Religious
Life
Nuns
of mythology, reality and legacy
By TIM UNSWORTH
Some time ago, this reporter and spouse walked over to the Ivanhoe
Theater to take in “Late Nite Catechism,” an interactive comedy that
features the audience as students in an adult catechism class. The show,
written, produced, directed and, in some locations, performed by the
play’s founder, Maripat Donovan, is a lighthearted and light-minded,
affectionate spoof on the mythology of church theology and practice. It is also
a peep into the culture of religious sisters of an earlier age. It is still
running in two theaters in the Chicago area.
It is now a veritable franchise with casts that have played in
London; Dublin, Ireland; Toronto; Vancouver, British Columbia; Portland, Ore.;
Philadelphia; New Orleans; Phoenix; Los Angeles; St. Paul, Minn.; Scottsdale,
Ariz.; San Francisco; St. Louis -- even off-Broadway in New York.
The premise behind the exceptionally simple plot line brings one
back to the days when the habited women scolded us constantly to keep our
mouths shut, our feet on the floor, and our hands to ourselves. As with most
humor, it is wildly exaggerated, which may be why one laughs. It reminds one of
John Powers’ novel and musical, “Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really
Reflect Up?” Years of patient research have failed to uncover a nun who
ever taught that dogma. But the shoes continue to reflect and are thus an
occasion of sin.
After my mother, the nuns were the first adult females I ever
spoke to, beginning with Sr. Philomena and Sandbox 101 in kindergarten. I do
remember a rather large sister showing us a nail she told us had come from the
bag of nails at the foot of Jesus’ cross. However, there were no rosaries
that glowed in the dark such as those in “Late Nite,” although we
learned of more apparitions of the Blessed Mother than appearances of
Kilroy.
Mercy Sr. Sue Sanders, a friend with a doctorate from the
University of Chicago, saw “Late Nite Catechism” at a performance at
Chicago’s Mother McAuley High School, a premier all-girls’ high
school under the direction of the Sisters or Mercy. She found it entertaining
but observed, “It amplified every cliché about religious
sisters.”
Sr. Sue hoped for a richer depiction of religious women. “I
was looking for Susan Sarandon playing [St. Joseph] Sr. Helen Prejean, the
heroine of ‘Dead Man Walking’ and an advocate for the abolition of
capital punishment,” she said. “Instead, we got Whoopi
Goldberg.” In two movies, “Sister Act” and “Sister Act 2:
Back in the Habit,” Whoopi energized a group of childlike nuns. She at
least promoted a sense of community. But the poor and demented sisters had IQs
of about room temperature.
Some trends within religious life tend to be insular,
uncooperative and narrowly conservative. They are often driven by a cult of
personality focused on a congregation’s founder. Still others curry favor
with the hierarchy and are rewarded by perks from an approving bishop. Blind
loyalty is rewarded by blind loyalty. The result is a group of people stuck in
neutral and turned inward -- one constantly grousing about its aging members,
financial problems, lack of recruits, and so on. Some outfits are still that
way.
However, most religious congregations, particularly those of
women, look to the future with measured hope. Even if they gradually fade away,
making room for the educated laity they trained to follow them, they will
bequeath myriad gifts to those who follow. It is difficult to measure all this,
but it would appear that religious sisters are trying -- and succeeding -- more
than religious men in meeting the challenges of the times.
“When I visit the older, retired sisters,” Sr. Sue
Sanders said, “I see one who used to administer a big hospital and another
who was a college president. They were accomplished women.”
Sanders was impressed by the sensitive answers that the fictional
nun gave to some of the questions from the audience. Clearly, there was no
intention to hurt anyone. “But the play was all about romanticizing an era
that never really existed,” Sanders added. “It was not all happy
times. It was not about nuns in habits who had no sense of prayer. It was real
life.”
On balance, the play was gentle humor. There was nothing
mean-spirited or malicious. Reviews in the Catholic press gave it good marks,
although it’s likely a similar comedy about priests would have drawn
fierce condemnation from local chanceries and diocesan reviewers.
My spouse, Jean, was uncomfortable throughout. She resented the
drill sergeant depiction of “Sister,” a stout bag of blue serge held
together with the low-slung leather cincture and rosary, and barking like a St.
Bernard. Jean is a former nun who received an excellent education, albeit
piecemeal, through graduate school. My own late sister, a nun for 55 years,
went from clapping erasers in a Yonkers, N.Y., parish to earning her doctorate
in Asian studies at New York University.
True, there were some immigrant congregations that imported a serf
mentality to both their religious life and their apostolates. Their
assimilation process was often slowed by a hierarchy that paid them as little
as $30 per month. Still, on balance, the sisters were the first great group of
professional women in this country.
