Dear Sisters,
I am most grateful that you have been in my life. Growing up on the south side of Milwaukee in the ‘50s and early ‘60s, I lived with my family in my Polish grandmother’s (Busia’s) house. We belonged to S.S. Cyril and Methodius Parish, the same school my parents attended and later where my sister, brothers, cousins and I were taught by the good School Sisters of Notre Dame.
Of course that’s when 40 kids were in a classroom and you could hear the sound of a pin drop because we had been taught by our parents “the sisters take our place and it’s your job to listen to them and learn.”
Our lives were immersed in the school and parish life and at home with Polish customs and celebrations. Here are some of the memories I cherish most:
A 5th grade classmate drawing the attention of Sister Ignatius, a renowned storyteller, from fractions to the lives of the saints.
How my mother would take Sr. Ignatius’ hand at school visits and speak with her in Polish. What delight would come upon Sister’s face that my mom could easily communicate with her in her native tongue.
When I was in kindergarten, Sister de Paul, who was to become my first and second grade teacher taught us how to say “Praise be Jesus Christ, good morning, sister” in Polish. “Schostra” is the Polish word for “sister”.
When Archbishop Cousins came to confirm us in 1961, I remember singing soprano in the sister’s loft of our church to the musically arranged 4-part “Panis Angelicus” that Sr. Reynold had taught us school children. I don’t believe I have ever heard a more beautiful sound in my life and I felt the peace of the Kin-dom on earth.
Sr. Reynold also taught me the piano, including Polish mazurkas – to the delight of my Busia, my mom and our extended family. The sisters let me practice piano on theirs in the convent for over a year until my uncle bought us one.
Sister de Paul asked me to help her clean the priest’s sacristy and the sanctuary. My mother said: “Yes, your helping her instead of me will be a gift I’m giving to our parish.”
In the sacristy I learned the names of the priestly vestments. I was allowed to be in the sanctuary near the altar like an altar boy. I grew accustomed to the space. One day when Sister de Paul was called to the convent and I was alone in our basilica-like gothic-styled church, I made believe I was the priest. I welcomed our people to the celebration of Mass. I read the Gospel and preached to them from the lectern. I sat in the priest’s chair during the Offertory. I lifted up the bread and wine, consecrating the Eucharist with the people of God. I gave Communion and blessed them before they left.
From working with Sr. de Paul in the sanctuary and sacristy and from the experience of my First Holy Communion, I knew in my soul and bones I was called to priesthood. Now as a woman priest, the sisters continue to affirm and lift up the workings of the Spirit in each of us– the people of God.
So I celebrate you, our sisters, teachers and mentors for being in our lives, for living out the Gospel and for your continued openness to the Spirit.
In solidarity,
Janice Sevre-Duszynska,
Priest, Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests
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