The whole testament of history proves that no enduring work of a great man is begun or fulfilled without the cooperation of a great woman. And no woman ever appreciated the ideals of a great man more profoundly and comprehensively than St. Clare understood the ideals of St. Francis of Assisi. In a medieval society that was suffocating in the close quarters of materialism and gagging on surfeit, Francis came preaching the beauty of evangelical poverty. Clare listened. Into the chaos of unending wars and petty rivalries, the “little poor man of Assisi,” as he came to be called, brought this gentle benediction: “May the Lord give you peace.”
Clare understood. Where ambitions seethed and men were ruthless in their quest for power, Francis begged as a favor to be considered the least of men. Clare caught his inspiration. Like the Divine Child held in the arms of old Simeon and prophesied to be a sign of contradiction, Francis of Assisi came with a form of life that cut through the morass of war and hatred and worldliness. He walked at right angles to all that characterized his age. He was a sign of contradiction.
Clare was seventeen when she heard Francis preach of the love of God and evangelical poverty with such burning sincerity that the richest young man in Assisi promptly gave away his fortune to the poor and ran after him, that a scholar and canon came to learn a better wisdom from Francis, and that glittering knights threw down their swords to take up the weapons of God as Francis taught them.
It was the beginning of the Franciscan Movement of the thirteenth century and the inauguration of the Franciscan Order, which is the largest in the Church today and which God himself promised Francis would endure to the end of time.
But what of Clare? The eldest daughter of an influential Italian family, St. Clare had been born in Assisi in 1193 or 1194. The goodness, charm and piety of this favored child seemed to point to a future couched in luxury, wealth, and prestige. Yet God had fashioned the heart of Clare for something greater; and the sparks of that “something” were fanned into a great flame of response when she went to Francis and told him of God’s summons in her soul, asking him what to do. Francis told her. And that was the beginning of his Second Franciscan Order, the cloistered Poor Ladies who were later to be known familiarly as the Poor Clares.
It was in November of 1948 that a small group of Chicago Poor Clares set out for Roswell, New Mexico, responding to the urgent invitation of Archbishop Edwin Byrne of Santa Fe to found a new monastery in his ancient and historic archdiocese. For he wanted “the praying nuns,” as he fondly described the cloistered Poor Clares, to encircle his vast archdiocese with the arms of their lives of prayer and penitence. Samuel Cardinal Stritch of Chicago agreed, although not without sadness, to let them go. And that, one might well have thought, would have been the end of that. One could scarcely have expected young girls to flock into the little farmhouse-turned-monastery. Yet, flock they did, to the extent that the Roswell community was enabled by God to found or restore six daughter-monasteries: five in the United States (two in Virginia; one in Los Altos Hills, California; one in Belleville, Illinois; the latest in Chicago, Illinois) and the sixth back across the Atlantic Ocean in the Netherlands.
The story of the coming of the little pioneer group of Poor Clares from Chicago is told in the book A Right to Be Merry by our Mother Mary Francis, one of the seven foundresses. Published first by Sheed and Ward, this classic went into five editions and six foreign-language translations. A new edition was published in the year 2001 by Ignatius Press, which likewise published Mother’s account of our first five foundations/restorations in Forth and Abroad, a sequel to A Right to Be Merry.
In more recent years, God's call has been heard and answered by generous young women from not only all parts of the United States, but also from Australia, Singapore, El Salvador, and Spain. The community in Roswell presently numbers twenty-five. Mother Mary Angela is the abbess. Mother Mary Francis, who served as abbess of the monastery for forty-one years, received the title of “Mother Emerita” in October 2005, four months before her death on February 11, 2006. Young women between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five who are interested in a contemplative vocation may contact Mother Angela.
The original farmhouse purchased by the founding group
of sisters in 1948 to which a chapel and additional wings were added