IN CELEBRATION OF THE LIFE AND
SPIRIT OF MARIA HARRIS (1932-2005)

The following are excerpts from a eulogy delivered by Gabriel Moran at St. Lawrence Church, Sayville, Long Island, on Feb.7, 2005 at the funeral of Maria Harris

If it were solely up to me I would prefer silence at this point, which is mostly what I shared with Maria during the last months of her life. However, for such an articulate woman some few words should be said on her behalf to her friends who are gathered here today.

I know I am biased but I think that anyone who knew Maria would agree that she was an extraordinary person. So often I heard someone say: “Well, of course, everyone loves Maria.” Each time I heard that I would think: What an amazing thing to be said of anyone. People seemed to mean it. She evoked a reaction of joy, admiration and love from so many people - whether women or men, young or old, gay or straight, people in high office or people consigned to menial work.

The reaction of women was especially noteworthy. They seemed to take pride in her accomplishments. I did not sense envy or jealousy. I think it was because Maria saw herself as surrounded by a sea of sisterhood within which and for which she spoke. Women sensed that and delighted in her talents. She treated everyone with respect, as if you were the most important person in the world. And it wasn’t superficial. If you were a friend of Maria’s, you were a friend for life.

She could cry up a storm on sad occasions. But she had a sunny personality. Her mother called her Mary Sunshine which was very fitting. She brought a brightness and enthusiasm to every group she worked with. We often team taught. I could not duplicate her talent for bringing out the best in every group. But I did learn from her and I became a better teacher.
Maria was a Sister of St. Joseph for 23 years. In the deepest sense, however, she never left the community of women; nor did the religious congregation ever exclude her. I was happy to share her with all the friends she had made, especially her dearest friend of 50 years, Joanmarie Smith. I only knew Maria for 39 years. The day she walked into my office I think both of us knew within five minutes that our lives would forever be entwined. How that would happen was not clear. She figured it out pretty quickly; it took me a lot longer.

Her name in the religious order was Maria Crucis. She loved the name Maria and it seemed to fit her perfectly. I always thought that the name Crucis was ironic. She did not give the impression of carrying a cross through life. But in the last four years she earned that name. From the first moment when she was diagnosed, I never heard a word of self-pity or complaint. There was no “why me?” or “this is unfair.” I think it was because she viewed all she had as gifts. When she had to relinquish each of life’s powers, she could do so gracefully.

In bearing with the disease, she had a strength that I had not known she possessed. And perhaps she herself did not know she had such strength. She had never had a serious illness in her life. When she would get an annual cold and be miserable for a day or two, she would warn me that she would make a terrible patient. As it turned out, she was completely wrong about how she would handle a terrible disease.

In the late 1960s a group of seven older churchwomen gathered in Philadelphia. They decided that the image of the old in this country needed changing. The news media condescendingly called them the Gray Panthers, a name that they ran with. They succeeded admirably in what they set out to do. Maggie Kuhn, the leader of the group, said in an interview that she intended to continue the work as long as she lived. The interviewer said: “How can you say that with such certainty? Suppose you get sick and are lying flat on your back in a hospital?” Maggie Kuhn replied: “Then I will make that my work.”

I believe Maria did just that. While she was in the nursing home and the hospital she was still a dynamo of energy for many people in this country and beyond. And for those of us who believe in the Communion of Saints the work continues.

In teaching about teaching, I have often cited a passage from a talk that Elizabeth Glaser gave at the 1992 Democratic convention. Glaser had become infected with the AIDS virus through blood transfusion and she had passed it on to her daughter who died. Glaser said: “My daughter lived 7 years and in the last year of her life she could neither talk nor walk, but her wisdom shone through. She taught me to love when all I felt was hate. She taught me to think of others when all I wanted to do was think of myself. She taught me to be brave when all I felt was fear.” When I had used that passage in the past, I never dreamed that it could apply to a 70 year- old woman as well as to a 7 year-old child.

