Remembering

Sister Louise Cababe, OP
Date of death: August 23, 2007

The story is told about an itinerant prophet who came to the edge of a village which hadn’t had a visitor in a long time.

“Who are you?” the villagers called out.

“I am one of you,” responded the prophet.

Because he was dressed like the wind and he looked like the waterfall, the people wouldn’t risk allowing him to cross over.

And, so they never received the gifts he had for them in his backpack.

It is not always easy to recognize what we should fear and what we should embrace, especially when we’re not familiar with the forms they may take.

We’re here to celebrate what we have known of Sister Louise Cababe. We’re here also to accept the mystery of the new life she is now experiencing.

Death is like the visitor in that story. Death pulls us up short and grabs our attention when we would have been satisfied staying where we were.

Death often brings grief along as its companion.

And, the question we are faced with is, “Could there be a hidden gift beyond our grief?”

In Centennial Hall, we remembered the impact Louise had on our lives.

In so many ways we were reminded of how Louise raised the bar on what it means to live life with gusto and to desire to be of service to others, especially to our congregation of the Dominican Sisters of Hope.

We now come to this sacred space to listen again to the larger collection of stories of “those others who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith.”

These stories remind us that in our Scriptures we have the album of our “extended family of faith.”

It is fitting to place our memory of Louise within our memory of Jesus. It is fitting that we gather around this Eucharistic table to give thanks and to remember. Remembering is the responsibility of the living.

It is good again to hear the words the prophet Isaiah speaks of his mission to bring glad tidings to the lowly, to give them the oil of gladness. These are consoling words for a preacher.

In Psalm 63 – the psalmist speaks so humanly about his desire for God – “my flesh pines and my soul thirsts” for God. And while Louise lived very much in this world and loved God’s creation, she also longed for her God.

A footnote in the Scripture translation I was using to pray Psalm 63 noted, “The psalmist is ‘homesick for God’s sanctuary.’” Louise not only loved her Syrian roots but also the Melkite Catholic tradition into which she was born. She took pride in being invited to preach at St. Ann’s Melkite Catholic Church in West Paterson, New Jersey. She felt very much at home there. She felt very Dominican there.

Again remembering the passage from the prophet Isaiah, he knows he is being sent to restore Zion, so that they may be called “oaks of Justice planted for the Lord.”

I couldn’t help think of Louise’s great sensitivity to the injustices faced by suffering people and her great desire to help in the healing of our earth. Through her work with the Justice Committee, monthly we would receive the names of those of death row who were scheduled to die that month so that we could include them in our prayers.

She worked so that we would find ways to reduce the negative impact the human footprint could have on the environment. The installation of solar panels in our retreat house in Mariandale is a result of years of her research and resoluteness.

Yet, ironically, what we are asked to reflect on through today’s Gospel passage of the Beatitudes is how Jesus is telling his apostles how they should leave an imprint on the world. In fact, he calls all THESE imprints – blessed.

This is what he called them to do and what he asks us to do as well.

Be poor in spirit and you will inherit the reign of God.
Don’t try to avoid sorrow.
Be one with the humility of the earth.
Hunger and thirst for holiness – a holiness grounded in justice.
Remember that mercy is meant to be reciprocal.
Seek God alone, so that you will find all things in God.
Dare to be peacemakers.

When we leave our imprint on this world in these ways, the world will flourish and the reign of God will be known.

As I started to prepare for this liturgy, I could hear Louise say to me: “Use my death to remind them.” And, so I have tried.

In closing, I would like to offer to Louise an adaptation of a prayer accredited to Mother Theresa of Calcutta.

Louise,

Today there is peace within.
Today, you know you are exactly where you are meant to be.
Today, you know the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
You have passed on those gifts that you have received and the love that has been given to you.
You now rest content knowing the fullness of what it means to be a child of God.
This has settled into your bones and allowed your soul the freedom to sing, to dance, to bless and to praise in God’s very presence.
Today, Louise, there is peace within you.

Jo-Ann Iannotti, OP

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