Why Won't They Invite Me?

I haven't written on Vocational discernment for awhile, but recently a question was posed to me and I thought others may benefit from the answer.

The person in question had been in correspondance with a few religious communities for several months, but after a time, they stopped writing. She was interested in visiting them and wondered why they had not invited her to visit. Was there something wrong with her? Was this common practice with cloistered religious? Should she keep writing to them or was this a "closed door"?

Her questions are good ones, and there are, actually several different answers so I'm only going to choose the most likely given the circumstances she described.

First, she described she'd been writing to them for some time, and they responded. This is a good thing and a necessary step in discernment. Many communities, especially those that are cloistered, do not have an online presence so prefer that potential candidates write to them the old-fashioned way, with pen and paper (although typewritten/printed out is the new "old fashioned"), and sent by snail mail with postage stamp and all.

Those letters are important as they introduce the individual and community to each other. In the meantime that community will be praying for theirs and that person's discernment, and looking to see if perhaps that individual would "fit" with them, if they are serious about discerning or merely "sightseeing", if they have impediments, or if they are truly free to follow the Lord wherever He leads. 

In my experience, in this type of correspondance with different communities, I decided on my own (through prayer, through circumstances, etc) that it was time to end the correspondance with a particular place; it wasn't for me. That's not to say it was a "bad" community; simply that it wasn't where God was calling me to go, not even for a visit.

In another case, I also experienced, after one response to my inquiry, they did not respond again. Because I was having problems with a particular email account I re-sent a response with apologies citing the computer issues. They still didn't respond. I walked away, too.

A religious sister I met along the way also had looked at religious communities and one cloistered community she truly wanted to visit would not respond to letters, return phone calls...nothing. The monastery in particular was looking for vocations, so she thought their lack of response quite odd, and ended up contacting another, then ended up meeting members of an active community while she was actively, as in, at an event, trying to find the Carmelites she wanted to join! Well...God always has better plans than ours, doesn't He?

So what does a non-response mean?  Sometimes it simply means that particular door is closed. If it doesn't open, there isn't a crowbar in the world to open it. Look elsewhere and trust God.

Moving on to the second part of her question, the young woman wondered about visiting - why hadn't they invited her for a visit?

This is a VERY important question!

I was cued into it because of the context she gave of the letters back and forth.

My most faithful readers will remember my visit to the Cistercians and some of the things that built up to it. The Cistercians are cloistered and somehow caught my attention in a way I could not deny. So I wrote to them (via email as they are online), and a correspondance ensued. They did not invite me to visit at any point, but rather, helped to guide my discernment of them, and in general. One of their suggestions was that I read "The Cistercian Way", which I had to put off because of my graduate studies. I knew I had to focus on each thing in its own time. When I had read the book, we discussed it and I confessed that I would still like to come for a visit.

I had to ask. They were not going to offer. I had to request to come to them.

Why is this?

I've noticed most especially through cloistered communities that they are very careful not to push. They may greatly desire new candidates, but they want to allow that soul and God to comune, so that the soul freely comes, and not through power of suggestion.

You see, especially in American culture, we are all about "politeness" and we are very overly-sensitized to "hurt feelings."

In our day-to-day living, we would not even THINK about just inviting ourselves over to someone's home for a visit. We may call relatives and ask to visit them in the summer, whether to stay with them or drop by if we are in their area - but in that case, we already have a relationship with them that provides an open door to that sort of thing.

When it comes to strangers, however, we do not want to impose ourselves upon them, and that's how we tend to feel about religious communities. We recognize that the convent or monastery or abbey is their home, and they are strangers we would like to meet, but our social taboos make it very difficult to get our minds around the concept that, in the case of discernment, it is acceptable to ask to visit, and in fact, it's necessary.

The other reason the vocation directors at these communities wait for the request is this: some contact them only looking for more information; they may not be ready for a visit. Yet if they are invited, they may feel that it is rude not to accept the request, or they may fear "hurt feelings" if they turn down the invitation. In that case, they may pretend willingness to schedule a retreat, and then go, completely unprepared for the experience - and that can destroy a vocation entirely. Someone who is not ready is not going to be able to properly discern, and a bad experience early on can have lasting effects.

A good religious community is, of course, looking for postulants, but not at the expense of the individual souls who come to them. They desire the good for that person, and see their visit as an opportunity to help them grow closer to God, to know His will for them, and therefore benefit them and their future community, or marriage, or spiritual life in general.

This is why they do not invite, but wait for that request to come; then they know the soul may be ready for what God has in store for them.

I hope this has been helpful for some of you out there in discernment. Know that what I have written here is only in limited scope and addresses the practices of many cloisterd communities. I have found the active religious congregations to be more out front with invitations, but they, too, act with care and concern for the good of the soul that comes to them, and even many of the active Sisters will wait for a request before they throw open their doors to welcome someone for a visit.

Vocational discernment can be a very confusing time, but sometimes, knowing a little about the culture and expectations of the various communities can go a long ways towards easing some of that difficulty. I truly hope that, over the years I have written on this topic, that my own trips and tumbles along this rocky road to Emmaus have made the path straighter and less confusing for someonen else.

God bless you and may the Holy Spirit guide you in your discernment!

Norbertine Fathers - Gregorian Chant

It has been my great pleasure this week to have received the honor of a reviewing Gregorian Chant - Requiem, sung by the Norbertine Fathers of the St. Michael's Abbey.  It is also a great pleasure to be able to review this incredible album on the 5th Sunday of Lent, in which we just heard the gospel account of the death and resurrection of Lazarus.

In this season of Lent in which we contemplate the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Our Lord, there is nothing better than a Requiem chant to aid in contemplation of His sacrifice. None of us are untouched by death, that terrible result of original sin; all of us need the reminder of our final ends, and the price paid for our salvation. All of us have experienced the death of a loved one at one point or another in our lives, an experience that is repeated more and more as we progress in years.

In Lent, as we approach Good Friday, we all share in the depths of grief of the Blessed Mother as we approach the shadow the Cross - it is on Holy Thursday that we enter, united through the Church, into a period of mourning and for those who have suffered loss, it may be all the more poignant, for inherent within that deep sense of grief remains an eternal hope.

A Requiem Mass, for those who are unfamiliar, is a Mass offered for one who has died. Those unfamiliar with it may find more information at the Catholic Encyclopedia entry on the subject.

The Norbertine Fathers have produced a hauntingly beautiful recording of the traditional prayers of the Requiem Mass, made even more so by the Providential weather on the day it was created. As the letter that accompanied the review copy stated,

The Old cliche' of a badly written novel beginning with the words: "It was a dark and stormy night..." could well apply to the recording of this album, as the date that worked for all the singers to record was the day of one of the longest and most violent tempests of 2010. The abbey's cantor, Fr. Chrysostom Baer, decided that, far from detracting from the quality of the recording,t he howling winds actually added to the haunting tones of chant. This is the reason for the atmospheric effects heard in the background of many of the recorded tracks.

Indeed, Father Baer is correct. I find the sound of wind to be especially proper to the music, for Gregorian Chant has long been referred to as "the breath of God", given its regular tones, rising and falling, natural pauses, all reminiscent and conducive to human need to breathe in order to sustain life. Chant is particularly profound, for it blends physical life with the spiritual need to breathe in communio with God, the author of all life, who created us as body and soul together. It is in this form of music that God is most profoundly glorified, for the theology of the body and the theology of the music, physically and spiritually, reveals the fullness of our Faith and has inherently within it a vivid, sung witness not just to the hope of eternal life, but also to the resurrection of the body.

I found the howling winds to be most prominent in the Kyrie, Dies Irae, and De Profundis, and rather than detracting from it, I was drawn even more deeply into the ancient tones of the chant, chilled to the soul, yet held within the protective warmth of the sacred prayers.

The CD comes with an insert containing the Latin words with English translation, so those who fear they won't understand the music have nothing to fear and can pray right along!

It should be noted that these chants are taken from the Norbertine Liturgy, with which many of us are probably very unfamiliar in name, although it followed very closely the Roman Canon of the Mass.

The chant most striking to me about it was the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God) for the Requiem:

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem sempiternam. 

Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them rest.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them rest.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them eternal rest.

I don't want to spoil the CD for you so all I can tell you is this: it is available in Stores, physically and digitally, this Tuesday, April 12, 2011 and you really NEED to go out and get a copy so that it can aid your contemplation during Holy Week!

