At a certain
point you say
to the woods, to the sea,
to the mountains,
the world,
Now I am ready.
Now I will stop and be wholly attentive.
You empty yourself and wait,
listening...
Annie Dillard
Mary Lou Moorhead
22.05.1937 - 08.07.2005
Mary Lou’s free spirit sometimes belied the depth of her spirituality.
Recently she wrote: “Spirituality is about connectedness and relationships. When I speak about my spirituality I am referring to my connectedness to and my relationships with myself, the other, the earth and the sacred.”
This was the Mary Lou I knew, connected to whatever was alive around her or wherever life was being threatened. As artist she found inspiration in the beauty and the awesomeness of nature; as poet she depthed through telling imagery the mystery of the Incarnation in the everyday; as a religious woman and gifted educator she was deeply committed to bringing the liberating love of Christ wherever she was – to the refugees in Nepal, to the students in Japan, Korea, the Solomons or Australia; to the ecumenical work of union and communion across the world.
She was especially committed to working for Peace and Reconciliation. In 2004 she represented Australia at an International meeting of Pax Christi and put before that world forum the urgent needs of Aboriginal Health and Education. At a local level she was a committed and loved member of St Vincent’s, Redfern. “Spirituality of peace,” she wrote recently, “refers to a challenging – even confrontational – dimension of spirituality because it cannot be – doesn’t exist – unless it faces the truth of the relationships and the justice within situations. It protests against the illusion that we are separate from one another – that we are individuals who happen to be thrown together in particular times – each looking after our own individual interests. Rather it says: ‘Affirm the connectedness because there in that relationship is life and love, caring concern and an energy that leads to action’.”
How much we shall miss that energy in our work on the Provincial Committee for Justice and Peace! Her passion was unvarying. She would spring to when action was called for and really cared that her RSCJ sisters would have the best chance to contribute in however small a way. She was uncompromising, straight as an arrow, yet always aware of nurturing relationships and sowing seeds of peace and reconciliation.
Mary Lou faced death with such courage and honesty. One of the staff at Karlaminda who cared for her so lovingly has given this beautiful tribute. ”The experience of nursing Mary Lou in the final few weeks and days of her life has been one of the most privileged experiences that I have had as a nurse and as a friend. Never in all the years of nursing people have I had the experience that I had in Mary Lou’s presence. It was a sense of really feeling God present among and around us. As Mary Lou lay dying, there was a warmth that filled the room, a sense that the strong faith of Mary Lou was emanating from her to us, the staff caring for her and, I am sure, to the rest of the community.”
Mary Lou went like an arrow to her God. May she continue to be an ambassador of justice, peace and care for our beautiful but wounded earth.
Marnie Kennedy RSCJ
A TRIBUTE TO A DEAR FRIEND
We were going to celebrate our birthday together this year. It was going to be possible, because we would be both there at the ASCA Conference
We had discovered this felicitous coincidence of birthdays in Tokyo, in the early 70’s, when Mary Lou came for a year to teach in the International School, and I was then looking after the Senior School. Together we formed ⅓ of the community, and our birthday was easily a community event. Even then I could not help noticing how she found time for the odd tennis practice. And even then I noticed how open she was to experience that which is different. How almost hungry she was to learn from outside a familiar cultural context. And how unafraid she was, and how respectful she was, of others. This was of course, all expressed in that light-hearted Aussie way.
She was much shyer then. This was long before she was secretary to the Victoria Council of Churches for five years, hobnobbing with religious worthies internationally. Long before she was education consultant with the VSO in the Solomon Islands, where she walked everywhere, like the natives. And long before her heart was won over by the Bhutanese children whom she taught many things, including sports, in the Nepalese Refugee Camp. And she had self-confidence enough to struggle and teach English in our Korean School for a short stretch only last year. I am sure that she learnt as much as she taught there, but then this is the sort of equation in life in which she delighted.
She had such gifts, but when situations made her aware of her limitations, she did not become self-conscious, but only more avid to receive from the other. The desire for example, to work in Africa in the wake of the Rwanda tragedy was only foiled by her medical unfitness. The optometrist pointed out that her problematic eyes stood no chances in that world of dust. But the large heart throbbed on. I remember how later, she went for some lessons so that when she did lose her sight, she could teach others how to appreciate art. When she showed me the equipment (we were both then at Brynmawr) that went with this, I was deeply impressed by her determination. Indeed, an apostolic heart can always find a creative expression in the service of others. (My phrase, not hers).
