c. 1998 Religion News Service

JERSEY CITY, N.J. _ The older nuns at Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church, which stands like an ancient fortress on a tough street here, remember the 1940s, when 1,200 Irish children packed the classrooms of the adjacent elementary school.

In those days, every teacher was a nun in black habit. The young women entered the order after high school and said final vows in groups of 30, 40 _ even 50 or more.

On a recent Sunday, in the church’s cool, high-ceilinged sanctuary, two dozen elementary school students, all of them African-American, swayed, clapped and sang a Gaelic Communion song in honor of their sixth-grade teacher, Noreen Holly, as she defied modern society and took her final vows of obedience, poverty and chastity.

Holly, 37, will be the only woman this year to make the final commitment to the Sisters of Charity of St. Elizabeth, New Jersey’s largest female Catholic religious community.

As the number of women joining Catholic religious communities has fallen to a trickle, nuns in the United States have grayed considerably. Sister Noreen will join a select 3 percent under age 40. The average age for an American nun teeters around 70.

While the numbers suggest the slow death of religious orders in the United States, experts say these communities should not be written off, even as they undergo a huge transformation. These experts point out that the number of lay associates _ affiliated volunteers who can include men and married women _ is on the rise.

Holly and other sisters, meanwhile, say their outlook is one of hope and optimism.

“The numbers are just not the focus,” Holly said patiently as she ate a slice of pizza after choral practice one afternoon. “God is calling me, and it’s something I can’t deny. As a community, we are not pessimistic. I’m aware of the numbers. It’s something there, but I don’t lie awake thinking about it.”

It has, however, been a cause of concern to Holly’s friends and family back in Ireland. They remember the college soccer player, always quick with a smile for children, and they have trouble picturing her in a community of older women. They envision a lonely, childless future.

“I’m looking at it right in the face,” Holly said. “We’re all human, so it’s something we consider and think about. I really love children, and it’s a challenge. That is partly why formation is so long. You have time to reflect, and the hard questions have been asked. Everything is done in the spirit of freedom. I can leave tomorrow if I want to.”

Sister Catherine Bertrand, executive director of the National Religious Vocation Conference in Chicago, said focus groups held across the country with young Catholics and parents in the past two years show celibacy to be an issue. The meetings showed communities they must do a better job of explaining their lifestyle and the celibacy question to the Catholic public.

“To say celibacy is not an issue would be crazy, but it has to be looked at in the context of community life,” Bertrand said.

“You can be a healthy and whole person and be celibate. It’s incredibly hard to get that message across in this society, where sexuality is so overrated and considered the epitome of any relational experience. Promoting that message sounds as if you’re coming from Mars.”

The “number one reason why people never consider this way of life is we’re not inviting them,” she said.

The free fall in the population of religious women _ a steady drop from a peak of nearly 180,000 in 1965 to 85,412 this year _ has made it easier to talk with nuns about issues like sex. Many are extremely progressive, eschewing the traditional habits, studying computers, even suing their law firms _ like the Sisters of Charity of St. Elizabeth did recently _ when they feel they’ve gotten a raw deal.

Holly is not reticent about her decision to join the order, nor is she secretive about her private life. She jokes about the extra pounds she has gained in America, shares her love of the movies and talks openly about wrestling with the vow of celibacy.

She also has talked in depth about her decision to become a nun with the students she credits with keeping her in America.

Holly never intended to join a religious order when she came to America in 1986, nor did she have any intention of staying.

Raised in bucolic County Kerry, she’d gone to college to be a teacher. Underemployed as a substitute teacher, she responded to a newspaper ad looking for teachers in America.

“She had a unique way of expressing herself,” said Sister Maeve McDermott, co-principal of Assumption/All Saints Elementary School in Jersey City, who hired Holly sight unseen on the basis of a telephone interview. “It was colorful and very definite. You know that person is going to get what she wants done in the classroom.”

As a newcomer with no relatives in America, Holly moved into the convent across the street from the school with Sister Maeve and a half-dozen other nuns. Her plan was to teach for one year and parlay the experience into a job at home.

“It was the kids,” she said without hesitation when asked what happened. “I feel at home with them. In Ireland, it would always be, `Teacher, excuse me. Pardon me.’ Here, the kids were all over me. And they said whatever was on their mind.”

As for what got her to join the order, she said in a brogue matched by a twinkling eye, “They put something in my tea.”

Her parents, John and Teresa (the family calls her Mother Teresa), were religious but still surprised by Holly’s decision. But as nuns from the order visited the family over the years _ they’d joke of them as visits from the in-laws _ they came around. When Holly said preliminary vows in 1994, her parents made the trip and gave her their full support.

The focus groups revealed that in many cases it is parents who dissuade their children from joining religious orders these days. But sociologist Dean R. Hoge, who has worked closely with the Catholic Church on vocation issues, said the key explanation for declining numbers is simply the opportunities for women in today’s society.

He and other experts said entering the convent was once considered one road to independence.

“There are just as many good-hearted, sincere Catholic women as ever,” Hoge said. “They have not lost interest in serving the church, but the opportunities for women are just so broad.”

Linda Pieczynski, national president of Call to Action, a Catholic reform group, said the women who are joining orders are better educated and increasingly progressive.

“They are movers and shakers,” Pieczynski said. “You don’t see the same kind of numbers _ but boy, they’re out there making things happen in the world for good.”

IR END CHAMBERS