Yes, Sister

Let’s talk religious women, nuns, sisters.

Changes in religious life were, after liturgical changes and the end of Friday abstinence, the most visible manifestations of whatever it was that was going on, I’d say.

As always, I’ll start by sharing my own experiences and invite you to share your own. Remember that this isn’t a debate stage, nor are responses expected to fit any particular ideological perspective. Whatever you experienced - you experienced.

My contribution this time will be minimal because honestly, I had very little experience of religious women growing up. In fact, none at all until I went to high school in 1974, if you can believe it. And I’m not joking. I think the sisters who staffed my Catholic high school were the first sisters I’d ever met or possibly even seen.

I’d attended public school up to that point, and all the parishes we attended were, as I’ve said before, cut out of that suburban mold.

So that means by the time I got there, the order that staffed our school - the Sisters of Mercy, motherhouse in Cincinnati - were still alive and even had some younger sisters, one of whom was our senior religion teacher. The wore modified habits, and one of the great controversies of our senior year involved that young sister who was to play in the faculty-student basketball game. She’d asked the (diocesan priest) principal if she could wear, you know, athletic clothes to play, and he initially said no way. I don’t know what happened to change his mind, but he did, and relented. Even though we had all been outraged at the principal’s initial stance, nevertheless, we were awed and a little discomfited when Sister stepped out on the court in her knee-length shorts, t-shirt and (gasp) red hair exposed.

So anyway, over those four years, I was taught by three of those sisters in the subjects of religion, math, French and English. One was old, tired and adequate (the math) and very, very scary - and the other two were good. I can still recite a few lines from the Canterbury Tales in Middle English that one of them had us learn and recite there in her corner classroom with a view of the senior smoking pit. Yes, boys and girls, there was an era in which high schools - even Catholic ones - provided smoking areas for students.

Another sister from another order who lived in town taking care of her aged aunt, I believe, taught us U.S. History and Government and she was terrible. So terrible that I - who rebelled in some ways during high school but also for sure didn’t want to be defrauded of my education - reported her antics to my parents - never teaching the material, but basically doing current events every day. I recall one huge fight with her over the ERA. My mother did bring it up to the principal, but it went nowhere. That woman was a mess.

And that was it for that era (1974-78).

Followed by college (1978-82) where I had two notable experiences. There were, of course, no sisters in residence at the University of Tennessee, anywhere. But I did engage with a couple at a several-weeks mission program I did one summer up in Harlan, Kentucky. That would have been the summer of 1979, and things were definitely chugging along then - it was a girls’ volunteer program (we worked in the Vacation Bible School, visited the homebound, worked in the clothes closet and food pantry) - and I remember one night the sisters (who did not wear habits by then) leading us in an agape meal one night by candlelight. They didn’t pretend it was the Eucharist, but even then, I could tell they thought it should be. It was somewhat thrilling and felt mildly transgressive.

Then the next year, a friend and I flew up to Washington D.C. where we would visit another friend as well as the convent of the RSCJ’s. Like most Catholic girls, we vaguely considered religious life, even in the late 70’s, even having no contact with any religious (we really just wanted to work in the Church - fools!). Someone had suggest the RSCJ’s - “They’re the female Jesuits,” this person had said.

So we visited, and within ten minutes - perhaps less, I knew that this was not for me. They were middle class women living in a middle class space. One worked as a secretary, the others had similar jobs. We ate lunch with them, and it was chicken salad in artfully cut tomatoes.

If I want to live like this…I thought…why would I become a nun?

Plus, quite honestly, the reality of living the rest of my life with my primary relational orientation being a bunch of women was almost horrifying to me. Some might rejoice in having a lifetime with their sisters, but not me.

Two more thoughts inspired by that period:

I appreciate the value of the religious habit, but have never gotten involved in online wars about it - it’s not my life or vocation and therefore not my issue. It’s not my place to pontificate on what vowed religious or the ordained “should” wear.

That attitude, that approach, is probably due to two other experiences I had during that time.

First, the young sister in my high school told us in class - perhaps in the context of the basketball debacle - that every week, she visited a blind woman, and that woman had no idea what she, Sister, wore, and it didn’t matter at all to her. All she knew is that someone was trying to bring her the love of Christ.

And then in Kentucky, there were a couple of visits from two other sisters who worked in the hills. One was a doctor and the other a nurse. They’d been out there for years, tending to the poorest of the poor in Appalachia. They didn’t wear habits.

Which is not to make a statement on the relative value of the habit. Only to explain why I, as a Vatican II baby, appreciate the habit - and most of the religious women I know today and interact with wear a full, floor-length habit, which I respect and value - but don’t get exercised about the issue. I’ve known plenty of religious women since, some of whom were wonderful, others not so much. Habit wearers and non-habit wearers were represented in both groups.

What about you? What was your experience?