by Sandra Bloom
Lisa laid down the first ace. “Say more.”
“Oh, I dunno. It just seemed so easy for you to slip back into your life here, but I keep hearing the music in my head. Seeing the dancing. The wildness of it. The freedom.”
“Well, sure,” Lisa responded. “I’ve thought about it, too. But so what? That’s not a crime!”
Kacey was unconvinced. “You don’t think so? It sort of feels like one to me. Like this has gone all wrong.”
Lisa’s soft voice began to rise. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, think about it. That could have been us there.”
“That was us there!” Lisa said in exasperation.
“I mean, for real! Not just as afternoon escapees. Those were people our age. It was their scene! I’m twenty-three years old, and I barely knew the words to most of the songs. I think it’s made me feel like I’ve lost my identity. Like I’ve run away from it to something I’m not even sure I believe in anymore!” There, she’d said it. She blinked her moist eyes and took a big gulp.
“Oh, Kacey,” Lisa whispered, tears clouding her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
“Well, I don’t know if I do or not. It’s been hell being so distracted. I’ve been trying to deal with it, you know? I’ve just kept praying that damn prayer, and today, it just really hit home. I feel like such a hypocrite. I say the words, but I don’t believe them.”
“Which words?”
“Calling myself a wretched sinner, for starters! I’m not a wretched sinner! I even change the words when I sing ‘Amazing Grace.’ No fooling! I sing, ‘that saved a peach like me’! I’m no wretch!”
“Kacey!” Lisa knew she shouldn’t smile. “That’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal! Okay, I’ve never been particularly pious. I know I’m irreverent and all that, but I’m not a wretched sinner, and I can’t keep saying that I am! And beyond that, I don’t think I can honestly say that I put all my trust in Our Lady! I can’t! I’m a hypocrite! I’ve spent six years trying to become someone else, while my own history has passed me by!”
“Maybe your history hasn’t been written for you yet,” Lisa said tenderly. She leaned in closer, her eyes searching Kacey’s troubled face. “Oh, Kace,” she murmured.
“Sister Mary John!” The voice was a sudden stab. Lisa twisted around and saw that Mother Mary Bernard had glided up behind her. “I wonder if you’re paying proper attention to your game. You have both the two and the three of diamonds, which you could be playing on the ace.”
Lisa flushed. “Oops, you’re right, Mother Mary. Thank you for pointing that out.” She quickly made the two moves.
Mary Bernard smiled at the young sisters with a less than sincere smile. “I shouldn’t be giving you an advantage over your opponent, but sometimes one can’t refrain from interfering.”
“I know just what you mean,” Lisa responded, equally insincere. Kacey could not look at the old nun, who moved on without another word.
“Yikes!” Lisa whispered. “Maybe we should talk about this another time!”
“Or maybe never.”
The hot days of summer were not lazy ones for the young sisters preparing for final vows. They were weeding the gardens as well as cleaning the college, scrubbing and buffing tile hallways and painting dorm rooms. Kacey didn’t mind the physical work. It felt good to use her body strenuously, to take her mind off the doubts and fears that plagued her. She could not bring herself to face them, but neither could she turn off the music in her head.
Her responsibility was for the vegetable garden, and it was there that she found her greatest pleasure. She liked the heat beating on her back as she knelt between the rows, thinning green onions and carrots, staking tomato plants.
She thought of her stubborn spirit as she did her solitary work. Willful she had been called by Mother Mary Bernard. She saw herself as determined. Determined to accomplish what she had set out to do, in spite of everything.
She’d been naïve when she entered Blessed Sacrament. Everything had seemed clear then. A path was opening. The concept of community life was appealing. Being surrounded by smart, articulate women. Not being consumed with the world: no decisions about marriage, children, making money. Convent life was a convenient life. It allowed her to focus, instead, on “doing good.” Being a giver. So, why now, after six years, can I not be content with my choice?
