Supplements

Commentary

By Liz Quirin

Glimpses of Holiness

“You wonderful, holy, awe-inspiring women — you women of spirit — have taught us well. Your teaching will go on, constantly creating a better world for the people of God, corralling the chaos to create a better quality of life for others that you can be proud of.” That’s what broadcaster Cokie Roberts told women religious at a meeting in New Orleans last week, but we already knew that.

Women religious have a decidedly different view of retirement than I do. They’re not looking for a retirement party and keys to an RV. They’re probably fitting themselves for a shift into a new line of service, maybe one they’ve secretly wanted to do for years, like rocking babies with AIDS, or tutoring, or you name it.
My dream of retirement isn’t quite as noble unless I can tutor someone while I’m holding a fishing pole, or collect canned goods with a camera in my hand. I always seem to have an additional agenda instead of an inspiring idea of how to serve others after I retire.

But along the way, I have met people like Cokie Roberts described in that opening quote and you probably have too, even if you didn’t go to a Catholic school. When parishes were formed, one of the first items of business for a new parish was the opening of a school, or the organization of religion classes for the children. Most of the time, religious orders were invited to staff the school or teach the weekly CCD classes.

Not all of the nuns were those “holy women,” and many of us have stories about them from our youth, but somewhere in the mix, we see the face or hear the voice of one of those holy women who taught us about our faith or about ourselves and our lives as Catholic Christians.

I have been especially lucky to know one of these women as an adult. I met her here and then again in Bosnia when I was covering stories about the Balkan wars, and I’ve seen her once or twice since then. Every time I meet her, I see in her face and feel in her presence something different, something special, something I would have to call holiness. Nothing about her is self-serving or selfish. She has risked her life for others in places most of us would be afraid to go. Her name is Bernarda.

When I challenged her on this, pointing out her sacrifices, she smiled and insisted this was what God has called her to do. No matter what, she answers the call. Most recently when I saw her, she came here as the general superior of the Adorers of the Blood of Christ in Rome. That would make her the number one nun in the order. When I point out her lofty position to her, she smiles that special smile and tells me she hopes to go to Siberia to minister there when her time in Rome ends. It is not about her, she tells me but about what God calls her to do.
I’m hoping, in some future year, maybe after I retire, to grab my camera and head north, very far north, maybe even Siberia, for a few photos and a chat with my friend.