Continuing my reflections on Saint Teresa of Avila … Finally, after all kinds of questioning, resistance, and prayer, Teresa happens to read the Epistles of Saint Jerome which must have truly edified her for she says she was filled with much courage. Courage was exactly what she needed for she knew that telling her father about her desire to enter the Carmelite monastery would be really, really tough. Teresa writes:
My father’s love for me was so great, that I could never obtain his consent; nor could the prayers of others, whom I persuaded to speak to him, be of any avail. The utmost I could get from him was that I might do as I pleased after his death. I now began to be afraid of myself, and of my own weakness—for I might go back. So, considering that such waiting was not safe for me, I obtained my end in another way, as I shall now relate. (Life 3.9)
In those days, when I was thus resolved, I had persuaded one of my brothers, by speaking to him of the vanity of the world, to become a friar; and we agreed together to set out one day very early in the morning for the monastery where that friend of mine lived for whom I had so great an affection: though I would have gone to any other monastery, if I thought I should serve God better in it, or to any one my father liked, so strong was my resolution now to become a nun—for I thought more of the salvation of my soul now, and made no account whatever of mine own ease. I remember perfectly well, and it is quite true, that the pain I felt when I left my father’s house was so great, that I do not believe the pain of dying will be greater—for it seemed to me as if every bone in my body were wrenched asunder; for, as I had no love of God to destroy my love of father and of kindred, this latter love came upon me with a violence so great that, if our Lord had not been my keeper, my own resolution to go on would have failed me. But He gave me courage to fight against myself, so that I executed my purpose. (Footnote: The nuns sent word to the father of his child’s escape, and of her desire to become a nun, but without any expectation of obtaining his consent. He came to the monastery forthwith, and “offered up his Isaac on Mount Carmel” (Reforma, lib. i. ch. viii. § 5). (Life 4.1)
Teresa was determined to remain true to this call from God even though she was painfully aware of her father’s feelings on the matter. She knew herself well enough to know that if she didn’t pursue God’s call now, she just might let it fade away from her. As she writes, “waiting was not safe for me.”I’ve met other religious who have had similar experiences in that their family just couldn’t bear to be separated from them. In Teresa’s time, this separation was very clear as she was entering a monastery that observed enclosure. Certainly she would not be able to interact with her family as she had in the past. That is probably true for most religious, especially those who observe enclosure.
It’s as if all our relationships are reordered … not cut off, but changed. It’s not unlike when someone gets married or has a baby. Your relationship with them naturally changes and shifts around a bit. Somehow we learn to give one another the space to grow and change while at the same time hanging on to that core of a relationship (love). With religious life, things are a little different, a little more mysterious perhaps because it’s not a choice that is widely made or understood especially in our society today. Understandably family and friends might have apprehensions. But it can be tough to explain how you feel when you’re still in the process of figuring it out yourself, let alone articulating to anyone!
Thoughts, reflections, questions?
Archived Comments
- October 9, 2007 at 1:33 pm
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But it can be tough to explain how you feel when you’re still in the process of figuring it out yourself, let alone articulating to anyone!
Just so. Religious life, as those of us actually called to it understand it, is indeed a journey – a Pilgrimage – and a work in progress, an ascent, and the goal is not a “dot” on some map, but the very path we take. It is perhaps easier for those called to enclosed life in a proper monastery to explain what it is they have undertaken. It kind of explains itself in a way: “I live in a monastery/convent ,observe the Rule, wear my habit, chant the Hours in Latin and have no property, no possibility of marriage to a man, and limited contact with the outside world” It’s safe. It’s a handy nutshell to toss to curious onlookers.
For those of us living NOT in a monastery, and NOT regularly required to wear a habit, and being third order or an oblate we can marry, and looking for all the world like a normal sane person…it is a bit dicey when we are quizzed. It seems not quite as legit somehow to the world, and there is a sense in which it takes a long time for us to fully live into our profession in our own thinking…to see ourselves as we indeed are. The societal milieu that surrounds us is determined to thwart any efforts we may make, and so it is to be expected that we may falter and hesitate when trying to open ourselves up cold turkey to a questioner.
But to family. I don’t think my family really grasp my situation. I wonder how much they do indeed understand my journey as it has diverged from theirs over the last ten years. I really wonder how much they care… There is a sense in which one must be called to the life to fully comprehend it…credo ut intelligam applies here as in so much of Christian experience. Without them possessing the primary faith or belief which enabled us to hear and respond to the Holy Spirit in the first place, it is a bit like trying to explain aerodynamics to a child making paper airplanes.
