Chapter 32
December 9, 1830–December 12, 1831
St. George’s Hill
Dublin, Ireland
The sky was just beginning to blush pink on the horizon when we processed into the chapel for Lauds. Catherine, Elizabeth, and I stayed behind in the foyer, for this wasn’t just any recitation of the Divine Office—it was the day we would become novices.
“Can you believe it is already here?” Elizabeth asked, brimming with excitement.
“I’m excited to begin our intense study,” Catherine put in. “This is what will really help form our new order.”
I had the impression that if given her way, she would have begun our training here. But to me, that was learning the quadrille when you couldn’t yet master the waltz. Catherine was a woman of action, not contemplation, a Martha rather than a Mary, and even when she tried to hide it, it showed through. That was why only a handful of the nuns understood her and even fewer liked her; her mind worked differently, and in a convent, anything different was considered dangerous.
Yet while we were here, we were invited to sit at the feet of the Master and learn from his teachings. The last three months had served to confirm my vocation and show me the faults I needed to eradicate in order to be a good nun. Today was the culmination of a long-awaited dream. I would finally receive my name in religion and wear the white veil of a novice.
Lauds began with the usual prayers. After the scripture reading, we were led forward to kneel before Mother Mary Clare’s chair of office. The nun who had been our director for the last three months said to her, “Mother Superior, after three months of scrutiny, these women—Catherine, Anna Maria, and Elizabeth—seek admission to our order as novices in our way of life.”
Mother Superior leaned forward in her chair and asked, “What is it that you seek?”
I couldn’t help but imagine it was Christ asking me that question.
“The mercy of God and admission to the novitiate as brides of Christ,” we answered.
Mother Superior responded, “Dear sisters, we understand your desire to seek greater admittance to our way of life, but we also know that devils can appear as angels of light. Therefore, we must do as the Apostle says: ‘Test the spirits to see whether they are from God.’ We must first determine whether you truly seek God, are zealous for the work and Word of the Lord, and are willing to seek it out through obedience and humble service. In fairness to you, we must also warn you of the trials and hardships through which we make our journey to God. Knowing this, I ask you again, are you willing to live in our community and begin the sincere work of seeking God as a novice in our way of life?”
Each of us answered, “I am.”
She turned to rest of the community, “Dear Sisters of the Presentation of Our Lady, are you willing to accept these women into our community?”
“We are.”
I couldn’t help but notice that a few Sisters abstained from answering.
“Hearing both your consent and that of your Sisters, I hereby accept you as novices in our community.” She extended her arms over us. “Oh God, it is your voice we hear in our vocation. Hear our prayers and bless these women who wish to undertake deeper service and study of our way of life. Help them to know your holy will, and strengthen them in your service. We ask this through Christ our Lord.”
“Amen,” the congregation responded.
One of the Sisters came forward and offered a silver pair of scissors to Mother Superior.
“It is said that a woman’s hair is her crowning glory. In our way of life, we offer all to God, including our most treasured assets. Are you willing to give up your beauty, your life, and your very identity to follow Christ?”
“I am.” My whole heart and soul were in those two words.
Mother Superior snipped one lock of Catherine’s hair and held it up for all to see. Two other nuns came forward and did the same to my hair and that of Elizabeth. All three of us bowed our heads in submission. For a few moments, the snick of the blades and the crunch of our hair as it was severed was all I heard. Then the Sisters began singing in Latin a song about giving all to Christ.
After our hair was shorn, Mother Superior presented us with the habit and the same Sisters who had cut our hair helped us to change into it while preserving our modesty. When we were finished, we knelt before Mother Superior, who held a white veil in her hands. “So that you may forever be reminded that your old life is dead, and that you live on only in Christ, today I call you by a new name, pronounced by the mouth of the Lord. May the saints for whom you are now named lead you to the day of your profession and, at the end of your life, lead you to your heavenly reward.”
