Sometimes I did worry about the future. I could see that there was a fundamental crisis looming for the religious life. The world that had given birth to monks and nuns was rapidly becoming history. The most obvious symptom of this crisis was the fall not just in numbers of people going to church, but also entering and remaining in the religious life, and our Community was no exception. No new Sisters had joined since Sister Marie-Louise.
But this fall in numbers was mirrored by an identity crisis. Many felt that to cling onto a lifestyle created in the last century seemed inappropriate. But what should take its place? Each Community had its own way of engaging with the changing world and we were no exception. Although I continued working as a midwife tutor in hospital and living in a Community House in London, things began to move within the Community itself.
Mother Sarah Grace could be quite secretive sometimes. One day in 1976 she announced she was off on a day trip.
‘Where’s she off to?’ the Sisters asked each other, but no one seemed to know the answer.
When the Reverend Mother got back late in the evening, she summoned Sister Rachel and Sister Julia into her study and waved a piece of paper at them.
‘A week ago I received this letter and it’s been burning a hole in my pocket. It’s from Mother Theresa Mary in Birmingham. Their House there is now far too big for them and they want to rejoin their Mother House in Oxfordshire. Mother Theresa Mary was wondering whether we might be interested in taking it over.’
‘Oh Mother, not Birmingham!’ Poor Sister Rachel exclaimed before she could stop herself.
‘Well yes, indeed Birmingham. However, I’ve been up there today and I think it might suit our purposes perfectly.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. And that’s why I want both of you to go up and see it with me soon.’
Sisters Rachel and Julia exchanged pained glances but to no avail. A week later they had to pile into the Community car with the Reverend Mother, muttering darkly to each other about how they could have understood London, but Birmingham? None of us came from the Midlands and the Community had never worked there. We had absolutely no connection whatsoever with the city, and no particular desire to form one.
However, as soon as the Sisters had got out of the car and gone over the threshold of the Birmingham House, they knew they had found our new Mother House. It was a large eighteenth-century farmhouse, complete with a garden and a chapel, set in a deprived area of the inner city. This would be an oasis of peace, in the middle of a busy, needy community, with lots of things for us to do. It was a cunning move by the Reverend Mother to take Sister Rachel and Sister Julia with her because they were respected representatives of both the modernising and conservative factions within the Community; with the support of them both, she knew she would carry the other Sisters. Within the year we had said goodbye to our Mother House in Hastings and moved from the quiet, enchanted forest to an urban jungle in the middle of Birmingham.
This move wasn’t a total shock. Every five years religious Communities receive a ‘visitation’ from their Bishop. This is a kind of audit of the Community’s life and work, where every member of the Community is interviewed about what they do, and their thoughts about the Community’s future. In 1975 the Bishop of Chichester spent some time looking at the Mother House and at the end of it, he took Mother Sarah Grace aside.
‘Look, I’m the last person who wants to see you leave my Diocese,’ he said, ‘but you need to get into the thick of it. This nursing home is taking up all your energy and has a stranglehold on your future. You need to find a new home and a new purpose.’
And the Bishop was right: we were facing a crossroads in the life of the Community. To understand the depth of it, you have to go back to the years immediately following the Second World War. Two pivotal things happened. In 1945 the Sisters were finally allowed to take life vows. Up until this time they had not been allowed to enter the religious life in the fullest, most permanent sense, although they had been living it.
Because the Community of St John the Divine had been set up primarily as a nursing Community, and an Anglican one at that, the religious element had originally only been a means to a more professional nursing end. In fact, because of the anti-Catholic feeling in the British establishment, any attempts by the Sisters to become more formally religious had been strenuously resisted. It was felt that this would both deter women from entering the Community and end in popery.
In reality, most of the women who had joined the Community were deeply religious and longed to be able to express this more formally. They were living the life of the fully professed and wanted to make a public commitment to God. Finally, with great rejoicing among the Sisters, they managed to persuade the church authorities to let them take their life vows. On 2 October 1945, the Feast of the Holy Guardian Angels, most of the Sisters took their life vows. Three Sisters did not, but all of them stayed living in the Community for the rest of their lives, abiding by the three vows, even though they hadn’t publicly professed them.
