louiseweek2021

Louise-Style Creative Solutions to Organizing, Mutual Aid, Community, Self-Care, and Action

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From the devastation of COVID-19 to the manifestations of deeply rooted white supremacy and other hardships, the challenges we faced in 2020 have sparked a movement among communities to create social change. During a year of tragedy and refuge inside our homes, we have had to be innovative in efforts. Some of us have been introduced to the ideas of community activism for the first time. I found it surprising that a strict lockdown did not stop thousands from protesting in support of Black Lives Matter, serving meals for their community, and redistributing their wealth to folks in need when a large majority are experiencing personal financial hardship and when a need for individualistic decisions seemed to be at an all-time high. I can admit there were points throughout the pandemic that I was heavily concerned with my needs and my needs only, which can still be super important when our day-to-days drastically change. It would make sense for humanity to value individualism rather than collective good at a time like this, so it was magical and hopeful to see so many come together to selflessly fight for the betterment of our fellow humans—especially when our methods and practices have had to adapt to pandemic protocol in order to emphasize safety and health. This brings me to a question: have we had to radically transform the way we show up for justice, or perhaps are we going back to the roots of social change and directly serving the needs of the people?

Louise was all about throwing out the old plan when it no longer worked and creating a new one to adapt to the needs of the people. She understood the change happening around her and knew that there was no use in sticking to tradition if it was no longer making any progress. However, she also knew she couldn’t do this alone. This was a woman who was very self-aware and who had a clear sense of her strengths. Therefore, she was able to find the right people to fill in where support was needed. Louise founded the Daughters of Charity and devoted her time to building strong caretakers and activists out of women with a variety of skills that wouldn’t have been recognized or used to their potential otherwise. I can only imagine the deliverables assigned to the Daughters—perhaps sewing garments for folks in need of clean clothes, or serving warm food to those without, among other necessities that fit both her seventeenth century and our twenty-first.

It is an unfortunate truth that many members of our own communities lack the same basic human needs we visualize when we think of the people Louise and her Daughters served. We must remember that these harsh realities are not so far removed from us as we may think (know that when I use “we” language, I am speaking on behalf of folks who hold privileged racial and class identities like myself). The pandemic has cost people their jobs, daycare, and partnerships, as well as putting an enormous strain on our spirits. We need each other, and we need each other quick. Many folks in need are not in the position to wait for an annual fundraiser to count their donations, or for a kitchen to serve their holiday meal with their once-a-year volunteers. We are witnessing the importance of mutual aid as a form of direct action, a tool I think Louise probably used but with different language to describe it. Redistributing our resources and applying our unique gifts are valuable steps to becoming an agent of social change in our current world.

When I try to imagine what my service looks like, I remember that skills I wouldn’t think translate into social justice work actually have the potential to come in handy. Louise and her mentees had skills that were looked down upon by the men of that era. It was unlikely that many women would be taken seriously in activist movements of the time because our patriarchal society only saw them as mothers. Louise truly opened the doors for women to step into themselves as change agents and to use their talents for justice without having to change or try to be like men. While I believe we have advanced beyond this gendered way of labeling our skills and achievements, I honor the sentiment that talents from all backgrounds of work and experience can be useful in a social movement. The student activist groups I’ve seen in the last few months feature leaders from varying majors, departments, and life experiences. Everyone has something special to bring to the table.

As I’m nearing my college graduation in a few weeks, I’m reflecting on all the coursework and hands-on experience I’ve had centered upon social justice and identity politics and understanding and meeting the needs of a community. I’m also witnessing the ever-present realities of oppression and injustice in our society. It is easy to get bogged down by the doom and become overwhelmed by it all. When thinking back to Louise and her work, I remember that she experienced doubts about what her purpose in the movement was as well. She was a woman of many hats, as we like to say, and while she is known for wearing her leadership hat, she also was not afraid to rely on her Daughters and lean on them for support. She could not have done the work on her own. When a community is hurting, it is not the job of a sole individual to heal it—how could one person have all the answers? I believe there is power in community and collaboration, filling in the gaps, and leaning on each other for support. The needs of the collective are best met through the collective.

