or How Did a Nice Jewish Girl Like You Land Up in a Convent?
To my readers" Please excuse the reprinting of this post. But I couldn't resist. It remains one of my favorite posts and one of the favorites of a great many of to life with love readers!
When I was 21, I entered the convent…..
….well, not exactly…..
I was a day student in the Vincent d’Indy Music School run by the Sisters in the
Mother House of the Congregation Nom de Jesus Marie.
It wasn’t long before the sisters and I fell madly in love with each other….
But it took a learning curve before we got there!
I
I remember the time when Sister Stephane called me into her office to discuss my tight sweaters.
The first thing i did was ask for forgiveness.
"Please forgive me, Sister Stephane. But I want you to know that I’m not trying to seduce the young priests who come to visit the music school. It’s just that I don’t know how to wash my lambs wool sweaters without shrinking them!"
Another day, to my surprise, the priest had been sent to convert me.
Later on I was told that was one of his routine duties when a new student was not of the Catholic faith.
I wrote Sister Stephane a note bringing her up-to-date with what transpired.
Dear Sister Stephane
Yesterday the priest was sent to convert me. I appreciate that's one of his routine duties.
I must say i did what you would have advised me to do had I come to you for advice.
I took great care to caution him.
“Father, If you succeed in converting me, that would be the end of the Catholic Church!”
Sister Stephane, you will be most happy to learn that I saved the Catholic Church!
He took my words of caution very seriously! He left very quickly before anything could transpire."
I must say that the greatest challenge to my thinking of doing the right thing at the right time,
came when I was invited to join the procession in the Chapel honoring the memory of our dearly beloved Sister Max.
After it was over, I wrote Sister Stephane a long letter describing what had transpired.
Dear Sister Stephane,
I was so flattered that you invited me to join the procession.
You would have been proud of me. I rose to the occasion. Actually, I “kneeled” to the occasion.
I had no problem when we were in the pews and getting on our knees. I must admit I was not to the manner born, being born into a religious Jewish family. But then I didn’t think the Jewish God would have been offended. Kneeling is not a sin punishable by death.
But then came the test of conscience. When I was in the procession leading out of the Chapel, my heart sank. I was faced with a bleak reality. When it came to my turn I would have to kneel in front of the alter, cross myself, and then join the procession out.
Can you just imagine in what turmoil I was thrown? Did crossing mean instant conversion? What would my mother say? My father? Would they drop dead of shame?
But at that very same moment. I was struck with a moment of revelation. “You are in a procession. You’re honoring Sister Max whom you adored. Don’t make an asshole of yourself and spoil the procession. Just do what you’re supposed to. Kneel and cross yourself!”
Sister Stephane, you would have been proud of me. I didn’t stick out like a sore thumb!
But to this day I wonder, “Is there a correct way of crossing yourself. From right to left? Or left to right?"
