Sr. Philomena, LSOP, recently celebrated her 50th anniversary as a religious sister. When I sat down with her for an interview, her warm Irish accent and tendency to describe every individual she encounters as “gorgeous” was immediately endearing. But during the course of the conversation, it was quickly made clear that Sr. Philomena truly lives out her vocation to the fullest – even to the point of being willing to lay down her life for the elderly poor she serves. The recounting of her experience during the First Congo Civil War, and her refusal – along with the other sisters and one priest – to abandon her residents, is an inspirational reminder that even here in the Diocese of Gallup, there are everyday heroes.
Here is that interview.
Can you give take us through your background – where you grew up and how you became a sister?
I was one of 15 children. There were eight boys and seven girls. We grew up in a very, very Catholic family in those years. I’m from Ireland, from Dublin. So in those days, it was a must to go to Mass every Sunday, to go to Confessions every two weeks, during Lent, etc.
I was asked to go down with my friend to see the Little Sisters of the Poor when I was 12…who were not very far, about half an hour from where I lived. And I went down every weekend from that day I first saw them. My friend, she left. I continued. I was very young.
[One day] they were going to have a big open day and sell all the goods and sell tarts and pies to get money into the hall. So I asked my two sisters to come down to help me. They came down with me. The two of them entered to be Little Sisters. And me, I was left behind because I wasn’t 18.
Where are you in the lineup of your brothers and sisters?
I’m number eight. So they entered the congregation. I went after college to work in the government office because I wasn’t 18, and they told me I had to wait before I could enter. Finally, I entered in 1972.
I asked to go to France. I stayed in Paris for six months to learn French…to speak it fluently and to write it.
The sixth of September [1975] I made my first vows. And the sixth of September this year, 2025, was 50 years and I went to Dublin to celebrate. But I am not long in America. I am seven, eight months. I was 44 years in Africa.
Which parts?
I started in Congo-Brazzaville. From there I went to Kenya – Nairobi and Mombasa. Then I went to Nigeria. I went to Enugu and Lagos. From there I went to Benin – we’ve got two homes there. I went to Istanbul because it’s the same province. And then Malta, because Malta is the provincial house. And I just arrived in Gallup eight months ago.
But I love these people, these Navajo people. The old people are gorgeous. The old people are lovely. I’ve had the occasion to look after lots of Africans. I had the occasion to look after Turkish people because I was in Istanbul. We have a home there and there are only Muslims. And then I had an occasion to look after the Maltese which is mostly European.
So with all these experiences, I just want to thank God, because how did I arrive here? I don’t know. But I want to make sure that goes out: there’s no glory for me. I give all the glory to God. Really. I give all the glory to God because I’m one of 15 children, I was born in the middle of nowhere. I mean my parents were extremely, extremely Catholic and it was a must. They looked after us, they brought us up and they trained us and they trained me to be a Little Sister.
I received my first formation with my parents and my family members. We always had to share. We have a pumpkin? We cut it in two. If we’re four, we cut it in four. We were not rich but we knew how to share. And I think that was the beginning of my formation because then when I entered, it was easier for me to accept lots of things, like sharing, having dialogue, having conversation.
So it became natural for us to be open and say, okay, I am going to do this type of work. I’m going to do that type of work. It’s because it was in us to share with your friends, to share with your neighbor. We didn’t have very much because we were so many. But my father had a very, very good job as a contractor, decorator and painter and he had very good people that used to call him. So he was very well known in Dublin.
I thank God for all this. I thank my parents first, and then I give glory to God for everything, for my religious vocation. I thank Him so much for being a Little Sister of the Poor and for serving so long in the province of Africa. Now I’m in Gallup, New Mexico. And I’m very happy to be here. The people are lovely.
What are some of your favorite memories from your time as a Sister?
I remember one Maasai man. We went to pick him up because he was on the ground. We had to roll these poor people in blankets – we took hold and carried them. We had a small home, we had seven old people. It was the beginnings of the home in Nairobi. So we had to wash him outside because he’s full of lice. He had a big, long beard. But it was beautiful and sunny and the climate is much different. And you know, he made it for many, many years in our home. It’s beautiful to look after the poor old people, the real poor.
I was in Congo-Brazzaville during the [1982] civil war.
Oh wow, did that affect you at all?
Oh yeah. We were eight in the community and we were on – it’s not a mountain, it’s kind of a hill. And down here was [President] Sassou who is still in power to this day. And here was Lissouba [Editor’s note: rival politician]. And our home was in the middle. Everywhere around were all big bungalows, like very, very big houses. They were the French or the American or the Canadians that used to live there. When the war started, everyone evacuated – everyone. As we are a French congregation, the army came to us and they said, “we have to evacuate. Who do you have to evacuate? We have to evacuate the sisters only”. I said, my God, we can’t leave the old people. There was 70, 75 old people. And they said no.