To purchase, go to www.jade-music.com.

As always, pray that more souls will answer God's call to serve Him in these holy Vocations of the Priesthood and Religious Life. 

The following information is provided by Jade Music:

GREGORIAN CHANT: REQUIEM BY THE NORBERTINE FATHERS OF ST. MICHAEL’S ABBEY
Available in Stores, physically and digitally, on April 12, 2011

This is the third Gregorian chant album by the Norbertine Fathers of St. Michael's Abbey in California. This is not an actual Mass, but the traditional Requiem music according to the ancient Norbertine Rite, a form of the liturgy similar to the ubiquitous Roman Rite but the exclusive patrimony of the Norbertine Fathers. The album is available in stores on April 12, 2011.

The Norbertine Fathers and the Pacific Symphony
Thanks to the buzz and press coverage surrounding the previous two album releases, Carl St. Clair, the music director of the Pacific Symphony Orchestra, invited the Norbertines to perform with the Orchestra. The three concerts, which took place in late February 2011 at the Segerstrom Center for the Arts in Costa Mesa, CA, were extremely popular and well received. 

The Expansion Project
St. Michael’s Abbey has been blessed with many vocations since its beginnings in the 1960s, and the boarding preparatory school consistently receives the highest ratings for its classical education and formation. Because of its growth, the community needs to expand its facilities. When the community began to consider expanding, it discovered that its current site is geologically unstable so the community will have to move to new land
Jade Music
Jade Music has a proven dedication to releasing quality classical and spiritual music for more than 20 years. It established itself as the premiere record label of the choir of the Abbey of Santo Domingo de Silos, Spain. Jade Music is distributed by ADA/Warner Music Group in the United States, Universal Music in France, JVC in Japan, and Warner Music International in the rest of the world.

GREGORIAN CHANT: REQUIEM (Tracklisting)
1. Rain and Bells  2. Introit: Requiem 3. Kyrie 4. Gradual: Requiem 5. Gradual: Si Ambulem 6. Prose: Dies Irae 7. Tract: De Profundis 8. Offertory: Domine Jesu Christe 9. Preface 10. Sanctus 11. Agnus Dei 12. Communion Antiphon: Lux Aeterna; Requiescant 13. Responsory for the Commendation of the Soul: Subvenite 14. Antiphon for the Procession of the Body: Suscipiat vos Christus 15. Antiphon for the Procession of the Body: Chorus Angelorum

The Sacrifice of Vocation: Family

This last summer, during my retreat in Wisconsin, as I knelt praying at 6 a.m.or so, I pondered the sacrifices required of any Vocation.

I thought of the priests I know who, like it or not, are offering Mass at 6:30 a.m. or earlier, or even in the evening on Sundays, 9 or 10:00 pm if they are assigned to a college campus.  Their preferences matter not; they have laid their lives down for Christ, and it is He whom they serve, according to the needs of the Mystical Body, no matter how inconvenient.

I knelt there that early morning, preferring to be snoozing, pondering the reality of the married life.

Yes; I was pondering married life and the sacrifices required of any couple.

I thought of those who were single women, who left behind or dispensed with what they had or combined their property with that of their beloved. I thought of those men I knew who sold or gave away their property in order to receive that of their beloved, and together, make their home.

I meditated deeply upon those families that combine their resources. Fundamental to my meditation was, actually, my mother's expressed position that those who marry our relatives become members (are absorbed into) our family. She did not reference any relative as "removed" as in the terms "a cousin once-removed" or "twice-removed".  Those were mere legal terms; they did not express the reality of our family.

I could recall many times my mother deflected me away from legal definitions in order to help me understand that marriage bound one family to another, helping me to see that the fruit of the various marriages were my own relatives, those bound in the Sacrament truly became my own cousins or aunts or uncles. If they were related in any way, they were family and should be received as family and acknowledged as family.

This reality came home to me in a special way after my parents divorced when I was a child. Family on Mom's side always asked after Dad and his family. Family on Dad's side never acknowledged the fact we had other relatives.

That said a lot. A lot.

I pondered, this summer, deeply, the effects of a decision to end my solitude

I considered that for so long I have been an "old maid", so accepted in our culture, yet...so unnatural in God 's own order.

I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of being an anomaly, of being the "old maid" in a culture so PC it can't call a spade a spade for fear of being sued by the ACLU.

A man and a woman, when they are married, make some very serious changes to their lives.

I know that, as a woman, if I married, my life would change. I would embrace a different schedule, adopt traditions belonging to another family and make those traditions my own. I'd make sacrifices and my life, as I know it, would be no more. Period.

My definition of "freedom" would change, for I would give up my life for love, I would forsake my belongings for love, and I would look to a future with my beloved, rendering mere "stuff" unimportant.

In this regard, entering religious life is no different than marriage.

When I enter, I enter, as in marriage, with all that I am and all that I am not.

I will take on another family, and that family, in turn, will absorb me and mine into it. We will become bound together.  Life will not be the same. Whether I am married or whether I enter religious life it is the same; I cannot continue as I am, as a single woman.

I look forward to and welcome the change. Yes, it is a struggle as I look around my house and realize my attachments, but I know my attachments make my sacrifice greater, for if I didn't care, or rendered it all as "nothing" then I would ultimately go to Our Lord empty-handed, my offering meaningless.

Yes; I want to give everything to Him, for Him, through Him.

I want to enter my new family as a contributing member, knowing that any vows I take bonds my blood-family more closely to Our Lord, for, if my family's premise hold's true, they do not lose me, but only absorb another family.

If Jesus is my spouse, what does that mean, according to Mom's philosophy?

What family would not want to claim Jesus as a member?

I pray Mom lives long enough to see my final profession if it be God's will. I pray my brother not feel abandoned as he sees his sister enter "the cloister".

Yet...I haven't even begun....nothing is formal, I have no entrance date.

Just faith, hope, and love. Nothing more, nothing less.

That is the sacrifice of a Vocation.

Gorgeous Blogger Award

I am very touched to learn that MONIALES OP has tagged me for the Gorgeous Blogger Award! Last summer I visited their monastery and have to say that I wished I'd had some of that very interesting information while I was there!

While they gave 6 little-known facts about their monastery, as I don't live in one I wonder if maybe I should give some little-know facts about my house?

Nah. My house is boring. It consists of walls and a roof and is basically a really expensive box I bought to keep my stuff in to ensure I'll be up to my eyeballs in debt for about 1,000 years after my death.

OK, so, six little-known facts about me:

1. I sang "La Bamba" and "Stand By Me" with a Blues Band in Puerto Escondido, Mexico. This was not karaoke, but an actual performance, albeit impromptu. The irony of singing "La Bamba" as an American in Mexico was not lost on me even while I did it.

2. I have been to the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City twice, once in 1994 and once in 1996. I did not see the actual site of the apparitions, and was not actually a practicing Catholic at the time. Yet...it wasn't a waste. God knew what He was doing.

3. I was awarded "Rookie of the Year" for the Ski Patrol. It was an honor, and completely blew me away. Doesn't mean a lot now and I doubt anyone remembers. I rarely do.

4. I can only cut my own bangs a couple times before it looks like a hack job and I can't delay a good haircut any longer. As a result I only get a professional cut about twice per year.

5. Only brush with fame:

While in college I was assigned to a "mystery" security detail; my superiors asked for assistance and wouldn't tell me why. Curious, I said yes. My directions: Show up at the station at X time, but dress as a college student. Leave your uniform at home. When I arrived I was granted the temporary title of "Special Agent" and informed that an Investigator and I were part of Maya Angelou's official Security Detail.

We went to a particular location owned by the University that was hosting her and my specific job was to meet her vehicle, show my official ID and badge, and direct her driver to follow us to the official venue. Due to several circumstances they were late and her people called our people and asked us to meet directly AT the venue. We entered, made sure there was not an uprising or protest, walked among the crowds and remained vigilant with pre-set signals should any trouble arise. We learned during this time that Ms. Angelou did not sign autographs (her own personal practice of trying to maintain humility), so were surprised at the end to be summoned backstage. She wanted to thank the people who had been ensuring her safety.

