By Anne Cohen
Early every morning, the Rev. Sammy Taylor rings the doorbell of 15 West 124th Street to say mass for the convent of the Franciscan Handmaids of Mary. Because the Catholic faith prohibits women from saying mass, the Sisters must have a chaplain officiate the service.
Over the course of one recent winter morning, he spoke about the necessity for Christians to practice tolerance. His remarks that morning were based on the Gospel of Mark, which reads:
“ From within the man, from his heart, come evil thoughts: Unchastity, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malicious,
And deceit, envy, blaspheme, and licentiousness.
All these evils come from within, and they defile him.”
The teaching of the day had special resonance for Franciscan Handmaids of Mary, a predominantly African-American order of nuns, founded in Atlanta in 1916, to provide teachers for segregated African-American schools in the South.
After kissing the Bible, Taylor walked to the front of the altar, and began his sermon in a booming voice that did not seem to match his lean, wiry frame. The reading preceding the Gospel this morning dealt with King Solomon, and his message of tolerance for others. For this particular religious community, tolerance has a personal significance.
“This month is Black History Month for us,” he said. “And as I talk about the wisdom of Solomon, I think about the wisdom of our brothers and sisters who have gone before us. The wisdom, and knowledge of faith, and all those who were persecuted, raised in bigotry and hatred, they held on to their faith. “
“What a blessing we have, we are role models,” Taylor continued. “Kids today they don’t have any role models but sports figures. But we have a lot of role models.”
As he spoke, Taylor raised his arms, palms turned upwards, as if channeling inspiration from the air above him. “They should learn their history and they know that we have role models, people who were strong in their faith, and what came out of them was from the lips and the heart. They practiced what they preached and they kept in step with the Lord.”
Sister Maria Goretti, 80, leaned forward, rapt with attention. Her grey hair peeped out from under her navy blue habit; a walker was parked behind her chair. But her mind is sharp as ever. As a young woman who had recently joined the order, she was sent to Wilmington, North Carolina in 1953 to work as a teacher. Born and raised in New York, she was unprepared for the segregated way of life in the South. “I’m sorry, we don’t serve your kind,” she remembers people saying to her. “Your kind…that’s what they said.”
Sister Lilian R. Webb, 97, was also present, sitting two rows away from Sister Maria. They have known each other for over 60 years. Sister Lilian was also a teacher in Wilmington. She recalls walking into a church and seeing separate Holy Water “whites” and “coloreds.”
“We lived up in the North,” she said. “We hadn’t experienced any of that.”
As he got to the middle of his sermon, Father Taylor hit his stride and his voice became even more powerful. He stared down the Sisters in front of him as he asked a solemn question.
“How about us in our lives? “ he asked. “We can’t let history go down the tubes without understanding, learning and practicing what our brothers and sisters, our ancestors did before us.” He paused for effect. “And a lot of them was in this community.” Again he paused and looked around the room.
“Who left legacies for us to live by and practice and to walk each day of our lives? Today is the day of Saint Josephine Bakhita, an African saint, a saint that knows our struggles, a saint that said ‘Yes Lord, I will let nothing or no one break my striding unto you.’”
Saint Josephine Bakhita is the saint of human trafficking. In 1877, still a child, she was kidnapped from her home in the Sudan, and sold into slavery. She was eventually bought by the Italian Vice Consul to Sudan, who brought her to Italy. Because Italian law didn’t recognize slavery, she was freed. She converted to Catholicism and devoted her life to caring for children.
“Let us do the same,” declared Father Taylor. “Always be the sun for our brothers and sisters who are less fortunate than we are, always be concerned for the sisters in our community, the priests in the archdiocese. That message of Jesus, starts with each and every one of us, before we can do for anybody else. May God bless us. “
With that, the congregation knelt in prayer.
After the service, the Sisters gathered in the dining room downstairs for breakfast. As she nibbled on her buttered toast and fruit, Sister Maria reflected on what she heard:
“The lesson that I learned today from this Gospel, is that we are responsible to reach out to other folk,” she says. With a twinkle in her eye, she paused for the punch line. “We are told that we should love everybody. You don’t have to like them, but you love them.”