Life In A Convent

You’re a very brave girl.” There are only so many times you can hear this without thinking you might have made a monumental mistake. After all, stupidity and bravery are often no more than a hair’s breadth apart. Unfortunately for me, there’s no getting out of it now. For I am being escorted around a Franciscan convent, the Poor Clares of Arundel, West Sussex, which will be my home for the next seven days. From what I can deduce from the sisters as they greet me, and tell me how brave I am, living as a requires a certain amount of courage. I’m not entirely sure why, but I’m about to find out. How, you may ask, did this come to pass? (Believe me, I asked myself.) Well, if I’m truly honest, the idea began to ferment during a cold Sunday night watching Call The Midwife. “Aren’t nice,” I thought to myself. “I quite like the idea of tea and cake and a bit of singing.” Then it started to churn into something more profound. The need to feel something I haven’t felt in years: still, content, at peace. Because all I ever seem to feel nowadays is stressed, overworked and tired (usually all three). I want to know if their life is as calm, pure and good as I imagine, and – I suppose – to ask if there’s a feasible argument, in this day and age, to live in a manner so removed from the rest of society. Is choosing not to engage with the hardships of the modern world and dedicating your life to God a sacrifice or a refusal to grow up? So here I am, stood in the middle of an 1886 monastery, while Sister Pat (the convent’s second in command) explains that, as their guest, there are certain rules I must live by. This means waking up at 5am, being in the chapel at 5.45am, then again at 7.30am, then again at 8.30am for Mass, and then another four to five times during the day. I will Spot The New Girl be required to help in the kitchen, garden, laundry and on general cleaning duties. There is a strict ban on mobile phones. Talking during prayer, meal times and Obedience, poverty, chastity. Can life as a nun working hours is to be kept to an absolute minimum. Between really be a fulfilling existence? Stylist’s Lucy Foster church services there are stylist’s lucy foster has never felt more packs a modest suitcase and heads off to find out like a novice in her life 52 STYLIST.co.uk Photography: Mark Harrison STYLIST.co.uk 53 Life In A Convent

periods for spiritual reading, that wouldn’t go away. Or they life away. (He eventually answers at all. scripture reading and knew, when they first stepped came round and ended A few days later, Sister dedicated times when the sisters onto the convent porch, that they up paying for the chapel Aelred, the youngest 70-year-old I can talk to each other, such as were home. “Peace of mind” was organ.) Sister Geraldine’s have ever met, tells me she spent tea breaks and an hour twice a phrase often used. “I would father went a step her early 30s reaffirming the a week called ‘recreation’. have had no peace of mind if further and said he choices she’d made. “Those Bedtime is after night prayer, I hadn’t answered the call.” would never see years are rough,” she explains. at 8.45pm. Most of the women at Sister Geraldine and I hang her again (he too “You question yourself and feel this convent have followed this out the laundry together (I now softened). Mothers, the pull of all the other things you timetable for decades. Some know what nuns wear to bed: interestingly, seem to could have done. Until then, you have spent their entire adult lives pyjamas) and she tells me about have been far more never had any doubts.” here. I am faced with just seven her life. I wonder whether she understanding about their choices. It strikes me that perhaps the days yet already the strictness ever saw herself having a family. Boyfriends were left behind. sisters battle these, and other feels exhausting and Touchingly, many came to visit doubts, every day. Their faith in oppressive: no phone, their former girlfriends at the God is something that requires no posh coffee, no wine, convent in the hope they’d change constant effort. Sister Angela, no fancy lunches, and no their minds. None did. These men 75, explains faith is “illuminous husband. Perhaps bravery darkness”, and you reach out is precisely what I need. knowing you’re in touch with God but not in a tangible, physical sense. For Sister Aelred, faith is The first two days pass with “like standing outside a house, little thought on my part. throwing gravel up at a window, I obediently go about my and you would have given up duties. I’m determined not ages ago if it wasn’t for the to think about how long I’ve occasional twitch of the curtains”. agreed to be here in case I’ve always admired people I start to feel trapped. But I’m who have faith; I think it’s far from miserable. The nuns courageous to choose to believe seem lovely and they’re keen in something you can’t possibly to share their stories. Sister ever know. And from what I can Clare, now 