I had NO IDEA what I was going to say. I was just a dumb college student meeting someone I'd studied briefly in a class, never expecting to actually come into contact with her! She greeted everyone in turn and I said the same inane thing others had said, "It was a pleasure hearing you speak." She shook my hand, glanced at me a moment, paid me a compliment with a soft smile, greeted the few behind me and then went on her way.

While driving back to school that night, I mused, "My friend Lita is going to DIE when I tell her I met her heroine! And I have NOTHING to say other than I shook her hand!"

I have never told a single soul what Ms. Angelou said to me that evening.

6. I hate talking on the phone, especially since my 5 years in Insurance with a phone attached to my head, whether I was in the office or "on the road" looking at cars. Email is preferred because that way I can deal with it when I feel like it and don't have to dial a bunch of code to get to a long message that never ends.... (much like the nature of my blog...)

TAGGING....

Charlene Duline at Prodigal Catholic Writer - A woman leading outreach to imprisoned Priests! God bless you!

Kiwi Nomad - Kiwi has great photos and commentary and you should check out her work and story.

Tina at Jake's Takes - Jake has great takes! (Jake is a Basset Hound) Please help Tina with his particular need....

Fr. Charles at A Minor Friar - I always learn something from him, especially his charity, in the proper theological sense.

Uncle Jim - Whom I miss and want to see again! (And has an epic story going on...)

Passionist Nuns at In the Shadow of His Wings - As I was tagged by a Monastery, it is fitting to tag another, especially because I have a friend there! God bless her and them and please keep all Religious Sisters in your prayers!

*

Family

I've been musing a lot about the significance of our Catholic "family". One of the things I've long loved about being Catholic is the ability to go from parish to parish, state to state, country to country, knowing that there are always other Catholics. We believe the same things, we hear the same readings, we receive Our Lord. For just as St. Irenaeus said (or was it St. Ignatius of Antioch?) "There is one bishop, one altar, one sacrifice..."

We are united. We are family.

When I was living in Mexico for a semester and didn't know how to get somewhere, even though I wasn't practicing my faith at the time, I prayed, and found upon entering the combi, two religious sisters in habit. It didn't matter that I'd never seen them before; I recognized them as Catholics. They were family. They were MY sisters, even though I was thousands of miles away from home and barely understood the language.

The presence of recognizable "family" gave me the courage that day to speak up and ask the strangers in that combi for directions to get to the next day's destination.

Recently, on my trip out East, while I was lost on the platform at Newark NJ- Penn Station, I ran into another religious sister, and find it so ironic...every time I'm really lost, God sends me "family" so that, even if that person doesn't know where we are, at least neither of us has to be lost all by ourselves. And together we find our way home.

Who is my family?

Reflecting further upon this topic, and going back to July, I had written a post musing on whether I'd be meeting my "family" in these visits. As it was, when I arrived at the convent and was shown to the parlor, the General Superior was not available to meet with me. Another Mother, one of the foundresses, came to speak with me for awhile, another Sister brought food for me (as I'd been traveling over the lunch hours and hadn't eaten), and one by one, the Sisters I knew who were there for the summer also came to greet me. Even though I'd never been there before, I knew I was welcome and that, for the next week at least, this would be my home.

They made me feel like family, and even more so by the time I left.

When I went on to the next community, I had the same experience. I'd never met these Sisters, although there had been some email contact. It was enough. They, too, were family, and no matter what happens in my discernment, my life is better because I met these dear Sisters.

Although I was a bit wary in visiting the last community (as it seemed so insane to me to be visiting them!), those nuns, too, even in their silent way of life, were family. The conversations I had with the few I met were fruitful, friendly, and I left with a deep appreciation for their lifestyle, spirituality and...as members of my own family.

Yes. Each Sister I met this summer...is my sister. Our Sisters.

Where is Home?

Today when I entered my parish for Mass, I saw the same people entering who always arrive around the same time as I. One of the priests was greeting people as we entered, and I asked him if he'd had contact with a mutual friend of ours, reminding him to get in touch with her to hear her own good news.

I entered the Church and immediately saw people I knew, friends in every corner, many familiar faces. At some point I became aware that other friends of mine were seated in the pew behind me, and as I looked around, I realized that these, too, are my family. Nearby were another friend's parents, whom I jokingly call "Mom and Dad" just because it makes them laugh. Several pews ahead was another family I know, the head of which I once served with in parish leadership.

Yes, this is my parish. This is my home. All these people...my family.

My work parish has a slightly different dynamic as I also have friends and perhaps know even more people there, but as I am staff there, it seems there is more of a barrier. Even in a family, where there is authority of any sort, a barrier is erected, and it's something I can't quite yet explain in words, and definitely not in this same post. Yet, it's still a comfort to go there and know that it, too, is filled with my brothers and sisters.

I've written of it before, but it bears saying again: I love being Catholic! I love our faith, how it brings us all together even if we are nations apart. I love learning about thousands of years of theology and wisdom and sacrifice that has made us what we are today. I love knowing that we don't have to invent anything new. I love the fact that "I'm Catholic" is a call sign that says that even if we disagree, we have something in common and an indelible, invisible mark upon us that makes us adopted children of God.

"Who are my mother and my bretheren?" And looking around on those who sat about him, [Jesus] said, "Here are my mother and my brethren! Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother." ~ Luke 3:33 -35

I love that being Catholic means we'll never be orphaned, for the faithful are around us everywhere, so no matter where we go, there is our Father...and our family.

Thank you, Jesus.

*

Monastic Silence

Over the next couple days, I fell more into the monastery schedule, becoming accustomed to the hours of prayer, the hours of solitude with Our Lord, and in spite of actually sleeping well, I still napped a little each afternoon.

Although on Friday, my first full day, I was not able to pray or read anything, Saturday I did pick up the Bible and read from the Old Testament. Even before my retreat, I'd been drawn for some reason to read the books of Judith and Esther, and found that once again, I had to read them. Several times, in fact.

I found the prayer of Judith to be especially poignant: "Oh Lord, have mercy on me! I am all alone and have no one but you!"

The fullness of Judith's humanity was lived out through her true feminity. She knew who she was and threw herself with abandon into the depths of the Father's mercy and providence. That book has so many Christological themes it would be well worth an in-depth study. As it is, some of my musings on her story came into full fruition while on the retreat and I'll write separately about that.

Through prayer, through discussions with the Sisters, through random scripture readings, different themes began to develop in the course of the days, bringing in some ways, a sense of clarity. The Holy Spirit was present and made himself known in many ways.

I saw my time there as a precious gift of love from God himself. In every moment, He knew what I needed and provided it. Maybe one of the most beautiful aspects of the visit was the nearly absolute void of emotion. There was no "mountaintop" experience. There were no deep valleys such as I'd experienced on my first discernment retreat. It was a desert. Nothing more, nothing less. If you've ever been on the high desert on a perfectly clear night...sounds travel for miles.

It was that clarity that allowed me to hear the voice of God. He wasn't far away or impersonal. He was as present as my own heartbeat.

Somewhere in there, although I can't say that I'm called to it,I fell in love with monasticism, grasping an intuitive understanding of it if not a fully theological one (although I have that, as well.) I knew that this is what drew me to visit the Cistercians, this is something God wanted me to see and experience, to the degree possible. Even though I was not allowed to enter the enclosure, having visited an active community, and through my own questions, I knew what was going on behind those doors. They were living their life, keeping house, doing chores, and praying. When I waited for Sister to come to the parlor to meet me, I heard some discussions on topics being discussed by the community for the purpose of study. I heard a lot of laughter, and in passing the silent nuns whenever they moved about outside the cloister, I saw bright smiles and joyful eyes.

Monasticism is beautiful in its simplicity, its holiness and its reality. It is a life that is fully human.

Previously, I'd believed that the Cistercians were extremely austere, although, now having visited them, I no longer have that impression. Austerity, certainly, is a factor in all religious life, and in some communities or Orders more so than in others. Yet it is always present for it is a required ingredient for anyone seeking holiness and to draw closer to God.

There is something about the stillness of the Cistercian monastery, though, the spiritual desert into which I was drawn as well, that made me see beyond intellect or emotion what this was really all about.

Although I've described it before, I return to the image of the chapel; the simple lines, spartan decorations, and the effect of which that draws one wholly to God. That's not to say the Saints are not present, too, for one Sister spoke of conversations with her Saints as she moved from one task to another. In a way, this makes absolute sense. When one lives closely with others, why would one need photos or pictures to remind you of them? We keep photos of our loved ones in places not graced by their presence. When we are with them, we have no need to pull their likeness out of our pockets.

