Thirty-Eight
Although the Shaw Island controversy and its aftermath reached its peak in the nineties, its dark cloud hung over us long before. What I have to say about it is from my experience and, therefore, from a limited understanding. Up to the time the issue was settled, I was not part of our governance.
In 1977 Lady Abbess, with the blessing of the Community, accepted Mr. Henry Ellis’ gift of three hundred acres of land on Shaw Island, off the coast of Washington State. I had cast an affirmative vote, although I wasn’t truly convinced that Mr. Ellis’ offer came, as he announced, with “no strings attached”.
Three nuns—Mothers Prisca and Miriam; and Mother Therese Critchley, a formation mother who had been instrumental in creating our dairy—were sent to Shaw Island to begin work to establish a daughter monastery. Starting this way, on virgin land with but a single building, a few shacks and one tractor, it could not help but bring back thoughts of our beginnings in Connecticut. As a child may look like a parent, the new foundation has a likeness to Regina Laudis but in many ways is unique.
Mother Therese, now the prioress, recalled those early days: “After World War II, the Ellis family started buying up land on Shaw Island that had been foreclosed on homesteaders; and at the time of Henry Ellis’ gift of three hundred acres, the family owned or controlled at least a quarter of the island.
“When we arrived, the residents of Shaw were curious about us, but as they watched us begin to work the land, they came to appreciate that we were very serious about being farmers as well as stewards of the land we shared with them. They even helped us with the machinery and the animals (less than a month after we arrived we already had a gift of a flock of sheep and two Jersey cows).
“The one permanent building on the property—Japanese in design and built by Mr. Ellis himself—looked to the sea over a large rock formation that gave the monastery its name, Our Lady of the Rock. It was so perfect because Lady Abbess had envisioned a foundation that could open the Community to the Far East. That building became our residence and chapel.
“Mr. Ellis was with us for the enclosure ceremony in 1977, and he frequently came to Mass. He helped turn the temporary structures built by the homesteaders into our guesthouse, dairy and preserving shed. He worked shoulder to shoulder with Father Prokes building the shed where we milk; they did it in one day. Mr. Ellis became an oblate of the Community and even asked to be buried at Our Lady of the Rock.
“He was kept in our daily prayers, but we did not see him that often because we were busy keeping the foundation going. We were not aware of his growing displeasure. The only hint came when he mentioned that he wished Mother Miriam and I had not destroyed some wild rose bushes when we cleared the overgrowth for pasture.”
In 1979 I had my first encounter with Shaw Island when I accompanied Lady Abbess for a seminar on chant, which would include members of the Franciscan Sisters of the Eucharist and the Mercy Sisters of Alma, who also had foundations on the island. I will forever remember my first ferryboat ride, which is the only transportation to the island from the mainland. It was late in the day, and there was a mist forming on the water that took on softer hues of the blazing sunset on the western horizon. I felt as if I were sailing into paradise.
The seminar lasted a week, long enough to confirm that Shaw Island was, indeed, God’s own design. It’s the most beautiful place on earth. Mothers Therese, Miriam and Prisca had been joined by Mother Hildegard and Mother Felicitas Curti—a former professor of musicology and a grandmother of three. From what I saw, these women were accomplishing a great beginning for the foundation.
But, over the next several years, Henry Ellis dissatisfaction with how the land was being developed continued to grow, along with his complaints to Lady Abbess. Now, Lady Abbess had made it perfectly clear to him that he would have no say in the growth and development of the foundation, and although initially he had accepted that, he continued to believe that the gift of the land entitled him to a say in how the land would be used.
Ultimately, he announced that he was withholding 150 acres from the 300 he had promised and, in fact, was poised to transfer that land to another group. Lady Abbess had no recourse but to sue for injunctive relief. The court ruled that the 150 acres be transferred to us as promised.
During this period, Mother Maria Immaculata had been engaged in revising statutes within our constitution and, with the lawsuit now behind us, she and Lady Abbess traveled to Rome to present the constitution to the Sacred Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life. Both were surprised when it was not approved.
