To Love Even More

Let us reread, if you will, that admirable passage from Saint Luke introducing Anna the Prophetess. It takes the Evangelist only a few verses to etch an unforgettable portrait—like a Rembrandt etching—of this woman “of a great age,” to suggest the spiritual charm of an elderly face radiant with divine light, and to evoke her moving destiny. After seven years of marriage, Anna had been widowed; she had moved from caring for her own household to serving the house of God, from love for her husband to love for the Lord. Throughout long years of widowhood, she honoured God “night and day with fasting and prayer.” Then, one day, at the age of eighty-four, she encountered her Saviour—just a few weeks old—in the Temple courtyard. And suddenly, the silent woman—known to all but heard by none—became an apostle of Christ, “She began to speak about the Child to all who were awaiting deliverance.” It was a pivotal moment: the events of her life were illuminated, and every “why” found its answer. She suddenly understood where God had been leading her along the winding, unfathomable path of her existence.

How many women, over the past twenty centuries, have seen in their widowhood—as Anna the Prophetess did—a sign from God inviting them to move from human love to divine love. Think of Saint Paula, Saint Elizabeth, Saint Frances of Rome… I cherish an unforgettable memory of a retreat in Lourdes in 1943: one by one, without having coordinated it among themselves, seven young widows from 1940 came to confide in me their conviction that God was calling them to consecrate their widowhood to Him. Priests who have received the confidences of many widows know this very well: there are some to whom Jesus Christ issues a call as indisputable and imperious as the one He extends to a young man for the seminary or a young woman for the Carmelite convent, “Come and follow me.”

This is how we see widows with no family responsibilities turning toward the convent. Yet mothers surrounded by young children hear this call to total self-giving as well. They are then bewildered, fearing it might be an illusion or even a temptation from the devil, since leaving their homes is out of the question for them.

To be sure, one must not hastily conclude that God is calling when faced with such desires—so frequent in early widowhood—to turn away from all earthly things, to vow never to love another man, or to cloister oneself in the memory of the departed. Such desires often stem from a wide range of feelings; not all of them are of the highest order. Yet, while it is wise to verify the call, one must certainly not risk turning a deaf ear to the Lord’s desires.

Is it possible to answer this call—especially for those who combine maternal and household duties with exhausting professional work, and who must earn the very bread they once joyfully broke for their children—and what would such an answer entail?

In centuries past, entering “religious life” implied withdrawing from the “world” and from temporal tasks. Yet today—and this is no small revolution—the Church, through  new forms of institutions, is making religious life accessible to those very people who cannot leave the world. These institutions, like all religious orders, aim to lead their members—by means of evangelical counsel—to the perfection of love for God and for one’s neighbour.

Thus, religious life is no longer incompatible with the lives of widows burdened by family and professional obligations. Indeed, we already see some who, called by God to this perfection of love, commit themselves to striving for it within religious institutions without abandoning their responsibilities—quite the contrary. There, they find the hallmarks of all religious life: fraternal support, formation, guidance, a rule of life that is flexible and suited to their state, and promises or vows by which they consecrate their lives to God.

Just as traditional religious life did not immediately find its definitive form, it will likely take time for these new forms of religious life to be fully developed. For the moment, we are in an experimental and exploratory phase—one that involves trial and error but is nonetheless exciting. The challenge lies in the search for answers: How can a widow practice poverty when she cannot relinquish her assets, which belong to her children? How can she practice obedience without arriving at the unacceptable and abhorrent outcome of a superior becoming the actual head of her family? … That is the crux of the matter: finding a new form of religious life suited to the widow’s situation, yet one that is not a “watered-down” version of religious life.

While widowhood presents challenges in the pursuit of a perfect life—such as a lack of time, limited opportunities for recollection, an overload of work and isolation— it can also remarkably foster the soul’s ascent, through the sacrifices it offers and the burdens it entails. It requires great love. It is the offering up—to be renewed time and again—of the one whom God has called home; it is the renunciation of bearing more children; it is the painful surprise of no longer being considered in the same light as before by other households; it is loneliness, the all-consuming demands of family life, and the struggle to balance the need for tenderness with the need for authority over one’s children—to reconcile the spiritual responsibility of nurturing souls with the most mundane, temporal tasks (dealing with a building manager for repairs, or visiting the tax collector to discuss taxes)… True religious formation must teach the widow the art of using every opportunity for self-forgetfulness to grow in the love of God.

Yet, all too often, she will feel swallowed up by daily chores; she will envy the nuns who, in the silence of the cloister, can devote themselves solely to God. Let her remember then that what ultimately matters is not silence, nor long prayers, nor monastic peace, but doing God’s will. Doing it—not necessarily with great love, for it is sometimes very hard to know if one truly loves—but with a humble good will that is renewed each day. The years will pass, and the feeling of making no progress may well prevail—until the day when, quite unexpectedly, the widow, dazzled, will encounter her Saviour, just as Anna the Prophetess did.

How I wish I could describe the inner lives of those widows who, having found Christ, follow Him step by step. They possess joy—His joy. The glory of the Father is their reason for being. They have understood that everything is grace. Having agreed to lose everything for the love of Christ, they find everything again in the love of Christ—and above all their life’s companion, who will henceforth be their “companion for eternity.”

There are already several forms of religious life that welcome widows. Some accept both single women and widows; others are reserved exclusively for widows. Among the latter, some emphasise contemplation, while others focus on apostolic and charitable action; some stress detachment from the past, while others highlight the enduring spiritual bond connecting the widow to the person who has gone before her to God; some are affiliated with a major religious family; others direct the widow toward the Church, priests, and couples (which the sacrifice of the widow’s own couple is meant to support in their magnificent, ongoing efforts to live a Gospel-centered family life)… There are already many dwelling places in the Father’s House.

The time may not be far off when women whom God calls to consecrate their widowhood to Him will receive a special consecration, granting them that place of honour and service within the Church which was theirs during the early centuries of the Christian era. This would seem to be entirely in keeping with tradition. Has the Church not always solemnly affirmed that, while the greatness of Christian marriage is to be praised, consecrated virginity and widowhood are to be praised even more? For consecrated virginity and widowhood proclaim the Lordship of God loud and clear, and union in love with Him is the goal of human life.

Henri Caffarel, Offertoire, No. 36