Dear friends,
I spent the afternoon of Labor Day on a detective hunt. Alison and I were visiting a parishioner in Memphis who showed us around the city and then took us to its old cemetery. There was a rather poignant sign showing directions to the main entrance: “Elmwood Cemetery – Memphis at rest since 1852.” There, we walked around the graves and their beautiful monuments, with tributes to so many people and a glorious panoply of history, bathed in the late summer sun, while searching for a small square gravestone. It was difficult to find amid the grand Victorian memorials, and our host was very patient as we walked around and around the cemetery. (Being Labor Day, the cemetery office was closed, and an internet search failed to reveal the exact whereabouts of the graves we were looking for.) After quite some time, suddenly we discovered it – very low and nondescript.
Here were the graves of four sisters of the Community of St. Mary, who had responded to a call to Memphis to open a school and an orphanage, and who found themselves caught up in one of the worst yellow-fever epidemics in the history of the United States. In 1878, during a very short period of time, over half of the population of Memphis fled the city, leaving behind the sick, the frail, the poor, and many orphaned children. Memphis lost its charter as a city and became a place to be avoided at all costs. Very few professionals remained, but they included two Episcopal Priests and these four nuns based at the Cathedral, who worked tirelessly and at great personal cost to care for the sick and the dying, succumbing themselves, ultimately, to the disease.
The Episcopal Church commemorates these faithful and exemplary Christians on September 9 as ‘Constance and her Companions’ or, as they are poignantly known all over the Anglican world, as ‘The Martyrs of Memphis’. The names of the sisters are inscribed on the steps of the High Altar of the Cathedral, and we were very moved to find their graves which, just like the lives they lived during those dark times, were extraordinarily simple and humble.
Mother Teresa of Calcutta once said, “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” The example of Constance and her companions is exactly that and puts into practice the words of Jesus when he said “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” (See Matthew 25:31-40).
I was particularly moved to notice that Sister Frances had died on her name day – the feast of Saint Francis of Assisi. Saint Francis also exemplified the Christian character of putting others before oneself and serving Jesus Christ in others.
May we grasp every opportunity, no matter how small or how hard, to put into practice the love of Christ that knows no end.
Affectionately,