Meanwhile, in 1947 the National Health Service Act was passed and came into effect in 1948. However, it took a long time for the big, overarching beast that we now know as the NHS to emerge. Rather than a revolution and takeover, it was more like a slow expansion and creeping colonisation of the services that were already there. This meant that our work as nurses and midwives carried on as it had done for many years, with the funding that previously came direct from our patients or charitable donations gradually being taken over by the NHS. Then in 1974 the Sisters started to become individual employees of the Health Service. Looking back now, it was obvious that the writing was on the wall.
Well, Mother Sarah Grace didn’t shirk from this new challenge: she knew the Bishop was right. Although we were doing good work in the nursing home and would have quite happily carried on, the rising cost of staff and supplies meant that we could only look after the relatively comfortably off, rather than the people who really needed us. After much discussion and prayer it was decided that the Mother House should be sold and we should look for somewhere that we could start a new ministry. We had no idea what this ministry should be except that perhaps it could still involve health and healing, but in a wider, more holistic sense.
And it was not only our Mother House in Hastings that had to close. Our work in London seemed to be coming to an end. In 1978 our lease on the Mission House was up for renewal. It had originally been given to us for a token rent by the Diocese in 1945 after our Bow Lane house was destroyed by the bomb that killed Sister Margery. Now the Church wanted a more economically realistic rent, which we had no means of paying. As the NHS expanded its midwifery training, the numbers of pupil midwives coming to train with us dwindled and we had no option but to close down the Mission House.
It was a sad time. The local community were dismayed – we had been present at births, cared for the sick and laid out their dead for 100 years. A petition was sent to the Bishop from the people of Poplar, but we had to accept that we were no longer needed. Our prayers had been answered and now our work there was complete. So we packed up the Mission House (no easy job, it took months), sent lots of our stuff to the City Mission for the Homeless, and became nomads in the London desert. We stayed for a little while in a small vicarage in Bow that smelt of cats, and then shared a house in Vauxhall.
Some Sisters became part of a mixed religious Community in Limehouse. The Community was no longer directly employed by the NHS and the houses we lived in were no longer clinics, but rather centres of prayer to which we returned each evening after work. It meant that Sisters who worked in hospitals had the use of cars, which was exciting! But it was a very different kind of communal living to when we had all been working together as a team in the Mission House. Sometimes I felt we were a bit like the Israelites, wandering round the desert during the exodus from Egypt, looking for a permanent home.
So there was a sense of a pending crisis. But when I use the word ‘crisis’ I don’t necessarily mean this in a negative way. The Chinese written word for ‘crisis’ is made up of two characters – one is ‘danger’ and the other is ‘opportunity’ – and I really see this as having been a tricky, scary and yet exciting time for the Sisters.
For many years the move to Birmingham had little impact on me. I stayed in London, commuting from whichever temporary residence we were living in to my work as a midwife tutor. I loved it and I felt as if I was finally truly fulfilling my vocation. But then the winds of change hit me personally. The government changed the laws regarding nursing and midwifery training. Before, training to become a midwife had been a certificated course with a weekly study day and planned working on the different ward areas the rest of the week. It meant we got to know the students and witnessed how they worked, while maintaining our own competency by working. Perhaps most importantly, it gave the students a very good grounding in the basics. But at the end of the 1980s legislation was passed that removed training from the hospitals and required every midwife to go to college or university.
This, in fact, has much to commend it and I have nothing against student midwives going to university. But not everyone can be a high-flyer. Some women are more practically minded, some are not academic or they have other commitments like families of their own, but this doesn’t mean that they wouldn’t make excellent midwives. Yes, you have to have the basic medical and obstetric knowledge, but being a midwife is so much more than that – it’s about intuition, experience and the ability to connect with a mother – things that university can’t teach, that are actually best taught out on the ward. It also meant that whereas there used to be a good number of student midwives on the wards now, apart from their placements some of their work would have to be undertaken by much less trained healthcare assistants. I would also have to go back and study for further academic qualifications. This would have been difficult while teaching full time and living the religious life and, quite frankly, after years of teaching and working in obstetrics, I didn’t want to do it.