Beads of sweat dripped from her forehead, dampening the edge of her veil. She swiped at them with dirty fingers. The work day was almost over. Her knees ached as she sat back on her haunches and surveyed her progress. It was a good sight.
“Hey,” she heard Mary Bartholomew call out, “I think you’ve got blight on your tomatoes!”
“No!” Kacey shouted with dismay as she looked up at one of her former roommates, a basketball tucked under her arm. Elaine, who had become Bartholomew.
“Yep, I saw it myself. Brown spots and curling leaves on the Early Girls. Haven’t you been praying over those plants?” Bartholomew teased.
Kacey grinned. “I have, but you know me and prayer. We have only a passing relationship.”
“Well, then you’d better get some poison. Mary Agnes is expecting a bumper crop this year!”
“Shit!” Kacey exclaimed, standing up and shaking dirt from her skirt.
Bartholomew lobbed the ball at Kacey. “A little one-on-one?”
Kacey tossed the ball back. “Nope. Too tired. And now I s’pose I’d better check on those plants!”
“Oh, they’ll be all right,” Bartholomew laughed. “Just say a couple Hail Mary’s over them.”
“If only life were that simple.”
“You don’t think it is?” The two walked side by side toward the tomatoes. Kacey glanced at her friend. She wasn’t sure if she was being teased. Bartholomew was often irreverent, a side of her which Kacey especially appreciated, but she knew her faith was deep and, to Kacey, irritatingly real.
Kacey plucked off a withered leaf. “No, I don’t think anything in life is simple!” Kacey’s frustration showed. “Now just leave me alone with my dilemma!”
But Bartholomew laughed again. “Oh, come on now! Throw in a couple Our Fathers for good measure, and everything’ll be hunky-dory!”
The Fourth of July was just around the corner, and Kacey’s corn was nearly knee high. Through ruthless sprayings, her Early Girls were on the mend. All was well in Kacey’s garden. She walked the rows as one would walk a labyrinth, deep in meditation, seeking clarity, pursuing honesty.
Final vows were now less than a month away. She could hear the older sisters in the chapel, practicing their hymns for the occasion. The music was so rich, Kacey sometimes wept. “Guardian Angel from Heaven So Bright” they sang, their faces beaming with love.
Guardian Angel from Heaven so bright.
Watching beside me to lead me aright.
Fold thy wings round me, O guard me with love.
Softly sing songs to me of heav’n above.
Less than one month. Oh, God! Oh, God . . .
Lisa was on her way to the rec room as Kacey came around the corner. “Good timing!” Lisa called out. “Callistus and Angelica want to start a Scrabble tournament!”
Kacey shook her head, “Don’t feel like it. Go without me.”
“I can’t! I need someone to play against that I can beat, and that’s always you!”
In spite of herself, Kacey had to laugh. “Oh, okay, but walk slowly.” Her face became taut, the smile gone. “I need to tell you something.”
“Sounds mysterious. What’s up?”
Kacey stopped, looking into Lisa’s face. “It’s serious, Lisa.”
“I’m sorry. What is it?”
Kacey paused, then blurted out, “I know this isn’t a good time, but I’ve got to spit it out. I don’t know if I can go through with final v
ows.”
“Oh, wow,” Lisa murmured, her face clouding.
Kacey grimaced. “You know how hard it’s been for me.”
“Well, sure, I’ve seen it. But it’ll—”
Kacey interrupted her. “Instead of getting easier, it just gets harder. And now, teaching catechism this summer to these wonderful, open kids, I’m a hypocrite, teaching them things I don’t even believe!”
“Oh, Kacey, no. What don’t you believe?”
“Take your pick! Just about anything out of the Baltimore Catechism!”
“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a dea—”
But Kacey would not be stopped. “Mortal sin, venial sin, the seven deadly sins. Sin, sin, sin! Confession and repentance! This isn’t what drew me in, ya know? I came in wanting to do some good in this world. Honest to God!” She was quiet for a moment, struggle etched on her face. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”
Lisa wanted to say the right thing. “I think we all feel that way sometimes.”
