When my wife and I attended the gala dinner for the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart of Los Angeles, the last thing on my mind was that I would be writing about an oak tree. More about that later.
The University Club in Pasadena may be a world away from the Vatican, but what I saw at the Carmelite gala made me think of the overriding themes being discussed at the Synod on Synodality. In short, I saw a specific and profound role women are playing in the Church and I saw an awful lot of listening. I was reminded about a particular oak tree that only seemed at the time to be a wayward thought of a tangled mind.
My family’s path intersected with the Carmelite Sisters when our mother, ravaged by Alzheimer’s, found a place of refuge at Santa Teresita in Duarte, the facility operated by the Carmelites. Hard to imagine that was decades ago and at that time there was a hospital and the “manor,” a full-service round-the-clock facility for the aged and those like my mom who had been robbed of their ability to communicate and tend to their own needs.
For a host of reasons — including finances and burdensome regulations — the hospital as well as the manor are gone. The sisters pivoted and opened a beautiful state-of-the-art assisted-living complex known as the Good Shepherd and Cristo Rey Cottages. There, people with various levels of independence find friendship, a sense of community, and overflowing spiritual abundance.
This reservoir of grace was first filled by the order’s foundress, Venerable Mother María Luisa Josefa of the Most Blessed Sacrament. Even 90 years ago she knew the role she, as a woman and a religious, was being asked by Christ to fulfill. And she was working remotely generations before people knew what that term meant. Though she began the order in Los Angeles, Luisa spent a lot of time in Mexico, where she would keep tabs on things happening up north via coded messages.
The reason for the codes was due to the grisly fact that at that time in Mexico’s history, its government’s suppression of the Church was homicidal.
Undaunted, Luisa’s order of sisters flourished. The order took care of women and girls suffering from tuberculosis and transitioned to elderly care while simultaneously teaching in archdiocesan schools. To be precise, they held the dual roles of accompanying souls at both ends of their spiritual journeys.
But what does this have to do with an oak tree? Be patient.
At the gala, it was clear the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart of Los Angeles still know what their role in the Church is. And it was equally transparent that they were a “listening” group of women, especially when their ears were oriented upward. You could even say their hearing when it comes to heavenly instructions — what they should do and how they should act — is acute.
Lately, they have been receiving news of two miraculous healings associated with prayers of intercession toward Luisa. A case of terminal cancer gone, and another of “permanent” paralysis overcome, cannot be medically explained. The sisters hold out hope that this is a sign their beloved foundress may be close to becoming St. Mother Luisita.
And now about that oak tree.
After the dinner and program ended, it was time to say goodbye to our friends. My wife and I were speaking with Sister Mary Scholastica. We reminisced about those many years ago when my mom resided at the manor. We lamented the loss of the manor facility on the Santa Teresita property. My wife recalled when we visited my mom with our then-young children, we would take her out into the courtyard and sit under the shade of a massive oak tree. It was a thing of majesty and beauty. Scholastica, who is part of my Angelus fan club, said I should write an article about that tree. And here it is.
The manor is gone, but the sisters pray for instructions from above as to how best to move forward and grow their mission to take care of the elderly. The oak stands sentry near the empty manor building, still alive, though its tree-sized limbs that grow parallel to the ground are supported by large metal poles.
Scholastica was right. I did need to write about that oak tree because it embodies what the Carmelite Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Los Angeles are all about. They hold us up with their prayers and with their works. And we do not have to be passive receptors of this grace but do our own part to keep that oak tree up, with our prayers for each of them and our material support of their common mission.
I’m still thinking of that oak tree at Santa Teresita and how it is now a symbol of God’s gift of creation. What a wonderful opportunity it still presents for some time in the shade, some time for prayer, and some time to listen.