After much prayer and heart searching, disillusioned and generally at a low ebb, I handed in my notice and asked for some time to pray. While doing this, I needed something practical to do so I put on some rubber gloves and an apron and started cleaning the house in Vauxhall. I thought I’d get through a couple of rooms before some sort of inspiration struck. In the end I was at it for a year and managed to scrub the whole house from top to bottom. I started at the top and worked my way through every room – washing down walls, scrubbing floors, polishing doorknobs, praying all the time. In the end the Vauxhall house was immaculate, but my soul remained pretty murky. I felt as if I was bereaved and I kept weeping into my bucket. I couldn’t believe God really wanted me to give up midwifery, but whichever way round I looked at it, that was the message I was getting.
I was finally put out of my misery when the Holy Spirit arrived in the form of a book, Holy Listening: The Art of Spiritual Direction by Margaret Guenther. I read it straight through, starting in the morning and going right through the day into the night, until I had read it four times without stopping. The answer to my predicament was written right there, loud and clear. At the beginning of the book there was a quote from the medieval mystic Eckhart, and this is what caught my attention:
Tend only to the birth in you and you will find all goodness and all consolation, all delight, all being and all truth. Reject it and you reject goodness and blessing. What comes to you in this birth brings with it pure being and blessing. But what you seek or love outside of this birth will come to nothing, no matter what you will or where you will it.
The book spoke to me about how I might become a different kind of midwife, to help give birth to something perhaps more profound and eternal. As Margaret Guenther said in her book:
The birth of God in the soul is our own true birth and the midwife is the person who is with the birthgiver, standing alongside at a time of vulnerability, deep and intimate, the guardian of new life, keeping safe, helping bring to birth. She does things with, not to, the birthgiver, she teaches in the best sense of the word, in that she helps the birthgiver towards ever greater self-knowledge.
I really felt that this was what the Holy Spirit was calling me to, being a midwife of the soul. I started praying about becoming a spiritual director. Perhaps the best way to describe this is as someone who walks alongside others as they attempt to deepen their relationship with God. So I made some enquiries and started my training.
And that was what I thought I was meant to do. However, I should have known by now that God likes to throw in surprises.
At the end of that year, 1991, Mother Sarah Grace announced that she was coming to the end of her term of office and would not be standing for re-election as Reverend Mother. This was no surprise; by now she was in her seventies and had been looking after us all for a very long time. It meant there was to be an election chapter. There were no nominations – the name of every Sister who had been life professed for more than six years and was under the age of 70 automatically went on to the ballot paper. The whole process was overseen by the Chaplain General and, in accordance with tradition, Mother Sarah Grace was not present at the election chapter, but gave her vote privately to the Chaplain beforehand.
On the big day, in ominous silence, we all filed into the Chapel. It was the first election of a Superior I had ever taken part in and there was a feeling of solemnity surrounding the whole occasion. No one was making eye contact. ‘Hmm, a good day for custody of the eyes,’ I thought to myself. But I was pretty sure I could predict how most of them would be voting.
It seemed a very big deal to vote for a new Mother. Mother Sarah Grace, whom from today would be known simply as Sister Sarah Grace, had been such a towering figure in the Community for so long. She really had been a mother to all of us. I couldn’t imagine who could take her place and have the same authority. It was actually quite scary – like having a rug pulled from under your feet. The new Mother would guide the direction of the Community for years to come, and I was under no illusion how difficult the choices were for whoever took over.
