Sister Stephanie, OCD
(Sister Stephanie now lives in De Beyart in the Netherlands. She is of Hungarian origin and is now ninety years old. She first met Sister Benedicta Teresa as a novice in the monastery in Echt, where Sister Benedicta had gone out of fear of Nazi persecution.)
I remember Sister Benedicta personally. During recreation1 we novices were separated from the older sisters. But I saw her in the choir, in the chapel, and during recreation. And we met with her daily during our Latin lessons, which we were required to take according to the mother superior to better understand the liturgy.
Sister Benedicta made a first impression on me even before I entered the Carmelite convent in Echt during one of my visits to the monastery. During my meeting with the sisters, after we had first introduced ourselves, she turned to me and asked: “Rozito, when will you come?” Her voice was pleasant, warm, and gentle. In her question, I felt sympathy, warmth, and kindness; it felt like an invitation. It gave me much courage and confidence. At that moment, I knew nothing about her, but her personality made a deep impression on me, and I have never forgotten this moment of meeting her.
I met Sister Benedicta for the second time when I entered the convent, as I was greeting the sisters upon entering the enclosure. She warmly embraced me and whispered: “Rozito, nem szabat!” This is a Hungarian expression that means: “Rozito, it is forbidden!” She remembered it from the time she worked at the Red Cross hospital in Austria, where she cared for Hungarian soldiers.2 I replied, “Oh, certainly, I will hear that many more times.”3
During our Latin classes, we discovered that Sister Benedicta was an excellent teacher. She spared no effort. She was very eager and patient, but immediately recognized when we had not learned the material we were covering or when we were not attentive. Then she could become angry with us. Even though she did not coddle us like a mother (she was not that type), she had something warm and maternal within her. She was observant; and when any of us was too tired or unwell, she immediately sent us to the novice mistress.
Our teaching was not just grammar; Sister Benedicta shared interesting stories with us. During conversation, she enriched our knowledge with details about the time of writing and the names of authors (of Latin texts). One day, she expressed her disappointment when one of us did not know the meaning of the words (hymn) Tantum ergo. How is it possible to sing something for several years and not know the meaning of the words! She was demanding also in teaching us how it was necessary to understand the liturgy. And she was criticized for it. She accepted criticism calmly, but remained herself and continued teaching according to her own method and judgement.
Sister Benedicta had already been at the Carmel in Echt for three years and spoke Dutch well, but occasionally asked us about some Dutch words. We were all happy to help her, but she sometimes found her own humorous expression.
(The prescribed) silence Sister Benedicta adhered to diligently, but she never shied away from necessary conversation. One day, outside of recreation, she asked me to pray for her friend who had gone to England. It was on the day her friend had a birthday.
At that time, it was very cold, and we (in our cells) had no heating. Sister Benedicta was not bothered by it, but when we went to class, she chose a heated room so we would not catch cold.
In the refectory, she always finished quickly (with food). In her care for others, she was attentive to everyone so that no one was overlooked. She enjoyed alternating those who read aloud in the refectory or performed service.
On holidays, we (the novices) spent recreation together with the professed sisters. It was wonderful when Sister Benedicta told us about her students. At those times, she always gave her best. She always laughed happily but never uncontrollably. Her speech was always meaningful, even when it came to humor. She never used meaningless, insignificant words, nor did she want to hear them from others. When we acted in plays, she also took on a role, but as far as I remember, she actively participated only twice. When working, like when washing, she was one of the first, but she had no experience and it did not go well for her.
Her personality radiated a special charm, but I never had any idea what she really was. Her focused, ascetic appearance gave me the impression of an extraordinarily pious person. She never showed her extraordinary intelligence.
Our mother superior, Mother Antonie, wished for Sister Benedicta to give a lecture on Saint John of the Cross. She lectured standing, and it was evident that she was used to it. I observed how she distanced herself from us, it was clear that she was spiritually elsewhere.
In the choir (during liturgical prayer) she was always respectful and focused. When we had adoration for long hours, she was there with us, sitting on her heels while kneeling, and sometimes she fell asleep that way. She was tired after the nightly raids. I especially remember the night of Pentecost in 1942 – she knelt with her arms outstretched before the Blessed Sacrament while we trembled with fear.
A time of danger had come. Three weeks before Christmas, we listened to her lecture for the last time. Mother Antonie wanted Sister Benedicta to devote all her time to her work “The Science of the Cross” and not to give us lectures. Sister Benedicta showed me a picture of the Carmelite Le Paquier in Switzerland, where she wanted to hide. Her eyes were full of tears, so she was not without emotion. She asked me to pray for her. She felt that it would not be easy for her to leave again for another convent.
On the evening of August 2nd4, we sat during recreation together in the garden, where Sister Benedicta and other sisters came to congratulate our oldest novice on her name day. Sister Benedicta brought her a beautiful rose. Sister Alfonsa said to her: “Aren't you afraid of what is happening?” She replied: “We are in God's hands.” That is my penultimate memory of her.
The next day (in the afternoon), Sister Benedicta read the first part of the meditation to us, as usual. She had to interrupt it because Mother Antonie, who had come from the parlor, called her.5 Within a few minutes, Sister Benedicta returned and knelt before the Blessed Sacrament. Then she stood up, turned to us, her face entirely red, but she was calm and composed. She said sadly, “Sisters, pray.” Even now, I still hear her saying those words. A few sisters were asked to help her (with the preparations for leaving the convent). We novices were still in the choir, where the Blessed Sacrament was exposed. In the confusion, no one thought to call us. She left us without saying goodbye.
We look forward to meeting again in heaven. Dear Sister Benedicta, farewell!
P.S. Another small memory of Sister Benedicta. Before my profession, during the recreation of the sisters, Mother Antonie asked: “What name should we give to the postulant?” (that referred to me). Sister Benedicta, who knew Hungarian history, said: “Sister Stephanie – Magna Domina Hungarorum, should be her name.”6 I am happy that I received my name on the proposal of Sister Benedicta.
(These memories have had a complicated journey to the Czech reader: from German, they were translated into English by the barefoot Carmelite Sister Rafaela from the convent in Dysart, Scotland, and were published in this year's May issue of the magazine Cor unum. From English, they were translated into Czech by the tertiary of the barefoot Carmel Jiří from the Eucharist. The footnotes were added by P. Gorazd, O.Carm.)
