Sister Cecile, St. Patrick’s Day, 2011.
Marybeth Phillips thought twice about what she would wear to the funeral of Sister Cecile Reiley. Most people would say you’re supposed to wear dark clothes. Instead, after some thought, Phillips chose a floaty type of skirt with patterns of light purple, dark purple, and blue. She chose it to honor the memory of her friend, a passionate devotee of the arts.
“No matter what anybody else is thinking,” Phillips thought, “Cecile is going to love it because it looks like Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night.’”
When Phillips arrived at St. Joseph’s Villa, she found the chapel awash in the most fuchsia, pink roses and other bright, colorful flowers—and Sister Cecile, in repose, in the most cheerful of hues, including a lavender linen jacket and a woven purple scarf.
“I thought, wow, she was more colorful than I was,” Phillips says. That wasn’t surprising, she adds. “She knew where she was going, and she was going to go with great spirit and joy.”
Sister Cecile Anne Reiley, SSJ, passed away April 24 at the age of 76. A tireless, lifelong advocate on behalf of the poor and the powerless and an ardent peace activist, she made her mark as parish services director at St. Malachy Church in North Philadelphia, where she seemed to take on any task that came her way, from pastoral counseling to organizing the annual benefit Irish music concert featuring Mick Moloney and friends.
A self described “coal cracker” born in Pottsville, Schuylkill County, Sister Cecile was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis—a chronic, painful and crippling disease, at a very early age. Friends knew she endured great suffering, but she just went on about her life, attacking it with gusto.
“She never complained,” says friend Kathy McGee Burns, who visited Sister Cecile in the hospital in her final days. “Little by little, I saw her body give way. It sure didn’t reduce her spirit, or her ability to get where she wanted to go. She got things done that were amazing that you never would have dreamed she would get done. People loved to do for her. If she called, you couldn’t say no. She never complained … and she still got the job done.”
Father John McNamee, St. Malachy’s pastor emeritus, saw that can-do quality in Sister Cecile right from the beginning of their relationship.
“I met her more than 20 years ago.” Father Mac says. “We were protesting against a nuclear facility near Drexel.”
The two struck up a conversation. What happened after that is lost in the mists of time. Somehow, Sister Cecile wound up working at St. Malachy’s. “I didn’t even remember that I invited her in. I must have. She had a desk, a computer, a phone, and her friends stopping by.”
Once she was there, Father McNamee was happy to let her work her magic. St. Malachy’s needed all the help it could get, and having someone with Sister Cecile’s indomitable energy was a decided plus. Father McNamee reflects, “It was Andy Warhol who said that half of life is showing up.” And that’s what Sister Cecile did.
Sister Cecile also lent her artistic talents to St. Malachy, including directing the decoration of the altar for holy days and for the Mick Moloney concert. Art remained a lifelong love.
“We had a lot of conversations about great artists … Renoir, Van Gogh,” recalls Marybeth Phillips. “She always said Renoir inspired her. Renoir said he was going to keep painting until he could no longer hold the brush. She said, I want to do that, not just with my art, but with everything I do. She was doing that until two weeks before she died.”
We would also like to share with you one very special remembrance from great friend and devoted colleague Mary Heron:
Sister Cecile Reiley brought joy and wisdom wherever she went. And she went many places over her lifetime. Unfortunately, I only knew her for the last 20 years as she served as parish services director for St. Malachy. In the early days of our friendship we enjoyed all kinds of entertainment from movies to Shakespeare to picnics to fireworks. She was always ready to go. As the years went by, it became harder for her to get around but her fold-up wheelchair fit in the trunk of my small car and we continued to go.
Meantime, she was organizing concerts for St. Malachy Church usually benefits for the school. Some of those concerts included the St. Malachy choir from Belfast, the Cappella Cecilia concert also from Ireland, and of course, the annual Mick Moloney & Friends concert which she loved. In recent years, an Irish Mass with Irish musicians was begun as an annual tradition, in early March.
When she could no longer go to shows, she brought the shows to St. Joseph’s Villa. She drafted Tony Braithwaite, professional comedian often performing at Ambler’s Act 2 Playhouse, to help launch a comedy and drafted the nuns as actors. It was a great success and was written up in the Irish Edition and the Chestnut Hill local. Several concerts were presented at the Villa through her direction and persuasion to bring the musicians to perform.
Sister Cecile never let her physical limitations hold her back. Her perseverance, patience and vitality were an inspiration to all who knew her. Herself an accomplished pianist and singer before being overtaken by rheumatoid arthritis, Sister Cecile followed in the footsteps of her namesake, the patroness of music. Her artistic talent stretched to painting and she presented her work in an exhibit at Chestnut Hill College in the 1990’s.
The community of St. Malachy feels a great loss at her passing. And I will miss her attentive listening, insight and guidance along with the joy we shared.
Father Mac also shared this remembrance from Mick Moloney, who was traveling in Asia:
Sister Cecile was one of the loveliest people I have ever met. A living saint, really. The most gentle of souls but with a calm inner strength that was extraordinary.
Every year for nearly three decades we were in contact regarding the big concert we have done at St. Malachy’s Church every fall for the past 28 years. Typically she had to hound me to confirm the date and then the names of the various musicians I would be performing with on the day. As the PR deadlines approached the hounding became more insistent but it was always graceful. And the job always got done even if it came down to the wire. It was always worth it and her big welcome to all of us arriving at the magical church every year was just unforgettable. Even as Cecile grew weaker physically over the past few years she continued to touch every musician who came by with her courage, her humility, her grace and her fortitude. I will miss her deeply. Coming back to Philly will not ever again be the same without her ever humble and gracious presence.