As I’ve said, the whole Community was in the middle of a prolonged time of discernment and change. Like any arena where decisions have to be made, there were sides – there were the conservatives and then there were the modernisers. Of course I was on the modernising wing of the Community and I was going to vote for my old mentor, Sister Rachel, as a humane and forward-thinking choice. My catastrophic fantasy was that Sister Julia would get the job and that would put me in a difficult position as regards my future with the Community. But looking at the circle of Sisters around me I thought that on balance the wish for change outweighed the wish to maintain the status quo, and my catastrophic fantasy would remain a fantasy.
The Chaplain said a prayer and then we went up, one by one, and handed him our votes.
We remained in the chapel waiting, all of us kneeling in silent prayer, as the Chaplain retired to a separate room to count the votes. After 15 minutes or so, which seemed an eternity, he came in and standing in front of us, as we stayed with our heads bowed, said a prayer and then announced, ‘Having counted the votes, I am pleased to announce that the new Reverend Mother of this Community of St John the Divine is Sister Catherine Mary. May God bless you, Mother Catherine Mary!’
I felt myself sway on my knees. Did I just hear that right? I must have done, because everyone was turning and looking at me and smiling. Community folklore had it that when Mother Sarah Grace was elected, she remained on her knees praying in silence in the chapel for hours.
I jumped up and strode out of the chapel back to my room, in a state of shock and tearful.
The Chaplain General came in and seeing I obviously wasn’t too happy, said, ‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’
‘I think I need something stronger than that,’ I replied.
Then the former Mother Sarah Grace paid a visit.
‘You are surprised?’
‘Surprised? I’ll say! I never thought it would be me. I’ve never even held an Office in the Community. What on earth’s going on?’
‘It was obvious to me.’
‘Obvious to you? You didn’t say. You could have warned me.’
She looked at me quizzically.
‘I can go on sabbatical if it would make things easier for you,’ she said.
I was shocked.
‘No, there’s no need for that. I don’t think I shall be inhibited by your presence.’
‘No, you never have been and that is why you are the right person for the job. You will be in my prayers.’ And with that she left.
I slipped out and rang my mother to tell her.
‘Well, you asked for it,’ she said.
‘That’s the whole point, Mother. I didn’t.’
‘Hmm. Well, I hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.’
‘Mother, are you listening? It was bitten off for me!’
I gave up and hung up. Mothers can be so frustrating.
The last person to visit was Sister Rachel.
‘I never wanted this. I’m not a leader, I’m just a junior member of this Community,’ I said.
‘That’s why we voted for you. We need someone younger, with the vision and courage to take us to places we never dreamt of. It’s the only way we are going to grow. Jesus’s way wasn’t easy and he caused absolute havoc, but look what he achieved.’
‘You are not reassuring me, Rachel! He ended up on the Cross.’
‘And saving us all.’
For the first time since the election I managed to smile.
‘I didn’t want this. I thought I was going to be a spiritual director.’
‘And you can still be a spiritual director. But you also have the opportunity to help give birth to a whole new Community. Think about it; it’s so exciting. And I will be with you every step of the way.’
She took my hand.
‘How on earth am I going to do this?’ I asked her.
‘One step at a time,’ she said and went to the door. She then added, ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’
‘I never knew what part of the Bible that’s from.’
‘It isn’t. It’s Nietzsche,’ she said and left smiling.
The next morning I went downstairs into the Reverend Mother’s office and tried sitting behind her desk. Suddenly I felt a lot more brave and purposeful. I thought very hard about all the things that I felt should define us, and all the things that were superfluous and got in the way of our ministry in the modern world, and then I wrote a list. At the top of it was the word ‘Habits’. I knew this might be just tinkering at the edges, but it seemed a relatively safe place to start!
To be fair, things had been moving in the right direction for a while. It all started with a rather disastrous camping holiday in the Lake District. Sisters Alice and Sarah Jane had climbed up Helvellyn in a gale in their habits and had nearly taken off. At the next chapter meeting they put forward a motion that in future they should be allowed to wear ordinary sensible clothes on holiday. It was overwhelmingly passed and after that there was a flood of exceptions put forward at every chapter meeting – for example, that the parentcraft classes should be done in trousers (it was most unseemly to be messing around on the floor and bending over people in a skirt). By the time I became the Reverend Mother, we were allowed to wear normal clothes on our days off, but we still had to get changed for chapel.
