Faith in face of adversity

For years, the retreat house sat perilously close to the ocean, always seeming to be on the verge of collapse, erosion leaving it just a dune and some boulders away from oblivion.

Of all the things and people the Sisters of St. Joseph of Philadelphia remembered in their prayers, saving their Shore home was among the most urgent.

Well. Glory be. Really. Thanks to the work of, depending on whom you ask, Jesus Christ, the Army Corps of Engineers, or some combination thereof, the sisters are now flush with sand.

"We got a miracle," said Sister Agnes Frederick Blee, 81. "It's very profound. I think the prayers were answered. "

In truth, the many sisters who travel to the Jersey Shore to houses owned by different orders from New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania are all pretty much just grateful to still be there.

Their long tradition of vacationing and retreat has seemed a little vulnerable of late - to natural forces like beach erosion or storms; or to economic ones, like property taxes; or to demographic ones, like the aging of the nuns in general; or to progressive forces, like nuns choosing to vacation with their own families (allowed only since Vatican II).

In recent years, several of the retreat homes owned by orders of nuns have been sold, because of prohibitively high local taxes, or because the sisters in the orders were getting too old to really use the places enough. The sisters who lost their homes now vacation at other nuns ' houses, which generally are booked solid and turning away requests. Several houses have added retreats - open to sisters and laypeople - to their schedules this summer.

The Sisters of St. Dominic of Blauvelt, N.Y., began last summer to block out several weeks of the season for renters to occupy their home in Ventnor, to help offset soaring property taxes. (Some of the larger homes that focus on retreats and educational programs are tax-exempt. )

The homes are owned separately by the individual orders and have no connection with the archdioceses in the area. And so any decision to sell is made by the sisters themselves. (The proceeds of any sale go toward providing for the sisters in the order, not, as some assume, paying off any large debts arising from lawsuits against the Catholic Church. )

For those who remain, their presence among the pricey trophies of acquisition along the Shore has caused them to approach their good fortune with even more purpose.

"People here are walking in the door all the time, developers, who will give us a high price for this property," said Sister Suzanne Golas of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace, who own a home in Elberon, Monmouth County. It is one of no more than a dozen beach homes owned by orders, she estimated. "That's not what we see as our responsibility for preserving the land. "

Instead, the sisters have begun transforming the expansive lawn in Elberon into a more natural landscape of meadow, pond and organic garden. They see themselves as establishing a beachhead against overdevelopment.

(In Ventnor, the Sisters of Charity of New York sold their landmark beachfront home on a promise that it would be restored, only to see it demolished, and the land parceled out five ways. There was much remorse. )

Sister Suzanne is part of a coalition of the orders called Religious on Water (ROW), which includes 10 orders of nuns from New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania that own homes on the water, mostly at the Jersey Shore. They work with groups like Clean Ocean Action to advocate for environmental causes.

"Creation really is the first revelation of God we have in the world," said Sister Carol Johnston of the Sisters of Charity of St. Elizabeth, who own property in Harvey Cedars. "If you want to know what a creative, loving God looks like, look at the extraordinary nature of the world we live in. "

In Cape May Point, the sisters look out at their extraordinary new beach - completed by the Army Corps before the summer of 2005, a $15 million federal project whose official purpose is to protect migrating birds, not vacationing nuns - and see a reassuring but, as with most answered prayers, complicated spiritual transformation.

"I often reflect on Christ walking along the water," said Sister Rose I. Waller, 85, of the Sisters of St. Francis of Philadelphia, who has overcome so many health problems in recent years that she feels personally replenished as well. "How meaningful is it that we can do that, too? "

Sister Mary Juliano, who books reservations at St. Mary by the Sea, said, "This'll be the second summer we're not falling into the ocean. " But the reality is that the beach is half the size it was last year, already significantly eroded.

"The power of the sea is unbelievable," said Sister Ann Raymond, 74, the director of the 165-room Cape May Point house. "You look out there and think, how can we ever keep it back? As long as we're doing the Lord's work, and he wants us to be there, we'll be here. "

There are about 1,100 women in the St. Joseph's order, based in Chestnut Hill, down from 2,000 back in the 1960s. And while the sisters must pay the Borough of Cape May Point $35,000 in yearly property taxes, they can take comfort in the fact that the Shore property has been a wise investment - assuming it doesn't get washed away. It is assessed at $4.6 million.

In addition to the new beach, the sisters have another layer of protection outside their red-roofed complex, with its signature second-story porch of silent rocking nuns : lifeguards.

Their regular lifeguard, Brian Wilson - good Catholic boy from the Northeast, St. Christopher's, Archbishop Ryan, Holy Family College - spends his days helping elderly nuns in bathing suits in and out of the rough surf. (The new beach also brought with it a steep drop-off and a pretty wicked riptide. )

"You wave at them, and they'll come haul you out," said Sister Lucina Roth, a Dominican sister from Ohio.

Noted Wilson, 36: "It's the complete antithesis of Baywatch. "

No disrespect intended, sisters! On the contrary, the nuns are constantly mentioning Wilson in their prayers and writing letters to his superior praising his devotion.

The riptides give lifeguard Brian a powerful sense of purpose and a full lineup of nuns on his side. The sisters say the riptides also are a sharp reminder of the power of the ocean, and the trickiness of human intervention, even when backed by the power of the prayers of hundreds of nuns . (One sister pictures them literally forming a ring of protection around the house all these years. )

Perhaps not having to pray so hard to keep their home from being swallowed up frees the sisters for a while to get in a few more prayers for the rest of us. But really, nobody is taking anything for granted.

"The skeptics will say [it will last] till the first hundred-year storm," said Sister Lucina, sounding a rare note of pessimism. "I won't make a reservation. "

Contact staff writer Amy S. Rosenberg at 609-823-0453 or

» READ MORE: arosenberg@phillynews.com

.