1st. How could I bear separation from my family? I who have never been away from home for more than two weeks. At the end of one week have invariably felt home-sick.
2nd. We were created to love God. In the religious life we return Our Lord’s love for love by a constant voluntary sacrifice of our feelings, our inclinations, our appetites. Against all of which nature powerfully rebels; but it is by conquering the flesh that the soul lives.
2nd. I hate community life. I should think it maddening to come in constant contact with many old-maidish dispositions. I hate never to be alone.
3rd. I know in truth that the love of the most perfect creature is vain in comparison with Divine love.
3rd. I fear I should murmur at the commands of my Superior and return a proud spirit to her reproofs.
4th. When all shadows shall have passed away I shall rejoice if I have given in life an entire life to God.
4th. Superiors are frequently selected on account of their holiness, not for ability. I should hate to owe submission to a woman whom I felt to be stupid and whose orders showed her thorough want of judgement.
5th. In religious life our Last End is kept continually before the mind.
5th. In the religious life how can spiritual dryness be endured?
6th. A higher place in Heaven is secured for all eternity.
6th. When with very slight variety the same things are expected of me day in and day out, year in and year out, I fear weariness, disgust, and a want of perseverance which might lead me to leave the Convent. And what then!!
7th. The attainment of perfection should be our chief employment in life. Our Lord laid a price upon its acquirement when He says, “If thou wilt be perfect go, sell what thou hast and give it to the poor and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come follow Me. . . . He that followeth Me walkest not in darkness.” How can I doubt that these words are true wisdom. And if true wisdom, why not act upon them?
7th. I do not know how I could bear the privations and poverty of the religious life. I have never been deprived of luxuries.
8th. [Lost]
9th. If I should leave all I possess, I am sure that my wealth would be employed by my father and sisters to far greater advantage or at least to as great an advantage as I myself could employ it.
To this list there are appended two additional reasons, both numbered four: “4th. I question whether I would not when stimulated by earthly love perform greater things in life than when moved by duty or the pure love of God.” This reason appears to belong in the column opposing religious life. However, the last number four could easily go in either column. “4th. Does God estimate the greatness of human actions according to the work accomplished or according to the motives which induced the actions?”
FOR THE MARRIED STATE
OPPOSED TO THE MARRIED STATE
1st. I am drawn to love those that love me and in proportion to the love given.
1st. Why then should I not love God? In Heaven I shall surely see that His love is infinitely superior to that of any creatures.
2nd. I should like to be loved with that devoted and special affection (I imagine) a true husband feels for and shows to his wife.
2nd. Is this not vanity and pride?
3rd. I consider it desirable to be assisted by the judgement of a husband in whom I have every reason to suppose I can rely on with entire confidence.
3rd. On whom can we more truly rely with entire confidence than upon God? His judgement is manifest by means of a superior and a spiritual director.
4th. Marriage appears to me to open a new field for many good and desirable actions.
4th. Does not religious life also open a large field for performing acts of virtue and benefiting our fellow beings?
5th. Certainly temptations to spiritual disgust would be considerably lessened when even natural motives conduct — as they do in marriage — to the practice of virtue. Witness the self-sacrifice of the mother for her child, the wife for her husband.
5th. Should I not have that confidence in God which would lead me to know that His grace is sufficient to save me from despair and disgust in His service. And do natural motives profit for eternal life?
6th. I like the independence and individuality of being at the head of my own affairs.
6th. [None]
7th. I think it a glorious destiny to bring forth souls.
7th. Could I with my temperament do this without sin? I very much fear that I should find it extremely difficult — impossible — unless God surely calls me to the married life. In that case I have this lesson of experience to rely upon. His grace had aided me to perform without sin actions which I could not even think of before. . . . As far as my nature is concerned I feel no obstacles to the married life except those mentioned. Unless indeed I
should find my husband tyrannical and unreasonable. Then I should be a wretched woman and should bitterly mourn having sacrificed my life to a man and blame myself for the vanity.
8th. I should like the joys of motherhood.
9. The wealth with which God has blessed me would naturally seem to be given me for employment in the world.a
a. Contained in letter from MKD to O’Connor, May 21, 1883.
