A Weekend with Mother Seton: A 50th Anniversary Celebration

Maria Morera Johnson reflects on the 50th anniversary of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton's canonization and the legacy of parochial school education that continues to form students today. 

I recently traveled to Emmitsburg, Maryland for the 50th anniversary celebration of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton’s canonization. She was first a devoted wife and mother who, after the death of her husband, found strength and direction through her conversion to Catholicism. Facing poverty and the need to provide for her children, in 1810 Elizabeth accepted an invitation to start a school for girls in Maryland. Her love for her children, and the strength she drew from her faith, led her to boldly establish a new religious order, the Sisters of Charity of St. Joseph. The small school grew, becoming the model for parochial schools in the United States.

A Saint's Legacy in Catholic Education 

I attended Catholic schools, and the Grey Nuns of the Sacred Heart taught me well. They were tough and tender in equal measure, teaching us math, grammar, and our Catechism. More than that, though, they passed along a way of seeing the world, of rooting my identity in Christ. Faith wasn’t separate from learning, but rather, the foundation of everything we learned. Even though I went on to teach in secular classrooms, I couldn’t shake those lessons. My own approach to education was rooted deeply in my faith, and the dignity of the students. I could not avoid the lens of Catholicism in my work. It remains an implicit part of my identity. 

Standing on the grounds of the Seton Shrine felt personal. Mother Seton is the reason Catholic schools exist in the U.S. Her radical yes not only changed her life and the lives of her children and students, but laid the foundation that has continued to shapes generations. 

A Canonization Anniversary Celebration

Friday night opened with a candlelight concert under the stars, with music from the 1970s (the decade Mother Seton was canonized). Twinkle lights lit up the lawn, creating a magical mood. For those of us who experienced the 70s, the music took us back in time.

Another nostalgic moment struck me in the museum. One of the exhibits recreated a typical living room in 1975, including the brown and orange tones of the era, along with the kitschy details such as a TV Guide, a rotary phone, and a television set in a wooden cabinet playing the televised canonization. In 1975, I didn’t realize the historical implications of this holy moment. Today, I am awed by the incredible grit, perseverance, and love of the Lord that Mother Seton models. 

Saturday featured a Mass with Father Tomaž Mavrič, C.M., and then a talk by historian Kathleen Cummings stressing that Elizabeth Ann Seton wasn’t just a saint, but a woman who demonstrated holiness can be found in a mom, a teacher, a widow who chose to build something lasting out of her grief. As a writer, I moved by an exhibit that showcased the books she read, and the marginalia filled with her thoughts.  

On Sunday, Archbishop Lori celebrated Mass in a packed basilica. Afterward, the shrine grounds turned into a festival: food trucks, live music, exhibits, and the Saints on Their Way Village (something like Catholic Comic Con for future saints). I touched Venerable Solanus Casey’s violin. I met the woman who received a miracle through the intercession of Sister Blandina, a formidable woman who clearly carried on Mother Seton’s legacy as a Sister of Charity!

I delighted in the stories of other Servants of God and Blesseds on the journey to sainthood. I spent considerable time talking with seminarians from the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City, on fire for Blessed Stanley Rother, a son of Oklahoma and an American-born priest whose humble life is a testament to the Gospel, laying down his life for the people he loved and served. 

I enjoyed seeing kids run around while families explored the history of Elizabeth Ann Seton and the founding of the Sisters of Chairty of St. Joseph. But the part that hit me hardest was walking through her old homes. The walls still hold her story: the loss she endured, the faith she clung to, the courage she somehow found to start schools when everything seemed impossibly overwhelming. I sat at a table in the little White House where girls learned their lessons. I even made a little book, very much like the booklets the students made to write their lessons. I pondered the austere life Mother Seton lived alongside her children in the cramped two-room quarters that was their home (and living quarters for the first students). 

I thought about the Grey Nuns who educated me, about my own Catholic school days, about the way faith sneaks into every part of who we are. 

I left Emmitsburg grateful. Grateful for the sisters who taught me. Grateful for my years teaching, even in spaces where I couldn’t talk about faith outright, because those seeds were still there, growing quietly. And grateful most of all for Mother Seton, who shows me what it looks like to say yes, again and again, even when the way forward isn’t clear. 

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Copyright 2025 Maria Morera Johnson
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