Maureen O’Brien, BVM (Matteo)
Maureen O’Brien, BVM (Matteo) died Sunday, Aug. 16, 2015, at Mercy Hospital in Dubuque, Iowa. Maureen requested natural burial with rite of committal on Tuesday, Aug. 18. A Memorial Mass will be held Aug. 28, at 1:30 p.m. at Marian Hall Chapel at Mount Carmel in Dubuque.
She was born in Oakland, Calif., on March 11, 1937, to Richard George and Marian Marie Helbush O’Brien. She entered the BVM congregation Sept. 8, 1954, from St. Anne Parish, San Francisco. She professed first vows on March 19, 1957, and final vows on July 16, 1962.
Maureen was a secondary school teacher and principal in Chicago; Cascade, Iowa; and Petaluma and San Francisco, Calif. She served in parish ministry and as pastoral associate in San Francisco.
She was preceded in death by her parents. She is survived by a sister Ann Theresa (Terry) Riordan, Millbrae, Calif.; a brother Stephen Paul (Penny) O’Brien, Grass Valley, Calif.; and the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, with whom she shared life for 60 years.
Sister Maureen O’Brien, BVM (Matteo)
Funeral Welcome
Marian Hall, Aug. 28, 2015
Good afternoon and welcome to the celebration of the life of our Sister Maureen O’Brien.
Maureen Frances O’Brien was born on March 11, 1937, in Oakland, Calif., to Richard George O’Brien and Marian Marie Helbush. She joined an older sister Ann Therese (Terry) and then a younger brother Steven Paul.
She entered Mount Carmel on Sept. 8, 1954, received the name Sister Mary Matteo at her reception on March 19, 1955, and made first vows on March 19, 1957. She was sent to study at Mundelein College, Chicago, pioneering the BVM Scholasticate program and then the actual building in Chicago. There she earned a Bachelor of Science degree in biology with a minor in chemistry.
Maureen’s first love was God. Years ago, she told me how she had a powerful and tangible experience of God’s presence with her on the day of her First Communion. In the readings, chosen by Maureen, we will hear of Job’s great desire: “. . . from my flesh I will see God; my inmost being is consumed with longing (Job 19: 26).” And again from John’s first letter: “We are God’s children now; what we shall be like has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed, we shall be like him, for we shall see God as God is (1 John 3:2).”
She loved her father, understood his brokenness in alcoholism and the struggles this caused in her family, and rejoiced in the many years of his sobriety. She had his Irish twinkle and mischievousness that made her so much fun to be with. She liked to tell, and retell, stories.
She loved her family—especially her sister Terry and her five children. It was obvious to me who was adopted into the Riordan clan that children were particularly precious. She always commented with pride on the way the men in the family were especially good with children. Maureen’s family now stretches to a great grandniece and two great grandnephews.
Her experience with BVMs from fifth grade at Most Holy Redeemer School and then through St. Paul HS in San Francisco drew her to Mount Carmel right after high school . . . but she never dreamed that it involved teaching. That was a surprise, but she was a natural.
She embraced the 70 students in her first sophomore homeroom at St. Mary HS in Chicago, taught biology there, walked the streets of the neighborhood marked for slum clearance with Sister Mary Victory, was changed forever by the poverty she encountered there, and then loved her students from the farms around Cascade, Iowa, and the deep faith of the Iowa families. She arrived at St. Martin Parish and Aquin HS in Cascade with the new superior, Eleanor Burke, who became a lifelong colleague and dear friend. She then taught at Holy Name Cathedral HS in Chicago and eventually came back to California to St. Vincent HS, Petaluma.
But her enduring legacy was her leadership as principal of St. Paul HS, her alma mater, from 1973 to its closure by the archdiocese 21 years later. She loved “the scruffies” and believed that God would not stand at the door to turn away students whose math and reading scores were not “high enough”—so neither did she and her staff. She was a wise, caring, but firm presence—whether on the corner with the local street gang members, or with the 18-year-old who needed a chance for an education and came in as a sophomore. Many of her students will quote her familiar greeting: “My loves, my doves, my beautiful ones.”
She acted on faith—turning a school on shaky financial ground to solvency, but never at the expense of families who were allowed to pay “what they could.” She truly trusted God to send, as she said, “the right students—those who needed us,” the faculty and staff to love the students God sent, and enough money to keep the whole thing going.
Maureen was a woman of principles, believing justice must be practiced, not just preached, so she was known on various occasions to question and challenge policies and persons in the leadership in church, all the way up to the superintendent of schools and even the archbishop.
She worked at forgiveness; I was privileged to be a witness to the prayerful, tenacious work she did to let go of past hurts from her young life and from her professional and community life.
Her 14 years as pastoral associate in two San Francisco parishes brought her to serve ordinary people in their faith lives and she did it with grace. In recognition of Maureen’s work, a statue of Mary and a plaque was erected at Our Lady of Guadalupe, a mission of the Church of the Visitación in the little town of Brisbane. It reads: “We, the Faith Community of OLG, wish to thank Sr. Maureen for inspiring us to live as true Christians by welcoming and loving all people.”
She nurtured her inner life with morning prayer time, spiritual reading, and daily Eucharist—ordinary expectations of a religious woman—but which grounded her love relationship with her God.
Always seen as strong and vigorous, with a distinctive hearty laugh, Maureen “gave away body parts,” as she said, over the years, endured two heart attacks, a stroke, had quintuple by-pass surgery, and then added a pacemaker. Upon her retirement at 75, she remained gracious and practical, choosing the time when it was right to come to Mount Carmel. She endured the diminishment caused by ILD (interstitial lung disease) with great calm and a practical attitude. Never an alarmist, she accepted what was, expressed gratitude for the gift of peace in the midst of it all, and yet bargained with God to be able to share my golden jubilee here on Aug. 2.
She shared that her most recent experience of God has come these past few summer months, as she and Joann Lucid sat mid-mornings by the Guadalupe cross, admiring the river, the intense green of growing things, and soaking up the warmth of the sun. God had become, for her, “Beloved HUG.”
Maureen has been a faithful friend to many, a window into the divine communion of love, of welcome and forgiveness, of presence in struggle, of hope and of endurance. On the night of Aug. 16, she experienced being hugged into new life. I believe she is dancing and laughing now with her God—our God—and praying for us.
—Karen Conover, BVM
(sung) “Until we meet again, until we meet again, may God hold you, may God hold you, until we meet again.”