Albany native leads parish in Alaska

They do math differently in Alaska.

That conclusion is easy to reach after speaking with Sister Joyce Ross, RSM, an Albany native now serving as a parish life director on the northern state's Kenai Peninsula. Kenai, about 160 miles from Anchorage and home to a population of 6,000-7,000, is "a big town," according to Sister Joyce.

However, after glancing out her window, she pronounced the eight or nine inches of snow that had fallen there on a recent morning "not too bad."

'Wonderful spot'

Alaska may have an unusual system of figuring out how much is a lot; but for Sister Joyce, it's easy to figure what's just right: her assignment as parish life director for Kenai's Our Lady of the Angels parish.

"This is a wonderful spot in the world," she declared in an interview with The Evangelist. Even after making the drive from Anchorage a thousand times in her eight years at Our Lady of Angels, she is continually amazed at the sun's turning the mountains pink and purple.

"The light is always different," she said. Contrary to popular belief, "the winters are not as cold as Albany, I can tell you that! It's dry; it's a different kind of cold. Once the snow comes, it doesn't melt."

She also expressed her amazement at the wisdom of the people of her parish, particularly those joining the Church through the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA) program. "When they share their faith journey, it teaches me about God," she said simply. "It has done a lot for my faith."

From Albany to Alaska

Sister Joyce has always considered herself a "winter person"; but growing up in Albany, she never suspected that she would end up working in a state where 240 inches of snow fell a couple of winters ago and where local residents boast of last summer's high of 70 degrees.

The Mercy Sister took her vows in 1950, then taught junior high students in Rensselaer, Gloversville, Ilion and Albany before becoming a principal. However, when Archbishop Joseph Ryan (another Albany native and the first archbishop of Anchorage) was looking for women religious to volunteer for parish work in Alaska, "he went to the ones who educated him -- and how could we say no?" said Sister Joyce.

One of only two nuns who signed up to head north, Sister Joyce found herself in 1972 working in Anchorage and later traveling to six parishes on the Kenai Peninsula to coordinate their religious education programs.

Parish leader

"I was more like a pastoral associate" than just a director of religious education, Sister Joyce remembered. Alaska's priest shortage is more severe than that of "outside" -- the Alaskan term for the rest of the U.S. -- so Sister Joyce was "in on the ground floor" of parish leadership by women religious there.

The advent of the Alaskan pipeline in 1977 to transport oil across the state brought a surge of population growth, but changing times have also necessitated alternative forms of parish leadership. Sister Joyce was named parish life director for Our Lady of the Angels in 1989, when the Redemptorist order decided to leave a Kenai parish.

She has since been joined by seven other religious and lay directors. "We're way ahead," she boasted to The Evangelist.

Still, the change from clergy to women religious in leadership roles wasn't easy for some. "People were upset, but in Alaska, you sort of live on the edge," said Sister Joyce. "There was a big grieving process...[but] it gave the people an opportunity for ownership, too."

Today, she added, "there's a good community spirit" in the parish. "It's a middle-class parish with people who are enthusiastic and conscientious about their faith, and strive to be good Church members."

Small parish, large state

There are only 33 parishes in the entire Archdiocese of Anchorage. Our Lady of the Angels parish, on the banks of the Kenai River, boasts about 180 active families. K-mart, the biggest store in town, is the major concern for local citizens whose small businesses are now failing as the chain store succeeds.

The parish is noted for its religious education, adult ed and RCIA programs, its strong stewardship program, and its outreach to the needy. It has its own food bank and a second-hand clothing store, dubbed "Clothes Quarters." An annual Mardi Gras celebration funds many parish needs.

The parish's congregation is made up mostly of fishermen, employees of the nearby oil refinery and petrochemical plants, and adventure-seekers to the far north. "The people here are all from other places," Sister Joyce said.

As a result, there are more than the usual number of men in the parish, and the median age for Alaskans is around 41. That makes for a ready list of male volunteers for parish ministries, but "still, it's the women who are the backbone, and there are a lot of young families," added Sister Joyce.

Church's role

Since so many of its parishioners are on their own in Alaska, the Church takes on a different meaning in their lives. "They don't have any extended families up here," Sister Joyce said. "Their support comes from the parish."

One of the parish life director's biggest challenges, she told The Evangelist, is to make it clear to Catholics that "the Church is an important place, a place of refuge and support. People should realize it's a place to start, to get help. You challenge them to live their faith, to put it into their everyday life -- there's so much competition out there from television and sports."

