A Life of Prayer, Art, and Transformation
Sister Marie Celeste passed away peacefully in her room at Reno Carmel on September 26, 2005.
Born on January 10, 1924, in Philadelphia, PA, Marie Celeste grew up in the nearby suburb of Ridley Park. She entered the Carmel of Morristown, New Jersey, in 1951, following a life path that began in the world of art. In 1942, she received a scholarship to the prestigious Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. During her time at the Academy, she established her own studio in Philadelphia, taught at the School Art League, and successfully submitted her works to numerous juried shows. She was accepted into every one.
In her third year, Marie Celeste won the Cresson Travel Scholarship to study in Europe. However, the outbreak of World War II delayed her travels. During this time, she continued her studies at the renowned Barnes Foundation.
When travel became possible again, she journeyed to Europe, an experience that would profoundly shape both her art and her spiritual life. In her journal, she wrote:
“I entered Assisi as a happy, worldly, and light-hearted artist. Three days later, I left the town a sober, converted (if you will) pilgrim, determined to give up art and become a nun. Try as I might to reverse the effects of that experience, I never could.”
Returning from Europe, Marie Celeste held a small exhibition of her European works before returning to the Academy for one more year. In the summer of 1950, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York announced its first juried show. She submitted a nearly life-size portrait of a “Little Sister of the Poor.” Her work was accepted along with that of Andrew Wyeth.
That same year, she began corresponding with the Carmel of Morristown, and on July 26, 1951, she entered the monastery. Initially, she intended to leave art behind, but fortunately, she was eventually allowed to resume creating minor works, fitting them into the monastic schedule and the confines of a tiny six-by-nine room. When the Vatican Council convened in 1963, Sister Marie Celeste embraced the call for renewal. As Prioress, she led efforts to rethink contemplative life in the modern world.
Her time in Reno began unexpectedly when she was asked to serve as substitute editor of the Carmelite magazine Encounter. What was meant to be a short-term assignment turned into a lifelong journey, as she found in the Reno monastery the contemplative life she had been seeking and transferred there soon after.
In her journal, dated March 1969, she wrote:
“The last lap of the flight to Reno was through a blizzard. The plane bounced wildly, nothing but clouds, snow, and wind outside.
Suddenly, a great hole opened in the clouds, and streams of sunlight poured through, revealing the snow-covered mountains, the monastery on the hill, and the little town below, surrounded by dark clouds and two great rainbows. A profound religious experience washed over me… I knew life would never be the same.”
And indeed, it wasn’t. Sister Marie Celeste had found a home filled with prayer, simplicity, and the supportive environment that would allow her to once again express herself through art. Reflecting on her experience, she wrote:
“I was impressed by the atmosphere of prayer. It was not created by rules, but by the people. The simplicity, openness, and natural communication were unlike anything I had ever encountered. There were no strict rules about silence, for example, yet there was more silence—filled with joy and a spirit of seriousness about work. Prayer was deeply prayerful; recreation was filled with humor, laughter, and fun. I finally experienced what I had been seeking when I left everything I loved.”
Marie Celeste, a born contemplative, found in Carmel a ‘house’ in which to store her treasure. For thirty-five years, she lived out her calling in the Carmel of Our Lady of the Mountains, leaving behind a legacy of devotion expressed through both prayer and art. In her last will and testament, she wrote:
“I hope you will know how much I love each of you. My devotion to you has been hard to express in words, but every brushstroke was me speaking to you in paint.”
In her final years, Marie Celeste entered a new vulnerability, one that came through in the poems she composed—a different kind of brushstroke. She wrote:
“When the day,
Reluctant to go into the past,
Looks back and sees night beckoning,
It puts forth its last power…
It puts forth its last power
In a sunset that drives
Fiery chariots across the sky;
To the sound of seagulls
And night birds,
It ritualizes an anointing
Of this spent day as
Sacrament.”
She left behind an evening sky streaked with beauty—a final painting, ritualized and made sacred by all she had lived and suffered.
In her own words:
“All the arts are mystical expressions. When you see them and ‘read’ them, you take them into yourself to savor, and you carry away some universal truth—a seed planted in your heart, which you then replant so that it may bloom in other hearts. That’s why God gave us all the gifts we need, both as contemplatives and as artists.”
—Marie Celeste, circa 1999