CHAPTER 20
Sister Scholastica loved to hike in the Delaware Water Gap, even in the dead of winter. Some of the other community members did as well. In place of her blue and gray habit and navy blue veil, the nun was wearing jeans and an orange down parka. The relatively mild winter left the trails almost free of ice. The day was crisp--bright and sunny.
Her sisters and brothers in community did not like her to hike alone but she assured them that she was well equipped to take care of herself. Somewhere along the line the nun had taken some martial arts training. No one could quite pin down where and when that had been. She had one of the community cell phones attached to her belt, right next to a small canister of pepper spray.
The Salesian nun lingered on an old wooden bridge, gazing up at a small waterfall which fed the stream rushing just beneath her under the bridge. The roar of the falls was soothing, washing away recent stresses. She prayed to Our Lady of Good Deliverance, a French title for the Blessed Mother Mary. It was through the intercession of Our Lady of Good Deliverance that Saint Francis de Sales was healed of a physical and emotional illness that could have ended in death.
He was a young student in Paris at the time and got caught up in the theological debate about predestination which was in vogue during that era. Was he already destined for heaven or hell from birth? His love of God far outweighed any fear of hell but he longed to be with the God whom he loved when he would die. Wandering into a church, the feverish, emaciated, and confused young man prayed before a statue of Our Lady of Good Deliverance and indeed was delivered.
In a blinding moment of insight he understood that he didn’t know about such things as predestination and that all he had was “right now” to love God and that is what he was going to do. Thus, life in the present moment became a cornerstone of Salesian spirituality. That same “present moment” philosophy continues to be a link between Christianity and most Asian spiritualities.
Sister Scholastica took solace in the fact that both of the founders of her Salesian spiritual family, Saint Jane de Chantal and Saint Francis de Sales, went through at least one major crisis. She could get through this one too.
The roar of the falls had deafened her to the approach of two men. One silent male stood on either side of her now. She became aware of them with a jolt.
“Hello Leone. How are things in the monastery?”
Anger and relief washed over her with a force stronger than any waterfall.
“Hello Calvin. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“John, I’d like you to meet the illusive Leone Striker, or Sister Scholastica, as she is now known in monastic life.”
“Hello Sister. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry if we gave you a start.”
“That’s okay Agent. Calvin has a way of doing that to me. It’s been going on for years but I thought that it had stopped. Guess I was wrong”
“Leone was one of our very best agents, John. She could sort of shape shift, if you know what I mean. One moment she was a demure administrative assistant and the next she was giving someone a karate chop. She’s been just about everywhere in the world but chose to lock herself away in a little monastery for who knows what reason.”
The trio walked to the other side of the bridge and sat on a solid old bench fashioned out of slices of timber from the forest. The falls were further away now. The roar was quieter but their beauty remained.
“What will it take for the CIA to leave me in peace?”
“Two things. The first is to convince me that you made a healthy choice by entering monastic life, and the second is to find someone to replace you that has at least half the skills you have. I question everything about the ridiculous choice you made.”
John was in awe. His boss was talking to the nun in a way that indicated Sister Scholastica had really been an exceptional agent. He’d never seen his boss do that before and probably never would again.
“The very nature of monastic life is to focus on things that are not seen, on values that transcend this life, that move beyond the ego, that make the monastic herself, along with others, question things. If we fit in as well as anyone else and don’t evoke questions we are probably not very good monastics.”
“Did you learn that as a novice?” Calvin questioned mockingly.
“I learned theory as a novice. I came to understand deeper realities by living the life. At first I suppose my motives were mixed. I entered partially to get away from all the death, deception, and destruction that my life seemed to attract. True, much of what I did made the world a little better. I give God the credit for that.
“As time went by my motives purified. Under the more superficial motivation for monastic life was, I now see, a true vocation to the vowed life.”
“They let you enter under those conditions?” John questioned.
“Yes John. You see, the Abbot and the Director of Novices are very wise people. They have years of experience in dealing with new vocations to the monastery. They probably saw more in me than I was able to see in myself.
“Also, there is a saying in monastic life that if the life is not right for a postulant, a newcomer, that the cell will cast him or her out.”
“The cell?” John responded.
“We call our sleeping quarters a ‘cell.’ They are small and simple rooms. I know that it makes a monastery sound like a prison but I assure you that it is harder to get into a monastery than to get out of one.
“Calvin, do you remember me telling you that I almost entered the convent when I graduated from high school but that my father asked me to go to college first?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I was not cut out to be a teaching or nursing Sister so that would have been a mistake. Instead I finished college with a degree in international relations. I did an internship in a government facility and one thing led to another and before I knew it my life was being run by adrenalin and the government. It was wonderful and exciting but my true call was monastic life.
“Becoming a nun is different from being a Sister in a more directly apostolic community. Sisters are a gift to the world and are usually integrated into it by their work to some degree. Nuns are more cloistered, spend more time in silence, and their day is lived around the rhythm of the Liturgy of the Hours, the Divine Office, which punctuates their days with prayer.”
“This conversation is nothing like what I thought it would be,” the sometimes naïve John stated. “Let me risk my boss’s ire and say that it seems pretty clear that Sister Scholastica has a genuine vocation to monastic life. My great-uncle was a monk so I am immensely qualified to say that.” He laughed warmly. “There’s something more here though. Here goes nothing. Calvin, were you in love with Leone?”
“What kind of a question is that?” Calvin stopped abruptly and went quiet. “Guilty.”
“It’s time to let it go Calvin. We’ve got other work to do and you’ve got to get on with your life. Besides, you’re married to the CIA.”
Calvin threw up his arms in frustration and yelled: “I surrender.”
“But listen Leone. You passed the first test; your vocation is probably genuine. You still need to provide the Agency with a replacement. That’s my second requirement, remember?”
“I do and I’ll try. Jesus never gives us more than we can handle even though it feels like it many times. Give me a little time, okay?”
“Okay my old friend. Abbot Francis will be back next week. You have until then.”
Calvin held no jurisdiction over the nun and all three knew it. It was more about processing old wounds. She prayed that his wounds might be glorified the way Jesus’ wounds were after the resurrection.