In making these lists, Katharine was clearly trying to be as honest as possible as she laid before her spiritual adviser her thoughts and concerns about the religious life versus the married life. It is also clear that the topic of the religious life had been brought up in previous correspondence between her and the bishop. Those letters are now lost. Katharine thought she leaned decidedly to the religious life, though her spiritual adviser did not believe he detected a true vocation for another six years, and she herself had at this point come to “no conclusion about my vocation in writing them [her lists].” He observed that her lists supporting the religious life contained no real personal reasons in its favor, only rather abstract ones. On the other hand, her reasons for opposing the religious life, as well as those in favor of married life, were very specific and personal. It is hard to imagine a woman going into a convent when she “hates community life,” or would find it irksome “to owe submission to a woman [she] felt to be stupid,” or does not think she can bear “the privations and poverty of the religious life.” These are the very basics of religious life. In the married state, she would look forward to “independence and individuality,” “motherhood,” and the enjoyment of a love that is a “devoted and special affection” from her husband. Again, these are the very basics of married life and personal and specific reasons for desiring that state. Yet there is a decided fear of marriage expressed should she marry a “tyrannical and unreasonable” man. Everything else in her lists appears to be so dispassionate and reasonable that this sudden explosion of emotion and fear is shocking. Her spiritual adviser, for his part, was compassionate about her desires but unimpressed with her reasoning. Nineteenth-century letter-writing style and rhetoric aside, his is a rather condescending response softly couched.
Dear Child,
Yours of the 21st., with accompanying paper, is received.
Will you be persuaded once for all, that your letters always give me great pleasure, and that I shall always be most happy to help you in via domini [in the way of the Lord].
Most of the reasons you give, in your paper, for and ag
ainst entering the states considered, are impersonal, that is abstract and general. These are very well as far as they go, in setting one’s vocation, but additional and personal reasons are necessary to decide it. The relative merits of the two states cannot be in question. It is of faith that the religious state is, beyond measure, the more perfect. It must be admitted, too, that, in both, dangers and difficulties are to be encountered and overcome. One of these states is for the few, the other for the many.
In the religious state, a young lady becomes the mystic “sponsa Christi” [bride of Christ]. She gives her heart to Him, and to Him alone. If she loves others it is in Him, for Him she does so. And loving Him with this undivided, and exceptional love, she seeks to liken herself to Him as perfectly as possible, the practice of the three virtues that were peculiarly manifested by Him, during His mortal life, — poverty, chastity, and obedience. If she desires this union with our Lord, and is not daunted by the difficulties to be overcome in acquiring the perfection it implies, and calls for, there is nothing in her natural dispositions, and no such want of virtuous habits, as would make it imprudent in her to aspire to it, she has what is called a religious vocation.
Now, my dear child, coming to your case, you give general, but no personal reasons for becoming a nun, unless your reasons for entering the married state, should be considered as such. But these reasons, too, are general, and point to dangers that exist for all who get married. If they would justify you, they would justify all women in entering religion.
On the other hand, you give positive personal reasons for not embracing the religious state. The first — the difficulty you would find in separation from family, does not merit consideration, as that would have to be overcome, in any case. The second — your dislike for Community life, is a very serious one, and if it continues to weigh with you, you should give up all thoughts of religion. You would meet many souls there, but some, even among superiors, who would be far from perfect. To be in constant communion with these, to be obliged to obey them, is the greatest cross of the religious life. Yet to this, all who “would be perfect,” must be prepared to submit. Indeed, toleration of their faults and shortcomings, is in the Divine economy, one of the indispensable means of acquiring perfection. The same must be said of “the privations and poverty,” and the monotony of the religious life, to which you allude. If you do not feel within you the courage, with God’s help, to bear them, for sake of Him to whom they lead, go not further in your examination. Thousands have [borne] such things, and have been sanctified by them, but only such as had foreseen them, and resolved, not rashly, to endure them for our Lord.
Think over what I have here said, at your leisure, and let me know what further conclusions you may come to.
Truly yrs. In Dno,
+J. O’Connor15
This exchange of letters began a struggle between Katharine and the bishop over her life’s true vocation that would take six years and the intervention of the pope to resolve. The letters are key to understanding the inner workings of Katharine’s mind and the growth of her self-confidence. She makes clear her moments of doubt considering her calling and her abilities. But her letters also demonstrate her growing strength of character and her burgeoning spirituality. For his part, Bishop O’Connor holds up a mirror for her to look into, all the while pushing, prodding, or holding back as he saw fit. Later in the summer, he wrote to her:
Dear Child,
God, I trust, will reward the simplicity with which you have opened your heart to me, His unworthy minister, by enabling me to help you to a choice of the state of life He would have you enter. I know He must love you with a special love, and I am full of confidence that He will not allow me to mislead you. . . .
You write, “I find it difficult to think of the married state, I can find peace in thinking of the religious life.” This is a strong “personal” indication of a vocation to religion, especially when accompanied by your little desire for society, and your hesitation to put your happiness in the hands of a husband.
What most makes me hesitate to say that you have a vocation to religion, is the fear that you might not have the strength to endure the sacrifices it calls for. From your home, from your table, to the cell and the refectory of a nun, would be a very great change, indeed. And what makes me hesitate, in this matter, should cause you to do the same. How then, may the doubt be removed? By continuing in the course you have already begun. One or two days a week come down to convent rations, and, on other days, for a time, abstain from the one dish you most relish. Dress occasionally, and especially when you see company, in the colors that least become you. These acts of self-denial, in addition to what you already do, will, I think, soon enable you to measure your strength.
