Sister Stories


 




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SISTER EDITH, CONTEMPLATIVE SISTER

My name is Sr. Edith Olaguer. I am a Filipina. I was born in a small town, south of Manila. When I was about 9 years old, I won an essay contest with this title: Why I Want to Be a Nun. As far as I can remember, I had 2 reasons. Sisters looked nice (the Benedictine nuns in their black and white habit must have seemed so elegant to a little girl whose school uniform was rumpled in perpetuity from playing under the Philippine sun) and, they seemed to know everything. No wonder, the nuns gave me first prize! A psychological assessment taken at that time, however, would have had to do double takes before recommending me to any vocation director!

I can still see myself during a religion class, one day, in high school (the Benedictines would continue to educate me till I graduated from college) quite perplexed about the will of God. I was supposed to accept it no matter what. Period. My thoughts went like this: “if it is true that God loves me, then, he (no awareness of inclusive language at that time!) would ask me about what I think, what I prefer, what I cannot do and we can have a discussion. I am not a pawn on a chessboard … love isn’t like that. Love is courteous.” I do not know from whence these thoughts and strong feelings arose but I do know that Sr. Margarita called me for some recitation job and I must have had one of those glazed looks because she sent me to stand in a corner of the classroom. (Oh yes, I would through the years make many a trip to many a corner of many a classroom!)

In my sophomore year in college, I was listening to a lecture on Gratitude when suddenly this question bolted through: have I thanked you God? When class was over, my feet took me to a corner of the chapel, hidden from view by a huge statue of the Blessed Virgin. In her shadow I asked God this question: How can I really thank you? Images flit through my mind. Hundreds of them. They left in their wake a clearing so empty, so still, I was jerked clean of all thoughts. Then I do not know how to explain it because I heard no voice, saw nothing, was not thinking but simply understood: “Be a nun.” My reply was swift: “Not that.” My heart, already in turmoil because of a ‘chronic’ inability to align itself to the way some of the truths of the faith were being interpreted, (for example, the will of God, as I said above) became disaster area. I did not know if “Be a nun” was God’s will or a security need from the ego. Was I being chosen or was I doing the choosing? (cf. Matt. 22:14) I did not know then that the initiative is always God’s - we cannot even call on God without the Spirit being around. (cf. 1 Co 12:3) Whew! A couple of months after, or maybe a year, I was in conversation with the former Novice Mistress of my sister (who had joined then left the Benedictines) and I nonchalantly asked her what she’d do if I became a nun. Mother Assumpta exclaimed: You? Catching herself, she politely added, You are only 16. And I said, “But scholars say that the Blessed Mother became the Blessed Mother when she was only 13.” With exquisite finality she declared: My dear, you are NOT the Blessed Virgin.” I felt like a rag rung by a wringer.

In one of our family conversations not long after that, my mother almost fell off her chair when I announced, “ If I got married, maybe I’d like 9 husbands.” Horrified she said, “Then please DON’T marry.” But you see, this statement was the logical conclusion from long, long thoughts spun in a heart and mind that were, if you remember, still disaster areas and did not have discernment skills and/or not adept with wisdom tools. What had added to the conflict was the continual news about the divorce and remarriage, remarriage and divorce of Elizabeth Taylor. The havoc these wrought! Yet I could really understand why she’d get tired of this or that marriage and want out - more importantly, I felt I could do the same! Still “Love is not love that alters when alteration it finds.” Instinct told me that was profoundly true. And I wanted the real thing. Guess what would arise from that clearing within, so still, so empty, when I was in such dilemmas: “No one will ever satisfy you. Only Jesus can.” Do not wonder then why I came up with a 9-husband solution!

