MILWAUKEE — As recently as 40 years
ago, women still entered religious communities in their
mid-teens, as did Congregation of St. Agnes Sr. Deborah
Walter, who joined the Sisters of St. Agnes as an aspirant
when she was just a high school freshman. As the vocations
director for her community for the past five years, Sr.
Walter now sees many women who have spent decades building
careers — and in some cases, even marriages and
families — before turning to religious life.
“The age of the women that are mainly coming to
us are in their 40s, and it’s a time when many people
are in a deep search to connect with others sharing their
same values,” Sr. Walter said.
They are women like Kathryn Frank, who lives at Mount
Mary College while working on a bachelor’s degree
in community education at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.
• • •
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| MOM TAKES VOWS
— After her marriage of 20 years ended, Kathryn
Frank began thinking about religious life. She left
a career and all her possessions to join the School
Sisters of Notre Dame. (Catholic Herald photos by
Sam Lucero) |
At first glance, the former assistant vice president of
a bank who is also a 54-year-old divorcee and the mother
of a 20-something daughter might not seem a likely candidate
for religious life. Yet the School Sister of Notre Dame,
who made her first vows in August, may, in a real sense,
represent a sign of the times — and the future —
for religious communities.
“I hope to graduate before I celebrate my jubilee,”
she joked.
Sr. Frank has seen a few curious looks from the other
Notre Dame Sisters she’s lived with when her daughter,
sometimes with a load of dirty laundry in tow, stops over
to join her for dinner. Just as Frank doesn’t know
what it was like to have entered a religious community
as a teen-ager, she realizes her fellow sisters are as
much in the dark about the experiences of owning a home
or raising a child.
Her decision to leave a long-standing job and give away
a household full of possessions it had taken 20 years
to accumulate admittedly wasn’t easy at the time.
“I remember (being) in my bedroom and talking to
God, and I’m saying, ‘You know, I’m
walking through this door and I am selling my house, so
if you want to close this door (to a vocation), you’d
better do it soon,’” she said.
But it was a decision precipitated by a desire she’d
felt as far back as her childhood in Cedarburg, when she
wished she were a boy so that she could be a minister
like the ones she saw in her Lutheran church. “I
thought how wonderful it is to be able to dedicate your
whole life to serving God and helping people.”
When family circumstances postponed college, she became
a bank teller, but still contemplated a different direction.
“My sister told me I’d make a good nun and
I said, ‘Nancy, that’s a wonderful idea, except
we’re not Catholic,’” Frank said, chuckling.
Raised a Lutheran, Sr. Frank married a Catholic, but didn’t
convert until their daughter was born a few years later.
Always active in her own church, she found herself getting
involved in her new parish. In bulletin blurbs, she’d
read about retreat weekends for women interested in community
life, but she figured marriage had replaced a religious
vocation for her.
When her daughter was small, Sr. Frank worked at an elementary
school before returning to banking. She continued working
after her marriage of 20 years ended, but thoughts of
religious life persisted. She was again a single woman,
and now a Catholic, but she was also 49.
“I really thought if I went to somebody to talk
about it, they would laugh me right out of their office,”
she said.
During a retreat in Oconomowoc, she brought up the subject
with a spiritual director. “The first sister I spoke
to, I said, ‘Am I crazy?’” Frank recalled.
But the director and a School Sister of Notre Dame at
her own parish were encouraging.
She remembered her first inter-community weekend retreat
for women religious candidates. “When I walked in,
I looked around the group and saw half of them had as
many wrinkles as I did,” she said, laughing. “I
said, ‘Thank you, Jesus! I am not alone. This is
not a mistake.’”
Initially, she looked for a religious community in the
Milwaukee area to be close to her daughter, then in high
school. In the School Sisters of Notre Dame, she also
felt a connection to her German family — the sisters
she met reminded her of her aunts and grandmothers. But
Sr. Frank wondered how, with her banking background, she
would fit into a community of “school sisters.”
“When I heard what education meant to the School
Sisters — helping each person reach their full potential,
that just rang so true to me. That was exactly what I
wanted to do before I became involved with the sisters,”
she said. “Someone once told me that a charism isn’t
something that a group has and gives to you — it’s
something that you already have inside of you. I had been
encouraged to look at other communities by the School
Sisters, but there was something here that resonated inside
of me.”
Sr. Frank, who hopes to put her degree to work in some
type of non-profit or community organization, said friends,
former co-workers and family members have been supportive
of her decision. She’s most grateful for the encouragement
of her community.
“Their charism is helping a person reach his or
her full potential, and they’re doing it with me,”
she said.
• • •
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| NEW DIRECTION
— Katie Behnke, 24, is an affiliate with the
School Sisters of St. Francis. A 2002 of UW-Stout,
Behnke is currently pursuing a master’s degree
in pastoral studies at Saint Francis Seminary. ‘Throughout
my life, I’d go in different (career) directions
... but I always came back to’ a religious
vocation, she said. |
Katie Behnke, 24, is an affiliate with the School Sisters
of St. Francis in Milwaukee. The oldest of five children,
Behnke grew up on her parents’ dairy farm in Loyal,
a small town in the central part of the state, where she
often played in the woods and fields surrounding her home.
