Another case study/testimony, this time from an ex-nun.

Dear ‘net friends,

Hi, I’m Mary Jane (not really – that’s my pen name),
alias Sister Mary

Jane, ex-member of a religious congegation. I’ve
been on ‘the outside’ for

14 years and have been re-contructing my life. I
can now say I’m more

contented than I’ve ever been in my whole life. I
sometimes ask the Lord

‘Why did my journey take so long?'(I’m 59).

I was brought up in the ‘ideal’ Catholic family the
youngest of six

children. It was considered a wonderful blessing/privilege
for a daughter

to become a nun or a son, a priest. There were many
‘vocational’

pressures at school from the nuns and from the pulpit
– and finally from a

priest giving a ‘mission’ to the parish. I became
convinced it was God’s

will for me to become a nun. (My friends, please
discern the will of God

carefully).

I entered the convent in the 1950s and left in the
early 80s – 24 of what

could have been the best years of my life. When I
arrived a stern elderly

nun went through my suitcase and put some items into
the community

cupboard. I felt I was no longer a person but a number.
As a postulant (in

my first year) I was sent to a remote country town
and put in front of a

second grade class – to teach them full-time for
a whole year, with no

training whatsoever! The rigours and hardships of
religious life are

termed ‘dying to self’ – ‘taking up the cross and
following Jesus’.

‘Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and
dies it remains alone.’

These scriptures were regularly quoted as justification
for our rigorous

schedule – up at 5 am. with every hour regimented.

Then there were the many humiliations (‘holy rule’).
For example each of

us took turns in the refectory before meals of kneeling
and begging for

our meal from the other sisters. Afterwards we knelt
at the door and

beating our breast entreated the others filing out
to chapel: ‘Of your

charity pray for me a sinner.’ If ever we were late
for chapel we had to

walk down to the front, kneel down with arms outstretched
in the form of a

cross and recite three Hail Marys. Some involuntary
humiliations occurred

when, for example, an old nun who had harbored bitterness
all her life

might throw a dish of food at you when we placed
it before her! Such

‘humility’ was chronic when another old nun would
ask for permission from

her Superior to leave the room for a few minutes!
If ever we wished to be

exempt from (one-hour ‘night recreation’) we would
have to ask permission

from the Superior.

Scripture reading was not given the same priority
as the lives of the

saints, so I tried to model my life on theirs. Suffering
and persecution

was the road to holiness and working diligently to
attain perfection. We

had ‘examination of conscience’ each day to get rid
of our faults. On

Saturday nights we took turns to kneel before the
others and confess any

‘transgression of the Rule’ (it was called ‘Chapter
of Faults’). If we

couldn’t think of anything we invented something
like: ‘I broke silence

after the "Great Silence" (10pm-5am) had
commenced.’ If we kept the holy

rule to the letter we would surely reach perfection,
sainthood and heaven.

My salvation/eternal life depended on MY efforts.
It was hard work. I

felt I was never good enough, my self-esteem was
zero I and always felt

defeated. A sense of unworthiness was cultivated
in us – all very

negative, impersonal, regimented. I now feel single-sex
communities are

fraught with psychological dangers.

The superior was ‘God’s representative.’ She was
to be obeyed without

question – what she said was God’s will for us. If
we were rebuked, we had

to be silent (Jesus ‘was silent and was led like
a lamb to the slaughter’

was quoted all the time as justification). I used
to wonder ‘What’s

really God’s will or the whim of another human being?’
Some of them were

cruel, hard and feelingless – and even, I would say,
evil. One hard

Superior would discover over time what foods you
disliked, then serve them

up and make you eat them. (She found I hated black
pudding – it would make

me sick – but she would stand over me and make me
eat it. Argggghhh!).

Favours were handed to selected individuals and witheld
from others.

Early I recall vividly a young professed sending
a message that she was

sick, and could not get out of bed. The Superior’s
response: ‘Tell her to

get out of bed. Sisters of … don’t get sick!’
(I now have difficulty

with authority figures).