While there, when I looked at the bare altar, I saw, pure and simple, the Cross. The blood of the martyrs, the altar of oblation. To make such a total offering of oneself is to become more like God and to act in a way more in union with Christ who set Himself as the example to follow in His complete act of Redemption.

One of the Sisters explained to me, joyfully, the community prayer where they truly lose their own identities in order to take on that of the Church. The Latin prayers go back to Medieval times, 900 years of the same melodies, the same words, a living offering of praise and sacrifice to God. As they pray, they pray for us all, standing between the world and eternity in an act of intercession. They live each day dying to themselves in order to become fully human, fully living for God.

Who are these nuns? Who are the people called to monasticism?

Normal people, like any of us. Normal people who heard the call of God to come away with Him into the desert as an offering of love, not just for him, but for the world. They live a hidden life and in so doing, live more fully and more powerfully than most of us will EVER be able to do.

It's a life of grace, a hard life involving the surrender of one's will (although not one's intellect as so many mistakenly imagine), and a life which is a clear way to perfection for those who are called and who answer freely. It is a life of freedom, a sign of contradiction to the world that would seek viciously to destroy it (and in fact, this has been attempted many times throughout history).

Yet it survives. They survive, fully living, ceaseless in prayer, ceaseless in praise and honor to God.

I will always have a soft spot for the Cistercians in general, and, in particular this community as welll as the Dominican community I visited earlier, and a love and respect for monasticism thanks to the dear Sisters who welcomed me and gave me their time and advice this summer.

My own discernment goes on, and I'll not reveal anything further than this. For just as these nuns live a life hidden from the world, so my own discernment lives, hidden within my own private personal cloister where God and I communicate unceasingly.

Such is the reality for anyone in discernment. Even when we don't listen, God never ceases to speak.

*

Entering the Silence

I woke up on Friday morning, my first full day at the monastery, grateful for the pure silence and the scent of farmfields that surround their land.

As I did not attend Matins, I was in the chapel at 5:30 am, preparing for Lauds in the darkness beneath the choir. I looked towards the altar and crucifix, asking God, "Is this where I'm supposed to be? Why am I here? What am I doing? Do I have a Vocation at all?"

I thought of all the people in my life wanting an answer, wanting to know if I'm going to, in my mother's words, "join a convent", and all the people all around me who keep telling me, "You have to make a decision!"

Every fibre of my being was screaming, "NO! I'm not ready!"

And as I prayed in the profound darkness of that morning, I didn't hear God make any demands upon me at all. The only thing I knew was His patient presence, and a sense that He wasn't asking anything of me at all. I considered the insight from the night before, to rest in passivity, waiting for Him. And slowly, all that anxiety began to ebb away.

I heard the nuns enter the choir above me, the soft ding/thump of the bell, and the sound from the pitch pipe to cue the plaintive tones of the nun beginning the chanted Latin prayers.

And from there, the Cistercian desert enclosed me within my own private cloister. It didn't matter if my questions weren't answered, because God wasn't offering answers. He was offering something else, something that required I let go of myself if I was to open my hands to receive what He had for me.

In that surrender, I found I couldn't even pray.

Since I could not directly participate in the Latin psalter, I prayed from my breviary, yet could not recall what I was praying. Nothing stood out. They were just words. All I was doing was saying words. When I tried to pray in any other way, there were no words, nothing. So all I did when I completed each of the Hours throughout the day, was profess my love to Jesus, because it was the only prayer I could muster.

And that, without emotion, without sentiment, just the bare truth.

It was a disconcerting day, one that maybe is a day for "detox". In my dryness, I couldn't even read. I picked up the Bible but it was meaningless. I wrote a little in my notebook, but the words were forced. Otherwise, the only thing I could do was sit or walk and then sit again, and think.

It wasn't that I really even missed my normal distractions. It was nice to be without them, but I didn't really know how to exist without some kind of direction. I was supposed to be praying or reading, and I could do neither. It was shocking to me to realize that, here I was, perfectly boring and God wanted to be with me? Why?!

At least I could think, though, and my thoughts wandered back to the previous evening. I realized that perhaps I was there because, unlike all the other seeming "spiritual giants" around me, I am a God's remedial student. There are people who are very in tune with God and seem to "get it" immediately. That's not to say they don't work at it, but in comparison, I know I'm really struggling. Studying theology helps, but it's kinda hard to study oneself into simplicity. I'm laboring and laboring and "not getting it" and so God in His infinite wisdom and patience, called me out of the classroom, into the hallway, not to say, "Jump now!" but rather, "Wait for me, you have no idea what you're doing and you're not ready yet!"

I realized that God had more to say to me. He's, even now, laying a foundation, and that morning when I met with Sr. A. for the first time, all of this was, in a way, confirmed.

One of the first things she said to me in our meeting was that I should just be open to God and follow where He leads. She said that only He knew why I was there; whether because I was supposed to enter the monastery or for some other reason. He had a plan. Sister said that the time is NEVER wasted, and usually, both they and the person visiting benefit in some way. She said that she loves to see how God is working in people's lives and how He brought them to visit their monastery, and so with this initial conversation I was able to relax, realizing that the pressure to make ANY decision was simply not present.

All of the pressure was on God, which is actually the way He likes it. As Sister said, when it's time to jump off the cliff, He'll give the push at just the right moment.

Throughout that day as I shed all the residue from my life, I became conscious of the eternal presence of God. It was active, even in the deep dryness, and it reminded me once again that prayer isn't about "feeling" but is really the perfect center of being.

Thus, even as I felt a part of myself dying and falling away, I knew that truly, I was beginning to live in a way I never had before, and I realized this through almost a clinical detachment that would have amused me if the silence had not been so deafening.

*

Adoro's Monastic Adventure Continued

God (and several generous human beings working for and with Him) has given me six weeks this summer to focus on discerning whether or not I have a Vocation to religious life.

As you know, so far no questions have been answered. Which, really, is fine, as my spiritual director assures me.

I worry because I'm not getting younger. Others think I should jump off a pecipice just because I'm not married, and others want me to be a nun or a sister because they have a romantic idea of monastic life (which is no more romantic than married life, actually.) And still others fall into other categories in their bet-taking as to what they think I should be doing and why.

So really, it is those few voices, who are the chosen designates, who are keeping me on track both to keep me from being too discouraged and to keep me from making a hasty decision much like a person who runs a red light and is flattened by a semi just because the guy behind them beeps in impatience.

We've all passed such accidents, haven't we?

This Thursday I'm going to make another pass at monastic life, this one really intense. The Cistercians of Common Observance pray 7 times per day in community, work in silence, study in silence, and seek God in solitude while living in community. It is their practice to rise at 3:40 am in order to begin praying Lauds at 4 am, so that while you sleep you can rest assured that people are praying...for you.

I'll be driving to this monastery, only a few hours away, and this week I received the instructions as to what to wear, what to bring, what not to bring and whatnot.

The process for even VISITING this community has been quite the experience! We've been in contact for months, I was required to read a book, "The Cistercian Way" by Andre Louf, and I now learn I have to bring it with me.

Unfortunately, I don't own it. I got it from the library, and as it was an order from another library system, it took them 3 weeks to get it to me. Thankfully I have a friend who is sending me his copy and hopefully it will be here in time!

The communities I just visited didn't require much for the visit: only an open heart to hear God. Certainly I'm sure other contact is required, but that was fulfilled long before my plane ticket was purchased.

The Cistercians, on the other hand, sent me a form for a recommendation to be completed by my Pastor or Spiritual Director and believe you me, they were asking some heavy questions! I wondered why they wanted this just for a "come and see" type of visit where I would not be admitted to the enclosure, but so be it. I turned over the form, and my SD filled it out and sent it on.

I also had to write an autobiography, and the one I wrote on my blog or for grad school wasn't appropriate as those had the wrong focus. In addition to the actual story of my life, they wanted a self-assement of strengths and weaknesses.

All of this has been completed and sent, and in response, Sister sent me a list of instructions. I am to bring a Bible, a rosary, The Cistercian Way, the Liturgy of the Hours, toiletries, clothing proper to the outdoors and weather, and nothing else that logic doesn't dictate. I am asked to leave all other media at home (no problem! I don't have it anyway!)