The countryside and farm helped shape her faith, she believes.
“I saw the connection between my father’s
care and nurturing of the earth — tilling the crops
and soil — and taking care of creation. I know there’s
a greater spirituality in that connection and that kind
of wore off on me,” she said.
Her first-grade teacher was a Franciscan Sister of Perpetual
Adoration, who drummed on students’ heads with her
knuckles, urging them to think. The feisty nun left an
impression on Behnke.
“In school, they’d always ask you to write
about what you wanted to be when you grew up. I wanted
to be the first female priest, but I wouldn’t write
that, so I’d say I’d like to be a sister or
a teacher. In hindsight, that was the first time I thought
about being a sister,” she said. “Throughout
my life, I’d go in different directions —
like I’d want to be a veterinarian because I loved
animals — but I always came back to that. I’d
always have that thought in the back of my mind.”
She told her mother about her interest in religious life,
but her mom urged her to go to college instead. Behnke
graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Stout in 2002
with a bachelor’s degree in apparel design and manufacturing.
But she preferred making outfits for her disabled cousins
rather than creating high fashion couture. Through internships,
she soon discovered that although the corporate world
paid designers well, its atmosphere was impersonal, and
it often emphasized bottom-line profits over customer
needs.
Instead she bought some time by getting a job as an associate
hall director at the university, taking care of younger
students and their problems. She contemplated a stint
in the Peace Corps and, again, religious life.
She laughs at how often the thoughts came to the surface,
like the line she used at college parties when asked to
dance: “No thanks, I’m going to be a nun.”
Or the time she had dinner at the home of her boyfriend’s
parents and spent a good part of the evening talking to
his mother about religious community life.
When she confided her thoughts to a classmate, the girl
told Behnke she had an aunt who was a nun. One evening,
Behnke got a call from the nun, School Sister of St. Francis
Margaret LeClaire, and the two talked. That night, she
couldn’t sleep.
“It was a breakthrough moment when she spoke to
me,” Behnke said. “It was kind of like a push,
showing me the way to go. My head may have wondered if
it was wrong, but my gut definitely said this was right.”
Currently a student at Saint Francis Seminary, St. Francis,
Behnke is pursuing a master’s degree in pastoral
studies. Though admittedly not enamored with Milwaukee’s
urban bustle compared to laid-back Loyal, she feels she’s
made the right decision. “God was speaking to me
in my heart,” she said.
• • •
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| HELPING IMMIGRANTS
— When Sister of the Divine Savior Liza Segleau,
38, started having thoughts about a religious vocation,
she suppressed them. ‘I had these visions
of sisters bossing me around,’ she said. Today
she is employed in the immigration outreach services
office of Catholic Charities in Milwaukee. |
Even when that interior voice speaks, questions can still
arise, and for the discerner, it often helps to talk to
someone who’s faced the same situation. Sister of
the Divine Savior Liza Segleau participates in chat rooms
on two Catholic Web sites, answering questions from young
people contemplating life in a religious community.
“It’s hard to stand on the side of the pool
and say, ‘Do I want to jump in? Is that water too
cold? Too hot?’” said Sr. Segleau, 38, who
made final vows in July. “That’s what formation
is about, to be in the environment and to experience it,
to see if it’s a fit for you, through community
activities and prayer, reflection, and dialogue with the
sisters.
A native New Yorker who spent several years in Florida
as a child, Sr. Segleau was 9 when her parents moved their
five children to a Costa Rican coffee farm.
The first nuns she knew were those who ran her high school,
members of the St. Joseph Sisters, an order founded in
Mexico that spread throughout Central America.
“They were hard-working and they cared about the
students,” Sr. Segleau said. “I was pretty
impressed.”
When Sr. Segleau was 17, her mother began suffering a
series of strokes. When her father moved to the United
States, she became her mother’s primary caregiver.
She dropped out of school and landed part-time secretarial
jobs. But the principal of her high school tracked her
down and arranged for her to attend night classes to earn
a diploma. Sr. Segleau was overwhelmed by the kindness.
Once, while readying music in the choir loft of a basilica
for a high school Mass, Sr. Segleau glanced up and caught
a glimpse of six St. Joseph Sisters, wearing habits, busy
in the sanctuary.
“It was a kind of graceful, very mystical thing
to see them all working on the altar — some were
putting on the altar cloth, others were sweeping and preparing
the gifts. I thought how beautiful it was to see them
doing this together as a community and doing it for the
love of it,” she said. “Then suddenly I said,
‘Oh, no, Lord! Not me! You may be thinking (of a
vocation for me), but you’ve got the wrong person.’
I just grabbed my stuff and ran out of there.”
At first, Sr. Segleau argued against a religious vocation.
“I had these visions of sisters bossing me around.
Then I learned the St. Joseph Sisters got up at 4 o’clock
in the morning to pray, and I thought, ‘Oh, my God,
I’ll never live through that,’” she
said. “There’s other pieces of you that say,
‘Am I worthy of this? Am I making this up?’