As part of our vow of obedience we had to be ready
at all times to pack up

our bags and go. (It was called ‘detachment’). One
night a phone call at

7.00pm told me I was transferred to a new place:
I was to be at HQ 2.00pm

the next day! If any left the Order, they would quietly
disappear when the

rest of us were otherwise occupied. No goodbys, no
blessing – and not even

a mention that they had gone. We knew when we noted
the vacant place in

the chapel and refectory. The clear message: strong
disapproval.

Why did I stay so long? I was convinced this was
God’s will for me. I had

to obey this hard taskmaster or else I would be punished.
(Fear of

punishment – isn’t that at the lowest level of moral
development?) I went

on from year to year always searching but never finding
what I was lookin

for. I was desperate for the approval of God, through
my superiors, so I

was the ‘perfect nun.’ But there was a deep fearful
emptiness inside me.

My journey to freedom in Christ began with a Clinical
Pastoral Education

course. It was the turning point in my life. CPE
involved learning

counselling skills, and getting in touch with ourselves
– very painful but

very ‘growthful.’ One day fellow-member said ‘You’re
angry, aren’t you?’.

I replied ‘No I’m not angry.’ Hours later that I
realised that I was

angry. My feelings were so successfully repressed
that I was totally out

of touch with myself. It took a lot of hard work
to become aware of and

express my feelings. This group was the ideal place
to learn to do this.

A key spiritual experience happened in a ‘secular’
prayer group. I was

over-awed by the way these people prayed, by their
sincerity and their

freedom in worship. I realised that lay people could
develop an intimacy

with God just as readily as religious could. These
people had something

different – a personal relationship with God. Their
prayers were

spontaneous, from the heart, not read from a book
– nor just Hail Marys or

Our Fathers! I became involved in the Catholic Charismatic
Renewal and

began to read the Bible. Certain passages jumped
out at me, particularly

Genesis 2:18. I realised that the life I was living
was man-made and not

of God. I was caught in the bondage of legalism.
Consequently, I

experienced great doubts and conflict. I felt a hypocrite
– I was living a

life I didn’t believe in any more. God also sent
certain people to prod

me along the way. (I was a very timid fearful person).
After MUCH prayer

I made the mammoth decision to leave.

Leaving the cloister was incredibly traumatic, but
God was faithful and he

provided for my every need. I began to ‘walk by faith
and not by sight’.

However, when renting a flat, with no furniture,
crockery, cutlery, I

phoned my previous convent and asked for a contribution.
A nun came and

offered some old cutlery and one cracked mixing bowl
– I promtly threw

them into the garbage when she left.

I got counseling most weeks for six years. I also
received prayer

counseling: a key moment was when I publicly renounced
my vows of poverty,

chastity and obedience. I received prayers of deliverance
from a spirit of

fear and the spirit of religion. Some key ‘cathartic’
experiences included

deep crying and occasionally, in lonely places, screming
out loux to

release my anger. (I used to wonder why hospital
staff gave anyone who was

angry such a wide berth. It was never OK in the convent
to show emotion:

‘feelings don’t count’). I have forgiven those who
were so cruel to me –

in my mind and will, but even still I wonder if my
heart has caught up…

Adjusting to the real world was hard – though I’m
glad I had some

life-experience before entering the convent at age
21. The love and

support of my non-Catholic friends got me through.
I experienced terrible

rejection from those in Catholic circles. Why can’t
people like me be

‘blessed’ when we make a serious transition from
one ‘vocation’ to

another? Reading Ebaugh’s ‘Becoming an Ex’ has helped
me understand that

my experiences are certainly not unique. She points
out, for example, that

some of us will not retain any friendships we formed
in the convent.

Why am I now happy? I’ve found the Jesus as my personal
Lord and Saviour

and I have a deep personal relationship with him.
I am now taking some of

the good things I learned – like contemplative prayer
and spiritual

direction – and am using them to develop my spiritual
life. Peace and

fulfilment will never be found in an institution
but only in the Lord

Jesus Christ. ‘I am complete in him.’ Now I KNOW
I’ve found what I was

looking for all those years. The emptiness has been
filled. As Augustine

wrote, ‘Late have I loved thee.’

Beware of legalism – it’s deadly. ‘The letter kills
but the Spirit gives

life.’

My prayer for you is Ephesians 1:17-19 (look it up!).

Bless you, my friends, ‘Mary Jane’.