Read Online And Then There Were Nuns by Jane Christmas - Free Book Online

blather about habits.
    Sonya was a bohemian-scholar type: tall, slim, with long, straight brown hair and brown, square-framed glasses. She had done a lot of traveling and was now back at university finishing her master’s degree in theology with a focus on urban and international development. Quiet and observant, she seemed to be furthering her education as a way to buy time until she figured out what she really wanted to do. Maybe she knew exactly what she wanted to do but was held back by the same thing that holds back so many of us—what we want to do doesn’t fit the prescribed pattern of what we’re supposed to do at various stages of life. For thirtysomething women like her, that meant career, marriage, family, and home ownership. But really, who sets these rules?
    Talking about setting up our own convent, however, animated Sonya, and she dove into the conversation.
    As I padded back to my cell that evening, I thought about how all age groups are saddled by the expectations of society and how those limits intimidate many women (and men, for that matter) and keep them from pushing the boundaries.
    Granted, not everyone has the freedom to seize the life they want: some are housebound because of disability or illness or are caregivers to their spouses, disabled children, or elderly parents. But there are many others who do have energy and freedom and who squander their time and their money on trivial things like obsessively managing their appearance. If you choose to ignore modern guidelines for the fiftysomething woman, you are considered irresponsible. If you don’t pursue your lost youth or figure with life-or-death zeal, you are deemed slothful and neglectful; if you don’t hit the nail bar every other week, people question your grooming standards; if you stop coloring your hair, people think you’ve “given up.”
    In the convent, the sisters did not seem to give a toss about any of that, and they were as happy as a litter of Labrador puppies. They lived life on their own terms without anxiously measuring their appearance against the standards of a fashion magazine or going into debt in a desperate attempt to plump up their sagging jowls. Imagine the freedom.
    ( 2:viii )
    I WAS struggling to keep pace with Lorraine. What was supposed to be an evening stroll around the leafy neighborhood beyond the convent grounds had turned into a power walk: Lorraine was exercised about the Lord’s Prayer. At evening prayer, the sisters had used a new version that went like this:
    Abba, Amma, Beloved,
    your name be hallowed,
    your reign spread among us,
    your will be done well, at all times, in all places,
    on earth as in heaven.
    Give us the bread we need for today.
    forgive us our sins
    as we forgive those who sin against us.
    Let us not fail in the time of our testing.
    Spare us from trials too sharp to endure.
    Free us from the grip of all evil powers.
    For yours is the reign, the power, and the glory,
    the victory of love, for now and eternity,
    world without end. Amen and amen.
    It had not bothered me too much, but it had sent Lorraine into a near-apoplectic state. Her stride and speed increased as she got more worked up about it.
    â€œYou know, it’s one thing to bring in new versions from time to time, but what drives me up the wall is when they bring in prayers with that gender-neutral crap,” she fumed. “It completely eliminates God-as-Father, and turns Him into a eunuch.”
    â€œIs this about erasing the paternal aspect of God?” I asked. I didn’t always grasp the reasons why the church made such changes.
    She sighed heavily.
    â€œIt is part of an effort to be sensitive to people who were abused by their fathers. And while I get that “father” can be a loaded term for some people, it’s absolutely insane to neutralize God just so you can make Him more palatable to everyone. Really. It’s like the nanny-state has invaded church life. It