All of that goes through your mind.”
Once she accepted the decision, she talked to the sisters
at the high school. She entered the Good Shepherd Sisters
order in Costa Rica, but left to return home after her
mother broke a leg and needed care. But before her mother
died several months later, she had urged Segleau to stay
with family members in the United States and continue
looking for a religious community to join.
Sr. Segleau followed her advice, and met a Salvatorian
sister in Milwaukee; she was impressed with the international
order’s strong network of religious and lay Salvatorians.
Her family first wondered about her decision, but came
to understand her resolve.
Through the Salvatorian Sisters, Sr. Segleau graduated
from Mount Mary College in 2002 with a degree in social
work. She’s currently employed in the immigration
outreach services office of Catholic Charities in Milwaukee.
“Working with (U.S.) immigration policies and our
government’s system of immigration has always been
complex, but since Sept. 11, it’s even harder,”
she said. “I feel one of the most important roles
is to be an advocate for immigrants because the immigration
department is not very friendly. It’s a difficult
system to work with.”
• • •
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| WRITER TO SISTER
— Sr. Cal Leopold, made her first vows with
the Sisters of St. Francis of Assisi in 2001. When
she became acquainted with the sisters, Sr. Leopold,
40, said she felt comfortable around them. ‘I
got to spend time with real people, who had hobbies,
who laughed and prayed,’ said Sr. Leopold,
who is a pastoral associate at St. Rita Parish in
West Allis. |
Recounting childhood nights of falling asleep to the
quiet voices of her grandparents reciting the rosary,
Sister of St. Francis of Assisi Sr. Cal Leopold is certain
no matter what her career path might have been, regular
prayer would have been part of her life.
Sr. Leopold grew up about 30 miles north of San Antonio,
Texas, where her mom taught religious education, and
her dad drove to the Texas-Mexico border each spring
to voluntarily guide area Hispanics weak on English
through the maze of government tax forms.
Certain she was going to be a writer, Sr. Leopold spent
two summers while in college as a writer for San Antonio’s
diocesan newspaper, and after graduation was employed
by the Catholic Church Extension Society, a mission
organization. “Being able to be part of explaining
the Good News in some form was what I wanted to do,”
she said.
For eight years, Sr. Leopold worked long hours at a
good job, lived in a comfortable apartment, had no debt.
She often got together with friends, and even dated,
but knew marriage wasn’t in the picture for her.
And though she was active in her parish, she was also
aware that something was missing in her life.
When the choir director at Loyola University’s
chapel — where Sr. Leopold often attended Sunday
liturgy — asked for new members, she joined. She
soon got to know the director, a member of the Sisters
of St. Francis of Assisi, and in time, discovered what
was lost. “I found it rather effortlessly and
not too painfully,” said Sr. Leopold, 40, who
made her first vows with the community in July 2001.
“I got to spend time with real people, who had
hobbies, who laughed and prayed, who got mad about the
injustice in the world and tried to do something about
it. I could relate to them, feel comfortable with them.
I didn’t necessarily agree with everything they
said, but these were solid people, not walking around
on clouds or pretending the world is perfect.”
For the last six months, Sr. Leopold has been a pastoral
associate at St. Rita Parish, West Allis. Her duties
are varied, but she especially enjoys the homebound
ministry that brings her in touch with the elderly.
She finds grace in the simple act of listening to someone
reminisce about a family garden or a favorite recipe.
“It’s the little things that can draw us
together as a community of faith,” she said. “I
really think (Saints) Francis and Clare were trying
to teach us that we’re in a relationship with
God and each other. And it’s in forming those
relationships by respecting and loving people, and seeing
the goodness of God in each other that we bring about
the reign of God. And in whatever little way I can,
I try to do that.”
Sr. Leopold sees members of religious communities as
a sign of something often overlooked in today’s
culture.
“When the world is filled with consumerism, a
‘get to the top no matter who you trample’
attitude, when the world — especially our Western
world — is filled with a sense of individualism
at all costs, I think that the witness in vowed religious
life can give is absolutely crucial,” she said.
“Not everyone is perfect, but we do have a piece
of the truth, and it’s a piece of the truth that
sometimes gets ignored by the secular world and by good
folks who are drawn along by a society that has different
values.
“I’m not trying to push my vows on the rest
of the world, but when, for instance, I say I’m
poor and I live in simplicity to the best of my ability
and try to rely on God for everything in my life, then
I’m in solidarity with those who have little in
a material way. I mean, there’s a value of justice
there that I’m proclaiming to the world.”
Sr. Leopold said that it was the realization that God
“had made so much of a step towards me, that I
needed to make a significant step towards God”
that led her to a religious vocation. Yet she doesn’t
discount serving God in other ways.
“Our life is response to God, and how we do it
is not nearly so important as the fact that we do it
to the best of our ability,” she said. “If
you’re a single person, that’s good. If
you’re a married person, that’s wonderful.
If you’re called to religious life or ordained
ministry, that’s good too. All of those choices
are equally good. It’s the fact that we’re
making our response to God’s love for us that
matters.”
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