Written by: Grace Jacques, DePaul Class of 2021

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St. Louise and Mental Health

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In February 2021 my godmother passed away, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of grief and loss. I had lost family members before, but never one quite as close to me. My godmother was the reason I survived my birth, my role model, and one of my biggest supporters. Her love carried me through my childhood and helped me grow because it was unconditional. Losing her has been one of the most painful things I have ever had to experience. When she first passed, it was difficult to picture a world without her and thinking of a life without her presence felt so painful. I didn’t know where to go from there. And at times, months later I still feel overwhelmed with grief and guilt. I felt guilty that I didn’t do enough to appreciate her when she was alive. I felt hopeless.

A number of things helped me process the grief I was feeling. I reached out to mentors, such as Karl Nass, and talked with them about my godmother. It was nice to lean on others for support and to feel like I had community to help me ease the pain. My friends also helped a lot; they wrote me cards, and my dear friend Gabby drew me a picture of my godmother. One of the things I found most helpful in processing my grief was very unexpected. Not too long after my loss, I attended a meeting in which there was a presentation on Saint Louise de Marillac. The presenters talked about the grief and loss she experienced.

Louise’s story helped me answer the big question that lingered with me: “Where do I go from here?” Not only was I experiencing loss when I encountered Louise’s story, but I was (and still am) dealing with some difficult mental health issues. Louise’s story gives me hope that these difficult moments will one day lead me to where I am supposed to be, or my lumière moment as Louise experienced. I learned from Louise that moments of grief, loss, and pain don’t last forever. I hold this with me now as I struggle to manage my depression. There are days in which I can’t seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel. When I feel this way, I remember everything Louise went through and how she persevered. Louise leaned on others for support, such as her counsellor Francis de Sales, in order to deal with the grief of losing her husband. She dealt with her depression by seeking support from others, and this is something I believe we can all learn from. There are times where we need others to navigate the difficulties of life, and there is power in doing so, as we hear in Louise’s story.

Some of the greatest people, such as Louise, are not the people who seem to have it all together. They are people who are vulnerable and open about their difficulties, because we all encounter difficulties in our lives. Louise’s vulnerability teaches us the power of sharing our story with others. Because Louise’s story has brought me hope and company in a time that feels dark and lonely, I am grateful that it is documented through her writing and that we can all learn from her resilience.

Written by: Gisselle Cervantes, DePaul Class of 2021

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Holy Perseverance

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While it is not exactly historically documented, one of my favorite Vincentian stories is how Saint Louise de Marillac made one single decision that drastically preserved the way the Daughters of Charity lived their mission and which continues to prevail even today. A true lesson in perseverance. Holy perseverance. The relative norm for religious women during the seventeenth century was to be cloistered and out of the public eye. However, Saint Louise and her sisters lived a life that was very much a public ministry. They went about doing the practical business of God’s work when and where it was required, without a need to separate themselves from the poor. The story goes that Saint Louise was given a letter requiring the Daughters of Charity to become a cloistered order. Interestingly enough, that letter was never seen… It seems that our beloved and strategic Saint Louise “lost” the letter!

Ultimately, it was Saint Louise who had a clear vision for what the mission was meant to be. The hierarchical authorities at work might have much preferred the sisters busy but out of sight. Yet, quite frankly, Saint Louise simply knew better. We should take some notes from our foundress. How could the Daughters minister in hospitals or establish schools for young girls if they were not permitted to be out in the world? It is a tricky thing to heed authority sincerely, all the while knowing that sometimes no one sees the heart of our mission more clearly than we do. One of the ever-present buzzwords of our day is “systems.” We have an affinity for relegating our societal problems into indecipherably overpowering frameworks that no one person can dismantle alone. “Systems” is the word we use these days as a catchall for intricacies that keep people bound.

No one lives outside of these systems. We are all universally participants in one system or another: there’s simply no societal way around it. But we can actually turn the system on its axis if we work within it to create effective change in the small ways we each hold agency. We can enlist our systems in a fashion that facilitates the greatest good we can achieve; upholding the dignity of others. That’s precisely what Saint Louise did! She may have “lost” the letter, but she kept the mission vibrant.

