a youngster. It’s harder just listening to the woeful despair of himself, helpless in the face of the rain. But then the drying comes, the turning, the rowing up and bailing. The late nights are getting darker. Bailing before the damp hits the straw.
Cooking, baking, shopping, half rearing the grandkids, babysitting, storytelling. Rearing the few calves and weanlings, feeding the bullocks, minding the vegetable patch, cleaning the gutters, painting the fences, spraying the yard, entertaining the countless men all berating the rotten weather. Day in, day out, food on the table for the few, food on the table for the many. Cleaning the floor, doing the dishes, cooking supper. Doing his feet, so many calluses from these boots. Soaking the feet, clipping the nails like a farrier doing the horses hoofs. Checking the rash on the back of his neck. Taking the nasty blackthorn out of his hand. Injecting the bullock. Putting them all in the crush, dousing them for worms and lice, power hosing the crush down. Doing the books for the ministry of agriculture. Cooking dinner. Babysitting the grandchildren. Doing the washing, ironing, mopping the floor. Welcoming the helpers and listening to all their worries. Wishing them well in their work. Sending them off for their pint, picking up their dirty work clothes, putting the grandchildren to bed. Getting the roast out for tomorrow’s dinner, washing the spuds, chopping the carrots, baking a cake, cleaning away the mess in the kitchen.
Phone call.
“Can you pick me up love, I’ve had a few pints here and can’t afford bad luck now.” Collecting him and Paddy from down the lane, dropping him off whilst both men tell each other how wonderful they are at the marvelous work they’ve done. The farmers journal and local rag will have all the news of the difficult harvest, but how well they’ve done.
“We’ll need to be up early to move the cattle in the morning love, you don’t mind do you?” “I’ll be there.” Mary laughs.
Dans off to bed. Mary mops the floor, has a cup of tea, and watches the ten o’clock News as she missed the nine o’clock local news. The phone rings, her sisters wanting to talk. She has another cup of tea with a digestive biscuit then another. She wonders if she can ever retire from this and ponders only if he retires first can she rest. She takes her cholesterol and heart tablets and goes off to bed thinking ‘no retirement for me’: And a few pints down himself and he’s snoring like a pig trussed up for Sunday lunch, no sleep tonight.
Six o’clock, a quick breakfast. Move the cattle up to the slated shed, it’s so much easier for our zero grazer to get in. Check the calves and weanlings, in for breakfast for the young lad and a quick fry up. Clean the dishes away and get the roast on. Do the ironing, set the table for everyone to come. The day is young yet, plenty to do and now cut a bit of spanking fresh broccoli to go with the carrots and roasters. Set the table, call young Christie’s mum, and tell her he’s grand if he wants to spend another night with them. Dinner is ready. The men come in. A box of chocolates, a bunch of flowers, and an utter surprise for Mary. Gratitude all round.
The farmer’s wives I know do this and ten times more. They were never written about, acknowledged, rarely in their own house, never in their villages, and absolutely never by their government. Payment is zero, joint herd number rare, Ministry of Agriculture doesn’t account for them. Payment by no one. It is an old vocation, part of the marriage vows, the unsaid joint account of work. Farming in Ireland would collapse into a grief hole without these women, they are the backbone of this industry, mostly now in their seventies and eighties, they gave their lives to the service of the farm, the land, food production and dare I say the country. We’ll never see them up in Aras an Uachtarain .
The invisible, the unseen, the unacknowledged, the ones who seem to be worth less. No medals or awards, and if they’re lucky to have a good husband, a bunch of flowers and a meal out, or a little vase of forget me nots will suffice for them, because they are generous women, good women and maybe they are the last of their kind.
by Sr. Rita Kelly MMM Ireland 24.09.2025
How often do we hear that AI is taking over the activities of Human Beings? But is that so? With every new technology, there are positives and negatives. I would like to explore my limited understanding of AI. According to Google the definition of AI is the following:
“AI is a branch of computer science that develops machines and software with human like intelligence.”