Still another day, just before college graduation, as I recall, I was reading The Way of Perfection (or was it The Interior Castle?) of St. Teresa de Avila. In one of its pages, she shifts in her conversation with the reader and turns to the one whom she called El Señor Hesuchristo. She says to him, “I want to be the kind of spouse to you who would suffer when you suffer and be happy with what makes you happy.” Or something to that effect (I cannot find the page now or I’d quote it directly to you.) But I remember suddenly being brought to that inner “clearing” once more and I did say, “I’d like that so much too.” I was not aware of it then but from hindsight, Jesus had become very real to me, so much a part of my everyday life, especially of its inner contours. I was part of a dialogue; I had options to consider and with a lot of help from him, (by listening to others’ stories and facing, naming, and befriending my own fears, etc.) I could actually decide for myself.

My questions were not finished, however. In my saner moments, I could not say that I loved God because generally, my behavior was hard evidence that I didn’t! How could I be a nun or for that matter, even say “I love you” to anyone in marriage when I knew I couldn’t “suffer when you suffer and be happy with what makes you happy”? I would certainly do an Elizabeth Taylor when the going was rough! It would only be in recent years that this would resolve itself for me. In 1John 4:10, the author writes: “ This is love; not that we love God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” I finally began to understand that I do not have to go by my love which I know for a fact is puny and easily exhausted. What matters is God’s love and allowing God’s love to take flesh in me. Feels better, more believable, doesn’t it.

That is a short cut of how I traveled from there (Why I Want to Be a Nun) to here (being a contemplative sister.) The story is long and it feels like I am on fast speed. But I still have to get to Why Good Shepherd? (And I think I have to stay within 500 words and I could be beyond the limit now!) But let me say this: In joining a religious community living a contemplative lifestyle, it did not occur to me that I was giving up a lot. On the contrary. The one reality that burned in my heart and continues to flame high is the possibility of being loved, of knowing what it is to be a child of God and sharing that love and knowledge with others. Even if I had this knowledge just for a day, more than 25 years ago I told myself, I would be content. It has centered and energized me to this hour.

Why a contemplative lifestyle? Am I by nature a homebody? Maybe. But also because I need to be with others who are of a similar mind so that we can support each other within a structure that fosters prayer, self-knowledge, and genuine love for each other. Because I need a disciplined discipline that would make me accountable towards transformation in Christ, the most effective evangelization, to my mind, we are most gifted for.

Why contemplative sister of the Good Shepherd? Well, one day I was reading St. John of the Cross. (Wait, let me get my book and I know I marked the page….) Here it is -- the commentary on Stanza 23 of The Spiritual Canticle. “True and perfect love knows not how to keep anything hidden from the beloved. (Jesus) communicates to her, mainly, sweet mysteries of His Incarnation and of the ways of the Redemption of (hu)mankind, which is one of the loftiest of His works, and thus more delightful….”

On the margin of my book I wrote, “This is what Mary Euphrasia, Foundress of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd, is all about.” As I see it now, Jesus was once more in conversation with me, asking me what I wanted to do with my life. I thought about St. Mary Euphrasia’s insight that all are called to the most intimate friendship with God, no matter where we have come from, no matter what others may say. God’s love goes beyond all human categories. For anybody, the present moment can always be a turning point. I chose to throw in my lot with her and others who, like her, consider every human person worth laying down our lives for. I went for broke.

When I was 10 years old, I wanted to read and read and read. That’s all right, I dare say so.
When I was 20 something, I dreamt I’d go all over the world and see those places I studied in our history books. I did some of that.

In my 30s, I dreamt I’d practice and practice and practice and so be able to play Rachmaninoff’s 3rd Piano Concerto. Listening to Martha Algerich gives me virtually more than satisfying experiences of that!

But even before I was 9 years old, I was given a glimpse of how good God is. This hollowed in me a cavernous thirst that has never been quenched. And so I hold fast to the dream that one day, I will be allowed, even while on this earth, to see God’s face on every star, on every human face and every quivering tear. I want to know in my heart that I belong to everyone and everything, and that everything and everyone is part of me. When others suffer I suffer, when one is disgraced it is to my shame. I want to live out in everyday life the fact that all I want to be, I already am.

I have a suspicion that this has something to do with what we call ~ God’s will for all of creation.

 
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