THE CLOISTER.
Proceeding from the little Grotto of Lourdes, where the Sisters kneel in
the evening for their “Drie Wees Gegroeten” (three Hail Marys), one
passes through the large, stone-paved playground, over the small yard,
and enters the corridor leading to the Chapel.
Passing through the yard, we observe the Novitiate on the left. This may
be considered the preparatory school of religious life. Here no one is
received under the age of twenty-one, without full consent of parents or
guardians. Immediately a regular course of training begins, in which the
duties and obligations of religious life are clearly presented. No
applicant is permitted to take the vows who has not voluntarily
responded to the requirements of the Novitiate.
Before taking the vows, every postulant, if not satisfied, is perfectly
free to return to her own home. Thus the obligations which bind one to
religious life are not incurred by entering a Convent or taking the
veil, as some people suppose, but by the solemn and voluntary
pronunciation of the vows, which in our Community may not take place
without special dispensation, in less than a year after receiving the
habit. In the Novitiate a Training Class has been established for those
who intend to teach school. If not already graduates, this course is
usually followed by the novice, who later enters the Normal School.
The experiences of the Novitiate make a life-long impression on the
mind, and are regarded by the religious of more mature years as the
scenes of childhood in the home circle are looked upon by the people of
the world.
On the right of the hall is seen the large folding door leading to the
Community room of the Sisters. This apartment, especially devoted to the
private use of the “professed members,” is never entered by the
worldling, except with special permission from higher authority, and
then only in case of necessity, as, for instance, a workman, for
necessary repairs.
Enter then in spirit this earthly paradise and try, if possible, to
comprehend the charm which permeates it. Here we meet rich and poor, old
and young. They call each other “Sister.” They greet in passing with
these words, “Geloofd Zij Jezus Christus” (Praised Be Jesus Christ), to
atone for the profane use of the sacred Name by the vulgar.
The Sisters are all dressed alike; thus, no vain love of dress, no envy,
no jealousy. They lose no precious time at the dressing table, and no
money is wasted in following the vagaries and follies of every changing
season. Their food is the same (exceptions being made for the sick and
feeble), simple and substantial, neither rich nor dainty. The result is,
as a rule, a measure of health and physical strength unknown in the
circles of society.
The rules and regulations to which they voluntarily subject themselves
relieve them of all care and encumbrance as to the future. Each member
performs her work as faithfully and diligently as possible; and the good
“All Father” provides. They join each other in prayer and in the
recreation. They assist each other in pain, in sickness and sorrow, and
comfort one another in the hour of death.
The work of the members is not the same. Each has a special office or
work to perform.
As the different organs of the body co-operate in preserving life, and
even the smallest screw in the locomotive is necessary to the
accomplishment of its work, so does each member contribute to the
spiritual life and well-being of the Community.
From this place is banished all that makes life miserable for millions
of people. That is, particularly, the great desire of worldly
possession—having, ever having, and never having enough—also, the
ever-increasing desire and search for pleasure, pastime and
self-satisfaction; but finding only pain, chagrin and remorse; that is,
finally, the insatiable desire for freedom from all bonds and fetters
which sanctify the soul and keep the body in restraint; and while thus
seeking liberty, one finds, as a rule, in himself a most cruel tyrant
for master.
The Sisters retire at an appointed hour and arise at the first sound of
the bell. They work faithfully and industriously all day long, all year
long, all their lives.
Their wages are neither gold nor silver. They are the eternal merits
which they know awaits them in a better life. The false and artificial
customs of the world are strangers here. This short and sorrowful life
is looked upon as a pilgrimage in a land of exile, or as the passage of
a train from which the traveler joyfully observes the fleeting objects
along the route, well knowing that every disappearing mile-post reduces
the distance between him and his dearly beloved home.
The Sisterhood is as a garden of many flowers, where the pure white lily
never loses its beauty, where the red rose of love has made place for
the pure white blossom of Christian Charity; and the fragrant little
violet of humility diffuses incense to the angels who ascend and descend
about the Throne of God.
People often condole the Religious closed up within the prison walls of
the Convent and forever deprived of the joys and pleasures of the world.
Little they know that within these same walls the heart is as free as
the flight of the bird, while the soul in solitude is in constant
communion with God, whose Divine Presence is felt in the life that
surrounds her.
She hears His voice in the gentle sigh of the breeze, in the hum of the
bee, in the song of the bird and in the soft murmur of the little
brooklet breaking over the mountainside. His wonderful attributes become
visible to a certain degree in every object around her. She admires His
Divine Providence in the fatherly care which He takes of His creatures.
Even the tiniest insect and the smallest blade of grass show forth the
love, wisdom and the goodness of God.
The soul in solitude, hidden within the Convent walls, admires the
grandeur and glory of God as manifested in the majestic rising and
setting of the sun, and its influence over all nature. God’s beauty is
seen in the color of the clouds and in the ever-varying tints of the
sky. The fragrance of the flowers reminds her of the odor of sanctity
which a Christian should leave in his wake; and if, as sometimes occurs,
one observes anything which mars the beautiful face of Nature or
disturbs the peaceful course of events, it brings to mind the revolting
sight of a soul in sin and the remorse and confusion it must suffer.
The wave on the ocean’s breast; those giant rocks on the shore; the
mountains and little hills; the river flowing on to the sea; the moss
and ferns in the wood; in a word, every object in and around proclaim to
the religious the omnipotence and omnipresence of Him who created them.
The soul detached from the temporal, and seeking only the eternal,
forsakes the creature to find the Creator; and, having found Him, has
found what her heart desired.
What are, then, the pleasures of earth to those who have tasted the
sweetness of Grace; more delicious than the luxuries of a thousand
worlds? They speak no more of the past, since for them a new and happier
life has begun. With eyes and hearts fixed on heaven, they have
forgotten the earth and, enraptured, cry out:
“Laetatus sum in his qui dicta sunt mihi; in domum domini ibimus.” (I
was rejoiced at those things which were said to me: We shall go into the
house of the Lord.)
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