But is human intelligence the only factor we need in this world of ours? What about compassion, love, discernment and wisdom? Looking at the state of the world, at the moment, I would say these are the values that we, humans beings need. Let us explore a few of our present-day realities.
First, parenthood. Who could replace the love a parent has for a child. The love the child needs to grow and nurture. Isaiah asks the question and the LORD responds:
“Can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore? Even if a mother should forget her child, I will never forget you”(Is 49:15).
No matter the economical background, research tells us when a child experiences a stable loving family, he/she has a good foundation for life. Could Ai supply that love?
Yesterday, I attended the parish church for Mass. Children from the local primary school was attending the Mass for the start of the new School year. One could only admire the patience of the teachers and SNAs (Special Needs Attendants) in organising the children, attending, correcting and caring for about 80 boys and girls of 9, 10 and 11years old. I don’t know how AI could manage such a lively group?
Throughout the years I practiced as a community health nurse in hospitals and communities in different countries. The WHO (World Health Organisation) definition of Health is the physical, social, mental and spiritual well being of a person. One learnt to respond, not only to the medical needs of people, but to their social, mental and spiritual needs. AI will be helpful in diagnosing but certainly will never be able to give the love and compassion.
In the above three examples of parenthood, education and health I have no doubt that AI will be helpful. for example, supporting parents in shopping, helping in drawing up educational plans for teachers and diagnosing for the health professionals. But, the listening, caring, compassion and love will always be needed. AI is a positive tool which will enhance our lives, it is to know when and how to use it is the question.
by Sr. Noeleen Mooney MMM 
Ireland 20.09.2025
When I returned to Ireland after many years in East Africa, I joined a local hill-walking group. Apart from pandemic lock-downs, we meet every second Sunday, from September to June. For me, it has opened up a whole new world of challenges, new vistas and awesome beauty.
Recently, we did a sponsored walk in aid of Ukraine. It was billed as the “20, 20, 20” Challenge. It was done on March 20th, covered 20 kms and we each donated Euro 20 and it raised Euro 1000.
The walk was in the Mourne Mountains in Co. Down. We climbed three mountains. It was cold and windy, but we were sheltered for most of the journey by the Mourne Wall. This amazing structure, 1.5 metres high, stretches over thirty-one kms and passes over fifteen of the highest mountains in the region. It took twenty years to build and is a hundred years old this year. Its purpose was to protect the Silent Valley Reservoir (which supplies water to the city of Belfast) from contamination by livestock. It is crafted in huge blocks of natural granite. Stonemasons worked from mid-March to mid-October every year for eighteen years to build the wall.
When I looked at the size of the granite blocks, I realised that when they were put in place there were no modern machines for lifting or moving anything on these rugged hillsides. The strength and resilience involved are powerful testaments to the human spirit.
As we climbed that day, safely and sheltered, I will never forget the deep sense of gratitude I felt, for the freedom, for the vastness and peace that surrounded us. We also pondered on the imaginable horrors unfolding in Ukraine.
Sometimes, it takes the ‘lifting of the eyes to the mountains’ (Psalm 120) to make me realise my littleness, my utter dependence on God, and my fellow walkers. This allows me to enlarge my world, rise above the things that bog me down, and allows me to experience the sheer wonder of our natural world. I pray that the peace in my heart can spread and reach the ends of our troubled world.
by Sr. Prisca Ovat MMM Nigeria 17.09.2025
For most Africans, the police force is one of the most forbidden and God-forsaken professions to admire. Anyone who joined the police force is regarded as uneducated and desperate and is therefore considered with great disdain and identified with bribery and corruption. They mostly experience little or no regard from the civilians.
With so many ugly experiences of their activities, the latter cannot be totally criticized for their public and private expression of disapproval. Until this day, the crime rate in some parts of this continent has advanced from bad to worse, because as some of us know, mobile policemen only express interest in how much money enters their pockets and not the content of your goods. To a point, their uniforms have been modified for ease of bribe. It is no longer a secret that drivers come to checkpoints to split higher denominations into smaller ones. So, when bus transport fare remains steadily high, we get the explanation that most of what drivers make as income goes to the police.