Churches on the Kenai Peninsula experience what those of the Albany Diocese haven't seen since its founding: circuit-riding priests.

"We don't have sacramental ministers," said Sister Joyce, referring to the priests who celebrate Mass and other sacraments at parishes without a resident priest. Instead, even weddings have to be planned around when a priest will be in the parish. "We have two priests from Anchorage on the circuit, but we only have Mass twice a month. The rest of the time, we have communion services."

Busy schedule

Part of Sister Joyce's work is to lead those communion services. She begins each day with common prayer at 7 a.m. with her parish associate, Sister Joan Barina, MMS, who handles secretarial work and outreach. Then come the communion services, at which Sister Joyce offers a Gospel reflection equivalent to a homily.

After that, her duties are anything but typical. "You just never know," she said. "Today, I just ran off a parish newsletter, and I have a couple of appointments. And I'm working on a homily for this weekend. We try to fit in communion calls and visits to the sick, and we practically have something every night: adult education, marriage preparation and people who just need to talk. This morning, it was snowing so hard I said, `I'm glad I don't have to go anywhere!'"

Sister Joyce's gratitude stems from the fact that visiting a sick or homebound parishioner involves at least a 20-minute drive -- in good weather. Even in storms that would stop New York in its tracks, "nothing ever closes," she stated. "Some of our [parish] kids went to Washington, D.C., one year, and the schools were closed. They couldn't believe it! Here, if you worry about it, you'd just hole up for the winter."

Welcome help

The parish life director considers herself fortunate to have help in her work: A priest from a neighboring parish is sometimes available for the sacraments, and volunteers staff nearly every parish ministry. In towns like Cordova and Valdez, more isolated than Kenai, parish leaders are on their own.

"We have a lot of guys who are retired, and they pitch in on all the maintenance," Sister Joyce explained. "People started the newsletter, and they do it themselves. All of our catechists are volunteers. Our music director has only missed four services in eight years, and that's volunteer."

As for the parish council, she stated, "I could not do half the things we do if I didn't have the people behind us. Sometimes, I say that the most important thing I'm valuable for is writing the checks!"

Being accepted

Over the years, many parishioners have made a difference in Sister Joyce's life. She recalled one "pioneer" to the area who, upon hearing that a woman religious was taking over the parish, refused to attend any communion services led by the new parish life director.

Over time, the woman eased her strong stance. One day, Sister Joyce got a message that the parishioner wanted her to visit.

"When you first came, I said, `On the Sundays we don't have Mass, I'm not going to go,'" the woman told her. "Then it dawned on me how important it was for me to pray with this community. Now, I come every Sunday."

The experience was one of many that taught Sister Joyce "you meet all kinds of people, and every single person is important."

Some particularly important people in her life are her fellow parish life directors, who meet once a month to discuss their ministry. "We need to support each other," said Sister Joyce. "It keeps us all focused."

Future in 49th

The director worries about the future of the Church in Alaska. "It's remote, the archdiocese is small, and the Catholic population isn't huge," she explained. Though Catholics there are willing to accept leaders from the clergy, religious or lay communities, "I think [the priest shortage] is going to get worse."

When she makes the nine-hour flight back home to Albany to see her brother and sister in the spring, Sister Joyce plans to meet with her fellow Mercy sisters who are parish life directors here to talk about their solutions to such problems: Sister Kenan McGowan, RSM, of St. John Francis Regis parish in Grafton; and Sister Mary Lou Liptak, RSM, of St. Lucy's in Altamont.

The Albany Diocese also has two Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet serving as parish life directors: Sister Anne Sheridan, CSJ, of St. Patrick's in Cambridge; and Sister Joan Curley, CSJ, of St. Joseph's in Schoharie.

Keeping on

In the meantime, Sister Joyce plans to enjoy her usual winter pursuits of cross-country skiing, fishing, hiking and working on crossword puzzles -- and dream of the local golf tournament in the spring.

Having just turned 65, she is at an age when many people look toward retirement. However, "I haven't put my feet up yet," she asserted. "I do keep saying, `No more projects!' We've put in an elevator and a handicapped entry."

But every time she looks out her window at the Aleutian Mountains, she added, "I sure appreciate the fact that God called me up to this."

(01-08-98) [[In-content Ad]]