Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas is hailed by many for his
inspiring life. But through it all, good or bad, Thomas stays focused on
the important things in life. He never has forgotten those who helped him along the way. For many
years on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, the justice would visit his
eighth-grade teacher, Sister Mary Virgilius Reidy, and dozens of her
fellow nuns, in a retirement convent in New Jersey.
Clarence Thomas was born into abject poverty in the segregated Deep
South to parents who were poor and uneducated. His father left when he
was 2, and he ultimately was sent to live with his grandparents in
Savannah, Georgia. His grandfather enrolled Clarence and his brother in St. Benedict’s, a
segregated, all-black, Catholic elementary school. It was run by the
Missionary Franciscan Sisters of the Immaculate Conception (most of them
from Ireland), who endured disparaging slurs, including the N-word, for
dedicating their lives to teaching black students.
“They wore that as a badge of honor,” Thomas recalls in the book “Created Equal: Clarence Thomas in His Own Words,” which I co-edited with Michael Pack. The Franciscan nuns changed his life, and Thomas always has been
grateful for their love and support. The nuns held their students to the
highest academic standards, and did not allow them to make any excuse,
even though these students lived under state-enforced discrimination.
As Thomas recounts in “Created Equal”:
“You knew they loved you. When you think somebody loves you and deeply
cares about your interests, somehow they can get you to do hard things.” In the 1980s, when he was part of the Reagan administration, Thomas
sought out Sister Virgilius, who was living in Boston. Thomas recalls:
“I went by to see her, and I sat with her, and I thanked her for
teaching me and making me believe that we could learn, and for not
letting me slip into victim status and forcing me out of it.”
In 1984, Thomas returned to his hometown of Savannah to pay tribute
at an event honoring the Franciscan Sisters, where he said:
There was no way I could have
survived if it had not been for the nuns—our nuns, who made me pray when
I didn’t want to and didn’t know why I should—who made me work when I
saw no reason to—who made me believe in the equality of races when our
country paid lip service to equality and our church tolerated
inequality—who made me accept responsibilities for my own life when I
looked for excuses. No, my friends, without our nuns, I would not have
made it to square one.
Thomas again thanked the nuns when he was nominated by President
George H.W. Bush to the Supreme Court in 1991, and Sister Virgilius,
then 80 years old and nursing a broken arm, later testified on behalf of
her former student at his confirmation hearings. After Thomas joined the Supreme Court, for many years on Martin
Luther King Jr. Day, we would leave his home around 6 a.m. and drive up
to Tenafly, New Jersey, to spend the day with Sister Virgilius and her
fellow sisters, many of whom also taught Thomas and others at St.
Benedict’s.
We had lunch in the cafeteria with all the nuns, and Thomas’ face
displayed such joy as he reminisced about those days and caught up on
how the nuns were all doing. He would visit sisters who were bedridden
in the infirmary. When Sister Virgilius passed away in 2013 at age 100, we attended her funeral together. In October 2021, many celebrated Thomas’ 30th anniversary on the Supreme Court
and his influence on American law, including a daylong celebration at
The Heritage Foundation with remarks by the justice himself. But Thomas
was more focused on an event earlier that week: the blessing of a statue
of Sister Virgilius and two students at a cemetery where 200 Franciscan
sisters are buried.
On a beautiful October day, in a small, private ceremony attended by
more than 20 nuns, many of whom were in their 80s, along with friends
and family members, Thomas greeted all of them with hugs and smiles. When he made his brief remarks, Thomas fought through tears to thank
the nuns who changed his life. It was a beautiful moment that captured
his humility. (Read more.)