Of course we never made it to that pie-in-the-sky celebration. On May 22nd she was in hospital, and I was at the Loyola House Chapel in Manila, beside my Jesuit brother who died the day before. When I returned to Melbourne there was a message that Mary Lou would like me to do her obituary (as with things personal, Mary Lou was matter-of-fact, and so it was not a ‘eulogy’). When I rang her to inquire about this solemn undertaking, she was typically straightforward about things which might be said of her at her death. She said that she wanted me to speak, because I knew something about the things that she felt passionate about.
What a tall order! She felt passionate about a host of concerns that involved all of God’s creation: issues of the environment, ecumenism, human rights, contemporary spirituality, religious formation, inter-religious dialogue, vision for the Province, justice and peace. You can imagine how I felt. It is a lavish compliment she gave me, but I think this is more a statement about her, and the fullness of her own embrace of creation. How one of a piece, it all becomes, at the end of a life generously lived. “Ripeness is all”, indeed.
One of the curious things I observed about Mary Lou is a seeming contradiction of being almost child-like in her spontaneous “centre-staged-ness’, while actually being turned to others. She liked, for example, to sit at the front when attending lectures and talks, so that she can the more readily question and participate.
She received so much from life: all that exposure to things larger than herself: the first hand experience of great movements like Pax Christi, the Jesuit Refugee Services, the UNHCR, etc., these institutions which respond prophetically to the wounds inflicted by our times. She felt compelled to give something back. She so longed for the Society to be part of a greater whole, in practice, right here in the Province.
Perhaps this might explain a little of that seeming naiveté of hers in offering to take on leadership. Through leadership (appreciating with more detachment that she was perhaps given credit for), she felt that she could, with maximum efficacy, draw life from those things which were precisely larger than herself. For the good of the whole. I think there was a rare simplicity of spirit in Mary Lou, which at times was expressed awkwardly, even embarrassingly.
To complicate matters, she was not wise in the ways of bureaucratic politics and small intrigues. She was at home with the big picture, which she was convinced spoke its own message, and had no need of rhetoric. You can see why she was frequently frustrated.
I think that people did find her naiveté amusing. There was something unorthodox about it. And being unorthodox was second nature to Mary Lou, as anyone who remembers her from her schooldays, would know. How often she was made to stand outside in the corridor, beyond the pale of dull conformity, as she saw it.
She was so easy to relate to: she accepted people just as they were, and related from whatever level they chose to. Many of us picture her as this sunny, genial, interesting, sporty, teasing conversationalist, who was devoted to the challenges of bridge and to the demands of tennis, keeping trysts with friends to the end of her life.
When she came to Melbourne for the annual ecumenical conference, we would watch the televised Open together, barracking for opposing camps, just to make things lively. And I shall always remember those long coffees when we discussed films, analysing lives made accessible through art.
Mary Lou revealed depths in her choices and in her consistency. I do not know anyone in the Province who has actually lived so broadly, was engaged at the coal face of needs which characterise our changing times. How fortunate she was to work in collaboration with organisations that were courageous and sensitive mentors ….
I discovered by accident once, that she continued for many years to mail little presents to a poor woman in Manila whom she had visited in the course of her many church travels. Mary Lou’s involvement with the poor, so many types of poor, was profound, and they blessed her with a clarity and a strength that became part of her perception of all that had to do with Church.
Is it not a commonplace, and trite, but so painfully true, that we do not know our loss until it is too late? It is not possible not to mourn Mary Lou. How I wish we could have teased out her experiences more, perhaps been more eager to have her share those gifts which Providence has given the Province, and the Society, through her. I know that she tried to write now and then when the passion reached a certain level. Perhaps we were not accustomed to see the objects of her landscapes. Is this our poverty? Perhaps now we can see better. That’s the challenge. And I think that Mary Lou would like me to end on that note. The challenge of living.
I saw Mary Lou for the last time before she returned to the hospital the final time. One of the things she said about the Province was that she was hopeful. She was too tired to elaborate and I did not press her. Perhaps we both understood that the Spirit will lead, as always.
May you rest in peace, dear Mary Lou.
Surely now, all your visions are fulfilled.
Sr Virginia Calpotura, RSCJ