I've been told I'll meet with her, the Prioress and the Novice Director, and alll will have read all correspondance between Sister and I, including my autobiography and reference from my SD, and they will keep it all in strict confidance. Comforting.

I feel like I'm under a microscope and I haven't felt like this since my law enforcement background. I'm still waiting to be told I have to meet with a background investigator from the CIA before my arrival at the monastery.

In speaking with others who also considered the Cistercians, they found the process so off-putting that they never continued and thus never visited. The Sister with whom I have been "speaking" explained that in the past they required the autobiography and recommendation with an application for entrance to the Order, they now require it at a 3 day visit.

By the way, they also define the 3 days; it wasn't by my request. They asked me to plan for five days, to include 3 full days there, 1 day for arrival and a day for travel home, and this, of course makes sense. I believe the monastery has hermitages for private retreatants and this kind of a schedule likely helps them keep things running at a proper pace during their busy guest season.

I wonder if my perseverance through this arduous application-to-visit process is maybe not as big of a deal for me because I've been through intense background investigations in the past? Both police and fire put me through my paces, sending me to intense physicals, psychologicals, physical tests, personal interviews, etc. I've been fingerprinted multiple times, my family and friends interviewed, my hometowns visited, employment records searched, etc etc etc. By comparison, this process is NOTHING!

It still seems invasive, yet I'm wi

lling to undergo it because something about the Cistercian Order has gotten my attention, has made me consider things more deeply, and that means I have to go.

So now, armed with my slight monastic experiences in an active community, a day and a half with my beloved Dominicans, now I prepare for the silence of an ancient Rule, one of austerity and early rising, something so contrary to my very being that it MUST be of God. Why? Because the idea of ME going there is totally insane.

Closing comments for obvious reasons. Thank you.

"Those Who Know Cannot Explain. Those Who Don't Cannot Understand"

Remember "No Fear" shirts? The Mall of America used to have a "No Fear" store and I loved that place! It's where I found and purchased a t-shirt with the title phrase of this post. I wish I still had it.


I'd wear it every day just so I could point to it every time someone asks me a question about how my trip went and what my decision is.


Of course, everyone is assuming that I will enter religious life, and they can't seem to understand why I really can't discuss my retreat very much. So in order to perhaps explain a little, this post will answer some of that, only so that I can be left in peace and the curious among you can move on as well.


"Everyone Says..."


Everyone says that when you find where you belong you'll "know" it with every fibre of your being. Everyone I've spoken with found their convent or monastery or abbey or even seminary that way. They explain how they arrived and just knew it was Home.


And yes, that's beautiful, and for some it turns out to be a temporary home, for others, permanent. But it was clear that God wanted them there, and when they describe this experience, their eyes shine, even if they aren't at that particular place anymore.


I didn't approach my visit with an expectation of that, but rather just tried to stay open to what the Holy Spirit was desiring for me. I had two main questions, hoping to settle at least one of them:


1. Is God calling me to religious life?


2. If so, is this home?


Even though I've been writing about this for a long time, whether or not God is calling me to this has never been a settled question. It has been a mere reasonable suspicion, something I needed to find out before making any other life decisions. Everything for the rest of my life flows from an answer to that very big question.


The ten days of my discernment retreat with the two communities did not answer either question. I did not experience a single moment of actual "peace" that everyone describes. What I did experience was an interior agony of questions without answers.


I've written of the practical experience in the convent and the brief visit at the monastery outside of the enclosure, and yes, it was a good experience. I'm glad I went. I have no doubt that I was SUPPOSED to go, God was present, He spoke to me in many many ways and I was grateful for every moment with Him.


Exhaustion


Jesus revealed His own agony and suffering in totally new ways to me while I was there, and I will write a little about that in another post. He was with me completely, every bloody step, and sometimes hauling me along when I was ready to drop in my tracks.


Last Sunday and Monday, even part of Tuesday, I was on the edge of tears almost every single moment, so spiritually exhausted I wasn't sure I could carry on any further. Were it not for God's very real grace, I wouldn't have been able to continue on.


I've never experienced that kind of complete and total exhaustion. Some of it was due to the very regimented schedule. The fact that the schedule tired me surprised me, especially given the kind of work I've done juxtaposed with the simplicity of the work in the convent and all the quiet time in the chapel. It didn't seem to me that it would be possible to be so tired!


Yet I can't say I really slept that well there. The bed was uncomfortable, the pillow was industrial plastic, I wasn't adapted to the hours of sleep and waking, etc etc. Sleeping well wile travelling is a rarity for most people I think.


Put all this together along with the constant spiritual struggle, the very intense discernment I was experiencing and, well...it's pretty obvious a human being can only experience so much before collapse.


While I was with the Sisters of Charity, I didn't speak of this struggle. I couldn't. They were wonderful to me, offered great advice, and their clear invites to join them were sincere. I did tell Sr. H., my "Guardian Angel" that I still wasn't even sure I had a vocation at all, and she said nothing, probably knowing from her own years of experience how difficult it really is.


It actually caused a certain kind of interior agony when the General Superior told me in our meeting on my last day that she'd welcome my entrance, and another dear Mother came into the bakery on the morning that I left. She extended her own personal invitation and told me that if I wanted it, they had a place there for me. Now, this dear dear lady is one of the foundresses who suffered much for this American congregation, and even though she is bent over with osteoporosis, even though she can't look anyone directly in the face, I never saw her without a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. She even went into the kitchen to help the novices clean the dishes a few times!


Not knowing where I'm called, what I'm supposed to be doing, and yet receiving these invitations tore my heart in two and contributed even more to the intensity. And yet, I was joyful in the knowledge that they were so willing to give me a chance and welcome me into their home and community. And, especially given that I'm 35 and so many communities have shut their doors to me, well, it was especially meaningful to know that this door remains open.


I did receive an explanation on my weariness from Sr. MC when I visited the Dominican Monastery, and discussed it even further this morning when I met with my spiritual director. It is actually a great comfort to know that everyone experiences that and, in essence, I'm completely normal! This kind of intense discernment is very, very wearing on every level, and EVERYONE "crashes" at some point. I certainly did.


Ultimately


It's a bit frustrating that everyone in my life is asking me if my experience at the convent is "something I think I might want to do." Many people think the experience is akin to a job. It's not.


They can't understand why I can't give an answer. They can't understand why I can't really discuss it. They don't understand the intensity or the interior agony that is discernment. They can't understand; many people who are married never actually "discerned" marriage! (Oy, but that's a different topic and one I'm not going to touch!)


It really is a very lonely place to be, and yet, it's FILLED with God. Anything that causes this much suffering HAS to be a great gift.


But it's not something that can be revealed. I have my very short list of people who are privy to what's going on, and the cool thing about them is that they've been there and know what this is like, which means I don't have to describe very much.


I can talk to them and not have to explain why it's so hard. I can allude to the agonizing week I've had and don't have to define any specifics. They know that what goes on between a soul and God doesn't have words in any language. And yet, those who have been through this trial know it so well that they won't even ASK for an explanation.


A Personal Request to my readers:


People often read such posts and in their good will, find it hard to overcome the temptation to offer advice. Please don't try to offer me advice. As I said, the list of people privy to what's really going on is very very short and I NEED to keep it that way. I do not write of this struggle by way of a request for advice, and too much advice is overwhelming and often presumptuous. (I mean no offense by that!)


I considered closing comments up front, but there may be readers who want to share their own experiences. So, maybe I can say this: If you are tempted to want to offer advice or "fix me" in some way...duct tape your fingers to your chair or your desk or anything that keeps you away from the keyboard. Please and Thank You! :-)


If you have your own experience to share, or a practical question, random free association having nothing to do with anything (spam will be deleted...free association is OK...), etc....comment away! :-)


My hope is that this post satisfies those who are on the edge of their seat expecting the climax of some epic movie. Might as well settle in...the end is NOT near! I hope it also causes those who have been holding their breath at the announcement of my Profession to breathe again. I'd prefer that no one suffer on my account!


I will continue to write of my discernment and where it goes, as long as God wills. But for now I have a great deal to think and pray about and much to consider that I'd prefer never to discuss in an open forum.


