Get to know our Capuchin sisters better, obviously. The clarisas dwell in strict enclosure in a little monastery on the corner of Calle San Martín and Calle Ecuador. Brother Scott and I worshiped with seven sisters at Eucharist this morning. We were, of course, separated from the sisters, as were all the laypersons who filled the large chapel. The clarisas were seated within the sanctuary in front of the communion rail, and the rest of us were seated in the pews. I never got a good look at them, because they were facing the altar like all of us. But we heard a good deal from them, as they were the lectors proclaiming the Scripture readings, and the music ministers, leading us in song while playing guitar, organ, and percussion.
At the conclusion of Mass, the sisters went promptly into Eucharistic adoration, with the priest-celebrant exposing the Blessed Sacrament and the sisters singing and strumming and drumming a song of praise. I was taken by surprise by this sudden turn. Normally, you don’t follow Eucharist, the highest form of worship of the Church, with an act of adoration. When you have participated fully, actively, and consciously in the celebration of Eucharist and received communion, you have experienced Christ, the presence of God, and there is no greater act of devotion you can make, sacramentally. I won’t say you shouldn’t or can’t do Eucharistic adoration right after Mass. But I would hold with those who consider that to be a liturgically suspect practice because it contradicts the meaning of the Mass. It undermines the Church’s contemporary theology of the Eucharist, which identifies it as “the summit and source of the Christian life.”
On the other hand, I would be remiss if I failed to acknowledge that adoration is the vocation of these Capuchin sisters. In their social and cultural context, adoration makes perfect sense. They are contemplatives who have been called out of society for the special mission of being a “prayerful presence.” They never cease to offer prayers to God in the name of Christ for all of us. A year ago, the sisters marked 150 years of this prayerful presence in Cochabamba. Don’t be fooled into thinking they have an easy life, making communion bread and wine and selling cakes and religious articles. Have you tried practicing the presence of God for just an hour a day? Have you noticed how hopelessly distracted you are? And have you noticed how difficult it is to perform even one little work of love well, to show someone charity with a clean and cheerful heart? The Capuchin Poor Clares’ lifestyle embodies, in a dramatic way, the total commitment to a God-centered life that Jesus asks of his disciples. Their complete surrender to Jesus Christ makes visible the challenge that confronts each of us who seeks to follow God’s will.
Perhaps this is what has kept me away from the Monastery of Jesus Crucified, where the Capuchin sisters live. I respect their vocation, but I fear it. It’s intimidating to see them, shrouded head to foot in a habit, mantle, and veil that covers all but their faces. From appearances, these Poor Clares live a more strict observance of the Rule of Saint Clare than the sisters I met in New Jersey, seven years ago, when I was a postulant. Yet they are probably as vivacious as the ladies I met back then. Moreover, I am a Capuchin Franciscan like them; so why, over these five months, have I been reluctant to meet them? The language barrier is one good reason. Another could be my feminist inclinations. As much as I understand the vocation to contemplation in an environment of strict enclosure, and although I know that these women have willingly accepted this vocation, something in me resists the image of women living in confinement, separated from society, totally dependent on others, rarely seen, rarely heard. I can conceive of a relaxed form of cloistered life, like the Poor Clares of New Jersey, but strict enclosure does not make sense to me. Sorry, clarisas—your vocation mystifies me!
But I will have a chance to overcome my hang-ups. Thanks to Brother Scott, who stayed after Mass for the period of Eucharistic adoration and spoke to the sisters, the two of us have an invitation to lunch with the holy women on Tuesday. July 16 is the feast of Our Lady of Carmel, one of many titles the Catholic Church gives to the Blessed Virgin Mary. In this guise the Blessed Mother is the patron saint of Bolivia, making this feast a pretty big deal. So we feel honored to be guests of our Capuchin sisters on this day of pride for Bolivians and Catholics. No doubt I’ll be awkward and feel uncomfortable, but I will try to recall the positive impression the Poor Clare sisters of New Jersey made on me all those years ago. If nothing else, the intensity of the encounter will challenge me to empathy for the women. After all, there are others who have seen this bearded brother clad in brown from head to foot. Did I attract them or frighten them away? I bet many were scared off. No doubt, the apprehension I feel about these cloistered Franciscan sisters is similar to what many others have felt about me. The only way for us to get through such apprehensions is with love.
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