Recently trending on social media were different occasions when policemen reportedly brutalized a motorist with a knife, flogging some and compelling others to roll over dirty and stagnant water. On another occasion, these uniformed officers threatened to shoot travellers while at the same time forcibly withdrawing money from their bank accounts in humble submission to the power and fear of a gun. What apex of audacity! With such impunity within with force, how many parents in their right disposition would recommend this to their children as a profession without contending with rebellion from the latter? The police force is a place you go to after all other options have failed.
Undoubtedly, “the police is your friend” as their popular slogan says because in actuality, the percentage of those who stick to the rules outnumber the lawbreakers, but as it is always the case, evil triumphs where it is celebrated, where corrupt leaders rule, and good becomes powerless.
Safeguarding of children and vulnerable adults as one of my previous roles as an MMM took me as far as liaising with persons in authority, just anyone who could help. The police had indeed been friends, so much so that a call away swiped them into immediate intervention. A couple of cases of child defilement and accidents brought to their table had received considerable attention as a result of their dedication to maintaining law and order. Our collaboration had been seamless which gave the reassurance that they had our backs when in need. Most of their actions I perceive, are equally intended to redeem their image and rebuild trust, and indeed, their efforts began to attract public attention.
Therefore, on the anniversary of my birth, determined to break away from the monotony of birthday celebrations, I put a call through to the Officer commanding station in my desire to share a cake with them, the response was an instant “Absolutely, thank you so much”. Upon arrival, they all assembled, chanted a birthday song, and verbally expressed their gratitude and astonishment at such a gesture never before experienced; that they could be remembered for goodness. This encounter was extraordinary. And in truth, kindness begets kindness. For them, it was an invitation to never let that spark of trust slide. When misfortune overshadows our humanity, we forget gratitude, but may goodness always triumph over evil.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 13.09.2025
What would you do if you were on a walk and you saw a small child drowning in a shallow pond?
This hypothetical question was asked in a powerful book I recently read called “The Life you can Save” by Peter Singer. Singer adds some more details to his thought experiment.
Imagine you are on the way to work when you see the child and you will be late. “Wading in is easy and safe, but you will ruin the new shoes you bought only a few days ago, and get your suit wet and muddy. By the time you hand the child over to someone responsible for her, and change your clothes, you’ll be late for work. What should you do?”
For most of us this is not a hard question. We would if able bodied, wade in and get the child or at least call for emergency services. Very few of us would say that we could just turn our head and walk by. Yet – and that is a very big YET, we know for a fact that people do turn away and let children die or suffer daily. Some of those people are relatives of the child.
Singer does give examples of video footage that shows how when a small infant was hurt next to road, 54 people passed by and looked the other way.
It’s a bit hard to swallow this.
Singer’s question has successfully converted many people to become more active in their volunteer and philanthropy efforts. In reading his book, I am recommitted to my efforts for children and women globally. I think the challenge though is how do we reach the 54 people who walked by and let that toddler hurt on the side of the road die in broad daylight.
How do we stop preaching to the choir? How do we get those who are not engaged to be active in caring?
Perhaps the tragedy of screens is that we are becoming more and not less desensitized to seeing children suffer. We have gotten to point where we might fix our social media so we don’t see bad news. We don’t like to read the newspaper or watch the TV news because it’s too depressing.
As more suffering emerges globally, this discomfort we want to avoid grows. But, while it is sincere to protect our mental health, can we ethically turn our heads because the children dying or suffering are not right physically next to us?
Is there a proximity to caring?
I hope not. I know that the MMMs continue to live and work in difficult, if not impossible circumstances because we cannot look away.
Thank you to those who continue to not only look but make actual strides to pray or care in some way.