86, was a successful see, all the major religious texts accountant’s assistant in Fifties are just guidelines on how to live London who decided to become a good life. If people choose to a nun when she was 30. She tells follow those codes of behaviour me how she cried every night the (in a non-extreme manner, of first week she joined the order, course), I’m all for it. and heard her mother’s voice Unsurprisingly, it’s not long calling her name. Sister Joseph, a day in the life at poor clares: before I am asked about my own bible study, choir practice and 85, a farmer’s daughter from Co a spot of rotavating with sister pat religious background. “I was Limerick, recalls how, at just 15 brought up Church of England,” she knew she’d be a nun. She “Yes, of course, but it wasn’t I say. “Well, I was brought up joined an order two years later something I really thought Catholic but I chose to become with no more life experience to about until I was 32 and my one,” is the lightning quick reply younger sister came to visit me came with trees as gifts to plant, from Sister Pat. But even though “I know what with her new baby. Babies have tokens for their sweethearts I am a novice here, and know I’ve given up: such a strong smell; even at to remember them by. nothing of Catholicism, I’m never the career, evening prayers I could still smell Many of the sisters spoke of once made to feel like an outsider. the baby on my habit… and that’s “being in love” but each said that, And that’s something that’s the sexual when you realise the sacrifice.” in the end, the choice was clear always bothered me about intimacy, the She folds a tea towel and looks as they couldn’t imagine living religion. Because if you are kind children” at me. “That there will never their lives with the men they’d and good, but you’re not religious be a child who will call me fallen for. I find it hard to per se, does that mean you’re her name than milking her ‘mummy’. I know what I’ve given understand how the pull of this destined to eternal damnation? father’s cows. up: the career, the travelling, the life and God could be greater than “No, no,” says Sister Aelred. She’s But it’s Sister Geraldine sexual intimacy, the children…” the pull of romance, partnership, been my boss this week, giving Marie’s story that has the she tails off. “I’m still in a a family of your own. And besides, me gardening tasks and making greatest impact. At 43, she’s conversation with God about it could be argued that it’s so sure I don’t humiliate myself one of the youngest sisters children.” It’s so personal, so much easier, so simplified, so more than necessary. She calls here. She’s French and very heartrending, I have to turn away immature in a way, to dedicate me “Lucy, love” and I think she’s astute. She went to university in so she doesn’t see me cry. your life to a man who doesn’t wonderful. She’s so considered Paris, studied history and aged Many of the nuns’ choices leave a trail of dirty clothes and so gentle in her manner. just 23, when life seems to be to join an order are tinged with through the house and who “Every person in the world ever bursting with potential, became sacrifice. Families’ reactions to doesn’t answer back. But then, as born had God’s light in them. a nun. All the sisters say they their daughters’ decisions were the week passes, I begin to think Most people who do what they were called by God. Sometimes invariably negative. Sister Fidelis’ how hard it must be to dedicate can to be kind and right will a voice, sometimes just a feeling father felt she was throwing her your life to a man who barely come to God.”

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As the week passes, your life praying for eternal life, I find the rhythms of death really does lose its sting. life here to be far from Before I leave, Sister Leo carves oppressive. It’s actually out an hour for me in her office, incredibly soothing. The 5am with parquet floors and high starts and strict timetable windows that let in the warm make the 8.45pm bedtime morning breeze. As we sit and chat a godsend, pun not intended. over a cup of tea and a digestive Every night, I look with growing biscuit, her estuary vowels remind affection at my little simple me of my mum. And I put to Sister room – or ‘cell’, as the nuns, Leo the question I’ve tried, and slightly ominously, refer to and the lack of worldly worries failed, to ask everyone. Essentially, them. There’s a single bed with lucy on drying duty, before a tea break does wonders. if there are so many ways to do with sisters joseph, graÇa and Anne clean, mismatched linen and good as a Christian, what purpose a sink in the corner with a small grave thoughts is there in shutting yourself away mirror over it. Lino on the floor, have already wiped their plates However, all the home grown from society? magnolia walls and a chest of clean. The inherent goodness of cabbage in the world can’t save “What do you know of Jesus?” drawers for