Books Recalling bittersweet memories of life as a religious
Eulogy By Mary
Bergan Blanchard 1st Books, 376 pages, $21.25
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By JUDITH BROMBERG
When I opened this book, I did so with a question: Does the world
need another memoir about growing up Catholic or Nuns Story
revisited? Read on for the answer.
Mary Bergan was like thousands of Catholic girls growing up in the
1940s and 50s who were fascinated, bewitched even, by nuns.
Mysterious, she called them, and they were. I grew up virtually
next door to our large parish convent. The Dominicans were our teachers,
playground supervisors and disciplinarians by day, but by 4 p.m. they had
retreated behind their tall fence and disappeared inside their imposing
three-story red brick edifice. If we did see them outside of school hours it
was only in pairs, and they merely nodded, if they acknowledged us at all.
Nevertheless, like Mary, many of us wanted to be them.
We played sister in our tea towel veils and even
through high school entertained thoughts of entering. In my case, my religion
teacher, priest-principal, the one who had suspended me from religion class my
senior year because I was the possessor of a petition to excuse senior girls
from wearing uniforms for the last month, minced no words in telling me I was
not cut out for religious life. (Wise man.) That was that for me (except I did
go on to receive the religion department award that year).
One Mary Bergan, however, was not dissuaded even though her
family, especially her father, expressed grave reservations about her vocation.
Nevertheless, she spent 20 years as a Sister of Mercy. She recalls her decision
to enter: If I entered the convent, I would belong to God. ... I was
under no illusions what it would cost me to have no family, but Id never
have this opportunity again. I knew myself. If I were going at all, I
couldnt wait four years.
She would also belong to the community and for those
20 years tried to bend her will to its expectations. All congregations
work on the principle of blind obedience, that God could make good come from
anything one was told to do. ... He would give the religious grace to do
it.
What no one could foresee at this time, however, was the grace
that was visited on the church with the Second Vatican Council at the same time
that the struggle for civil rights and social justice were clashing with more
established religious and social values.
By this time, Mary Bergan was Sr. Irene, who, responding to her
graces, was beginning to question the efficacy of blind obedience
and who furthermore believed that the church, religious communities, and
religious women and men had a powerful calling to work for social justice.
Inspired years earlier by her mother who gave up her seat on a
crowded Albany bus to a young pregnant black woman, then chatted amiably with
her about motherhood and child-rearing -- treating her like a
person -- Mary poses over and over the question, Wasnt it our
job to do something about it [discrimination] besides sit in the chapel and
pray?
The community leaders who believed convents needed
stability, order and routine continued to appoint conservative superiors who
could keep an even keel, she said. I dont think the sisters
realized what was happening out there. ... Was anyone paying
attention?
Over time, habits starched just so and medieval rules seemed
irrelevant. But also about this time, Rome had begun encouraging religious
communities to consider foreign missions, and Mary/Sr. Irene was one of four
selected to live and work in Beirut, Lebanon, under the protection of the
Pontifical Mission Society.
Expecting fewer restrictions, more freedom, a real apostolate,
what she found was the exact opposite, a pressure-cooker microcosm of all she
had begun to find wanting in religious life. The political situation in the
Middle East in the mid-60s contributed to the stifling atmosphere, but
most of her frustrations came from her companion sisters passivity as to
their role there and to the Pontifical Missions patriarchy. I had
never been so lonely in my life. I was washed out, desolate, drained. I was
bone tired, tired of restraint, of living under a surface, of hoping for
change. Tired of getting up every morning and putting on an acceptable self the
same way I put on my habit. Tired of being told to keep my opinions to myself.
Tired of pushing for new attitudes that no one wanted but me. My ideas were at
odds with everyones. A situation that would forever be.
Irene felt that the Pontifical Mission, which even intercepted
their mail, was working against them, hoping they would go home. They did, by
evacuation before any meaningful work had been accomplished.
The mission in Beirut was not all that was over. That was the
watershed that forced Sr. Irene to face her future and make some decisions.
The shenanigans of the Pontifical Mission in Beirut had dealt a blow to
my vocation, and my zing had evaporated. One of her first steps upon
returning to the States was to compose a 13-page letter to her community
outlining her opinions about all aspects of religious life from vows to the
future of the order. Foremost among her concerns was the stifling nature of
conformity.
It was her former boyfriend who gave her the idea to ask for a
leave of absence to have time to live a secular life and re-evaluate her
vocation. She worked with the disadvantaged in Boston and never went back.
At first, the title of the book is a little off-putting. The frame
narrative for Bergan Blanchards story is the death of her mother for whom
she would deliver the eulogy. OK. It is also a eulogy, of course, for herself
as a religious, a bittersweet experience, but one for which she was grateful
and felt blessed. Still a bit trite, I thought. Then I saw it as a eulogy to
religious life in general, which everyone acknowledges is disappearing as we
once knew it. With the average age of religious nearing 70, every community is
exploring ways to adapt to new realities.
Finally, if Lebanon was a microcosm of the frustrations of
religious life in the 60s, then religious life as Mary Bergan experienced
it is not unlike what many of us are encountering within the church today,
particularly under this pontificate. Is this eulogy to religious life a
precursor to a lamentation for the institutional church as we know it? As she
wrote in her declaration to the community, The sister who could best find
peace within the community was the conformist. She was not the disturber
of settled ideas. We cannot afford to perpetuate this error.
Neither can the church.
Early on in the book, Marys best friend and soul mate in the
community, Edna, chided her to Read a book. All lifes experiences
are laid out in books, she said. If you want to find out about
life, read a good novel.
If you want an understanding of life in religious communities from
the late 40s to late 60s, written with immediacy and poignancy,
read this book.
Judith Bromberg is a regular book reviewer for NCR. Her
e-mail address is jabromberg@sprintmail.com
National Catholic Reporter, November 24,
2000
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