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Sister Moya (Mary Solanus) Byrne
In the next years while I was studying teaching and then working in an inner city, poor neighbourhood, I revisited the idea of vocation about once a year. Meanwhile my leisure time was taken up with tennis, music and orchestra and a social life that spilled over into the evenings and weekends. I had lots of good friends. Now I realise how unspoken and yet strong was our commitment to Christian values. At each revisit of the idea of vocation I was discouraged – the parish curate said “I know nothing about religious life. Go and see the nuns in Wellington Street.” But the provincial of that order was my father’s cousin. When the tennis club went on a weekend retreat I asked the priest about the missionary sisters there “Don’t join this mob!” he said. Besides this I did not like the evening meal for a cold Melbourne Saturday – Windsor sausage and beetroot. Most mornings I went to mass at a nearby Franciscan hostel where Father Aloysius O’Donovan was guardian. Rumour had it that he had two sisters Franciscan nuns, but no amount of prodding could make him own up to this. It seemed a great secret! Why? Finally more than four years after I left school I was walking down Lonsdale Street. It was the feast of the Assumption and my Catholic school was on holiday – though I’d had to come to town to sell badges in aid of the kindergarten. I said to Our Lady – this is your last chance! From now on I will make no more efforts to enter religious life! Like most Catholic Melbournians when in town, I was off to visit St Francis church. I saw that the priest hearing confessions was named “Father La Chance” – “This is your last chance, God” I said to myself. When I told this priest that I was thinking of entering religious life, for the first time I was taken seriously and he asked me to call into the monastery next day to talk it over. About the same time Brother Leo OFM, the Franciscan printer passed over to me a pamphlet that our sisters had ordered from him. It was called “A Letter from Aloysius” and was an invitation to come to New Guinea to teach this same Aloysius whose charming photo was on the cover. I had at last cracked the system! I had an Institute that was both Franciscan and missionary. I had outwitted Father Aloysius and discovered that his sisters’ Institute was also missionary! He had been very scrupulous in his efforts not to influence my choice. Father La Chance had told me to tell my parents. They accepted in faith this news and what was to be a loss of any hope of grandchildren. My father suggested that my mother and I go to Queensland to meet the Franciscan sisters and as well I planned to visit the Holy Spirit sisters one of whom was a friend of Father La Chance from his Chicago days and he thought this would take care of the “missionary” aspect.
So we left on a “Lost Weekend” – the title of our Casket ticket which won us a half share in the Ten Pound prize! We visited Kedron on a hot dusty November morning. We could hear a child stumbling through a music lesson; it all seemed very dreary. I could hear my mother talking about me to the mother superior – was this dressmaking, cooking, teaching paragon really me? Meanwhile I was experiencing heavy going in my conversation with the novice mistress. I did not get onto her wave length. Kedron was not a success! In the afternoon we went to Aspley to the Holy Spirit convent. By then the afternoon breeze had blown up and the shady trees gave a cool peaceful ambience. I worked out that there was no school at this place so I’d be sent straight to the missions. The next day we visited the Oasis and other Brisbane sights. “I liked the Holy Spirit place,” I said. “That little sister had black rings under her eyes from all the sewing,” said my mother. “I like sewing,” I said. “I liked that little sister at Kedron” said my mother. Home again there were two sets of applications to fill in: four pages for the Holy Spirit; one for the Franciscans. I set to with the Holy Spirit one which was my choice. But many questions we could not answer – what had my great grandparents died of? Was there insanity in the family? Possibly. We could only guess. I decided I could not enter an order when I was telling lies even before I came!
It is not easy to break the news to close friends that you are going far away for ever, and there were others who disapproved of my choice. My aunt, a nun of another order, wrote a very discouraging letter to me. As it happened that day my father had asked me to work for him in his dental surgery. When Brother Cornelius OFM came into the surgery my father told him that I was going to be a Franciscan too. He jumped straight out of the dental chair to shake my hand. “That’s a great Institute,” he said. “Brother Theophane’s sister has entered there and she loves it.” So with this reassurance God supported me during difficult decision making.
Meanwhile I was walking down the central corridor carrying my cello. Sister Mary Jeanne, no taller than the cello, rushed forward with arms open to embrace the cello. “You are Harold,” she cried, “because you are a large brown man.” (At the time Harold was wearing a brown canvas cover.) And he has kept that name ever since. He has accompanied me through all the years and together we have enjoyed being part of liturgies and playing in orchestras. In my first weeks I discovered an ‘at-homeness’ that has never left me. Though my prediction about the existence of a school and my teaching certificate would stop my ambition of being a foreign missionary turned out to be true, I have always been happy living in the house of the Lord. “The sisters and brothers whom the Lord has called to the life of contemplation, should manifest their dedication to God and celebrate the Father’s love for the world.” Third Order Regular Rule of St Francis Ch III #6 Return to main Membership page
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© Missionary Franciscan Sisters, Australian Governance Circle |
I had known the friars all my life as my father’s best friend – Father Aquinas Howell – entered the Franciscan order. He kept up the friendship after his return from study visiting us often. Over the years many friars visited our house and, I sensed a friendly, easy manner even to me, a small child. During a retreat in my last year at school we were challenged to consider a religious vocation, but, when I mentioned to the priest that I’d like to be a missionary he said “That’s chasing an unrealistic view.” I suspected that he was under orders from my teachers who as I thought at the time did not have a mission! At this stage I did not know that there were any Franciscan women.
So now I looked at the Kedron paper because that “little sister” who’d captivated my mother had written to me. It seemed to me that she saw a possibility in me!
I came up to Brisbane to enter in May. We decided to come by car as I had lots of luggage, and I had never seen much of Australia north of Sydney. As I drove up to the steps of what is now the Delamore entrance, Crea O’Toole sat on the post and rail fence by the drive watching with other members of the Kedron Youth Group. Nine days later she entered and became Sister Mary Vianney, my dear novitiate companion.