Desolation angel: sister loses her religion, but not faith

Catholic New Times, May 18, 2003 by Kevin Spurgaitis

"... Sincerely, Sister Jane."

Sister Jane McDonald was only 28 when she uprooted herself from New Hampshire in the late 1970s, to head out West. The wide-eyed novice was assigned to the experimental retreat called Maisons de Croissance or Homes for Growth, in Lorette, Man., southeast of Winnipeg. The sanctuary, created by Sister Jeanne Wilfort, was a product of the Roman Catholic Church's 70s shift from education to other less institutional forms of ministry. However, McDonald still tussles with what she says she experienced there.

"I was a city girl who just loved the spirit of the West and the people of Winnipeg," she remembers.

A soft-spoken McDonald remains faithful even in desolation. Disillusioned with ecclesiastical livelihood, the would-be excommunicated oblate must now start life over at 51. No stipend, no income, no sick benefits, no insurance--just depression, a debilitating illness and isolation from her order.

Illness and isolation

The sister's sullied narrative does not begin with her breast cancer, originally diagnosed in January 2000 and again in December the same year. However, it has been compounded by the illness that has now spread to her lung. Like most patients under the intense treatment, McDonald is hit hard with the physical and emotional side effects of weekly chemotherapy sessions. Chemotherapy not only targets cancerous cells, but healthy ones as well, harming the gastrointestinal tract, reproductive system and hair follicles The consequences are often unpleasant and severe--hair loss, nausea, as well as infection leading to fever, chills, throat irritation, shortness of breath, chronic pain and lethargy.

Susceptible to chemo-related infection, she is now imprisoned by simple routines, such as the habitual washing of hands and peeling of uncooked fruits and vegetables. In this antiseptic lifestyle, she must spend the majority of her time in virtual isolation, limiting the number of people to whom she exposes herself. "I've been pretty much plagued with infection all the way through," says McDonald. "It's been a real long haul."

Cancer is also a financial burden. Chemotherapy drugs are generally paid for by the Manitoba government The province's Health Services Insurance Fund provides payments to hospitals, community health centres, personal care homes, insured services, and individuals claiming reimbursement of therapy expenditures. However doctors often prescribe 'supportive care' medications not covered under a provincial plan. And although private insurance policies, with employers, take care of prescription drugs, McDonald is officially unemployed. Additional over-the-counter medicines such as pain relievers, anti-infection mouthwashes, anti-depressants and anti-diaretic pills, remain an out-of-pocket expense.

With only $106 sitting in the bank, money--for the first time--has become an issue for the disenfranchised oblate.

She is only bolstered by the personal charity of friends in Winnipeg. Her 'digs' are humble, up two flights of stairs, with a bedroom window view of "garbage" in her inner-city neighbourhood. With no other tenants around, there's no one to call out for help. With no taxi service out of the 'high-risk' part of town, getting to and from her therapy sessions is hard. The sister now finds herself 'needy' after swearing to a life of servitude.

"It's difficult dealing with solitude; although it has been a part of my ministry, this is a very different kind of poverty."

Vicky Frankel, a Winnipeg psychotherapist, social worker and an advocate of McDonald, looks in on her during those difficult days. "She is emotionally up and down, day-to-day, like lots of people dealing with cancer and physical abuse," she says. "Her faith is very helpful to her in these times because she doesn't have much of a life now. She has dreams of a life."

Our Place

In her present condition, McDonald is relegated to doing household chores --the biggest feat: fixing supper. Resolved not to compromise her service to the poor, though, she continues her pet-creation of Our Place/ Chez Nous, which provides refuge to more than 5,000 of the city's marginalized peoples--the drug users, the alcoholics, the prostitutes, the mentally iii and now herself. "I give Our Place whatever energy I can now." Not a "showy project," the drop-in centre, run from a main street storefront, has earned McDonald an award by the Lieutenant Governor. The West Winnipeg ministry, which started in 1987, has always existed on the periphery of the Holy Cross order. It has survived on little more than a blessing from the congregation.

"I really took it to heart; it's something I wanted to do all my life, but people did not embrace it."

Alleged Abuse

Wilfort was Mother. Nuns and laypeople were her children, it is alleged. On several occasions at Homes for Growth, according to McDonald's signed affidavit, Sister Jeanne Wilfort allegedly climbed into McDonald's bed where she took her own clothes off, ordered her to do the same and performed shared, sordid sexual acts. The senior nun practised her own made-up model of regression psychology at a retreat that resembled a stringent "cult." Because it was allegedly presented "within the context of religious formation and personal counselling" or "God's healing," McDonald says her recognition of the sexual violation was initially foggy. And whenever the sisters and laity rejected their superior's unorthodox therapy, she says Wilfort quickly became erratic, kicking and slapping them in the washroom during impromptu "repossessions." McDonald's personal experience lasted over a six-month period, according to the sister. And then one day it stopped.