By Sister Pat Pepitone
The recent deaths of Sister Sue Frazer and Sister Marian Arroyo have caused me to reflect deeply on what it truly means to be a Mercy presence in our world today.
Two sisters from two different islands. Two women whose lives touched countless hearts. Two women whose absence leaves communities grieving and wondering how they will move forward without the steady presence, compassion and strength these sisters brought to their lives.
As I listened to stories shared after their deaths, I found myself thinking of Catherine McAuley. Like Catherine, Sister Sue and Sister Marian understood that Mercy is not simply an idea or a ministry. Mercy is love made visible. It is recognizing the dignity of every person. It is accompanying people through joy and sorrow. It is showing up day after day with a listening ear, a caring heart and a willingness to walk with others through life’s struggles.
Their passing also brought back a lesson I learned many years ago as a young student at Sacred Heart College. One of my professors, Sister Christine, said something that has remained with me throughout my life:
“You will never know if you are a true leader until you leave a place and know that place can continue on without you.”
At the time, I understood it as a lesson about leadership. Today, I hear it as a lesson about Mercy.
Both Sister Marian and Sister Sue spent their lives teaching, mentoring, accompanying and empowering others. They did not seek to make people dependent upon them. Rather, they sought to instill confidence, faith and purpose in those they served. They shared the love of Mercy in such a way that others could carry it forward.
The grief felt on their islands is real. The sense of loss is profound. Yet their legacy lives on in the countless people whose lives they shaped, encouraged and inspired. Like Catherine McAuley, they understood that leadership is not about being indispensable. It is about empowering others to continue the mission when we are no longer present.
Catherine herself was such a leader. Nearly 200 years after she opened the House of Mercy on Baggot Street in Dublin, her vision continues to transform lives around the world. As we prepare to celebrate the completion of our 199th year and begin our 200th year as Sisters of Mercy, I find myself reflecting on the enduring power of her legacy and on the lives of Sister Sue and Sister Marian.
Their witness leads me to ask an important question.
We speak often about our call to transform the world through our ministries and through our commitment to the Critical Concerns. We work for justice, peace, the dignity of women, care for Earth, the eradication of racism and the welcoming of immigrants. These commitments are essential to our mission.
But Mercy calls us to ask something more.
Are we a Mercy presence not only to the world, but to one another?
Do our sisters experience from us the same compassion we offer to those we serve? Do our communities reflect the love that Catherine envisioned? Are we known primarily for our advocacy, or for the love that inspires it?
The witness of Sister Sue and Sister Marian reminds us that people remember far more than what we accomplished. They remember how we loved. Their lives invite us to look honestly at ourselves and ask whether our work, our ministries, and our relationships reflect the heart of Mercy.
In his First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul challenges us with these words:
“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal?” (1 Corinthians 13:1).
As Sisters of Mercy approaching our bicentennial year, perhaps that is the question before us:
If we embrace every Critical Concern, if we engage in every ministry, if we advocate for every worthy cause, but have not love, are we truly Mercy?
That is the reflection that comes to mind as we honor the memory of Sister Sue Frazer and Sister Marian Arroyo, celebrate the legacy of Catherine McAuley and prepare to enter our 200th year of Mercy. Their lives remind us that the most enduring legacy we leave behind is not what we accomplished, but how faithfully we loved.