All that being said, it is important to remember that by 1965,
these religious women were educating 12 percent of the students in this
country. Sisters still administer and care for 16 percent of the hospital beds
in this country and sponsor housing in at least 20 states, serving 30,000
people. Yet, in spite of their enormous contribution, they were not eligible
for Social Security benefits until 1972. Even now, they receive an average
annual Social Security stipend of only $3,578, compared with $10,398 for other
Americans. A sister from Milwaukee estimated that there were some 1,500 sisters
in the Midwest alone who are on relief.
The annual cost of care for a religious over 70 years of age is
now $25,857, and 54 percent of present-day sisters are over 70. It is no
surprise, then, that, according to recent statistics received from the National
Religious Retirement Office of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops in
Washington, D.C., only 78 (14 percent) of the 530 women’s institutes
described themselves as “adequately funded.”
Male religious fare a little better. Al-though 28 percent of male
religious receive no Social Security, 21 percent are described as adequately
funded. Although male needs are greater than female needs, male life expectancy
is as much as six years lower. Presently, there are 4,144 nuns over 90. Only
384, about half of 1 percent, are under 30. Only 229 of the 15,041 male
religious are over 90, while 341 are under 30.
It’s clear that religious congregations are in poor shape
financially. Present support efforts are encouraging, but the un-funded
retirement liability is over $6.1 billion. In recent years, it has dropped from
$7.8 billion, primarily because so many religious have died and new candidates
are not coming forward.
In 1991, there were 101,911 female religious; there are now
79,462, a drop of 22 percent. Religious priests have dropped from 18,488 to
15,386 -- down 17 percent. Religious brothers numbered 6,896 a decade ago. They
now number 5,565 -- down 19 percent.
It is difficult to separate religious brothers from religious
priests. Many are in congregations that have both species. Overall, however,
brothers account for only 5.5 percent of the total population of religious. In
some congregations, they are being urged to become priests, if only to meet
internal needs or sacramental needs in mission territories.
The downward trend is likely to continue because religious are
growing older. Some congregations now have less than 50 living members.
The Retirement Fund for Religious, founded 14 years ago, has
developed the most successful fundraising appeal in the history of the American
church. It now gathers enough money to provide an average of $1,000 annually
for the support of each religious over 70.
Which brings us back to “Late Nite Catechism” and
Maripat Donovan and Vicki Quade.
Donovan is the original “Sister” in the play that is now
in its 10th year. She grew up on Chicago’s Catholic-impacted South Side.
After 12 years in Catholic schools, she entered Loyola University on the North
Side. She was involved in high school and college theater. Then, she opened her
own construction company and renovated houses. In 1985, she returned to the
theater. In 1993, she created “Sister.”
In 1995, Maripat and Vicki created “More Late Nite
Catechism.” The sequel has yet to be produced.
Vicki Quade grew up in the southwest suburbs of Chicago. Primarily
a journalist, she wrote for a number of newspapers and spent a decade with
Newsweek before moving to the Chicago-based American Bar Association.
She has won numerous awards for her work. Her writing for “Late Nite
Catechism” earned her a nomination for a Los Angeles Critics Circle Award.
She has three kids -- all in Catholic schools.
Since 1993, the creators and the cast have collected funds after
each performance. The total to date is more than $175,000 for Chicago
congregations alone and $800,000 nationwide. That’s a lot of dollars from
grateful students who like to boast that they were pulverized for misspelling
Mississippi.
Last year, $116,000 gathered in Chicago went to eight Chicago
congregations. Significantly, part of the genius of the fund is the fact that
100 percent of the money gathered goes to charity. The Retirement Fund for
Religious divides nearly 98 percent of the monies received -- a huge
percentage, especially when measured against other worthy funds that spend half
or more of the contributions received on overhead.
With the exception of $4,000, which went to the American Red Cross
following the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, the remainder of the “Late
Nite” funds went to the needy sisters. And this counts only the money
donated in the theater where the coif is passed. Patrons are also encouraged to
call their alma maters and to send checks directly.
The Retirement Fund for Religious gathered $32.7 million last
year. It is now active in 181 of the nation’s 195 dioceses. (Eight others
have local appeals.) Since 1988, the fund has collected $380 million. It can
use the dough. Skilled care for the 5,556 aged and retired religious in need of
it now costs $228 million per year.
Barring a miracle of grace, religious may not be with us much
longer. Presently, only about 3 percent of nuns are under 50. With the life
expectancy of religious congregations averaging only 250 years, there
isn’t much room for expansion. It’s likely that there will always be
some religious, but their numbers will be small.
However, the patrimony the religious will leave behind will be
passed on for generations. The seeds they planted are perennials. Thanks in
part to the loving humor behind the footlights, something will continue to
flower.
Tim Unsworth writes from Chicago where he operates a camel wash
for bishops of titular sees in the desert. Chat with him at
unsworth@core.com
National Catholic Reporter, February 21,
2003
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