The Ear of the Heart: An Actress' Journey From Hollywood to Holy Vows (60 page)

“I was so happy my father came to see me in
The Miracle Worker
although he was very ill at the time. He died not long after. Mother Dolores spoke at his funeral.”

Although the link between drama and monastic life goes back to the origins of the mystery plays, we’ve always sought to sponsor the cultural and spiritual values derived from the best of popular theater too. In 2005, we presented our first book musical, a revival of
My Fair Lady,
directed by Richard and choreographed by Sally Camm. Alistair Highet was Henry Higgins; Kelly Briney played Eliza Doolittle and, since there were never enough bodies around, doubled on costumes as well
.

Our “orchestra” consisted of Patrick Smith on percussion and, on electronic keyboard, our new chaplain
—Father
Stephen Concordia. Benedictine continuity
.

Thirty-Seven

It was a time of great highs and, as if God were balancing the reality in our lives, great lows
.

—Journal entry, February 18, 1991

The birth of the Act Association occurred the same year as my twenty-fifth Jubilee, marking a quarter century since my vows. Many friends came to the abbey to celebrate with me and witness the planting of their gift, a white dogwood tree, near the theater
.

The tree is quite large now and brings back memories of each of them, especially the actress Martha Hyer Wallis, Hal’s widow, who had been instrumental in smoothing out his ruffled feathers at the time I left Hollywood and who has remained in my life to this day. Although Hal was gone, Martha felt that she was bringing him with her to the abbey because, as she told me for the first time, “he had always wanted to come
.”

Karl Malden, who was then president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, sent a jacket with the AMPAS logo, which I still wear over my habit. Karl and his successor, Robert Rehme, invited me back into the Academy
.

—I’m pleased that Oscar time in Hollywood is now of interest to the women at Regina Laudis, and they are able to see some of the films in competition, courtesy of the DVD screeners that are sent to me. (The only movie they have ever asked to see again is
The King’s Speech.)

It seemed to me that the Jubilee day was without flaw. After twenty-five years, I could appreciate the happiness I felt from the coming together of people I loved—yet, at the same time, accept and embrace the sense of separation I was also feeling. That night, I wrote in the journal
:

These pages draw to a close the cycle of this journal that has held open to me the consciousness of my own process. I can see in it the tools that have developed the one authentic goodness in myself—my own dear, stubborn longing which has always driven me. Perhaps the deepest gift of the day is finally to realize that I really want to be a contemplative. I could not bear the surface existence outside. I want to live and pray and plumb the depths
within the heart of this community
. I want to keep this truth of the Jubilee in my consciousness: that all things are held and destined, and
so am I
.

We had already begun our slow move to the hill in the late eighties with the building of two structures, Annunciation, housing the novitiate, and Saint John’s Tower, providing an area for our infirmary as well as a residence for Lady Abbess and several of the older nuns. Once again, the nuns themselves cleared the land and felled the trees that provided the wood for the new buildings, both of which are quite simple—hexagon-shaped and not unlike log cabins
.

In 1992 building commenced on the most ambitious addition to the hill, which fulfilled a long-held desire of Lady Abbess—our new church. Two years later, the Church of Jesu Fili Mariae—Jesus, Son of Mary—was completed and blessed
.

It is the most beautiful church I have ever seen—and not simply because it’s ours. I truly feel that it answered the problem I’ve always had with all the paraphernalia—the stuff—one finds in Catholic churches that hasn’t much to do with genuine piety. Ostentatious statues of saints don’t muster a sense of worship in me or make me want to pray to a particular one. It just makes me angry over the money that was poured into making those figures that could have done some real good
.

I was among the forty-five women then in the Community who shared ideas of what we wanted our church to look like, but Mothers Praxedes, Telchilde, and Maria Immaculata were at the helm. They are the true designers of the church. Father Prokes, a master architect himself, served as our architectural and theological mediator and guided the work
.

Our church is a wooden, barn-like structure laid out like a classic basilica. It was designed as it is because of what people had experienced at The Gary-The Olivia. We heard what had awakened them to the peace, the joy, the involvement—all the good things they felt when they participated. Why not have a church that captures the basics of our theater and takes people into another sphere
?

We used the same elements—the pine wood, the arches, the stage that captures the forest as its background—and framed them with walls of glass windows looking out over the woods on one side and a garden on the other, giving the feeling of being indoors and outdoors at the same time, with the altar placed where the priest would offer Mass in a nature setting
.