You are correct in that it is not a widely known or understood choice. I sometimes despair of this. It is not a hopeless despair, but a despair of sadness and grief. The world careens from one day to the next in a mad frenzied plunge toward eternity, and it is the calling of monks and nuns to serve as a witness – a sign – calling, pointing any who will see, to the only valid “alternative lifestyle” viz. a life of holiness, surrender to the Spirit of God – whether as laity, Religious, priest etc it matters little – a lifestyle centered in Christ, from which proceeds all goods and virtues that can ultimately transform all things. (geez, now I’m really rambling off topic).
Anyhow. how to communicate, how “to give an answer to all them that ask of thee of the hope that lieth in you, but with meekness and fear…”
- October 9, 2007 at 1:43 pm
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How did you (or other sisters) cope with this lack of family? One sister I knew said that her religious community is not her family, but a group of like-minded women who serve and her family is more or less the group of people she serves. I realize how in many ways religious choose not to have a family in a traditional, but it seems even the more social sisters can’t have a family of those they help as they can be transferred, and aren’t guaranteed that sort of stability that comes with family life.
- October 9, 2007 at 4:41 pm
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My family was convinced I was joining some cult, when I was in the process of becoming a Benedictine oblate. I haven’t ever really written about or discussed that time, but I was practically imprisoned the summer I was supposed to be enrolled as an oblate novice. (In hindsight, now I know that what my mom did was illegal.) They were similarly against my Master’s in composition, and my doctorate in the same field.
I wonder how many dreams and aspirations are crushed by parents, who want to live through their children?
- October 9, 2007 at 5:41 pm
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I am not a religious, however, I am an oblate of St. Benedict who regularly attends meetings and other events at the monastery with which I am affiliated. I also practice centering prayer every day, sometimes do the Liturgy of the Hours, spiritual reading, etc. This confuses some of my Catholic aquaintances (they can’t decide whether I’m half a nun or just a religious fanatic) and downright baffles my more secular friends. A good bud of mine, who is generally an understanding person, finds my frequent visits to the monastery and association with sisters to be outlandish. I tried explaining it to her, but to no avail. I think it’s true what some of the posters above implied. It’s hard to understand a vocation, or any other type of strong faith committment, if you don’t have a close, personal relationship with God yourself.
- October 10, 2007 at 9:24 am
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Desiree, I guess the image of “family” isn’t exactly applicable to religious. As you noted, some sisters may think of their nuns as family and others who see the people they serve as their family. The latter makes me a little nervous because I believe a certain professionality needs to be maintained (we all know the worse case senario when these boundaries are not kept). That’s not to say that we can’t be friendly or friends with people whom we serve. But the image of family is a bit too intimate I think. And, the people whom we serve are always changing. That’s one of the hallmarks of religious life is that we go where the needs are. So we go into religious life choosing not to have a family in the ordinary sense (get married, have kids, be around home for holidays, etc.) so that we can truly serve God through our mission. At the same time, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that my nuns and my flesh-and-blood family are always there with and for me. I can’t get rid of them even if I tried! So I guess I personally never felt without family. Though it was and sometimes is difficult when you are out on mission and not always with your nuns or family. We have a saying in our community that where one nun is, we all are. It is so true because I can feel my nuns prayers and support no matter where I am or what I am doing.
- October 10, 2007 at 9:27 am
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Jen, I am so sorry to hear of your experience. I can’t imagine how tough that must have been. I think your last observation is true for many people. Sometimes I think our parents so want the best for us that they miss the fact that they are imposing their view of “the best” on to us. And some I suppose are just messed up, like any of us. But it is never okay to crush someones spirit. Be well, my friend. Sister J
- March 21, 2008 at 8:41 am
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I am in the discernment process. Difficult is not the word I would use to summarize my process…Being grinded down by the millstone of family, is. I love my family, but since coming to stay with them and discerning a calling at the same time, I realized that I cannot be happy with them as I was when I was younger. They simply do not understand, nor do they try. My mother has had arguments with my friend, a franciscan nun and hermit. She has fallen, dramatically on the floor at my feet and sobbed. She has thrown her hands up in dispair and proclaimed that I am no longer bound by her. She has stared at me disapprovingly from across the room for hours. In short, she has treated me in the most appalling way and still she hopes I will change my mind. I cannot. It isn’t mine to change. Something tells me that God isn’t going to change His mind for her either. Pain. Lots of pain. But, His will be done!
- March 25, 2008 at 5:43 am
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Dear Jeannine, I am so sorry to hear how tough it has been. It sounds though like you’ve got a good perspective on this. Do what you can to respond graciously to your family’s concerns, but stay true to your heart’s desire. Often it just takes plain old time to help family and loved ones accept (or at least tolerate) a choice to become a religious. It helps for them to see that you are still their girl, and that religious life is something that makes you happy and most fully “you”. Try not to get sucked into the negativity (I know, easier said than done) and pray for your mom and family. Get out of the house when you need to. Seek support from the community with whom you are discerning or other nuns. My prayers are with you, Jeannine.
