I saw this post making the rounds on Facebook, with much shock and dismay from the devout. It is by Mary T., a former postulant from a strict contemplative order of nuns. The post describes the true sufferings of a sincere and fervent young lady who really wanted to give her life to God as the Bride of Christ. She describes how she found the requirements of obedience onerous and almost unbearable; her health eventually declined. A reader asked me for my thoughts on the article, knowing that in the late 80's and early 90's I explored religious life in the Discalced Carmelite Order, which led me to three different monasteries over the course of five years. Mary immediately had my sympathy since for several years, as any of my family and close friends will attest, I wanted the same thing very much, to be a nun. I understand the total sacrifice, the burning of bridges and giving up everything in order to follow Jesus. I also understand the pain of having to leave a beloved way of life and return to the world that one thought was safely left behind.
Let me say that it was an honor for me to be admitted for even five minutes to any of those Carmelite monasteries where I discerned a vocation; in each one what I learned about God, faith, prayer, the liturgy and my own human weakness. I had the example of holy women whom I would probably never have met anywhere else, who were filled with the joy of the Holy Spirit and with zeal for the Lord of Hosts. But a vocation is a call from God. If one does not have a vocation to a particular community or to a certain way of life, then all the good will in the cosmos cannot give it. And while a person may have a call to religious life, they might not have a call to a particular community. Or even to a certain order or congregation. It is a matter for a great deal of prayer, discernment and spiritual direction from a prudent advisor.
The first thing that occurred to me when reading Mary's account of her time in the monastery was how health issues made her life of holy obedience almost impossible. Someone with dire health issues should not be admitted to a strict penitential monastery. By "penitential" I mean corporal penances such as limited personal hygiene, and fasting. And other things, such as sleeping on boards. If the health issues arose during the time in the monastery, then most communities would have sent the postulant home right away, unless it was a passing illness. If a nun has a passing but serious illness like the flu, shingles, COVID, etc then most monasteries have an infirmary where the sick are cared for and all austerities are suspended until the nun recovers. But long-term failing health is usually a sign that a postulant does not have a vocation to a particular community. Now there are some communities, like those of the Visitation Order, that accept aspirants with health problems; there are probably other congregations as well. There are plenty of convents that are not so strict, which are bearable for a sensitive candidate, a candidate who might find the lack of hygiene in a strict monastery to be too much. There are convents where you can shower every day and change your underclothes every day. There is no shame in wanting to be clean.
Which brings us to the subject of underclothes. Let me be frank. Remember when Star Wars director George Lucas told Carrie Fisher aka Princess Leia that there was no underwear in space? Well, some monasteries are like outer space. Underclothes do not exist, except a rough linen or wool tunic which you also sleep in and change once a week, twice a week if you are in a more "progressive" community. When I read Mary's complaint about not being able to change her underwear I thought: "Wow, they got to wear underwear." Neither do the super austere ones have deodorant. In the heat of summer, most places allow a daily bath or shower, but it has to be really hot outside. And no air conditioning, at all. In the winter, no socks, unless you go out to shovel snow. But then I was only in Discalced Carmelite monasteries. We wore sandals all year long. Other monasteries have shoes and socks. We had perpetual abstinence from meat as well. In spite of such renunciations of physical comforts, cloistered nuns are famously long-lived.
Now we come to the issues of holy obedience. I was twenty-five years old when I first entered Carmel and everyone who knew me thought of me as being quite ladylike. But I had to have thorough etiquette lessons in the novitiate, like Marie-Antoinette arriving at Versailles. In an ancient way of existence, following a venerable Rule and ceremonial, where much of the day is spent in silence, then deportment becoming to the consecrated life is important and saves a lot of misunderstandings in the long run. I had to learn the traditional sign language, to kiss the floor if I committed a fault, to beg pardon of the community at the chapter of faults. Now faults are different from sins. Sins are for the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Faults are mistakes you commit from human weakness and without intent, such as leaving the kitchen light on or forgetting to ring the bell for Compline.
As for obedience itself, in the monastery, under the three evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience, a person is never to obey a sinful command, just as in the secular world. No one has the right to command you to sin. If the legitimate command of a superior is more than the person's physical or emotional strength can bear, i.e., if it makes them soil their clothes, or fall into intense anger, etc. then they must make a representation to their superior. A representation is when you are bound to be honest with your superior. If a nun has a passing but debilitating illness such as shingles or measles or whatever, she is supposed to tell her superior. And the superior is supposed to see that the nun is properly cared for in the infirmary or hospitalized if necessary. Obedience is not supposed to be a crushing burden to the soul or body. If it is, the individual is in the wrong place.
This is not to say that obedience is meant to be easy. It is a sacrifice in faith of one's free will. It can be emotional martyrdom. The difficult part of obedience, from what I have experienced and from what nuns, priests and religious have shared with me, is not when you are asked to do something hard, like making dinner for the community. The difficult part of obedience is when you are told to do something you think is stupid or ridiculous or in bad taste. Like singing a song you dislike. And in the cloister the tiniest things can grate on the nerves. Perhaps you are asked to decorate the altar in a way that you personally think is tacky. You can ask: "Mother, may I tell you another idea for decorating the altar?" And the superior may ask you for your opinion. Or she might just say: "Sister, just do as I ask." And you have to do it, even though you are convinced that God would be better glorified by your artistic vision. But no, God is glorified by a meek and humble heart.
One issue that struck me about Mary's eloquent and heartrending article is that, although her words ring with sincerity and truth, we are still only hearing her side of the matter. It would be interesting to hear what the nuns have to say about the demands they made upon her and why. But nuns do not issue public statements about ex-postulants, as a rule, so we will never know their view. So we pray for Mary to be led by Our Lord to wherever her gifts will be appreciated and where she will blossom.
One more word about religious life in general and cloistered, contemplative life in particular. Holy
obedience in religious life often demands sacrifices that in any other
circumstances would be abusive. It is like being in marine boot camp, or the Navy Seals. It can be extremely tough; you can be corrected for faults you had no idea you had, and humiliated before the entire community. If a
postulant cannot take it, there is absolutely no shame. They are just not meant to
be in that particular community. All communities are different, even
within the same order, and each order or congregation has very specific guidelines about
obedience in their constitutions that have to be approved by Rome. There are levels of obedience in all vocations, such as in marriage or in parish life. But the obedience of
religious life, especially when solemn vows are made, cannot be compared to what is asked of a
layperson. I know that most laypeople, and even secular priests, reading Mary's account, have been shocked. But most of what she describes is typical of strict cloistered monasteries, from what I have read and from my personal experiences. What disturbs me are the health issues she experienced that appear to have been long-term and a source of continued suffering. I hope she has healed and I wish her every blessing and happiness.
People ask me all the time why I left the monastic life. I had to leave it due to continuous severe migraines. Also, the nuns at the Carmel where I spent most of my novitiate thought that I had gifts which I needed to use in the secular world. Although I heartily disagreed with them, they turned out to be right. Obedience can be a bitter chalice but for it we have the example of Our Lord. "My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me. Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt." (Matthew 26: 39)
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