Honoring two women who shaped my life
Lessons learned from two fearless women
Published by Jewish Women’s Archive under the title “Women Who Organize”
Many of us have been shaped by fearless women. I know I have. Two women, in particular, have had a profound impact on me, causing me to rethink my mission in life. They shared their triumphs over adversity and challenged me to act on my passions; they modeled how to put legs on my values. My gratitude compels me to honor their memory by sharing the stories of their courage and compassion: Sister Mary Siena Schmitt, O.P. (Dominican Sister), and Mary Goetz, my grandmother.
Sister Mary Siena Schmitt, O.P.
Sister Mary Siena Schmitt grew up unaware of the impact of U.S. intervention abroad, yet she wanted to serve the poor in Guatemala. I met her in 1983, when I was a clueless 25-year-old teaching at St. Pius X High School, run by Sister Schmitt’s religious order.
At that point in my life, I believed U.S. intervention in Central America was in the best interests of both Central Americans and Americans. Sister Schmitt set me straight: American tax dollars propped up exploitative multinational corporations, like the United Fruit Company, and funded death squads. Her stories ignited a fire in me. She taught me about power and how to build it through organizing Christian-based communities. Through my relationship with her, I learned the principles of liberation theology, which she had employed with Guatemalan villagers—an approach that nearly cost her life.
The Guatemalan military threw four of Sister Schmitt’s parishioners out of a plane to learn her whereabouts and attempt to kill her. She escaped by the skin of her teeth. Through her, I met refugees whose harrowing stories of torture at the hands of the Salvadoran military shook me to my core and made me question everything I thought I knew. I hadn’t yet connected my passion for justice to my own experience of being victimized years earlier.
My first organizing action—before I even knew what organizing was—was refusing to take down a poster of Martin Luther King in a Catholic high school classroom where I taught. Three influential parents threatened to fire me if I didn’t remove it. When I refused, my principal backed me 100 percent, despite enormous pressure.
This experience, and Sister Schmitt’s persistence, prompted me to attend an organizing boot camp called Neighbor to Neighbor (N2N) in the steamy summer of 1987 in Chicago. We launched a national campaign to stop U.S. aid to the Nicaraguan contras. From Sister Schmitt, I learned three invaluable lessons about organizing:
Lesson #1: Don’t back down from what you know is right or strategic, no matter the cost. If Sister Schmitt could risk her life to help Guatemalan villagers, surely I could find the courage to follow my passions for organizing against U.S. intervention—and later, exploring Judaism. I converted a few years later.
Lesson #2: Developing a leader requires developing the whole person, not just the part affected by a particular issue. Sister Schmitt helped Guatemalan villagers discover their own power—some became insurgents, while others led their communities.
Lesson #3: Don’t just defend the most vulnerable—the poor, the oppressed, the widow, the orphan. Organize alongside them and be clear about why you care. Instead of being their champion, become their partner.
Mary Goetz. Photo courtesy of Jeannie Appleman.
Mary Goetz
Mary Goetz, my grandmother, was a 4’10” force of nature. “No” and “can’t be done” weren’t part of her vocabulary. Adversity made her roll up her sleeves even higher. She gave the Almighty His marching orders every morning, Tevye-style.
Her story inspired my passion for training Rabbis and Cantors to organize. When Mary’s father died, her mother was penniless, with five children to feed. The sheriff threatened to place Mary and her siblings in an orphanage. But their priest stood up to the sheriff, preventing the family from being torn apart. He provided my great-grandmother with odd jobs at the Church, rent, and groceries. While he saved my family, the approach fell short—the family remained isolated because shame over their circumstances kept them silent.
To help the family make ends meet, Mary and her sister Ann dropped out of school to work in a factory making rubber soles for tennis shoes. They saved every penny and bought a farm to support the family—a feat few poor women in the early 1900s could achieve. Mary refused to accept poverty, and that resolve propelled her to overcome daunting obstacles and defy social norms. From my grandmother, I learned two lessons about organizing:
Lesson #4: There is no obstacle that can’t be overcome. Mary didn’t allow poverty, the tragedy of her father’s death, or the abusive power of the sheriff to define or limit her.
Lesson #5: Clergy have power when they choose to wield it. Mary’s priest used his influence to save her and her siblings from being torn from their mother’s arms. This shaped my passion for training Rabbis to wield their power for good.
These lessons from Sister Schmitt and Mary Goetz are part of my DNA and are embedded in the recesses of my soul. I hope my daughter will also be shaped by fearless women—and that you, reader, will be inspired by these lessons.
A Salvadoran leader once told me that even when our heroes die, they remain present with us and continue to inspire and agitate us if we say their names and “presente” (present).
Sister Mary Siena Schmitt, presente!
Mary Goetz, presente!
