Eva's Story.
CISTERCIAN CONVENT, NIMPTSCHEN,
_September_ 2, 1521.
They have sent me several sheets of Dr. Luther's translation of the New
Testament, from Uncle Cotta's press at Wittemberg.
Of all the works he ever did for God, this seems to me the mightiest and
the best. None has ever so deeply stirred our convent. Many of the
sisters positively refuse to join in any invocation of the saints. They
declare that it must be Satan himself who has kept this glorious book
locked up in a dead language out of reach of women and children and the
common people. And the young nuns say it is so interesting, it is not in
the least like a book of sermons, or a religious treatise.
"It is like every-day life," said one of them to me, "with what every
one wants brought into it; a perfect Friend, so infinitely good, so
near, and so completely understanding our inmost hearts. Ah, Sister
Eva," she added, "if they could only hear of this at home!"
_October_.
To-day we have received a copy of Dr. Luther's thesis against the
monastic life.
"There is but one only spiritual estate," he writes, "which is holy and
makes holy, and that is Christianity,--the faith which is the common
right of all."
"Monastic institutions," he continues, "to be of any use ought to be
schools, in which children may be brought up until they are adults. But
as it is, they are houses in which men and women become children, and
ever continue childish."
Too well, alas! I know the truth of these last words; the hopeless,
childish occupation with trifles, into which the majority of the nuns
sink when the freshness of youth and the bitter conflict of separation
from all dear to the heart has subsided, and the great incidents of life
have become the decorating the church for a festival, or the pomp
attending the visit of an Inspector or Bishop.
It is against this I have striven. It is this I dread for the young
sisters; to see them sink into contented trifling with religious
playthings. And I have been able to see no way of escape, unless,
indeed, we could be transferred to some city and devote ourselves to the
case of the sick and poor.
Dr. Luther, however, admits of another solution. We hear that he has
counselled the Prior of the Monastery at Erfurt to suffer any monks who
wish it freely to depart. And many, we have been told, in various
monasteries, have already left, and returned to serve God in the world.
Monks can, indeed, do this. The world is open before them, and in some
way they are sure to find occupation. But with us it is different. Torn
away from our natural homes, the whole world around us is a trackless
desert.
Yet how can I dare to say this? Since the whole world is the work of our
heavenly father's hands, and may be the way to our Father's house, will
not He surely find a place for each of us in it, and a path for us
through it?
_November_ 10.
Nine of the younger nuns have come to the determination, if possible, to
give up the conventual life, with its round of superstitious
observances. This evening we held a consultation in Sister Beatrice's
cell. Aunt Agnes joined us.
It was decided that each should write to her relatives, simply
confessing that she believed the monastic vows and life to be contrary
to the Holy Scriptures, and praying to be received back into her family.
Sister Beatrice and Aunt Agnes decided to remain patiently where they
were.
"My old home would be no more a home to me now than the convent," Sister
Beatrice said. "There is liberty for me to die here, and an open way for
my spirit to return to God."