So we had a meeting with the sisters. We decided together to stay. He came back the following day to see if we’re leaving. And we said, no, we’re not leaving, we’re staying here. And we know that the Lord is with us. And whatever happens, happens. We surrendered everything.
But from that day on, three times a day, the sisters used to say the rosary all the time. You say the rosary, continually. And the old people that were Catholics, they were always in the chapel. And we stayed there. And from the first hour of the evening, like about seven o’clock, until about four o’clock [in the morning], the rockets are going over. Some of them fell on our roof. There was plenty of holes in the roof.
But one of our old ladies had tuberculosis. And we couldn’t get out to get any medication because everywhere was barricaded. So we tried to get in touch with the French embassy – they were very far away, about an hour. We tried to get a message across for them to come and bring some medication for this lady. “Impossible.”
Once in the morning, that lady who never goes to the chapel early – she never goes early. But this time she was in the chapel half past six in the morning with her friend. They were two of them together and they were praying. And a rocket came in and hit the roof and hit her head. She was knocked unconscious. She didn’t die straight away. We managed. One of the sisters there was a brilliant nurse – Oh, she was brilliant! So we bandaged up as much as we could and we stayed with her the whole night. But she died the following day. She was the one that had the tuberculosis. The one that was beside her, she [only] had a few scratches.
We had another old man, another time – a huge big bomb hit the men’s wing. It went right through the door, through the wall. The old man was asleep in bed and all the pieces were all around him. The bed was full of dust and all these little pieces of iron. And he was asleep. He didn’t even hear it.
That was an experience that we knew God was with us. We’re doing God’s work from morning to night, you see. And yeah, He’s looking after us. He’s taking care of us.
We were in that war for nine months in our house. We never went out. We couldn’t go out.
How did you get supplies?
We had supplies. When they start closing down everything, we managed to get supplies in. But then on a few occasions, the French ambassador, he sent us rice and bananas. It was the thing going at that time, rice, bananas. In the morning we used to have boiled bananas. Lunch, we’d have rice. And if we had oil, we used to fry the bananas in the evening. We’d do a lovely fry. And this went on for nine months. We had no bread, no butter. And the sisters were so faithful. They were so, so faithful.
Were you able to have Mass or no?
We had one priest that used to stay at the cathedral. And he used to jump over the wall every time he heard noise. He used to jump over the wall and he’d say, “Sisters, are you okay?” A young Jesuit priest. So we had Mass.
And nobody ever bothered you? None of the soldiers or anybody like that?
The soldiers, they came in a few times with, you know, these big long guns. And they started shooting at us from outside. They banged at the door, about 10 of them in the pickup truck. They wanted money, then they wanted our car, they wanted another pickup because they were looting all the houses which were around us.
They knew we were religious. They knew we were looking after the old people, but they were mad with drink and drugs and it didn’t matter to them. So when they started asking for our truck, we just gave it to them, because they started shooting. They were shooting at our feet. We were right beside them. *pantomimes bullets being shot into the ground*
They left, but they looted all the huge big houses which had plenty of stuff inside, you know. People just left their belongings to get back to France.
When you went to Istanbul, how was that?
Istanbul is lovely. I love Istanbul. All the old people are Muslims. There’s about two or three Christians, Armenian Christians. But yeah, the old people, the Muslim people were lovely. They treated us so nicely. We were always dressed religiously, you know, and they would respect that. We had a lot of friends outside who had helped the home.
So how do you like Gallup so far from what you’ve seen?
In the beginning, I had it very difficult for the altitude. But then when I went home, and I stayed the whole month of September, I came back October. Wow, it was such a difference. Now I can walk outside, I can walk around, no problem.
One of the sisters said, I don’t know what you made of, you’re like a man. I says, no, I’m Irish. I’m coming from a big family. We were brought up on bread and margarine. We had no butter. That was my young years, we were brought up on bread and margarine. And I hate margarine (laughs).
What kind of advice would you give to someone discerning their vocation?
A young person starting off, I would say, cling, cling, cling to the word of God, cling to Jesus, no matter what. I’ve got through a lot of things in my life through the word of God. Cling to the rosary, cling to the Eucharist, our Lady, our Blessed Mother, Jesus, just try and get into a relationship and go deeper each day, but never give up. You will fall, we always fall. But the virtuous man falls seven times a day, gets up – Proverbs 24. The wicked man, he falls in defeat, he doesn’t get up. So it is a matter of, you fall, you get up, you continue. Don’t give up, be courageous, especially if you’re called to be a religious, because it’s a vocation that’s not coming from you, it’s coming from God. And when God calls, he gives the courage, he gives the strength to continue, no matter what. I mean, you know you’re called by Jesus – he will not desert you, just cling to him, he’ll get you there.