When we came to Maria Regina residence a year ago, I told friends that we were received like royalty. It was an unusual experience for anyone entering a nursing home to be surrounded by such warmth and love. She could not have received better care than she did here. When she returned from the hospital two and a half weeks ago, we received a second warm homecoming. She had come to die but it was the right place for her.
Both times we were greeted with a large sign that said: Welcome to Maria Regina. I read that sign in two ways: It could mean: Welcome into the residence whose name is Maria Regina. It can also read: Welcome to the one who is named Maria; she will be treated royally.

The disease that Maria had was a trial of both body and soul. It was truly a cross to bear. But purified by suffering she has finally transcended the Crucis in her name. No longer Maria Crucis, she is now Maria Gloria, Maria Regina.

I conclude with an Irish prayer. I know she would love me to read this because she chose to read it at two funerals: that of her mother, Mary Tunny Harris, and that of her dear cousin, Brian O’Brien. The prayer expresses the sacramental principle that was the central theme of her writing, her speaking and her life, the belief that God is revealed in all the elements of ordinary life. I cannot read it as well as she could but I don’t think she would mind:

“May the blessing of the light be on you, light within and light without.
May the blessed sunlight shine on you and warm your heart till it glows like a great peat fire, so that strangers may come and warm themselves at it, and friends.
And may the light shine out of the two eyes of you like a candle set in two windows of a house, bidding the wanderer to come in out of the storm.
And may the blessing of the Rain be on you - the soft, sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit so that all the little flowers may spring up, and shed their sweetness on the air.
And may the blessing of the Great Rains be on you, may they beat upon your spirit and wash it fair and clean,
And leave there many a shining pool where the blue of heaven shines and sometimes a star.
And may the blessing of the Earth be on you - the great round earth.
May you ever have a kindly greeting for them you pass as you’re going along the roads.
May the earth be soft under you when you rest upon it, tired at the end of the day.
And may it rest over you when, at the last, you lay out under it.
May it rest so lightly over you, that your soul may be out from under it quickly, and up, and off, and on its way to God.”

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The following is a tribute written by Maria Harris’ friend and colleague, Gloria Durka, of Fordham University, New York City.

Maria Harris, internationally acclaimed religious educator, died on February 1, 2005, after a long illness. She succumbed to pneumonia resulting from Lewy body dementia, a debilitating brain disease.

A member of the REA for more than thirty years, Maria has presented workshops for its membership throughout the US and Canada. As a member of APRRE for equally as long, she served as its President and was a regular presenter of scholarly papers at its annual meetings.

Maria Harris received her doctorate in religion and education at Columbia University in 1970. A native New Yorker, she worked with religious educators in the Diocese of Rockville Centre and was active in ecumenical religious education. In 1975, she joined the faculty of Andover Newton Theological School in Newton, MA., where she was named to the Howard Chair of Religious Education. Later she taught at Fordham University, New York University, and Boston College. She married Gabriel Moran in 1986, and together they collaborated in teaching, writing, and lecturing throughout the U.S. and the international community. Maria was a member of the International Seminar on Religious Education and Values (ISREV) for twenty-five years.

Maria’s list of publications explore many aspects of religious education and the role of women in religion, artistry in teaching, religious imagination, educational and pastoral ministry, women’s spirituality, to mention but a few. For many women in religious education, her work Women and Teaching became a pedagogic creed. Her groundbreaking work, Dance of the Spirit, reached out to feed the souls of women in the broader community. Author of a dozen books, more than a hundred essays, and scores of scholarly papers, Maria’s work has been read all over the globe. She has held prestigious lectureships and was the recipient of numerous awards. Her book Fashion Me A People, first published in 1989, remains a popular text in seminaries and theological schools.

REA-APPRRE members will miss her physical presence, to be sure, but her spirit and work live on. Now is the time for celebration and thanks for all she has given to us.