The first thing I did was order wardrobes to be fitted in each of the bedrooms. Our new ‘mufti’ required previously unneeded hanging space. Marie-Louise, Rachel and I were currently sharing a cupboard in the corridor. And as no one seemed to mind this very much, I then raised the issue in chapter of making the wearing of habits optional at all times. What mattered was what was inside, our vows and commitment and the way we lived our lives; our cross and our ring symbolised the consecration we had made. Perhaps we would have to work harder if we couldn’t hide behind a habit. It was also sometimes a barrier, marking us out. The motion was passed with a solid majority. I was surprised how readily the Sisters agreed to come out of the habit. Only two remained in them – Sister Belinda and Sister Julia, and that was fine. It was only optional.
Then in the same spirit I suggested that we stopped having to address each other as Sister and I definitely did not want to be called Mother. That was more difficult to get through, but I kept arguing these words can be barriers to each other. We are human beings like every one else: even if we have formally put Christ at the very centre of our existence, we need to take away everything that separates us from each other and the wider community. It was passed with a slender majority.
From the very beginning I had been concerned that some things in our way of life could impede the Sisters from growing in maturity. I wanted us to take more responsibility for the direction of our ministries and that meant giving everyone more freedom to think and choose. We collectively decided to give everyone a budget of £30 a month for personal use. In some ways it was just a token amount, but it made a huge difference. I noticed the value of things for a start and it was a relief not to have to request our personal toiletries on a list. But the best thing was being able to buy small gifts – a chocolate bar for a birthday, a book to say thank you.
Along with rights come responsibilities. We changed the decision-making process so that we became much more democratic with far more decisions about the everyday running of the Community being discussed by all the Sisters rather than being decided by the Reverend Mother. Similarly, I encouraged the Sisters to discuss their different sense of calling and follow where they thought God wanted them to go. So one of our Sisters trained to be a reflexologist, one started working in a cake shop making the most fabulously decorated cakes, one visited the elderly in a residential home and another started working in interfaith community relations. God can be expressed in whatever we do and whatever talents He has given us. And yes, as well as being the Mother Superior, I am now spiritual director to more than 20 people, as are several of the Sisters.
Then on the eve of the Millennium we all came down with the flu. The Chaplain arrived with a jeroboam of champagne. We were supposed to be having a special midnight service and then a party; instead we had a few sips in the early evening and then all went to bed. It was decided that we needed to look after ourselves a bit better and instituted ‘duvet days’, where all of us have a couple of free days together after the very busy Christmas and Easter celebrations.
But still occupying our thoughts, prayers, whispered conversations and tense chapter meetings was the fundamental question: what was our real purpose? We had been founded as a nursing community to fill a dire need to look after London’s poor. With the foundation of the NHS, this no longer existed. Should we then believe that the Community’s work was complete? In the end we did as we always had done: we prayed and we waited. We studied in great depth the essence of the religious life and looked for a new expression of it in a changing world. And gradually a new purpose emerged and continues to grow.
The answer we have come to is that we have to have a willingness to share our life with others, and we should live our life in a way that reflects older examples of the religious life when monasteries and religious houses were generous in sharing their lives. We were fortunate to find ourselves with a large house in a very busy, poor urban area. When we looked around we could see that there was need for a place of prayer and healing, a quiet place in the ever madly dashing world where people can stop and spend time to explore what or indeed Whom their life might be about. Home is a place of safety and refuge, where we welcome in and from which we venture out. One of the things that I loved about Malawi was the hospitality of the people. No matter how poor a family, they would go without food and a bed in order to welcome visitors to their home.
It struck us that in the Mother House we might have a ministry of hospitality. Most importantly, a place where people could experience unconditional, thoughtful love – in the way God loves us and we try to love our fellow human beings, and thus fufill the ethos of our patron saint, St John the Divine, the apostle of love.