Any effort or gift, no matter how small prevents us from being one of the 54 who let the infant die unaided.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM USA 10.09.2025
Another exciting time was when Dr. Marilyn Scudder came to do ophthalmic surgery and treat eye diseases. We always loved her visits. She was a particularly good community person and played the guitar. We spent the evenings singing and laughing. She could remove twenty cataracts a day and taught one of our nurses to do lid repair. There was a lot of trachoma in the area and the eye lashes wound invert to the eye and cause damage. I tried it once, but it took me two hours and Nurse Anna could do it in thirty minutes, so I referred them to her. She had skilful hands and patience. The patients were laid side by side in the isolation rooms. They never had pre-med or post up because they did not need it. Dr. Scudder gave a local anaesthetic needle below the eye and directed to the ophthalmic nerve. No one budged. It was amazing to watch them and their courage to accept pain and the unknown.
A patient of hers whom I remember was a grandmother who had two cataracts and caused her blindness for many years. Her 8-year-old grandson was taking care of her and when the bandages were removed, the look of recognition on both their faces was ecstatic. I will never forget their joy seeing each other.
Another was a young girl who had severe cataracts. She was blind for a long time. We tried to investigate the cause and concluded that it was a parathyroid tumour causing high calcium levels. She was grateful to be able to see again.
Another was a woman in her thirties, who had cancer in her eye. Dr. Scudder removed the entire eye and asked me to do a skin graft to insert into the eye socket. Thank God, it covered the socket perfectly. With a good pair of sunglasses, the woman looked fine and was grateful to be relieved of her pain. Dr. Scudder was always teaching and taught me how to deaden the nerve pain in the blind eye of a leprosy patient. This proved helpful in Nigeria, as well, because, although the person was blind, they had no pain and did not suffer the stigma of losing an eye. Dr. Marilyn Scudder was a great woman and revered friend of many of the Sisters.
She came by land rover and brought many fresh vegetables from Moshi with her. This was a rare treat because at that time we were lucky to purchase cabbage in the local market. Sundays, the day of Marilyn’s departure, I would cook pancakes for breakfast.
Speaking of the market in Singida, Sr. Christina told us of a funny incident which happened to her. She was very friendly with many of the Asian merchants and one day, one of them said to her, Sr. Christina, “Come on in and see my backside.” We all howled.
He had the choicest foods in his back store and wanted Sister to get first choice to buy them.
Within a few months of my arrival, Dr. Rachel Patton came and was an immense help in sharing the medical work. She was a friend of Sr. Doctor Marian Scena arrived in 1979. We were happy to see her.
We had an incredibly happy community life. On special feast days, Sr. Catherine Fallon would do liturgical dance for us. The Pallotine Fathers celebrated Eucharist in our chapel.
At the end of August 1978, I was asked to leave Makiungu and help Sr. Dr. Maureen Mc Dermott in Dareda Hospital because the lay Doctor’s contract had ended and he was returning to England. This is another story.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 06.09.2025
Drogheda, the town where I live, has many churches, both old and new. That means that during the day I hear a lot of bells! There is the chiming of the hours, the half hours, and yes, one of the bells, I think in the town centre, even chimes every 15 minutes. Then there are the chimes to remind people to go to Mass – rung about ten minutes before each ceremony, the bells of the Angelus at 12 noon and 6pm, and finally, the bells tolling slowly to tell people that there has just been a funeral, and that the hearse is on its way to the cemetery. I often listen to BBC Radio Four, and they even have a programme called “Bells on Sunday”!
I will admit that there are times when all these bells just get too much, especially if I am trying to concentrate on something. But mostly I manage to ignore them. When I am in a particularly good mood, I welcome the bells as an invitation to continually be in the present moment. I am called to respond to God right here and now and not drift off into some idealised plan for future action. The bells are insistent. They are a constant reminder – life is happening now.
I think this is the reason so many religions use the chiming of a bell in their ceremonies and why so many religious houses still use bells as a call to prayer. Yes, of course, there is more modern technology. We could all receive Whatsapp messages, for example, or buzzers on our cell phones. But bells have never lost their appeal. When I was in upstate New York for a sabbatical programme with Dominican Sisters, there was a windchime on the front porch. I loved it. The gentle tinkling was calming and relaxing. So today I want to be in a good space and welcome the bells.