But Kacey was insistent. “No, not the way I feel. I don’t think so. It gets even worse.” She looked at Lisa.
“Worse?”
“Yeah, the whole Jesus thing.”
“The Jesus thing?”
“Lisa, stop repeating everything I say! You’re making me nervous!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say!”
“Don’t say anything. Just listen. It’s about—oh, I don’t know. It’s about having to sing ‘O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,’ or ‘Jesus Christ Is Risen Today.’ I don’t really believe any of it! All that Jesus stuff! I mean, I’m sure Jesus was a fine guy and everything, but really . . .”
Lisa was listening intently. She scowled as she tried to take it all in. Then her face relaxed. “Kace, have you heard of Bishop James Pike?”
“Sure, but he’s Episcopalian, isn’t he?”
“He is. And mighty radical. I just read an article about him in Time.” Lisa was pleased with herself. “Believe me, I think you two are singing from the same hymnal! He says you don’t have to buy the whole package to be a Christian!”
Now Kacey was interested. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He calls the concept of original sin and belief in the Trinity ‘excess baggage.’ Says they’re not important. And he challenges the infallibility of the Bible, too!”
“Holy cow!” Kacey exclaimed, her eyes widening.
“And he was bishop of the Episcopal Church of California! Think of it!”
Kacey shook her head. “I guess I’ve never paid much attention to him. I knew his name, but—”
“Know what he calls himself? ‘God’s maverick.’ See what I’m trying to get at, Kace? You may never become mother general of our community, but you can be God’s maverick and be true to yourself! You have so much to give!”
“Aww, I don’t know . . .”
“I do,” Lisa replied, “You’ll be a great sister, Kace. You’re just what we need!” She would not be stopped. “I’ve told you before. Think of this as boot camp. We just have to put up with it till the real thing comes along! We’re almost there! You can do this!”
“I don’t know, Lisa,” Kacey repeated.
Sister Mary Leo was watering the plants in her office when Kacey slipped through the door. It had been three years since Kacey had sat in this beloved sister’s class, but her memories of those hours discussing the Moral Issues of the Twentieth Century were still vivid. This was a woman who knew how to challenge you, to make you search deeper than you thought yourself capable.
Mary Leo turned from the spider plant and was surprised to discover Kacey.
“Mary Laurence! You startled me!”
“Oh, sorry, Sister Mary Leo! I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to talk with you, if I may.”
The smile was immediate and warm. “Well, of course! What can I do for you?”
The older nun motioned Kacey to a desk side chair. Kacey sat down and fell silent. Suddenly, she had no idea what to say.
“What is it?” Mary Leo looked fully into Kacey’s face with such kindness, Kacey was caught off guard.
“I’m not sure I can—I should take final vows!” she blurted out. Mary Leo’s expression changed to one of distress. But Kacey plunged ahead. “I think back to your moral issues class. It seemed simpler in the classroom, you know? Sitting there, picking and choosing which problems we’d discuss—we’d solve! But now I’m finding myself asking how I’d solve anything if I’m tucked away from the world like this! And I’m having all these doubts—”
Mary Leo moved to the edge of her chair, raising her hand before Kacey’s anguished face. “Please! Please, I must stop you!” Kacey shrank back into her chair, stunned by the response. Mary Leo gave Kacey a moment to recover. Then, in a voice rich with concern, she said, “Mary Laurence, I’m your teacher, but I’m not your spiritual director.”
Kacey tried to interrupt, but Mary Leo would not allow it.
“It matters to me, what you’re saying. It matters so much that I must make sure you avail yourself of proper guidance. That guidance doesn’t begin with me.”
Kacey tried again. “But you’re the one who knows me best! You understand me!”
Mary Leo smiled sympathetically. “You may be right, but you still must go through channels. Please go to Mary Julian. She’s your superior. You know she’s a good woman.”