Please continue praying for me, and all those in discernment, INCLUDING especially those who have entered religious life and haven't taken solemn vows. They are ALL in formation and without prayers, they'll never make it. (Pray for those who HAVE taken vows, too, they still need lots of help!).


The Nuns, Sisters, Brothers, Monks, Friars that you write to for prayers need prayers too. Never forget that. Pray for them without ceasing. They pray for you.


*** Comments are now closed. I posted a very simple request in bright red bold colors and it was subsequently ignored. ****

Dominicans!

Well, I've written of my experience with the Sisters of Charity, where I spent most of my time, but I also spent about a day and a half with the Dominican Nuns in Summit, New Jersey. (You'll remember them from their illustrious blog, MonialesOP).

I don't know how long I've been following their blog, and when I began to do so I certainly never imagined I would ever actually VISIT them! Just goes to show that God has plans we know nothing about until He springs them on us!

If you'll recall, I mentioned the train into Newark where I took a lengthy tour of the platform and stood out like a farm girl visiting a big city for the first time. (Ironic...I've lived in a large metro area for years and used to live in south Minneapolis where car chases, midnight gunshots and screams were a given!) Yet I was a fish out of water at Penn Station - Newark NJ. Amazing.

Sr. M., their extern, was there to pick me up, and seriously, what a dear, dear Sister she is! I found it amusing, though, that she led me into the guest quarters at the Monastery somewhat apologetically.

Now, mind you, I'd just spent a week sleeping on an industrial plastic mattress which was mostly worn out, and plastic pillow that made sleep nearly impossible.

I had expected that the quarters at the Dominican Monastery would be similar; dorm-style showers, a little cell with a bed, desk, and a sink, uncomfortable bed proper to poverty, etc.

So imagine my joy to find that the guest quarters were more suite than cell, including a desk, a table, a TV, a microwave, a refrigerator and more coffee than I'd seen in what felt like forever! (It was really the coffee that won me over). Oh, and the bed was SO comfortable! It was real, with a real pillow!

Maybe on second thought it was the comfy bed and pillow that won me over...hmmm...

I could not figure out why Sr. M was apologetic about this!

Anyway, Sr. M. told me that Sr. MC would be meeting me in the parlor in a couple hours, so I had time to get settled, visit the beautiful chapel, and pray for a bit. I missed most of the Divine Office at 3 pm (my mistake!), but made all the other Hours in my time there.

For those who aren't aware, the Dominicans in Summit are cloistered, so I was not able to enter the enclosure to have the same kind of experience as the one I had with the Sisters of Charity. In order to have that, I'd have to apply for aspirancy of 2-6 weeks.

Sr. MC and I sat in the parlor a great deal that day and the following, chatting about relevant and irrelevent things, and of course, got along famously. And true to what I'd expect from the Dominicans, I was given a couple books to read during my time there, for how can one ever visit a Dominican Monastery and NOT study? The very idea would be completely sacriligious!

It's unfortunate, but all I had there was one full day. I would have loved more time there in prayer, to follow along while they sang the prayer of the Church, to fall into the routine a bit more, and of course, have the solitude and time to contemplate the many questions which have arison on this trip.

On Thursday evening the Novices hung out with me for awhile and gave me some of their stories, which is always amazing. I love hearing how Our Lord speaks to others, how they came to enter the monastery or convent or abbey.

Our time was all too short, and of course, I continue to love the Dominicans. I was sad to leave on Friday morning. There is something about meeting people face to face, spending time with them, especially when our friendship is formed through our shared faith, that forges a bond in a short time.

I don't know if I'll be returning to either community; that is in God's hands. Naturally I'd LOVE to go back, but the question remains whether it's God's will, or my true desire.

Time will tell.

The Bells of Temptation

I've discovered that there is still a bit of mischevious child in me somewhere, for every single day I had to curb a certain temptation.

In my previous post I mentioned the bells that are rung at regular intervals at the convent.

They are rung for rising, ten minutes before Mass, prayer, and meals, and at 10 pm lights out. They are loud, they are obnoxious, and apparently, one just gets used to them. Once one peels oneself off the ceiling a certain number of times, at least. I think I have a permanent tile imprint on my face from my week there.

Anyway....

One of the bells is actually a small one immediately outside the Novitiate. If a Professed Sister wants to speak with someone, whether a Novice or with the Novice Director, she comes to the Novitiate and rings the bell. That same bell is used for other random purposes determined by situation as well.

Every time I passed it, I had a mad desire to reach out and ring it, suppressed only by hurrying past in order not to allow that temptation to fully emerge. I'm not sure I could contain it. My fingers were just ITCHING to tag that little chain, ring, the bell and dash away to feign innocence.

The big bells that are rung for the whole house, though, are near the main entrance and I thank God for the mercy of not having to pass those ropes very often. There was a sign near them indicating the ropes should be pulled "GENTLY!", and every time I passed, I wanted to do nothing more than to reach out, take a rope in each hand and ring the bells with all my heart and soul!

It is a mercy of God that each time I passed, I had something in my hands that made it impossible for me to follow through on that particular temptation.

Somehow, in spite of this, I did manage to behave myself.

Shocking

Life in the convent is full of surprises. There were random moments of humor, just as there is everywhere else, and random moments of connections one would never expect.

One of the Sisters in the Novitiate is from Canada, and I'm not sure how it came up, but at lunch she was making a comment to the Novice Director about a Canadian show about duct tape. Of course I couldn't help myself and chimed in about the "Red Green Show". This was followed by quoting the Man Prayer: "Dear God. I am a man. But I can change, if I have to. I guess. Amen."

Sister looked over at me, calmly surprised and said in a trademark Canadian manner, "I feel so close to you now!"

Ah. All it takes is a little Duct Tape, WD40, and Red Green to bring Americans and Canadians together. Don'cha' know, Eh?

Permanent Marker

Sunday was an interesting day. There's not a lot of work on Sunday and meals are planned such that preparation and cleanup are as minimal as possible. So it was that after morning Mass/prayer/meditation I went into the bakery to fill the sink and rinse pan. Sr. H. didn't have an apron on so I followed suit, thinking that if all I was going to do was run water there was no need.

So I reached into the lower cabinet for the bleach and began to pour it into the measuring cup, but apparently I was either clumsy or too hurried. The bleach splashed. Initially I looked and thought the splash had remained in the sink, then realized...it hadn't.

I was wearing a black top and my "nice" skirt, and the bleach had bled through. Although I rinsed it out, it was too late. Sr. H. ran to find a permanent marker and pulled a towel out to help me dry my clothing and color it black again, to no avail.

It seemed such happenings weren't done. Back in the Novitiate, during breakfast we learned that Sr. A.J. had spilled orange juice all over her scapular and before our very eyes Sr. J dropped honey in her lap.

I suspected maybe the Sisters were really, in their charity, just trying to make me feel better about bleaching myself!

Random other stuff:

When I arrived, I learned there was a Carmelite Nun there to discern a possible call to active life. This particular community has many devotions, and so St. Therese of Lisieux graces many corners, nooks and crannies. So it was that as I moved down the shadowed corridors, I was always startled to see the Carmelite habit moving among the black-and-white ones.

Had a statue of St. Therese come to life? I checked the corners to be sure the statues were still in place. But no, it was only Sr. JM on her way to prayer (and what a dear she is!)

*

One evening, during recreation we headed down to the basement to help move furniture and other things so that the floor could be painted. Mother decided it was also a good time to move old carpet rolls, so two Sisters stood on the storage platform to drag the carpet rolls over to us and we piled them up for further inspection.

Suddenly Sr. H. began screaming, at first unintelligably. I stood back, thinking that by her screams and her frozen posture that there must be a really huge spider on her. I was ready to flee!

Then I realized that she was screaming about a mouse, and couldn't move because the "step" had been taken away, and she didn't initially relalize that said mouse was very, very deceased.

The mouse was no more.

So the Sisters found a box and managed to scrape the contorted petrified mouse into it, while Mother asked us to keep our voices down, for Sister A.J. in the other room was deathly phobic of mice and did NOT need to know one had been found, dead or not!

School...or Prison?

Sr. H. is going to be teaching next year so I went with her to help her move some things to her new convent and school. While there, of course I met the Mother Superior of that convent, who is also the school principal.

We sat in the parlor chatting, and one of the Sisters, a seasoned teacher, asked me if I had my teaching degree.

