Sisters of Silence

“God hears most readily the cry of the soul that loves him.” There are many ways to serve God. Some preach from ornate cathedrals. Others conduct worldwide ministries, travel with entourages and ride in limousines. Some preach in glass palaces to affluent congregations and broadcast their services to millions. Others give homilies in modest churches and tend to the needs of their local parishes. Then there are those who serve silently—without fanfare or recognition—denying self and material things. There are humble, gentle women who spend their lives praying for those they do not even know. Countless people have been blessed by the prayers of reclusive strangers far away, and do not even know it. They are selfless, serene souls who ask nothing for themselves and pray only for the good of others. Of all God’s servants, few are more selfless and deserving of our praise than the Carmelite sisters. They are truly special. The world needs to know that there are such women.

---

The Carmelites are an order of nuns who serve the Church in a unique way—through solitude, devotion to God, and service to Man. I was intrigued, but most of all heartened, that anyone would do such a thing—withdraw from the world in order to serve it. In a noisy world filled with a cacophony of voices which compete with the message Christ, this community of devout Christian women rejects the trappings of materialism and the rush of daily living. They live an eremitical life in order to give the world the gift of their love and prayers. In a society that worships at the Mall, is enslaved by computers and seems captivated by an endless stream of television drivel, there are those who withdraw from the noise and confusion and devote their lives to silence and prayer. To the rest of the world, their very existence must seem incongruous, anachronistic. I am fascinated by them, but most of all humbled to know that they are praying for you and me. Until I had lived here for fifteen years, I did not even know that they lived among us. They live in an enclosed oasis of serenity and contemplation called a “Carmel,” where they serve their God. I am certain that most people in my town do not even know of them—including some of their neighbors. It was not enough to study their origins. I wanted to meet them and talk with them in their special place. I had corresponded with their Superior in the past and sent her some of my earlier articles, hoping that she would one day meet with me. I did not know whether their eremitical lifestyle would permit an intrusion by someone like me. My initial e-mail requests (yes, they do have e-mail but are not fanatics about it) to meet with them went unanswered for several days. Eventually they agreed to meet with me, but under certain conditions. If I wrote about them, I could not extol the work of any particular sister. I learned that they are first and foremost a community of sisterly love, equality and mutual respect which denies self and supports each individual in her spiritual growth. I was to write—if at all—about the community. Agreed. Besides, who was I to argue with a Mother Superior? I drove to the Carmel—located on a secluded hilltop in the middle of our city—where I was honored to meet with the Mother Superior. The tradition of a spiritual leader who at once guides the community and serves the community, dates back to the earliest days of the Order. With apologies to Mother Superior, I found her to be a wonderful person possessed of a good heart and gentle nature. She was articulate, serene, and Spirit-filled. I was instantly impressed with her. At the risk of a polite scolding, if all of the Carmelite sisters are as devoted to God and Man as this woman—and I am certain they are--then they must have a direct line to the Man Upstairs. The Discalced (sic--“shoeless”) Carmelite sisters are spiritual descendants of a group of male Christian hermits who inhabited the rocky crags of Mount Carmel during the twelfth century in what is now Israel. Seeking to imitate the life of the prophet Elijah, those early hermits eventually became an order. In time, that order evolved to include women as well. After a few centuries of turmoil, a young Spanish nun—St. Teresa of Avila—revived the once troubled order, which had suffered from plagues, political upheaval, and abandonment of its original eremitical traditions. As a result of her efforts, the Carmelite order eventually spread from Spain to the rest of the world and now boasts nearly 900 Carmels and 14,000 adherents. These good sisters spend their days in solitude, contemplative prayer, and attending mass. They perform manual labor. They do not take a vow of poverty per se, but eschew material things and lead a simple life that seeks to imitate Mary, worship God and serve humankind. They rarely leave the Carmel except when necessary for medical attention. Some Carmels do not even own a car. They are modern-day hermits in the truest sense of the world. Yet they do not withdraw from the world because they hate it. Rather, they withdraw from the world in order to serve it. Though physically separate, they are an integral part of the Church. Pope John Paul II once said that their enclosure does not isolate them from communion with the Church; rather, it puts them at the heart of the Church. That these women spend their days in quiet contemplation, prayer and worship, does not mean they are undisciplined. They adhere to a disciplined schedule that includes many hours of prayer, attendance at mass, manual labor, community meals, and periodic “alone time” in their cells in order to talk to God and pray for others. How much discipline must it take to refrain from talking and engage in silent, fervent prayer for hours on end? We all know people who talk so incessantly that they give us headaches. The Carmelites, however, cherish silence. They talk infrequently and only as required. I suspect that they view idle chatter much like they view the noise of the world: it is an annoyance that disrupts the silent contemplation necessary to talk to God and hear His voice. I admire their discipline and envy their silence. They know that the voice of God comes in the silence. The world needs more silence and there is too little of it. Most of us expect a reward for our efforts. Either we work for money, or we do things for others with at least the expectation of a little pat on the back. These sisters are different. They pray in silence for others every day, anonymously, taking prayer requests from total strangers, working miracles through their prayerful lives and expect nothing in return. It is this selfless anonymity that makes them most admirable and worthy of the praise that they deserve but never receive. One can always read headlines such as “Local business gives $1,000 to buy Christmas toys for kids.” It seems that people need to advertise their good works. Yet you will never read, “Boy healed through the prayers of the Carmelite nuns,” or “Marriage saved by the prayers of the Carmelites.” These women help work miracles and change lives daily in ways we will never know. Ironically, the good that they do escapes even the notice of those who benefit the most. In the spiritual arsenal employed by the Church against the hopelessness, secularism and profanity of our culture, the Carmelite sisters may well be its most effective weapon. Few servants of God are more worthy of our thanks and admiration than these humble women. While they are enclosed, they are not detached. They are the heart of the Church--unseen, yet felt, and beating constantly--working to nourish and sustain the body of Christ. If these women are the heart of the Church, then I feel good--for the heart of the Church is healthy. We owe them a debt of thanks and our prayers as well, these selfless and serene Sisters of Silence. Deo Gratias Help Canada Free Press and Stoos Views support the Carmelites please. Carmelite Nuns 2901 S. Cecelia Street Sioux City, Iowa 51106