The Sacred Congregation, under the newly assigned secretary, Archbishop Errázuriz Ossa, insisted that it be rewritten to align with the new Code of Canon Law. The criticism pertained to our firm stand on retaining the ancient ceremony of the Consecration of a Virgin as well as the tradition of choosing an abbess for life.
Lady Abbess felt very strongly that both matters were essential to our foundation. The Consecration of a Virgin is the Church’s blessing of a woman who has resolved to give herself to God. It is not, she stressed, the woman’s asking for the blessing of the Church; it is the Church offering to consecrate her. Never before had the Sacred Congregation had to approve this ceremony. As for the selection of an abbess for life, this had been part of our approved constitution from the very beginning.
The Communities of Regina Laudis and Our Lady of the Rock, meanwhile, had little awareness of the controversy with Mr. Ellis and carried on our monastic obligations as usual—which still included the daily prayers for him.
Mr. Ellis, however, bitter after losing the lawsuit, vowed not to rest until he ended Lady Abbess authority at Regina Laudis and destroyed Father Prokes. He searched out and courted a handful of disaffected people previously related to the abbey, including a former member of our own Community—one of the group who rigidly opposed Lady Abbess and Father Prokes and had finally left secretly in the middle of the night. This was the same nun who had sat on the stairs outside the Education Deanery meetings, taking notes. She had entered a decade before me, but I did not know her well. She seemed deeply wounded and had built a definite enclosure around herself. I found no way of engaging her. At that time, of course, any overture would have been against the rules, but in her case I didn’t even consider breaking them. She was uncomfortable with the Education Deanery and resisted any change within the Order. It was her prerogative, of course.
Mr. Ellis took his grievances to Rome. He testified before Archbishop Ossa that our community lived a bad hybridization of Benedictine life and that our presence on the island was causing the entire population of Shaw great misery.
Then he took his agenda to the media, beginning with local newspapers, getting their attention with allegations that the abbey was being taken in a “cult-like” direction by Lady Abbess and Father Prokes, pressuring people to turn over money and land and, further, accusing Father Prokes of having despotic control over us and lacing his homilies with sexual imagery that stressed the potency of female sexuality. There was no truth in this, but the sensational nature of the accusations got a lot of attention, eventually claiming the interest of several metropolitan papers, including the New York Times, as well as the television show 20/20.
A concerned Maria Janis contacted Roone Arledge, the chairman of the ABC news department, to dissuade him from airing the program. Mr. Arledge was personally acquainted with the Community from his visits to Regina Laudis and, therefore, did not feel it proper to exercise his professional authority in the matter. Instead, he offered Lady Abbess commensurate air time on the network. She did not take advantage of his offer because she was now under orders by the apostolic delegate, Bishop Pio Laghi, not to communicate with any of the media.
Mother Dolores asked me to watch the show and give her my opinion of it. I thought the program weakly supported Mr. Ellis’ agenda by manipulative editing of stock footage of Community life, such as a group of nuns riding in a truck en route to work in the fiel
ds, identified as “nuns who have left Regina Laudis”. A photograph of Mother Jerome wearing prescription dark glasses, taken years before at an abbey fair, was used in a way that made her appear as sinister as Gene Tierney had while watching young Darryl Hickman drown in a scene from Leave Her to Heaven. I did think the hosts of 20/20 provided a fit summary at the end of the report when Barbara Walters turned to Hugh Downs and asked, “So what was that all about?” and Downs replied, “Search me!”
Our days were filled with silent gloom. It seemed to me that everyone walked with a heaviness about her. Not many of the women were knowledgeable of the continuing attacks because, at Lady Abbess request, there was no discussion of the situation. That was an edict I struggled with. Part of the depression concerned our sadness over the passing of Archbishop Whealon, who had always been a great support, but most of it, I think, was caused by being kept in the dark.