"No. I have a degree in Criminal Justice."

After a startled pause, she and the other Sisters burst out laughing. "It's the same thing!"

Murder in the Convent

On my last evening there, Sr. H. and I were in the bakery decorating a cake for another Sister's birthday. We colored frosting and as I was putting the dye away, the red dye was apparently leaking. I picked it up and saw that it was all over the counter. While trying to clean it up I realized it was STILL leaking and I'd left a trail!

It was looking gorier and gorier. And we BOTH had red dye all over our hands!

I began to intone a story about murder in the convent...

But I couldn't cast an albino Opus Dei Nun so it just didn't work.

I can say, though, that it happened in the bakery at the hands of the Sister using a spoon.

Shhhhh!

Leaving....

On Wednesday whenI left, many of the Sisters gathered to see me off, making it no secret that they wanted me to come back, and soon!

It was hard to leave them, for I do really love the Sisters and am so grateful for their help over the time I was there. I don't know if I'll see them again or not...it's all up to God and what He desires. And...what I desire, I guess.

It was a bit humorous, though, HOW we left. The Sisters had loaded my luggage into the van, and as Sr. J. and I headed off for the Train station, we were SUPPOSED to make a right around the convent and exit onto the street.

Nope. Some workmen had the street blocked. So she backed up to turn around, making another pass behind the convent. The Sisters had mostly left, but when they saw we were returning, they returned as well. I commented to Sr. J. that they probably thought I'd decided to stay!

She opened the windows as we returned to our point of origin, and Sr. MG said through my window, "You've decided to stay!" And through Sr. J's window, Mother K. asked me, "Are you SURE you don't want your measurements taken TODAY?"

So we took leave again, and Sr., leaving by the other driveway, took a left so we passed a third time in front of the Convent on our way out of town.

Then she realized she was going the wrong way, apologized, and turned around, explaining she needed to take the freeway. At the time we were praying the traditional prayers for safe travel, and passed by the convent YET AGAIN.

I was trying to contain my giggles, but somewhere around the 5th Our Father, laughter burst forth and I asked Sr. J. if perhaps we should pass by the convent yet ANOTHER time just for good measure??

As it was, I did make it to New London to catch my train, and I saw the Atlantic for the first time. Ironic. I once thought I would enlist in the Coast Guard, and en route to the train station we passed the Coast Guard Academy...and what beautiful grounds!

Now my life is complete. Once an aspiring Coastie...now a potential Sister/Nun.

At least I've seen the oceans.

*

Life in the Convent

They go about the business of holiness matter-of-factly, their Catholicism and prayer never forced, but rather, a simple way of life that infuses every movement, every thought, every routine. The Sisters are not apart from God in any moment of the day so do not find it necessary to make loud ejaculations of praise or scripture quotation common to the secular world inhabited by people who almost wear desperation to appear to be Christian in every movement. In the convent, devotion to Our Lord is a given and does not need to be loudly announced; it is far more proper that devotion be quietly and sincerely lived.

The Sisters dwell in the House of the Lord, where here on earth they find that His mansion has many rooms, even as they strive to learn to love Him more deeply in every moment of every day. They work in relative silence, speaking in hushed tones when necessary so as not to disturb the interior conversations other Sisters may be carrying on with their beloved spouse, and each night they rest comfortably knowing The Lord awaits at the end of the corridor. The entire house sleeps, resting while awaiting the bell to toll the dawn that they may know to arise for another day in the vineyard of the King.

Many people believe the life of a religious Sister is mysterious and romantic and somewhere in their minds they conceive an idyllic lifestyle of mission bells and prayerful processions. They imagine a myriad of saintliness and ethereal holiness, incense and chant, stone cloister walks and perfect stillness. They imagine the serene contemplation of a Nun or a Monk at prayer, a person who spends hours upon hours doing nothing other than praying in a perfectly focused manner....and nothing could be further from the truth.

If religious life in either an active or contemplative community matched such a romanticized ideal, not the reality of the matter-of-fact life of a Religious, not a single human being would live up to it and it would simply not exist. In fact, if each and every person called to such a life had such a total deprivation of personality, who would ever pay attention to it?

I did not approach my own convent visit with any preconceived notions. My goal was to go, to experience, and to hopefully have the time to listen to God speak to me in the silence.

In reality, He spoke to me not just through prayer but through the personalities and generosity of the Sisters who welcomed me into their home. He did not speak to me through idyllic romance, but through labor and a regimented schedule that made me die to my own desires in order to live for the good of the community.

Every community has its own horarium, most are very similar in schedule, whether active or contemplative.

The first that I visited was an active community, very faithful, very traditional, (although not in the Latin-only sense. No doubt this will antagonize the more-Catholic-than-the-Pope crowd.)

For most of the year the Sisters arise at 5:20 am, but in the summer they are given a half-hour respite and the bell is delayed until 5:50 am. Mass is at 6:30 am.

Most days, I woke up early and catnapped until around 5:30 am or so, so rose and began to putz around my cell until the bell at 5:50. It was a loud clanging sound that would have woken the dead had the dead been buried within the convent itself. As a light sleeper, on the days I did not wake early, the bell made it necessary for me to peel myself off the ceiling and stop shaking before I could think coherently about what I was supposed to do in that 40 minutes before Mass.

The Novitiate dorm is on the 4th floor, and the showers were in the basement, but thankfully that wasn't an issue as each night I showered before bed. Given how hard we worked, that made perfect sense.

Instead I rushed to brush my teeth and dress for the day, and was usually in the chapel within 15 minutes of rising, giving me 20 to 25 minutes of private prayer before Mass.

Mass was offered by a priest from the Franciscans of the Immaculate, no homily (except for the Feast of St. Benedict and of course, on Sunday), and we received Communion while kneeling at the Communion rail. What a blessing!

After Mass was Morning Prayer followed by a half hour of meditation.

As soon as prayer ended, Sr. H. and I and the rest of the novitiate rose to leave the chapel in order to prepare for breakfast. We started dishes and helped to organize everything for both the professed and novitiate, then removed our aprons and went to the novitiate to await Mother K.

It is the custom of the community to wait, standing, in silence, for the Novice Director to arrive. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, prayer (in the novitiate) and breakfast are in silence. When she arrives, all make the sign of the Cross, and when all have completed the silent prayer, or, after completing the vocal prayers on the proper days, when Mother is seated, all are seated. If she stands, all stand and wait for her to be seated again.

The Sisters also had a way of passing food that goes back to the beginning of the Community. At that time they wore veils that included a "stovepipe" that inhibited peripheral vision. To overcome this, at meals they would pass food to the person in front of them, that person would pass the food off to the the next person across the table from them, very unlike our own custom of passing food to the person to our left or right. Even though they no longer dress in this manner they continue to remember their roots by passing food in the same tradition even though it is no longer necessary. It is a beautiful custom.

After breakfast the Sisters do dishes then head up to tidy their cells as they often don't have time to make the bed or put things away before Mass. From there they return to the chapel for Daytime prayer and spiritual reading, a total of around 30 minutes, maybe more, maybe less. The on to assigned work, which, for Sr. H. and I happened to be the bakery.

We made bread, cookies, prepared deserts and trays of food, etc. Break was at 10 am if we took a break, and at times the novices and postulants had meetings with the Novice Director or other duties. During those times I was given extra time in the chapel. On a normal day, though, rosary was at 11:35 am, and back to the bakery and kitchen to help dish up and serve lunch to the professed and wheel a cart to the novitiate out of anything that was left.

After lunch, it was again dishes and then recreation at 1 pm, for which we were often late due to cleanup duties. Often "recreation" was really time to do things like iron habits, do laundry or other things that would arise. It was back to work at 2 pm, or on to instruction if assigned. The afternoon also held time for prayer in the chapel, a break at 4 pm, and more work.

Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament took place at 4:30 pm, followed by rosary and evening prayer at 5 pm.

Each of the convents of this community has a chapel where the Blessed Sacrament is reposed. Also in each, a sister has been given the privilege of exposing and reposing the Blessed Sacrament, and this privilege is given by the local bishop in whatever diocese in which the convent resides. Therefore, even if Sr. A. in the Norwich CT diocese has that permission, if she goes to the Bridgeport CT diocese, she needs to have permission from that bishop.

