This story originally appeared in our September 16-29, 2026 print edition. Check out the edition online here and find where you can get a print edition near you here.
In Italy, superstition holds that encountering a nun is a sign of bad luck. But should you cross paths with a woman in a habit in OTR, you’d best thank your lucky stars – the Carmelite Daughters of Elias have nothing but good intentions.
If you’re sipping a Shiso Painkiller at Longfellow, don’t be surprised to glimpse one or more of the sisters walk by – their convent is just a few doors down. Perhaps you’ve caught their Bengals chant on TV, or seen photos of them on Reddit plowing snow. In colder months, you may even spot them in a #Carmelite beanie.
Mother Marie-Cécile of the Trinity (the sisters use titles instead of last names) is the Superior and Foundress of the order, which began in 2018. Before she started the order, she was part of a cloistered Byzantine monastery (as hinted by the icons that decorate the walls of the OTR convent). There, she lived a “contemplative life,” making cheese, delivering horses, and tending gardens, among other responsibilities.
“It was very quiet, and there was a rhythm of life between your praying, and your work, and your community,” she explained
While in the monastery, she began to hear of “young people’s struggles in the world,” and started to ponder how she could act on this “call within a call.”
“You do need sisters in the monastery to pray, but you also need sisters outside to work with families, with kids, to help them go through life and struggles,” Mother Marie-Cécile said.
After obtaining permission to leave – a process that required contacting the Archbishop and writing to the Pope – Mother Marie-Cécile eventually made her way to Old St. Mary’s Catholic Church. One day, as she walked to catch the bus, two decrepit, boarded-up, hot pink buildings caught her eye. They were pretty much shells of themselves, waist-high with debris and lacking plumbing or wiring. But, according to Mother Marie-Cécile, through prayer, the help of a friend, and a small army of volunteers, these two buildings were ultimately acquired and restored. Today, they play home to eight sisters, three order candidates, and a flock of pets.
Sister Philomena Marie of the Sacred Heart was the first to join the order. She previously worked as an RN in the Children’s Hospital ICU. While she always felt a calling to be a sister, she prioritized career and travel. It was a walking pilgrimage she took in France in 2016, and the friendships she made across 3 days and 76 miles were the final push towards becoming a sister.
“It was a struggle for me, because I didn’t really wanna give up my nursing career,” she explained. “But also you could see the spiritual poverty and the spiritual illnesses were worse than what you had in people’s bodies. You can fix people’s bodies all day, but you’re just fixing them for the next time they break.”
The “contemplative-active community” spends two hours a day in mental prayer. The order is “mendicant,” meaning they don’t receive an income, although the sisters do sew, restore statues, and teach catechism at various Catholic schools in the area. They’ve likewise trained animals for therapy work. For fun, they’ll play instruments, visit Washington Park, and have bonfires (Sister Philomena Marie is partial to roasted Starburst).
Mother Marie-Cécile describes the order as “ trying to respond to the needs of the times and the place that we live in.” As such, the sisters also try to help the community where they can, usually working “one-on-one” with individuals experiencing homelessness, or people in crisis. They’ll pray for the folks who ask them to. They’ll try to assist youth who’ve run away from home, or find spaces at shelters for people who need them.
“Life is not static,” Mother Marie-Cécile explained. “You have people coming to your door.”
“ Living the life of a sister, you’re called to prayer and sacrifice,” Sister Philomena Marie added. “And I think there’s just such a value in that that the culture doesn’t get.”
Connection and taking time to listen are core to these actions. They concede that it can be “taxing emotionally,” and a gradual effort.
“It doesn’t work all the time, but you have to keep trying to know people by name, make sure they feel loved, they feel seen, even if you have nothing to give them,” Mother Marie-Cécile said.
In addition to their lives downtown, the sisters also run a farm in Bethel, where they welcome school groups to spend time outdoors and interact with animals (including Dominick the Christmas Donkey). Plenty of farm antics, such as feeding baby sheep and canoeing, are regularly posted to their Facebook page.
Alongside the assistance and prayer they strive to offer, the sisters also find joy in simply meeting people downtown.
“Often it’s through dogs,” Mother Marie-Cécile said.
“ I was walking with somebody recently, and I realized how different it is walking as a sister versus just an ordinary person,” Sister Philmena Marie said. “People just ignore each other on the sidewalk. They just walk past. There’s no recognition. But when you engage them, just to say hi, to smile at them, it changes everything.”
The duo acknowledges that people may be surprised to see the habit-donning sisters about town, or anywhere, for that matter.
“They think we’re all gone,” Mother Marie-Cécile said.
And that stereotype of a ruler-wielding, stern nun? Total bologna.
Both sisters crack jokes about “The Sound of Music” and evangelizing at Paddlefest. They’re open about their own respective journeys to sisterhood, and they speak frankly about the realities of substance abuse and mental health – facts they encounter regularly in their day-to-day lives.
“Another thing that people have a misconception about is when you become a sister, that you suddenly cease to become a normal person,” Sister Philomena Marie said. “And so they’re just pleasantly surprised that all the sisters can talk to them about anything.”
“We’re here to be a source of hope, of love, and help for others, especially in the heart of the city,” Mother Marie-Cécile said. “That’s why we chose to be here.”