Working within systems can be a taxing mess, yet often we are called to promote change with our very persistence. We must put our hope into action with steady progress toward what we can influence. While the tasks may be tedious and the hierarchy well-intended, we all have a letter to lose. May Saint Louise be a reminder to us that no one is exempt from systems, and may we draw solace from her words, “I hope that our good God will grant you holy perseverance.”1

1 L.19, To Monsieur L’Abbé de Vaux, 3 May 1640, Spiritual Writings of Louise de Marillac, 28.

Written by: Azucena De La Torre, Ministry Coordinator, Division of Mission and Ministry

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What are you doing with your life?

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If you’re anything like me, this question will send you into an existential tailspin as you try to reconcile who you are right now with the image of who you want to become. The funny thing about life, though, is that no one tells you how tough things will feel when you don’t end up at a dream job or what to do when you don’t fulfill the image of who you thought you’d be. It can all feel like a maze as you try to sort out the best direction for your life. Believe it or not, this is the same labyrinth that Louise de Marillac found herself in too.

Louise is the saint of social work and her story tends to get wrapped up in a neat bow: she was a widow who found her sense of purpose by working alongside Vincent de Paul to co-found the Daughters of Charity. Her legacy lives on today and she’s admired for her persistence and commitment to serving others, but the truth of Louise’s story is that she struggled, hard, facing questions about purpose and self-doubt. In fact, when Louise was a young woman one rejection shaped the entire course of her life. Louise had her path and her plans set; she was going to finish her schooling and join a convent. It was, for all intents and purposes, her dream job. But once she got to the convent, she was turned away, and we have good reason to believe that she was discriminated against because she was born out of wedlock. This rejection set the ball rolling in the opposite direction of what Louise had hoped. Instead of becoming a nun, her only option was to get married and begin her life as a wife and mother.

So, that’s what she did. Soon enough, the challenges of motherhood and being a wife to an ailing husband began to add up, and Louise was at her breaking point. What’s really interesting, though, is that the most pivotal moment of her life was her breaking point. Just as Louise was at her wits’ end struggling to find a way to move forward with her life, she received a revelation within the hallowed walls of the Church of St. Nicolas de Champs on the feast of Pentecost. Overwhelmed with frustration, Louise prayed for a sign, any sign, that could give her a shot at a life of fulfillment, service, and purpose. She sat there and pleaded to God for guidance. Just when she thought all was lost, He answered her prayer. She envisioned a life in which she saw herself serving the poor and living in community with sisters. This flicker of hope became her “lumière”—her guiding light.

As she sat inside the church in Paris, her doubts became quieter. Louise was to stay married and await her chance to take vows of poverty. Little did she know that her lumière was foreshadowing a future as a Daughter of Charity. Louise saw an opportunity, and she was going to make it manifest if it was the last thing she did. Sometimes, all you need is permission to dream up a new life, filled with opportunities and invitations to take matters into your own hands, and this was Louise’s.

Louise’s story and her lumière moment remind me that we need to trust the timing of our lives and embrace the unexpected pivots. Louise’s lumière gave her just enough hope to keep going—to keep envisioning a new version of the woman she dreamed of becoming. She prayed and meditated on this vision and with hard work and patience, she manifested a life better than the one she had dreamed of as a young woman.

Sometimes, you just have to throw out the original plan because what awaits you is bigger than you could have possibly planned for. I think a lot about Louise’s life path and what might’ve happened had she been accepted into that convent on her first try. She probably would’ve lived a quiet, pious life cloistered in the convent. She probably would’ve found her way, but Louise was meant to stand out, and although it made her life tougher, it was the fact that she didn’t fit the mold that made her so extraordinary. In the end, what made the Daughters of Charity remarkable was that they didn’t live a cloistered life. They preached, “The streets are our chapel,” and it is that very philosophy that helped lay the groundwork for a lot of modern-day social work in American society. It’s because Louise was able to meet people where they were that she revolutionized the way that we form each other through service and community.

I can’t help but think that life is less about the plans we make and more about saying yes to the things we love and promising ourselves to find a way to persist when we’re forced to pivot. Louise did and so can we. It wasn’t easy, but at her core she knew she had this desire to serve and to contribute to something bigger than herself. So, she followed those instincts, and she kept saying yes to the opportunities that let her live out bits and pieces of her lifelong dream until finally, she was living out that dream in full swing. Louise didn’t leave that church and instantly become the servant leader, girl boss she envisioned in her lumière. But she did walk away with some hope and the belief that she’d one day get to where she wanted to be. Until then, she had to inch herself toward that goal in any way that she could. She didn’t give up in the face of rejection and what felt like a dead end in life.