That you may get a clearer insight than you have into the daily life, privations, and consolations of a religious, I send you An Apostolic Woman, a book I read with deep interest a year ago. . . .
You are in doubt in regard to a matter of the gravest importance to yourself individually. It is a doubt that, usually, takes time to solve. Don’t be in a hurry. Think, pray, wait, and all will turn out for your peace and happiness.16
How difficult it must have been for a twenty-five-year-old woman to be told that she must wait — that these things “take time.” O’Connor suggested that Katharine’s biggest problem would actually stem from the privations of a nun’s life, but he did allow her the opportunity to “try out” a few of its privations. Any parent, even a spiritual one, would be wise to advise his or her child not to be too quick to enter into such a serious, demanding, and permanent commitment as the religious life. At the same time, the bishop challenged her to test her strength. By expressing the difficulties to be overcome, he pricked her pride so she could prove that she was up to the challenge. It was the perfect psychological tactic to use on the strong-willed Katharine.
Not content with having to wait while doing the minimum suggested by Bishop O’Connor, and mindful that ultimately the call to a religious, or any, vocation was directly from God to her at the prompting of the Holy Spirit, Katharine begged to do more:
God is to lead my soul in the road He wills & I wish to follow Him & obey His call. It seems to me that He calls me “to come down to convent rations” not only on “one or two days in the week” but everyday unless my doing so should attract attention. Now whether this is really the desire of the Holy Spirit, or whether it proceeds from my very scrupulosity, or a wish to show you that I have courage, I am at a loss to determine. . . . Your great kindness makes me confide that you will direct me on this occasion, & also tell me what course God wishes me to adopt when I am again uncertain as to His will in such trifling matters. I fear undertaking anything, no matter how small it may be unless it is in conformity with the Divine Will, because [He] gives me the strength necessary to perform what He prompts; but if I follow the inspiration of pride He will not support me & I shall fail. I have not yet told you that I have been receiving Holy Communion three times a week since the first of July.
If you should approve of my coming down to convent rations everyday would you think it en règle [within the rule] five times a week to take soup for supper in place of tea or coffee [nun’s rations] which is not procurable in anything but a wee cup after dinner at our late dinners [nun’s supper time]? This soup, in addition to bread (2 rolls), fruit, & cheese.17
Throughout the process of discernment for her vocation, Katharine continually asked for advice and counsel from Bishop O’Connor, then chafed under it and pushed him to remove or extend whatever limits he might have set upon her. In this letter, she even began to doubt her own motivation for her desire to deprive herself of the pleasures of the Drexel family table. She questioned whether it was the prompting of the Holy Spirit or her own pride and desire to show the bishop that she was up to the deprivations required at the refectory table of the convent. She tried to wheedle and cajole her own way. She sought openings in the bishop’
s logic and thought processes to win his approval for her plans.
The frequency of the bishop’s letters to Katharine and their great detail are remarkable. His motivation for being involved with her and the discernment of her vocation was never made explicit in any of his writings. He was the bishop of an enormous diocese that covered 367,265 square miles, including all or part of what are today seven states. During his tenure, its population grew by 400 percent, even while the square miles were reduced.
The Union Pacific Railroad was completed in 1867 and opened up the upper Midwest to migration from the East. The Burlington Railroad moved into Nebraska in the 1870s and 1880s, making it more accessible to migrants. The Oregon and California trails crossed Nebraska, and many settlers took advantage of the offer of free, 160-acre homesteads and stayed there, instead of continuing the difficult journey on to California or Oregon. Later Nebraska, by means of the Kinkaid Act, would increase the acreage of homesteads to 640 acres to help settle the less hospitable western plains of the state. White settlers were served in various Catholic schools by the Sisters of Mercy and the Benedictines, who became a stable presence in the diocese, but orders of nuns could not be found to serve the needs of the Indians. With such an influx of white settlers, part of O’Connor’s job was to keep peace between the settlers and the Indian tribes of his diocese. When he was first appointed bishop, his diocese contained all or parts of the Pawnee, Ponca, Omaha, Oto, Sioux, Shoshone, Crow, Cheyenne, Winnebago, and Arapaho tribes. The last battles of the Indian wars were fought there while he was bishop. He feared for the literal survival of the Indians, for some of the tribes were down to only a handful of clans. Most of the Indians in Nebraska were forcibly resettled in wretched conditions in Indian Territory, now the state of Oklahoma. Today, only four tribes remain within the state: Sioux, Poncas, Winnebagos, and Omahas.
Mother Katharine Drexel Page 9