Unfortunately, none of the convents, even the motherhouse, has an assigned chaplain, therefore this duty and privilege must fall to the Sisters themselves.

The priests who come for Mass at the Motherhouse are not chaplains, but assist the Sisters out of need and kindness in return for a kindness done to them when they needed assistance in the past.

After evening prayer is dinner, and again I was down in the bakery and kitchen to help serve. Dinner was always "pickup", served in the provision room on a large stainless steel table, the Novitiate serve last, but there was never a shortage of food. After dinner we cleaned up and went to the chapel for night prayer (compline), followed by evening recreation.

And again, although it was time for recreation, this was often more an opportunity for more work. One evening we moved things in the basement, my last evening we loaded bread into a car for the homeless shelter and moved the empty racks around the house and into the basement for storage.

Recreation was followed by lockup and a visit to the chapel, up to the 4th floor to change, down 4 floors to the showers, and back up 4 floors for a few minutes to cool off in stagnant warm air before the bell rang for lights out, not to be rung again until 5:50 am....

And speaking of the bell...I'll have to tell you about that a little more.....

Prayer and Mystery

The Convent really isn't so mysterious as you might think, although it is a place shrouded in prayer and lit up with joy.

A year ago, I was invited by the Sisters to come visit them and pray Vespers with them in their convent near an inner-city parish. It was a wonderful evening, my first exposure to the Liturgy of the Hours, and a step in discernment towards religious life.

At the time, I wasn't seriously discerning, but rather, just recognizing I had to take a step and that prayer and dinner was maybe a small thing, but something I needed to do.

The Sisters and I have stayed in contact, and the Vocation Director of the community also has been in contact with me throughout the last year. I've had many invitations to head East to visit them, but haven't had the funds. Plane tickets aren't on the budget for parish employees. In fact...most of our own personal bills aren't in the budget. (Ask anyone who works for the Church...)

The Mysterious Convent

A year ago, I wasn't allowed into the locked area of the convent, but could only go as far as the parlor. These Sisters are in a very large building which, I'm guessing in the past housed a great many sisters.

The convent is next to a beautiful German Baroque church, adjoins the original parish school, and is home to a few offices and two religious communities. One community is housed on the first floor, while the Sisters I visited are on the second. Both communities share the convent chapel and divide their prayer times as their communities have different traditions and different prayers/devotions specific to their communities and charisms, although both pray the same version of the Liturgy of the Hours.

As I understand it, although the Sisters used to be obliged to go to the church for Mass each day, now, at least a few times per week, there is a priest available to come to the convent chapel to offer Mass for the Sisters, and, I imagine, anyone else who would care to attend as the chapel is in a public area.

I arrived around 4:40 pm, having been told Vespers would begin at 5 with the rosary and I should arrive any time after 4:30. I rang the bell and was surprised when a lay man answered the door with a quick, "Yes, can I help you?"

The last time I was there a Sister from the first floor had answered the door! I realized quickly as he admitted me that he was a parish employee just finishing his work for the day.

It was wonderful to greet the Sisters in their home again and take my own Breviary and rosary to the chapel in preparation for Vespers.

The chapel has several pews, and each Sister (4 of them in that convent) has an assigned spot with a little basket containing her breviary and some other prayer books. Last year when I was there, the Sister told me to disregard many of the times she was standing or sitting, and so it was necessary to be cued when it was my turn to rise, kneel, or be seated.

These Sisters, like others, carry a large rosary which is not used to pray during Vespers, although they do grasp it or its crucifix at various other times. Like me, they had regular rosaries, but began the rosary, after the Creed, with an invocation of the Trinity on each of the 3 Hail Mary beads. (Which reminded me a year ago, as it did last night, of my Trinitarian friend!)

There was some confusion, on my part, during the LOH, as one Sister and I had set up our books to pray the Common of Martyrs. As it turned out, we prayed the regular Evening Prayer of the day, and not the psalms we'd anticipated. Apparently this is set by the Superior (of the options of the day), but the Sister next to me helped me find my place with this switch. I did still have a marker there, but, having been lost for a few moments, needed my place to be pointed out to me!

I must remember to ask them more about how they decide which of the LOH options they pray on Feast Days.

After Vespers, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, the Sisters maintain silence outside of meals and recreation, which means they speak only when charity demands. Dinner is usually served immediately at 6 pm. As Vespers ended at 5:30, the Sister responsible for dinner headed to the kitchen to finish, another Sister reposed the Blessed Sacrament, candles, etc., and when a bell rang, we rose to go to the kitchen. The Superior remained to pray until 6, and it's entirely likely she didn' t hear the bell, so it was rung again at 6 for her, more loudly.

I waited, with the Sisters, around the little table in the convent, this time admitted past the locked door. It had been decided that we would eat in the recreation room while watching a movie; Padre Pio, Man of Mystery. The Sisters know my connection to Padre Pio and have one themselves, and of course...love the movie!

We loaded our plates and walked down the hallway, past several cells, many used for storage or designated for a particular purpose, indicated by the signs on the doors.

The recreation room was down a hallway to the left, and contained a television and table, and might well have been a little informal dining room at any house found anywhere.

We were joined by another young woman while I was there; she had to work later and so came bringing her own dinner, and like me, had a devotion to Padre Pio and had never seen the movie.

This particular movie has two parts, so when the first ended, we opted to clear the table and wash dishes, etc., and found ourselves treated to ice cream and other random things the Sisters had on hand for special occasions. Not long after we began the second part of the movie, Sister Superior asked us to pause and pray. She wanted to go to bed, so we stood and prayed part of their traditional prayers (not Compline), she thanked the other woman and I for coming, gave the Sisters permission to finish the movie with us, and headed off.

The movie completed just as the bells began to strike the 10:00 hour at the church, so we thought at first the bells were part of the movie! We each picked up what we could hold and returned to the kitchen (refrectory in convent parlance) and assisted in cleaning up. Two of the Sisters walked us to our cars, and as it was, stood talking in the parking lot, which is EXACTLY what we did a year ago, too!

It was a cool windy night, and even though I had to impatiently push my hair out of my eyes, the Sisters didn't seem to mind that their veils blew around or that their scapulars turn into sails, fluttering in the night wind.

A Year Ago

One of the Sisters seemed to be in a fairly intense conversation with the other woman who was there last night, so I didn't want to disturb them as I tried to leave. She saw I was leaving, though, and wanted to say goodbye. Which, of course, led into another conversation. We recounted the evening we met, November 2007, which is about a year and a half ago.

That evening she was the one who had asked me, "Are you discerning?"

Her question had stopped me in my tracks. The cracked door was pushed open just enough to give a hint of light. I took a deep breath and said, honestly, "I don't know."

We'd stayed in touch, here and there, but I didn't visit them until maybe the following March, 2008. I did want to visit again, but it never worked out. They are not around in the summer when I wasn't in school.

But God's timing is always perfect.

Sister told me last night that, when we'd first met, she knew that there was no way I was ready for religious life. She said that in the time she's known me, there's been a change, and she DOES believe I'm a lot more open now, a lot more prepared for whatever He has to offer. She also told me more of her own story and how hellish was her own discernment. She said it was the most difficult period of her life, but God has used that, over and over again.

I can't even tell you how good it was to hear that she's been through the same torment as I, and maybe even worse.

As of now, I am hoping and praying to visit these Sisters in July. I have received word that the Archdiocesan Office of Vocations will assist as will, likely, my own parish, and there are a few friends who might also assist, also through my parish...but that is for another post.

*

I know there are those who wonder about more of the interior of the convent. Any college student would recognize it; it's much like any average dorm room, but with individual rooms called "cells". The floors are tiled, there are pictures of Saints, Our Lord, Our Lady, and statues, and in fact, there is a large statue of Our Lady at the end of the convent hallway.

I wish, for the romantic among us, that I could paint a mystery of gothic proportions, but I can't. It's a wonderful, peaceful life, no doubt one that has the same problems any of us find in our own lives.

One of the Sisters told me last night that it is a hard life, but acknowledged that each Vocation has its challenges, and they can be overcome.

It was wonderful to spend the evening with these dear, dear Sisters, in their friendly and prayerful company, knowing that, hopefully this summer, I will come to see yet another part of their lives and share in that as well.

Please keep all religious in your prayers, for you are always in theirs.

*