That changed when Archbishop Ossa informed Lady Abbess that he had decided to conduct an apostolic visitation, which is a formal meeting between members of a religious community and representatives of the Holy See. The visitation was announced by Lady Abbess to the entire Community.
Shortly thereafter, two Benedictines, Bishop Joseph Gerry and Dom Adelbert Buscher, arrived for a four-day visitation during which they spoke to every member of the Community. The priests were pleasant and respectful, but some of their questions were unsettling. They were, I’m sure, trying to find if there was any justification to the accusations that had been made about Father Prokes and the alleged sexual content of his homilies, but it was very difficult for all of us who live under vows of chastity to be put through this line of questioning. It was hard for me to hold my tongue through my interview, but I did.
This was fortunate because, at the end of the four days, both visitators found our spiritual life at Regina Laudis without fault and, further, commended the Community for the way we were fulfilling our monastic obligations. This did not, however, end the controversy.
Not willing to concede, Mr. Ellis continued attacking us in Rome. My personal opinion is that Mr. Ellis had expected to play a leading role in our foundation on Shaw Island and that he probably would not stop his badgering until he got his way—or until Lady Abbess was removed. Since Rome always will try to resolve unpleasant disagreements quietly, Archbishop Ossa’s way to do this was to put pressure on Lady Abbess, who was approaching ninety, to retire voluntarily and to urge that Father Prokes, a Jesuit priest, not remain at a Benedictine foundation but be reassigned within his own order.
Father Prokes’ reassignment did take place. In spite of the fact that he had never been invited to Rome to confront the accusations made against him, Father was obedient. Lady Abbess resisted retiring from her authority as abbess for life, conferred upon her at her abbatial blessing. In response, Archbishop Ossa sent her a letter containing questions he wished her to answer. Lady Abbess obeyed the request, but instead of sending her reply she made an appointment for Mother David and me to present it in person to the archbishop in Rome.
We made the trip, but when we arrived for the scheduled appointment, we were handed a note saying that Archbishop Ossa would not keep the appointment. The reason given was “non opportuno”: it was “inopportune”. There was nothing Mother David and I could do except leave the papers. We were staying with Franciscan nuns in Rome, and when we returned to their house, I was so angry I couldn’t see straight.
Feeling our pain, our hostesses arranged for us to accompany them to Saint Peter’s Basilica that evening to hear the Rosary said by Pope John Paul II. After the Rosary, we had the opportunity to exchange a few words with His Holiness. He asked where we were from, and when we told him Regina Laudis, he gave his blessing to the abbey. It was a comforting moment, one that I took to be God’s sign that everything would turn out all right.
—I still carried, however, the sting of the archbishop’s hostility, which always conjures up memories of that little boy who made the necklace out of poor, struggling ladybugs.
The Community appealed the Sacred Congregation’s decision that we hold an election for a new abbess. When that appeal failed, a letter from Archbishop Ossa informed Lady Abbess that she would be vacated and that he had appointed a delegate from the Holy See to come to Regina Laudis as administrator.
Lady Abbess agreed to step down. “Now you know what real obedience is all about”, she told the Community, and then added, “We must always believe that with crisis comes new birth.”
—I think, for Lady Abbess, this was the devastation she endured until her death: she thought that the foundation was over. I know this was in her heart.
Are you speaking of your own feelings as well? You and I had phone conversations during this period, and I have never known you to be devastated except then. “If this happens,” you told me, “if Rome would put someone in permanent charge of the abbey, I will have to leave.”
At that moment, yes, I feared for the same thing, that the loss of Lady Abbess and Father Prokes could have been the beginning of the end for the foundation.
Though I did not know it, I was the person who carried the news of his reassignment to Father Prokes. I drove to Father’s home, Saint Lucy’s, carrying a letter from his Jesuit provincial in Milwaukee. He read the letter but did not share its contents; instead he took from a high shelf a very old bottle of brandy, containing barely a shot of the ugliest liquid I had ever seen. It had long since passed vinegar. He poured out the dregs into two glasses and raised a toast “to the future”. I could hardly swallow the sip I took and turned away to rinse out the glass. When I turned back, Father Prokes was no longer in the room.
