Not all assets are transferrable

(And I wrote that header without even checking to see if 'transferrable' is a word... humility must be catching up with me...)

Most people are fascinated with asking about the inner workings of convents, and I answer a question here and there. No, I have no tales of hair shirts, lesbianism, being locked in a barn with the rats, nor of anything else that is grotesque. Most of us were highly decent people, even if the sort of gooey love and respect of which the old books used to speak would have been a laugh. The most tragic element, in my experience, was that adult women were treated as if they were infants. I once read a theory that this was in order to keep them pre-pubescent and therefore more easily celibate, but that's too simple - and, in Assisi, the pre-pubescent fortunately are not sheltered or uncomfortable with the human condition. I think it was more a misguided attempt to 'remake' Sisters in an unreal mould of obedience and docility. Of course, superiors, believing theirs were the voices of God, could all too easily fall into seeing their own impatience, rudeness, rage, whatever as 'good for the others' soul.' (Ahem!)

In the particular Order which I entered, the Sisters (though not cloistered) had little contact with those outside the community save for that necessary in their professions. Though even the friars can have a tendency to maintain an idealistic innocence under all the exposure to the elements, the men had one advantage - most were priests, and Franciscans who spend a good deal of time in the confessional - Franciscan parishes welcome all, so any true naivete should not endure all that long. The nuns, though not ignorant, did tend to have excessive faith in human nature. I think that, deep down, we all wished that everyone was good, all failures were mere weaknesses, and ... well, to take it to an extreme (but one that I would encounter!) that criminal sociopaths have enormous trust in God and his mercy (when, as we'd never realise, they do not fret because they have no consciences at all.)

How well I remember Anne, a very lovely Sister who used to visit a prison (for hardened criminals) when there was an evening Mass each week. One of the inmates told Anne that it was a shame that only those attending Mass got to see her good example. Fortunately, a guard intercepted her when she took the inmate's advice to use the passage way to where the cells were...

But let's take this on a simpler level. Today, though much past religious practise indeed did need revision, there can be a tendency to see some customs as unhealthy when, in the convent context, they had their points. The problem was if one used them on the outside, the more if one met people who were, shall I say, not exactly focussed on ascetic theology.

Francis had placed a provision in the rule that, in any case of discord between the friars, they should 'immediately and humbly ask pardon of the other.' In our particular congregation, that had been more formalised. It was customary, if another started or involved one in a row, and later made an apology, to respond with "and I am sorry that I provoked you."

This, in a setting where all understand the custom, and the underlying humility and charity it is supposed to demonstrate (...even when the actual feelings may be smug and self-righteous...), is not a demonstration of the unhealthy. There are no implications of "I deserve to have you mistreat me - I think I am worth no better - I am to blame for what you did" or anything of the sort. Anyway, both people involved in the argument would have had to accuse themselves to the superior, and the verdict was highly unlikely to be 'not guilty' for either. (I once was penanced to three days of silence - probably the most appropriate penance in the Order's 700 year history.)

Unfortunately, when we are 'raised' with such customs and may grudgingly admit they can be useful, we can forget that there are characters on this earth who would not be edified by the example of humility and charity we're hoping we are presenting. (It was a big year for edification... I doubt we even realised the implicit condescension in our having to 'edify' our parents when we wrote them, as if the good and dedicated people who'd raised us needed their daughters' help to rescue them from their failings.) :) I well remember when one of the less pleasant people with whom I dealt, and whom I had in no way wronged, felt I'd offended her. Most fortunately, one of the friars (the one who told a man en route to rehab that, if he returned before his treatment was complete, said friar would 'break his fucking legs'... the treatment was successful) intercepted the message I nearly sent. "I am sorry I provoked you," if directed to the individual I mentioned, would only have been taken as further proof of weakness and a capacity for manipulation.

Admittedly, there are other times when we must have seemed a prissy little crop of snobs. (I was more intelligent and educated than the others - which is not saying much - so I came across as a cheeky and proud snob, which at the time was perfectly true.) Our community had retained most of the 'old ways' in an era when many congregations were modernising (is that a word?), some becoming quite secular. I suppose that the lowered eyes and demeanour as if we were sterile and feared someone would touch and contaminate us were taught to us in order that we not glance up and see modern touches that would be appealing. But, of course, that was never disclosed. No, our manner was supposed to demonstrate that we were 'recollected,' and therefore provide edification for these 'wicked' modern nuns who turned up at inter-community functions.

Forgive us - anyone who'd act 'edifying,' or concentrate on 'setting a good example,' to her own mother and father is temporarily beyond hope. ;)