It’s so easy to look at our lives or career paths that didn’t work out and think we’ve failed and that we’ll never rebound from a mistake, but Louise and I are here to tell you to keep going, keep dreaming, keep fighting for the person you hope to become one day because this is a fight that is always worth it.

1 L.519, To Sister Anne Hardemont, (1658), Spiritual Writings of Louise de Marillac, 614-615.

Written by: Gracie Covarrubios, Admission Counselor, Office of Undergraduate Admissions

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Saint Louise and Motherhood

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Homily for Sunday, May 9
Feast of St. Louise de Marillac and Mother’s Day
St. Vincent de Paul Parish

This year, Mother’s Day coincides with the Feast Day of Saint Louise de Marillac. In many ways, we have Louise to thank for our parish community. Without Louise, Vincent de Paul would not have made the impact he did during his life. Louise and Vincent worked side by side to serve the needs of those who were poor in seventeenth-century France, and Louise was a driving force in transforming the systems of charity that existed at the time. She and Vincent co-founded the Daughters of Charity, which was the first non-cloistered order of religious women. She was so effective and innovative in her work that she pioneered the field of social work and became the patron saint of social workers.

This is the version of Louise’s life that you might read on the back of her prayer card. It is neat, clean-cut, and orderly. And while it is all true, it is also incomplete. When Peter encounters Cornelius in the first reading today, he says, “Get up. I myself am also a human being.” Louise, like all of our other saints, was a human being—complex, messy, real.

In these unsettled, tumultuous times, Louise’s humanity—her struggles, her perseverance, her faith—speaks to us the most.

Louise’s world looked similar to ours today. She lived through an epidemic, war, and civil unrest, and she saw firsthand the effects of a massive wealth gap which kept the rich in power and oppressed those who were poor. The suffering that she saw on the streets of France shaped her into a compassionate, driven, and strategic agent of change.

Louise was also formed by her own suffering. She never knew her mother and was rejected by her father’s extended family. As a child, she knew how it felt to be other-ized and unseen. When she was unable to pursue her dream of taking vows with a cloistered order of religious sisters, Louise’s family arranged a marriage for her. She had a son whose special needs left her feeling helpless in a society that did not yet understand alternative developmental needs. She nursed her husband through a terminal illness and was widowed by the time she met Vincent.

Anxiety and grief left an imprint on Louise’s life, just as they have left imprints on our lives in the last year. What we are surviving together as a human family—a pandemic, our country’s continued, generations-long systemic racism, an environmental climate reckoning—shapes us each day. For some of us, grief has entered into our homes through the loss of a loved one and the inability to mourn in community. For some, anxiety builds with the touch of each door handle, the fear of going to work in-person, the worry of job security and putting food on the table. Louise’s own journey with mental health teaches us the importance of remaining grounded in ritual, faith, something that is bigger than ourselves. As a healer and herbalist, Louise reminds us to center holistic care in difficult times and to tend to our bodies, minds, and spirits.

Louise’s story reminds us that we are not alone.

For all of the mothers in the pews or joining us virtually today who have counted down the minutes until your kids’ bedtime only to flip the baby monitor on every 20 minutes to peek at their sleeping faces, who have stayed awake worrying about the social and physical effects the pandemic will have on your kiddos, who have felt totally touched out and just need to go to the bathroom alone, who have known boundless joy at your children’s laughter, silliness, and wonder—Louise was also a mother. She sees you even in those moments when you feel that your work, your worry, your needs are unseen. She shares your delight when tiny hands slip acorns into your coat pocket and a soft voice whispers in your ear, “love you sooooo much, mama.”

Some joining us today might feel conflicted or heavy-hearted during the Mother’s Day blessing at the end of mass. You may have a strained relationship with your mother or child. You may not feel called to motherhood. Your pregnancy may have taken you by surprise and come with fear or confusion. You may struggle with fertility or carry the lonely, silent grief of pregnancy loss. Louise knows how it feels to be angry with God and wonder why her plans for her own life were not God’s plans. She walks with you in your uncertainty, and she will continue to accompany you when the road ahead comes into clearer view.

