Racism is an ugly stain on society that many courageous people have tried to heal. Like me, you can probably rattle off names like Martin Luther King, Harriet Tubman, or even John Lewis and his statement about getting into “good trouble.” But can you think of any saints who dedicated their lives to combating racial injustices and uplifting marginalized communities? Well, meet St. Katharine Drexel. She may have been a woman who was born into privilege, but she was also a woman who chose a life of sacrifice and compassion to build a more equitable foundation for marginalized communities. Her story began in 1858, but we still struggle with many of the same issues today. And, having been in an interracial marriage for 27 years, I’ve had a front-row seat. St Katharine started this work more than 150 years ago and her legacy reminds us that our faith can be transformative and inclusive. 

Katharine, 1858

Katharine was born in Philadelphia to a faithful and wealthy Catholic family. Their faith, combined with their wealth, prompted her parents to lean into the virtue of charity. They taught her compassion and to always share with those who didn’t have as much. Several times per week, her parents would open their home and provide food and clothing to the poor. Katharine would also travel with her father and sisters across the U.S. witnessing the racial inequity among Native and African Americans. 

In 1887, Katharine got a private audience with Pope Leo XIII and asked for missionaries to support the mission schools she opened across the southern and western parts of the U.S. When the Pope challenged her to use her inheritance from her father’s recent death and to herself become a missionary devoting her life to this work, she was set on a transformative path of going against societal norms.

Christie, 1973

I was born in Dallas to a hardworking, and distinctly not wealthy, Protestant family. But, like Katharine, our faith propelled us to a life marked by service to others and seeing all people through the lens of Christian dignity. My father was a civil servant (fireman/paramedic and later a police officer) and my mother would literally give the shirt off her back if someone needed it. In her 70s, she’s still making sandwiches and driving around downtown to feed the homeless each week. Recently, she opened a food pantry at her church. We were raised in a church community of all peoples – White American, Black American, Hispanic, Sri Lankan, Japanese, Chinese, African, Filipino, Dutch, Swedish – and these are just a few that I can remember today at 50+ years old! Our parents took us to serve food to those who were hungry, and we opened our home to those who needed a place to lay their heads.

In 1996, I met a young football coach and high school English teacher who happened to be black. Later that year, I, too, got a private audience… with my PawPaw. I respected my maternal grandfather as a biblical authority in that  I knew he had intentionally read/studied the Bible all the way through more than once. He told me the story of Moses and Zipporah (Numbers 12) and sent me on my way with the permission of sorts to go against societal norms. 

Katharine, 1891

An educated, well-traveled young woman with a multi-million dollar inheritance did exactly the opposite of what the world would expect. In 1891, Mother Drexel, as she was now known, founded the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament for Indians and Colored. She dedicated her life to lifting these communities spiritually and educationally. Her order focused on building schools and churches and providing religious and educational resources long denied to these communities. As one might assume, this mission was not met with enthusiasm. On the contrary,  her mission was more typically met with hostility, resistance, threats, and vandalism.

Mother Drexel believed education would provide these marginalized communities with the knowledge and tools they needed to fight against racism and take their rightful place in society as sons and daughters of the most-high God. She believed in their inherent dignity and potential. When her schools were the targets of arson or when bombs were found near the buildings, she continued to lead with love. She was a bold and progressive figure in an era when segregation and discrimination were the norm. By 1925, she founded more than 50 schools and Xavier University of Louisana, the nation’s first and only Catholic and historically black university.

Christie, 2002

As a now wife and mother of two, I did the opposite of what many wished I had done. In 1998, shortly before I married my husband, a close friend pulled me aside to ask if I was sure this was a good decision. But, the most painful experience was when my paternal grandparents declined to attend my wedding and silently severed our relationship. Well, that was a heavy statement, and it’s probably where the parallel between Mother Drexel and me ends. I’d love to say that I have always led with love and rejected hatred, but alas, I’m no saint. 

I did, however, dedicate my life to raising strong, amazing humans who, beyond a shadow of a doubt, know and walk in their inherent dignity. We raised our kids to know that education and their faith would keep them grounded in this unjust world. In our home, education is an invaluable tool that allows them to challenge the status quo and think critically. Both our children value education so much that they each chose a career in teaching high school English, just like their Dad. 

Today

Mother Drexel’s life is a profound example of faith in action. God gave her the grace to complete this work and she committed to serving the oppressed regardless of what she was up against. She showed us that social justice and our faith go hand-in-hand and that our faith requires this work of us. Many leave this work to prayer – and it’s necessary – but it also requires hands-on, practical service. Mother Drexel’s life reminds us of our role in undoing the damage caused by racism. We can take up this cross through volunteer work, advocacy, or accompaniment. In 2013, just before the conclave elected him, Pope Francis said, “The church is called to come out of herself and to go to the peripheries, not only geographically, but also the existential peripheries: the mystery of sin, of pain, of injustice, of ignorance and indifference to religion, of intellectual currents and of all misery.”

If we allow it, Katharine’s story can move us forward to confront injustice, embrace diversity, and strive to build a world that reflects God’s love for all people. By following her example, we can lend ourselves to her legacy of compassion, understanding, and transformative change in our society, our communities, our Church, and even in our own family.

Image: https://boudewijnhuijgens.getarchive.net/amp/media/katharine-drexel-665bf1