Sister Marmion left us on Thanksgiving, an appropriate departure for a woman who left so many people so very thankful to have known her.
It wasn’t a shock, her passing. Sister Marmion Howe was 100 years old, after all, and her health had been failing for years, bit by bit.
But those of us who knew and loved her know that we live in a world now that is just a little less welcoming than it was with Sister Marmion in it.
I last saw her in early February, joining in the celebration with the other nuns in the dwindling group of Benedictine sisters at St. Martin Monastery here in Rapid City. Mary and I were there for the 100th birthday party of another St. Martin nun, Sister Jane Frances Mullaney, who is a story of giving herself, of course, and one that continues today.
Sister Marmion was frail and a little drowsy during that birthday party at the monastery. But when I leaned down, put my hand on her shoulder, greeted her, and spoke my name, a sweet spark of recognition brightened her face as she smiled and said: “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”
I hope it was. I know it was always so good to see Sister Marmion. My wife could tell you more than I can about that. She saw sister more often for more years in deeper ways than I did, both in reporting religion news for the Rapid City Journal and in her personal exploration of centering prayer with Sister Marmion as a gentle, supportive guide, mentor, and friend.
With Sister Marmion’s persistent encouragement, Mary moved through the stages of study and reflection, and prayer to become a Benedictine oblate associated with St. Martin Monastery. Oblates share a prayer life and a commitment to helping the sisters while working to expand their spirituality and share the Benedictine way out into the everyday world.
There is much more to tell about the relationship between Mary and Sister Marmion. But that is Mary’s story, for her to tell. My story is smaller, less personal, but still treasured and transformative for me.
Mary introduced me to sister Marmion early in 2001. At the time Mary and I were long-time acquaintances and newspaper colleagues early in a post-divorce relationship that would eventually lead us to marriage. I was working for the Argus Leader in Sioux Falls then. But when I came to Rapid City on weekends, Mary started taking me to St. Martin for Saturday morning centering prayer.
There in a small room on comfortable chairs arranged in a casually constructed circle, Mary and I joined Sister Marmion and others — Catholic and not — in twenty minutes of eyes-closed silence, seeking to quiet the mind and open the spirit to a connection with God.
To pray without saying any words, except for the sacred word that each person selected to repeat, over and over, whenever everyday thoughts tried to invade the quiet of the mind.
The centering prayer was followed by a video of some kind, almost always dealing with centering or related spirituality. Then came coffee and tea, cookies and conversation, and sometimes other programs or activities that led to a sumptuous lunch in the monastery dining room.
I was quite good at the coffee and the cookies and conversation and lunch. But I have to admit, I wasn’t as good at the centering prayer. I dozed off regularly, although I don’t think I ever snored. I struggled to quiet my mind and rarely did. I allowed my thoughts to wander to things I’d done that week and things I had to do the next.
I repeated my sacred word over and over, but the thoughts kept coming.
Yet, I relaxed in the comfortable, unspoken companionship of others. And, occasionally, for brief periods, I found a kind of serene silence in my mind, an elevation of spirit, that I had never experienced before. And I loved it, whatever it was, exactly.
But what was not to love? In that simply furnished little room, there was a powerful connection between individuals who knew each other well, or barely at all. And there was a collective outreach to something greater than any individual or any group.
All coordinated by a tiny, sweet Benedictine sister with a mighty spirit to share.
Sharing came naturally to Alice Genevieve Howe throughout a life of education and teaching and service to others, to prayer, and to her Benedictine community. A farm girl from a large Catholic family near Kirley in Haakon County, she graduated from high school at St. Martin’s Academy in Sturgis, entering the convent there in 1939. And Alice Genevieve Howe made her final profession of faith to her religious life as Sister Marmion on Aug. 17, 1944.
She was just getting started.
Sister Marmion earned an undergraduate degree in medical technology and advanced degrees in natural science. She worked in hospital labs and taught classes in chemistry and microbiology to nursing students. And for 17 years she taught biology at the South Dakota School of Mines.
But one direction wasn’t the only direction for her. In her mid-60s, Sister Marmion earned a master’s degree from SDSU in counseling and began work as a counselor with Catholic Social Services, also serving as director.
And she was nearly 80 when she turned to centering prayer and began the program at St. Martin’s that would eventually provide a spiritual home for Mary.
Re-inventing herself with one new area of education and expertise or another was simply the way she lived, and the way she served her community and especially her Lord.
I’m sad that she’s gone, of course. The saddest part was that, because of COVID-19, visitor restrictions at the monastery meant neither Mary nor I could see Sister Marmion during the last months of her life.
Sister died on a day set aside for the expression of gratitude. Five days later, she was laid to rest among the pines in the monastery’s cemetery.
By coincidence, or probably not, it was Giving Tuesday, a day when charitable donations are encouraged worldwide, benefitting organizations that include her beloved Catholic Social Services.
That’s just the kind of symmetry Sister Marmion would love. And somewhere off in the great beyond, I’m pretty sure she does.