So we have tried to do this by welcoming people from both the Church and the city in which we live. The Sisters form the core Community, and we have our Associates, a band of over 70 friends who are like our extended family, joining the life of the Community as and when they can, and helping to run the house.
One of our first Associates was Sue. She met the Community years ago when she was working with people with HIV and AIDS. Sue had been unimpressed by the lack of concern that the Church had generally shown to the sufferers of this new terrifying illness. That is, until she went to a meeting about AIDS and bumped into two Sisters dressed in blue habits. They smiled at her but Sue glared at them and turned her back. But she bumped into them again at the next meeting, and when still smiling, they invited her to come and talk to them where they were living in Vauxhall, she thought she should give them a chance. Sue was amazed to find four very hard-working Sisters and a house full of love, laughter, and genuine compassion for people living and dying with AIDS. We challenged all her preconceptions about the Church, especially nuns!
The Sisters further won her over when they agreed to take part in an event for World Aids Day, handing out condoms on the street and being photographed by the world’s press. In her indomitable way Sister Alice, now well past retirement age, was filmed handing out condoms, telling the reporters: ‘We are here because we are human beings caring for other human beings. We believe in the whole ministry of healing and we don’t discriminate against anyone.’
After that Sue regularly started to visit the London House and seeing, in a practical way, faith and love at work in the House had something of a conversion and started to build a relationship with God. She has remained a faithful visiting Associate of our community.
We also have our Alongsiders, who come and live with us sometimes for a year or so, fully participating in the life of the Community. People come when they have reached a point in their lives where they have a significant issue that needs to be addressed. Betty arrived at the Mother House at a time of extreme crisis: she was only 25 but her husband had suddenly died. She was a person with major social problems. Every other door had been closed to her, but Betty stayed with us for two and a half years. We listened to Betty and showed her love, but we also kept her busy helping round the house. At first she felt the warmth of just our love, then she began to see our love as something of a reflection of God’s love and then began to sense and explore God’s love for herself again. It was with huge rejoicing that we held Betty’s Confirmation in our chapel. Eventually she felt strong enough to move into her own flat and is now training to work in the Church.
Betty comes back regularly. We are her family now and it has been a huge privilege to be able to help her on her journey.
We also have many visitors, especially the local clergy, who join us for days of reflection, prayer or to study. We host retreats and and study days for individuals and groups. We are still nursing, but nursing souls. It’s not always easy: it means we are a family who always have guests at our table. It can be difficult when we are feeling vulnerable and not always welcoming, but this is our challenge. We are born into a world with others, and the face of the other makes a demand on us, a demand that God requires us to answer with hospitality.
In the last two decades we have changed out of all recognition. These are exciting times and yes, it sometimes feels risky, but I think we have found the way that God is leading our Community in the twenty-first century.
In 1998 we celebrated our 150th anniversary with a special service in Birmingham Cathedral. This was a big event for us and terribly exciting, with over 600 people coming from all over the country, some of whom we hadn’t seen for years. It was an opportunity to give public thanks for all that had been, for all that is and for all that is to come. With this in mind we decided that we should all have smart new dresses for the occasion.
Our former Reverend Mother, Sarah Grace, had spent the last seven years in happy retirement with us, as a much-loved elder member of the Community. She had been very supportive to me. A few months after I took over from her, she whispered: ‘You know I’ve been watching you, and you’ve smiled more times in the last 15 weeks than I smiled in the past 15 years. I wish I’d smiled more.’ (At which point she did smile, somewhat wistfully.)
As the day for our celebration approached we asked her whether she would like us to make her a new dress too.
‘Oh no, it would be a waste! I won’t wear it again,’ she said.
A week after the ceremony, sitting up in her armchair peacefully listening to Radio 4, Sister Sarah Grace died. We buried her ashes in the garden of the Mother House. We missed her greatly, but we were also able to rejoice that she had lived such a full life, with her work joyfully complete.