From time to time, I engage in a spiritual practice wherein I read a traditional sacred text with the perspective of God as a woman, as a mother. On this day when we remember Louise, who re-shaped what it means to be a woman in our church, and celebrate all women who share motherly love with the world, I would like to share this spiritual practice with each of you.

From the Gospel according to John:
As the Mother loves me, so I also love you.
Remain in my love.
If you honor my wishes, you will remain in my love,
just as I have honored my Mother’s wishes
and remain in her love.
I have told you this so that my joy may be in you
and your joy might be complete.
This is my wish: love one another as I love you.

Written by: Emily LaHood-Olsen, Ministry Coordinator, Division of Mission and Ministry

For the entire Louise Week Lineup including our daily events and 6-day virtual pilgrimage visit:

Louise de Marillac

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Here’s the thing. If you just “read” this about this powerful God-filled woman, Louise de Marillac of the seventeenth century, you’ll come away with a few tidbits of—what to call it— “interesting information.” Good enough. BUT… if you approach the life of Louise in a prayerful way, your interaction with her spirit just might inspire and enliven you to new ways of living your own life. Maybe not right away, but what you learn about her might sit like a pulsing little seed in your imagination, the part of you that’s always picturing how you want to live and who you hope to become.

That’s the thing about us as humans made in the image of God: we’re always capable of becoming more than we are. Another thing about us is that we are deeply relational beings. We’re wired to connect. For instance, I feel a special connection to the pansies I planted and to the birds that come to my feeder.

So much for flowers and birds… what about connecting with a saint like Louise de Marillac?

Here’s the big “Louise Spark” that enlivened me as I read about her in preparation to write this article. It was a real “Geez Louise” realization! A favorite expression I’ve had since I was a kid, I now feel happy to apply it to a real Louise in my life.

As I read about this great lady with her steadfast-trusting-God pioneering spirit, training and guiding the Daughters, I had what Louise called a “Lumière.” I realized that if she hadn’t actively collaborated with Vincent to birth a new form of religious life, one which combined prayer and service of others, I wouldn’t be a Sister of St. Joseph today. The Daughters of Charity burst into history in 1610, and right on their heels, my congregation came into being in 1650. Which—praise Jesus—set about teaching young women, eventually sending them across the Atlantic, and over the course of 300 years, to St. Joseph Academy in Baton Rouge, Louisiana… and, blessedly, to me.

Prior to the Daughters, being a nun meant a cloistered life, and I would have died on the vine being confined inside convent walls like that. I would have had a nervous breakdown and no doubt driven everybody else crazy too. I wanted to be a nun because I wanted to TEACH (really wanted to teach, couldn’t wait to teach). This was because the nuns in my high school were super teachers, alive with faith and humanness and infectious humor, who challenged me to think critically, to stand up and speak in a public setting, and to be curious as all-get-out about the world and people and how God moves throughout it all. My nuns lured me in. Attraction is the way the Holy Spirit works, never the prod of “do your duty” or, worse, “you better do this or you’re going to feel sooo guilty.” So, yes, I was lured, and at age 18 I threw in my lot with the Saint Joes and haven’t looked back.

Thank you, Louise and Vincent. You did the hard work of plowing the furrow, which prepared the soil for other apostolic orders to spring up.

I’m still teaching, sometimes in classrooms, like when I come to DePaul, but also to audiences around the world about human rights. This is what has led me to entrust my archives to you here at DePaul, and to visit with you for a week of sharing each year. It is the Christ-like spirit of the Vincentians that brought me to you and keeps me coming. I love the pictures and quotes of Louise and Vincent that are all over campus. Their spirit permeates every nook and cranny and, hopefully, these few words as well.

Geez Louise! Thank you.

A postscript from Sr. Helen

Check out my collection at: Sr. Helen Prejean Papers or visit Special Collections on the third floor of the library, open again in August 2021. Two wonderful women stand ready to assist you: Jamie Nelson and Morgen MacIntosh Hodgetts. Phone: 773-325-2167.

Reflection by: Sister Helen Prejean, C.S.J.

This is Louise Week at DePaul! Learn more about the many activities of the week focused on sustaining the legacy of Louise de Marillac in our lives and work at DePaul and beyond!