Oops, 12 noon Angelus bells – time to say a quick prayer and go to lunch!
by Sr. Renee Duignan MMM 1943 – 2023 Ireland 03.09.2025
I remember how my father used to take off his hat while working in the fields to say the Angelus when the bell would ring out over the countryside. I remember the smell of freshly baked bread my mother made every other day. I am grateful to all my family for supporting me in my decision to leave home when not quite 18 years old. I felt trusted and would try to live up to that trust throughout my life.
In 1961 I arrived in New York and worked in a bank for three years. It was for me an exciting time, learning about other cultures and other ways of being. During that time, I met the St. Patrick Fathers and did some volunteer work helping to raise funds for the missions. Though I loved to dance at the weekends, I felt a restlessness in me that could be named, the beginning of a call to something different. A deep awareness of all I had received in my own life motivated me to respond to God’s call to share with those most in need. I was deeply impressed with Martin Luther King whom I had listened to at a rally in New York City and Pope John XXIII who spoke of the great needs of the church in Latin America. Both men influenced my decision to enter the Medical Missionaries of Mary in Boston in 1964.
I was to learn there the joys and demands of our MMM missionary vocation which resonated deep within me. After my first profession, I returned to Ireland and continued my formation doing nursing and midwifery. MMM in Drogheda in those days was full of life and many were in preparation for life on the missions. We all awaited eagerly for the day we would hear about our assignment and mine was to Malawi in Africa where I spent ten wonderful years. We lived in a dictatorship which was particularly difficult for the local people.
My first assignment was to Nkata Bay, to a health clinic, a maternity unit and dispensary with no doctor. It was challenging and many times we had to use all our skills (some we never knew we had) and pray our way through some of the cases. I later worked in our hospital in Mzuzu together with a great community of MMMs, the local people and many volunteers from different countries. It was a rich experience of hospitality, especially being with, and learning from, the Malawian people. In 1985, I was called to be a member of our Leadership Team based in Ireland. I served in that role for twelve years. It was a privilege which brought me in contact with all our Sisters at home and abroad seeing first hand our healing charism unfolding in different countries and cultures despite wars and difficult situations. It was interesting too to experience the changes that came about with the introduction of Primary Health Care and how we as MMM’s responded so enthusiastically thus making health care more widely available.
The next step on my journey brought me to Mexico spending six months learning the Spanish language and beginning to learn something of the Latin American culture. There were four of us on this journey, three MMMs and a laywomen. It was a special time of discernment when we were called again to take another step on this journey and go to Honduras in 1998 in the wake of Hurricane Mitch. Marcala in the Southwest of the country was our mission of choice. We worked with the social wing of the Catholic Church which afforded us an entry into the communities of indigenous Lenca people living mostly in the mountainous area of the region. I ministered there for five years; our work was mostly in health education and, at the request of the local people, learning to make natural medicines using the plants of the area. Together we found ways to improve the lifestyle of these people. As they learned from us, I learned much from them and came to appreciate this new culture. Our manner of being with them brought us close to understanding their joys and struggles.
In 2004 we founded a second community in Choloma in the North of Honduras. Choloma is a totally different reality, most of the people are migrants who have come to find work in the factories. It is one of the most violent areas of the world, many people living in extreme poverty, lacking employment and caught up in the drug scene, many young people losing their lives in the process. The breakdown in family life is a contributing factor to much domestic violence. We constructed a centre for integrated health care, Casa Visitación and from this centre our priority is health and human rights education, as well as some curative and complimentary therapies.
I have heard it said that mission is friendship, and I can now truly say that is the reality of my life now, it nourishes my spirit to experience the depth of faith among those around me who radiate joy in spite of the many struggles that is their daily reality. As I celebrate 50 years of religious life in MMM with the wonderful memories of this adventure, I give thanks to God, to my family, to my MMM Sisters, friends, our benefactors and many companions along the way who have accompanied me on this journey.
First published in Summer 2017.