clothes (I was told this simple action, the making you from the fate that awaits us she replies. I look blank. “Well, you I only needed a decent outfit for sure that nothing is wasted, all. While strolling around the know he was a healer. You know church and an outfit for work). makes me smile. huge walled garden with Sister he was a teacher. And you also I also have an easy chair (a luxury Sadly, this is a way of life that is Pat, we pass a small cemetery in know he went into the wilderness for guests), a picture of the Virgin diminishing as most of the sisters the corner. “Oooh,” I say, perhaps for 40 days and 40 nights to Mary on the wall and a small vase are very old and some are very with a hint of distaste. “Do you all commune with God. Now, you of fresh flowers from the garden. poorly (the crackle of pill packets get buried here too?” “Well, yes,” can follow Jesus as a teacher, The windows open up onto at mealtimes is the giveaway). comes the matter-of-fact reply. or a doctor, but we choose to a copse of trees. The unlined Sister Leo, the , tells me “But if there are 23 of you now, concentrate on God, just as Jesus curtains might not stop the light, they’d love to have some younger and you’ve had many generations did in the wilderness. We are the but what does it matter when nuns join, that 30 would be a good of nuns here for the last 130 powerhouses of the church; this you’re waking at dawn? age, but 20 might be too big an age years, do you just get buried on is where the electricity comes gap between the new recruit and top of each other?” “Yes.” “But…” from. People come here to get home from home the rest of the sisters. Many are I must look slightly appalled. Sister their battery charged.” I’m actually surprised at how at over 70, yet they all look incredible Pat is unmoved. “The undertaker And I understand. I really do. ease I am here. It all feels very and are full of life, cracking jokes comes with a metal rod and Because I’m genuinely so sad to familiar. It’s similar to boarding about terrorising parrots and pushes it into the ground to see leave. I’m struggling, as I have in school, where I spent four years, bantering with each other over who if the coffins have disintegrated church, in all these thoughtful and the frugality is something can’t hit B-flat at singing practice. enough to take another coffin.” interviews, to keep it together. I was brought up with. Nothing Clearly, decades of clean living I suppose when you spend It’s so alien to me to feel this is thrown away and there’s no emotional all the time. I’ve loved better place to understand this it here, loved these people, the than the refectory, where meals simplicity and purity of their life. are served. I first discover this at The Timetable Have I found God? Well, I never breakfast. It’s 6.30am and the thought God was a man with A typical day with the Poor Clares scent of toast is wafting around. a white beard in the clouds. But I whisper to Sister Pat: “Sorry to I have reconnected with a deeper, u 5am: Wake up u 11.50am: Midday bother you but I can’t seem to more meaningful understanding and shower Prayer in the chapel find the toaster?” She looks at of life, I’ve remembered how it me with a stern but not unkind u 5.45am: Office of u 12.30pm: Lunch feels to be awestruck by nature expression. “You can only have Readings in the chapel (a world away from elbowing your u 2.30pm: Work in toast on Sundays. Some of the way onto the Northern Line). u the garden older sisters are allowed it daily 6.30am: Breakfast But there’s a final question for their digestion.” u 7am: Return to room u 4pm: Tea I need to ask, one I think everyone Later I discover toast is seen would like to ask those who have for spiritual reading u 4.30pm: as an indulgence. When I can dedicated their life to God. “Has u Gospel reading finally have toast for breakfast 7.30am: Morning it,” I begin falteringly, “ever crossed on Sunday, rather than bread Prayer in the chapel u 5.50pm: your mind that death could just and butter, it’s the best toast u 8am: Return to room Evening Prayer be the end?” Sister Leo takes I’ve ever eaten. a sip of tea and is, as ever, unfazed. for scripture reading u 6.30pm: Supper Lunch is the big meal of the “Yes, it has. But I suppose if it is day and there’s always a pudding u 8.30am: Mass u 8.15pm: Night rubbish, it isn’t a bad way to live.” with custard. And you have to eat u 9.30am: Prepare Prayer I look around at the sunlight every last morsel. Crusts of bread streaming through the trees and lunch and have a coffee u 8.45pm: Bed are kept in a bowl on the side so think about the peace and the joy and biscuit you can use them to soak up any I’ve felt in the seven privileged sauce on your dish. When I go u 10am: Work days I’ve spent here, and to wash my plate and cutlery in the garden I couldn’t agree more. (everyone washes their own crockery after a meal), the sisters poorclaresarundel.org

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