She stood in front of Catherine, holding the white veil of a novice over her head. “Catherine McAuley, may you be known from this day forth as Sister Teresa, after the holy foundress of the Discalced Carmelites.” She placed the white veil on Catherine’s head and pinned it in place.
Leaning down, she said to Catherine, “May the Lord strengthen you in your resolution.” She kissed Catherine on the cheek.
“Pray for me, Mother,” she responded, kissing Mother Superior’s hand.
Coming to me next, she did the same, saying, “Anna Maria Doyle, may you be known from this day forth as Sister Claire, after the holy foundress of the Franciscan Sisters.”
Tears of joy welled in my eyes as the white veil was secured on my head. This was it. Despite the winding road of my vocation, I had done it. I was a nun. I was so caught up in joy that I hardly registered the kiss of peace or Mother Superior calling Elizabeth Sister Angela, after Angela Merci, foundress of the Ursuline order.
We had made it through our postulancy; now the true work would begin.
*****
The greatest joy of the first half of my novitiate was learning about the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience we would take upon our final profession. More than simply a promise to hold no worldly goods of our own, forgo the pleasures of the flesh, and do what is requested of us by our superiors, these vows had a rich tradition rooted in the Bible and Church teaching.
When I wasn’t learning, I worked in the sacristy, a job I considered a great honor. It was my responsibility to ensure the chapel and choir remained clean, to prepare the holy vessels before Mass and clean and purify them after, and to see that the altar cloths, vestments, and other materials were changed out as required by the intricate calendar of feasts held by the Church. I was also charged with the mending of these items as well the sewing and creating of any new ones.
Had things stayed on this course, my novitiate would have been a paradise. However, on May 19, Mother Mary Clare’s term as superior ended and Mother Mary Francis de Sales was elected the new superior. Unlike Mother Mary Clare—who treated us with kindness, respect, and if I was honest, a little indulgence—Mother Mary Francis established herself immediately as a rigid disciplinarian who expected absolute adherence to the rules.
She watched our every move and noted our every mistake, issuing punishment in equal measure, at least in her mind, to the severity of the transgression. Flubbing a word during the Divine Office would get one ten Hail Marys while kneeling on a dried bean before the entire congregation at mealtime for every word missed. Failing to clean any part of the chapel or choir to her satisfaction meant doing it again and again until it met with her approval. But the worst punishments were reserved for chapter meetings. If Mother Superior believed a nun didn’t confess enough sins or show adequate remorse, she would put her on a food ration or order her to skip meals entirely, usually along with some sort of mortification, like having each of the Sisters slap you or step on you as they entered the refectory. And if someone else accused a nun of a sin before she accused herself, the guilty nun would be forced to stay up all night copying out passages from the Bible.
As a result, I was always on edge, often sleep deprived, and rarely at peace. One day in August, we were studying the vow of obedience with the Novice Mistress when I noticed a tickle in my throat. I coughed, but that wasn’t enough to relieve it. I coughed again and then found I couldn’t stop. Soon I was coughing up massive amounts of blood. The Novice Mistress carried me to the infirmary and a doctor was called for. By the time I stopped coughing, my lungs burned and felt as though they were going to explode, and my fingers and toes had turned purple, while the rest of my skin was as white as milk.
Convinced I was dying, the Novice Mistress called in Mother Superior and asked her to permit the priest to administer extreme unction and perhaps even allow me to take my vows in facie mortis. Mother Superior didn’t even bother to fully come into the room, much less examine me, before denying both requests. “She will be fine,” she pronounced before turning on her heel and leaving.
The doctor did not have such a blasé attitude. His diagnosis was that I had suffered a severe hemorrhage of the lungs and it was by the grace of God alone I was alive. He ordered me to remain on strict bedrest for the remainder of my novitiate and to avoid all forms of exertion and anything that might upset me.
I thanked God for my safe deliverance through this trial. Even Mother Superior could not contradict the doctor’s advice if she wanted to remain in office.