By having clear windows instead of the conventional stained glass, one can look out and allow the beauty of what God has created to be the backdrop for prayer in every season. True, windowpanes can become dirty, but our views stay crystal clear because members of the lay community Auscultatories (which means “the listeners”), led by David and Nancy Stein and Melora Mennesson, commit annually to the maintenance of the windows
.

The very first Mass in the new church was its consecration by Archbishop Daniel J. Cronin, and the main—the extraordinary—thing that we all felt when we sang there for the first time was relief
.

The chants sung at Regina Laudis are more than one thousand years old, but they don’t have to sound like it, and they did in the lower monastery chapel. The acoustics, therefore, had been a big worry. I remember my heart was in my throat when we processed into the new building singing the Kyrie. I could hardly believe it when I heard the glorious sound. The acoustics were divine. The new church gave resonance and life to our voices
.

Paula Prentiss, who has visited Regina Laudis often—sometimes alone, sometimes with her family—remembered each visit as if it were a scene in a favorite play. Paula recalled, “On my most recent stay, Mother Dolores took me to see the new church. We sat quietly in the choir area, and I talked about returning to my faith. I had been away from Catholicism for many years, but God had given me a sign in Hollywood when Dolores said to me, ‘God never leaves you.’ She said it again at that moment and pointed to the wall of windows overlooking the woods. ‘Now just look, she said, ‘if you are determined to see God while you’re here. It was autumn, and the woods were bursting with color. I felt like a child looking into the secret garden. I did come back to the Church, and I look upon knowing Mother Dolores as part of that spiritual journey.”

—
I’ve always thought it fitting that the word
hospitality
contains the word
hospital.
It gives a foundation to the concept of caring for others. I associate it with healing and restoring and maintaining bonds of friendship too
.

With the completion of the church, the Community now looked toward renovation of the lower monastery. We had long anguished about the tiny kitchen that had served us and our guests for over fifty years
.

“The kitchen was, in a word, depressing”, said Mother Olivia Frances, the econome (steward). “We were bursting at the seams. We cooked for fifty people a day—twice—in an eight-by-twelve space that was shaped like a railroad car. We were always waiting for someone to close the oven door so that we could get to the freezer.”

I brought the problem to the Education Deanery and got overwhelming approval to take to Lady Abbess a proposal for a complete reconfiguring of the kitchen. What we needed was expressed through informal plans by Iain Highet, and we were shocked to find the estimate for construction was $100,000!

Since Granny Kude’s bombastic display of opposition to my entrance, she had made repeated visits to Regina Laudis and came to love the women in the Community. In turn, they took her into their hearts. It was only at her death that I learned Granny had been baptized a Catholic. Shortly thereafter a surprise arrived—in the form of a check for $56,327.10, her bequest to me. It represented all the tips she had saved over the years. So, even in death, Granny was watching out for me—“just in case”. I asked that the money be set aside for the new kitchen
.

At roughly the same time, Joe Allegretti, one of the Can-do kids at Saint Francis de Sales, visited Regina Laudis. On his departure, he said to ask him if there was anything he could ever help me with. So I wrote Joe that we needed $50,000 for a new kitchen. I figured he would either give me some money or think, “What nerve.” I put the letter in the mail before I had second thoughts. This arrived three days later
:

Dear Mother Dolores
,

   
I am very happy to give you the $50,000. For tax purposes I need to know exactly what it will be used for. The money will be soon coming. No, I think I’ll just put it in this letter
.

   
Love, Joe

Work on the renovation began soon afterward. The new kitchen is named Chiara, and it has a commemorative plaque honoring Joe’s mother, Mary Rowe Maher Allegretti, and Esther Opal Kude, my beloved Granny
.

In 1990, the Community was hit with a monumental blow. Lady Abbess was diagnosed with breast cancer. From that moment I knew that she was no longer a face to be dealt with externally, but internally. Her mortality was now, for me, a reality
.

God had me in mind for her, and she was tailor-made to take me on. It was only a few months after I entered that my poor postulant mother turned me over to her; she didn’t know how to deal with me because she was French and I was American
.

Lady Abbess dealt with me as a person of worth—even while she seemed utterly to dismiss me when we were in front of others. I didn’t understand this until many years later. She loved me as a mother but taught me as a foundress
.

I had assisted Mother Mary Aline in her portress duties for almost ten years (and she was an unyieldingly tough boss). In the nineties I inherited the responsibility and the title of portress upon her death
.