Back at the monastery, a letter from Archbishop Ossa was shared with me. Not only was Father’s reassignment effective immediately, but he was to have no further contact of any kind with the Community. I realized then that he had submitted to this order as he was reading the letter and must be, at that very moment, packing up. He had that kind of obedience. Our toast had been his farewell. There would be no goodbyes.
I felt ravaged in my heart. Father was my teacher. He had given me the basis for the Education Deanery but was very pure and chaste and did not insert himself into the operation once it was established. His work was to make something happen and once that was done, allow another to do it. I thanked God then that I had kept all my notes from every one of his homilies—his education, his discourse, his truth. I thought back to his greatest lesson: “When the master goes, the disciple is born.”
Reverend Matthew Stark, abbot of Portsmouth Abbey in Rhode Island, was now administrator of Regina Laudis. Certainly there began an intense period of sorrow for the older members of the Community, and there seemed no way to explain that to any of the younger members who had entered after this rip in the heart of the Community had taken its toll.
As portress, one of my functions was to carry the keys to the house and admit appropriate visitors inside the enclosure. I arose well before the bell for Matins so that I could unlock the door to the house if Father Matthew arrived to attend the Office. But when I entered the darkened chapel, I was startled to find the priest inside.
I apologized that I had not been there to welcome him to Matins and asked how he gained entrance. “Oh,” he said, “I have a key.”
A key to our house! I felt a rush of anger and the shock of fear.
I have a temper, an ouburst of emotion that flashes and is soon spent. The fear, however, persisted and provoked questions. Were we to be under house arrest? How will this manifest the true spirit of all we write about, sing about, all we entrust our lives to? Might there be no consciousness, no sensitivity of who we are? Is this to be the continuity of Regina Laudis? If so, this isn’t where I belong, I thought. I don’t care what age I am; I will just go do something else, because God is everywhere.
Mother Abbess recalled, “Oh, at that time, we were all leaving. We weren’t leaving, of course, but projecting a stand. We had formed relationships, the deepest relationships one
can have, and depended on them. You don’t just walk away from that.”
Abbot Matthew did keep a low profile and, for all intents, took his role to be our retreat master. He did perform chaplain duties but also conducted conferences regarding Benedictine life rooted in reverence for God and the human person, respect for learning and order and responsibility for the shared experience of community life in an atmosphere informed by our fifteen-hundred-year-old heritage.
—He also had, I was pleased to discover, a deep affection for Pope John XXIII—he quoted him often—and this became a personal bridge between the two of us.
As I began to see that we were on the same page, the situation began to feel less demeaning. It was encouraging to learn that the college preparatory school run by the monks at Portsmouth shared our focus on scholarly and artistic work and hospitality. The Portsmouth school had produced three US senators—including Robert and Edward Kennedy—plus a composer, a newspaper columnist, a novelist and screenwriter, a college president, a political satirist, an FBI director and, yes, an actor, Charlie Day.
Abbot Matthew was to officiate at the Consecration of five nuns, but Archbishop Ossa insisted all Consecrations be suspended for the time being—by which he meant until we did a study of the ceremony and understood its place in monastic life.
The briefest way to describe this is that the archbishop felt that we put too much emphasis on Consecration as opposed to final profession, which is the ultimate ceremony for most religious communities of women. But there is a strong, ancient monastic tradition for Consecration that is not hard to prove—if one is willing to listen.
Consecration is a very powerful and specifically feminine rite celebrating the nun as the spouse of Christ. I think the archbishop was afraid of that and wanted to reduce its potency. I think he also was testing our submission. There existed a quiet standoff, during which the number of nuns awaiting Consecration grew to nine and depression within the Community turned to despair.
The Ear of the Heart: An Actress' Journey From Hollywood to Holy Vows Page 42