A Eulogy for Sr. Benedicta from David Schield

Several members of the McCorry extended family traveled to Chicago for services Monday and Tuesday for Sr. Mary Benedicta, who died last week at age 98. David Schield, the youngest of the seven Schield children, shared with me this eulogy that he delivered at the funeral mass. Thanks for sending this along, David:

Good Morning, and thank you for attending this service for my Sister Benedicta, or my Auntie B as we called her. I’d like to start out with an acknowledgement to Aunt Teresa Jonas and Sister Acquinice [the two surviving McCorry siblings of their generation] … and then there were two.

 

Sr. Benedicta doing missionary work in Peru in the early 1960s.

Without trying to lessen anything to Aunt Teresa, I have special condolences for Rita. Benedicta and Acquinice kind of go together like, well, as Forrest Gump would say, ”like peas and carrots.”  Even though they spent years apart teaching in different schools, they’ve been together for the last several years, and while the rest of the McCorry girls and brother were raising families, they were each other’s family, as were the rest of you in this room.  My special thoughts and prayers to you Sister; may God’s strength be with you to cope and move forward.

When Sister Acquinice asked me to speak today on behalf of the family, my first reaction was about how honored I am to be asked.  I then started wondering why.  Why would Acquinice ask me?  I’m the youngest of seven in my family, yet not the youngest of the McCorry clan.  There are 7 of us Schields, 4 McCorrys, 9 Mullins, and 10 in the Jonas family.  We also didn’t really live close to the Sisters; we were a few hours north in Wisconsin, so we didn’t get as much opportunity to spend time with them as my other cousins did down in the Milwaukee area.   Then it dawned on me.  I was born on August 16, the same day that Benedicta took and celebrated her Perpetual Vows as a Sister of Mercy.  She entered the convent on Sept 8, 1936, took her first vows on March 19, 1939, and her perpetual vows on Aug 16, 1942. This year she celebrated her 80-year Jubilee.  On the back of the card celebrating this achievement is this quote from Benedicta:

"As a Sister of Mercy, my passion for justice has guided my life of service. My passion for justice was first learned from my immigrant father who brought the poor home for the holidays. Later, I was attracted to the works of Catherine McAuley and the Sisters of Mercy because of their focus on serving the poor. That same passion continues to inspire me through each Sister of Mercy, and I am most grateful to be a part of this ministry throughout my life."

Because I was asked to speak on behalf of the family, I get to share some of my personal memories of Sister Benedicta which include once when I was about 5 or 6 years old.  I was quite a skinny little kid, and I mean skinny, so skinny you could literally count my ribs. I had a picture taken between Auntie A & B.  Both were wearing their habits at the time and I had my shirt off from playing outside.  So imagine me, a little skinny kid, between two Sisters of Mercy, in their habits…well, it looked like a promotional poster for UNICEF.  As it turns out, I’ve safely overcome my really skinny days of youth and blossomed into a healthy Irish, McCorry-Clan boy!

Another time, and again when I was still quite young and in grade school, our parents offered our cottage, Never Never Land, up in Hatfield, Wis., for a Sisters of Mercy week retreat. It was at a time when the sisters all still wore habits every day.  I don’t remember exactly how many sisters attended, but upon being invited with my parents for a dinner one evening, I was amazed, awe-struck, and slightly bewildered, at the site of several Wimple and veils around the room, some on lamps, others on shelves, etc.  But that’s not all, after a pre-dinner Manhattan or two; I literally got to witness the singing of Kumbaya around the campfire!  The next day at school I was able to report to my classmates, that YES, nuns do really have hair!

 

David Schield

I share these stories partly because I think Auntie B would appreciate the chuckle.  She was lively and full of energy and spirit, and she wanted others to be the same.  She was appreciative and reverent, but with an amazing open mind and understanding of another’s individual journey.  Benedicta was always willing to challenge herself, as she demonstrated with her trips to Peru and Ireland, and one riding down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon on a mule.  She knew life’s journeys for others were also filled with challenges, but not always the kind where a few photos for memories could be folded into a book for safekeeping.  Rather, she knew the real challenges people faced and she tried to be as helpful and merciful as she could be. 

Later in my life when we lived in Vernon Hills, north of Chicago, we did get the chance to have Sister Benedicta and Acquinice out to our house for an occasional dinner.  We even had them one time when we lived in Detroit when they were there for a Sisters of Mercy event.  I was always amazed at how open she was about events happening in our world, particularly was her tolerance for those who may not follow the teachings of the church very closely. As my sister Wendy shared…”She lived her life by the creed that everyone deserves understanding, respect, and love.”  My brother Jim added, “She was a true Irish Spirit who had energy, patience, understanding, and lots of love for everyone.  I admired how she prayed, and made everyone feel good about praying.”

Eleanor was born on May 21, 1918 to Bridgett and Charles McCorry, both Irish immigrants who found their way via Pittsburgh to the Milwaukee area where they met and married.  Eleanor dedicated her life to the Lord when she entered the convent in 1936, and never lost sight of her mission.  We, as her family, were especially lucky to witness her kindness and compassion, but also her strong will and drive.  As the eldest in her family, I think she took it upon herself to run the clan.  She was there for her brother and sisters and helped them to try to be better parents, for which her siblings, and we, their offspring, all benefited.  Beyond her family, just think of the hundreds, and likely thousands of young children, adolescents, and adults whose path crossed Benedicta’s.  Imagine the goodness she shared, and the discipline she encouraged in all of these people and how that has played out in what each of them has become today.

So while we are all saddened by the loss of this beautiful person, we know that her impact on us has helped make us all better people. That should bring a smile to our faces … and that’s how she would want it to be.