“Yes, but—”
“Talk to her. Seek her counsel. Then if you still want to speak with me, ask her permission. When you have it, I’ll be here for you.” Mary Leo rose to her full height, still smiling.
“Shit!” Kacey thought as she moved reluctantly out the door.
Sister Mary Julian was, indeed, a good woman. A woman of discernment. Her eyes took in Kacey’s face as she offered her a cup of coffee. Kacey spooned sugar into the cup, stirring it longer than necessary, avoiding her superior across the small table from her. Mary Julian lifted a plate of cookies. “Sugar cookies fresh from the oven.” Her expression was peaceful, reassuring. Kacey reached for a cookie but could not put it in her dry mouth. She laid it on her saucer.
“Now,” Mary Julian leaned back in the easy chair, her cup raised to her chin, “I know you didn’t make this appointment just to have coffee and cookies with me.”
Kacey swallowed and began. “Well, Sister, you know I’ve had some struggles over these six years. More than my share, I think.” Mary Julian nodded. “And now I’m struggling again. More than at any other time.”
Mary Julian placed her cup in its saucer. She leaned forward slightly. Kacey thought she saw a flicker of pain. “I’m sorry to hear this, Mary Laurence. I know you’ve had difficulty with willfulness. Your ‘willful spirit,’ as I’ve heard it described. But it sounds like this goes beyond willfulness.”
“Yes, Sister.” Kacey swallowed deeply and went on. “It goes to whether I should take final vows.”
“Oh.” The word was drawn out as Mary Julian spoke it. Ohhh. “How can I help you?”
The kindly response brought immediate relief to Kacey. “I’d like your permission to talk about my concerns with Sister Mary Leo.”
“Mary Leo?”
“Yes, Sister. I have great respect for her. I’ve appreciated being her student. Her moral issues class was the greatest learning experience of my life.”
“That’s quite a compliment.”
“And I think she knows me better than anyone else here.”
Mary Julian’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Oh, I think we all know you quite well, Sister. But I must ask you this: Do you believe we’ve failed you in your preparations?”
Kacey was startled by the question. “Oh no, the inadequacy is entirely my own!”
Julian rested her elbows on the arms of the chair, folded her hands, and brought them against her upper lip. She wa
s silent.
Kacey shifted in her chair, coffee and cookies forgotten.
The older nun chose her words carefully. “You are a young woman of many gifts. You have the capacity to do good things in our community, Sister Mary Laurence.”
A small shudder ran through Kacey. She did not respond.
Mary Julian rose from her chair and walked to the window. Kacey watched her as she stared out into the summer sunshine, speaking, finally, in measured tones. “But if you need to pursue this with Mary Leo, then I grant you permission to do so. We do not want anyone to make a false profession, Sister, but neither do we want anyone to slip away who should remain in the fold.”
“Yes, Sister.”
“You must pursue this prayerfully.” She turned to Kacey, and Kacey met her eyes, searching for understanding. “You may go now. I will pray for you and for Sister Mary Leo as she seeks to counsel you.”
The meeting was over. Kacey had gotten what she wanted, but she was surprised at the depth of her own sadness in response to Mary Julian’s disappointment. Julian turned back to the window, and Kacey slipped out the door.
58
Sister Mary Leo leaned forward in her chair. “Well, Sister Mary Laurence, can you tell me what it is that’s causing you to question your vocation?”
“I think it started with ironing the habits and the veils.” She gulped, “Well, not the actual ironing of them, but the opportunity that came with the task.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Kacey explained her clandestine reading of the newspapers covering the floor beneath the ironing board. And her growing anguish at being cut off from the great issues of the day.
Mary Leo listened in amazement as Kacey poured out her pent-up frustrations. “The war, the assassinations. Everything’s changing. People I’ve loved all my life are changing.” She paused. “But I don’t see myself changing. I feel cut off. Without a voice. Without an opinion.” The words rushed out.