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Sister Mary Vianney O’Toole
Born to life: 21 November 1931
Born to eternal life: 14
December 2005
Reflections on the Life and Death of
Sister Mary Vianney (Crea Mary) O’Toole
by Catherine White,
Congregational Leader
and Moya Byrne, Vianney’s friend and novitiate companion
 In
1815 a French man was ordained priest. He was not too flash a student
and he had found seminary studies to be very taxing. He barely scraped
through his exams since he found the theoretical learning did not suit
his disposition. However, at the practical, hands-on matters he excelled.
In
the years after his ordination he became the parish priest of the small
town in which he was born – Ars. Soon Jean Marie Baptiste Vianney became
a wise and holy priest, a gifted and a compassionate confessor. So great
was his fame that legions of penitents swarmed to him and his renown
spread throughout the world.
The Cure of Ars as he was known, remained a simple man, living a very
austere life. His ministry was one of charity and love. He laboured with
humility, gentleness, patience, and cheerfulness, until he was more than
seventy-three years old. He died on 4 August 1859.
Some of us revere movie stars, or sports champions; Sr Mary Vianney – Crea
Mary O’Toole – revered St John Vianney whose name she took
on the day of her religious profession. When I took her to the Holy Spirit
Hospice a week or so before she died a rather battered photocopy of John
Vianney which has been in Rockhamption with her came too and was placed
on her bedside table.
In a general sweep their lives were similar. Vianney had little
time for workshops and renewals, for courses and study. She preferred
to be involved in the practical matters of life. She too had a following
of grateful men and women whom she had helped and whom she kept in contact.
We know that at times she had a rather melancholy view of life – perhaps
as the product of a difficult childhood in depression years. She related
to the troubles of others, I believe, because she had known difficulty
in her own life.
Vianney never aspired to roles of leadership or importance. She
was a good teacher – the children, staff and parents always loved her.
She knew each of her children well and loved to visit families also.
She gave herself to teaching religion and other subjects as well as to
the training of altar servers.
When Vianney shifted to parish ministry after her illness in 1976 she
did not need to take courses in pastoral ministry. It just came naturally.
Like her sainted sponsor Vianney was a humble, compassionate person
who lived a very simple life and who was quite austere in caring for
her own needs.
At Vianney’s Vigil Sr Moya Byrne recalled her novitiate friend:
“Vianney was generous and possessed of a wry humour. She spoke
her mind with conviction and had strong opinions about the world in
general and the Missionary Franciscans in particular! She used
to come to Kedron to stay with us from time to time – always
with a gift she’d carried down from Rockhampton on the train – a
jar of her jam, biscuits she’d baked herself. She never departed
without leaving a little treat for the community. She was innately
generous. It seems to me that her legacy to us is “Don’t
take yourself too seriously! Things change and I’ve seen it all!”
Actually Vianney met me before I met her. At least she observed
carefully my arrival at the novitiate from her lookout on the post
and rail fence under the big fig tree. She had come with the rest of
the Kedron Church Youth Club to look me over. I must have passed the
test because twelve days later she turned up. Her arrival was a great
surprise to me. I thought that I was the only one to enter that year.
In fact I suspect that it was a surprise to everyone – Vianney
always tended to keep her cards close to her chest. What struck me
at the time was her composure. Of course she was cautiously checking
out the whole situation. Vianney was never one to rush into things.
In fact she was always rather conservative, bemoaning change.
Of course what I did not know at the time was that the novitiate
and its doings were well known to Vianney. During her school days she’d
observed the convent well, in fact knew the foundations of the house
too as a good place to explore. She knew Sr M José, the novice director,
as her godmother and family friend. Moreover as our community room
was close to the street Vianney could interpret messages and conversations
that wafted down and up from Cremorne Road both before and after her
coming. I must say that she shared this information generously with
me.
All through our years together I always felt I could rely on her.
I trusted her integrity. She was an honest and careful worker in the
tasks we shared. She scorned sloppy attitudes and would not hesitate
to remark on such matters. After the novitiate we were never assigned
to the same house, but in our encounters since I have not known her
to change. Whenever I visited her I found her hospitality natural and
unaffected, so genuine and generous. Not just to me, the visitor from
the Franciscan community, but to all she encountered. I don’t
think she ever forgot a person she’d related to in some way.
The letters, phone calls, visits since her illness attest that these
friends in their turn have not forgotten her loving care.”
I believe the most outstanding quality of her life was this ability
to connect with people. She could tell you who was related to whom and
the tragedy in every life. She could visit people, listen, and bring
comfort and hope. Vianney had the gift of empathy and consolation. I
have been amazed at the number of people whose lives she has touched
in some way – most commonly at a time of sickness of bereavement. At
times we felt that she had become something of a professional mourner!
I believe that this was why she found moving so difficult - she just
couldn’t leave the people.
We know that she loved her garden. She loved flowers and trees and shells
and mountains. Only Vianney when moving house would think it quite ordinary
to move half a dozen reasonably sized frangipani trees and a huge trellis
covered in flowering creeper along with the furniture.
Over the past two years it was clear that things were not quite right.
Many noted her loss of weight, her slowing down, her inability to do
practical things such as cooking and gardening. When I visited her I
would say “Vi, do you think it is time to come back to Brisbane?” She
would say “Yes, but not just yet.” In early October I told
her that many of us were worried about her health. “I’ll
be alright”, she said, “You have to slow up a bit – you
know. Have a scone. I got up at 6.00 this morning to bake them for the
blind.”
As I was talking to her the phone kept ringing and promises of a prayer
or a visit were given. She was also preparing for an afternoon funeral.
Suddenly a distraught woman appeared at the door – a two year old had
just drowned in a pool. Instantly her arms went around the woman and
she began to comfort her. As I left to go some time later I saw her in
the rear vision speeding off to visit that family and to offer her love.
I knew that this is why she was not quite ready to leave.
I believe that
Vianney knew that she was sick and that she was determined simply to
live as she always had until she died. And she did stay there until she
could manage no longer alone. By that time it was clear that her time
with us was short. When she came to Brisbane in the last week of November,
the doctor indicated that she had only weeks to live. She was able to
stay with us at Kedron only because of the generosity of the Sisters
who cared for needs by day and night. She could not walk unassisted and
so needed significant levels of care. We talked
about her approaching death and she was ready to die – and not afraid
of it. Despite her frailty she welcomed visitors and she stayed awake
listening to them – falling into an exhausted sleep only after they left.
The last week or so of Vianney’s life was a bittersweet time.
Vianney celebrated her anticipated Golden Jubilee of religious profession
with Moya Byrne just ten days before her death. It was wonderful to
celebrate with the Sisters and her family the triumph of goodness that
her life has been. Our celebrations, however, were shot through with
a deep sadness for Vianney who knew that the next day she would leave
Kedron, where she first began her life as a Franciscan 50 years previously,
for the Holy Spirit Hospice.
At 12.20am on 14 December, after just eight days in the Hospice
it was clear that death approached. Her breathing became shallower. Moya
and I were sitting with her. As I prayed with her the beautiful commendation
prayer for the dying she simply stopped breathing. She had a painless,
peaceful death, and died deeply grateful for the love and care she received
from her family – Donna and Graeme, Carmel and Noel and their families,
and for the care of her own Sisters, and the staff at Holy Spirit Hospice.
In the reading at her funeral we heard St Paul say that only three things
matter – faith, hope and love. Dear Vianney, you certainly were
a woman of faith, a woman of hope and you certainly knew how to love.
May you rest in peace.
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