on the order. But the Sisters of Grace are a contemplative order. Do you know what that is? Did anyone ever explain that to you?”
“I think maybe you did,” I told him. “But I probably wasn’t listening.” He laughed again. I seemed to amuse him. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.
“You were young,” he said. “And I was boring, I’m sure.”
“I’m not biting,” I warned him.
“Fair enough. A contemplative order of nuns is onethat’s devoted mostly to constant prayer and adoration,” Father Bob said.
“Adoration of what?”
“God,” he said, spreading his hands in what I took to be the polite, priestly gesture for duh .
“Right,” I said. Duh.
“The enclosure—and by that I mean the retreat from worldly life—is meant to preserve the peace necessary for such rigorous contemplation,” Father Bob said. “It isn’t easy to pray without ceasing when you’re constantly being distracted by the outside world.”
“So what you’re saying is that some nuns go out and help people and try to make the world a better place, and other nuns just lock the door and shut it out so that they can talk to God all day?” I grimaced. “Seems a little unfair to me.”
“You have to understand,” Father Bob said, “the Sisters of Grace—all contemplative religious, in fact—believe that by making prayer the focus of their entire lives, they are making the world a better place. The power of prayer is a documented phenomenon; it can cure the sick. They’re not just talking to God, either. They’re focusing their entire force of being on improving the lives of people around the globe. It’s a pretty tall order.”
“I guess,” I said, though I wasn’t convinced. You couldn’t prove prayer had anything to do with makingthe world a better place, and the idea that it could cure illness seemed like a bunch of voodoo magic to me, something that probably had more to do with the power of suggestion than it did with God.
“It’s not easy,” Father Bob insisted. “That life is very demanding. It requires an extremely strong and dedicated will, and an almost complete obliteration of the ego. Can you imagine how hard it is to never think of yourself above others ever again?”
“Are you saying Hannah wasn’t strong enough?” I asked. I was peeved on Hannah’s behalf. She’d wanted to be a Sister of Grace so badly that she’d sacrificed her youth and her family to do it.
“It appears that the contemplative life didn’t bring out Hannah’s best self,” Father Bob said. “It didn’t fulfill her in the way it should have if it was her true, lifelong vocation. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I looked up sharply at Father Bob. This, I realized, was why he had come. He wanted her to know she wasn’t a failure for leaving the Sisters of Grace. I started to wish Hannah had been willing to talk to him. She probably needed to hear that.
Dad came back into the room then, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, Father,” he said. Father Bob rose from his seat, and so did I. “She just won’t come down.”
“I understand,” he said. “I can see that Hannah is going through a difficult time. Maybe she needs to sortsome things out on her own first. I’m looking forward to meeting her, though, when she’s ready.”
Dad nodded, although, really, none of us knew what Hannah needed. If leaving the Sisters of Grace was Hannah’s great shame, then this was theirs: they didn’t know how to fix her.
“My wife would come down, but …” Dad spread his palms the way Father Bob had, but it didn’t mean the same thing; it meant Here are all the things I wish I had the words to explain .
“I understand,” Father Bob said sympathetically, offering Dad his hand. Dad shook it gratefully, and Father Bob turned to me.
“It was nice to see you again, Caro,” he said. “If you ever need to talk, you know how to find my office, right?”
I nodded. He smiled.
“Good. Thank you for
“I think maybe you did,” I told him. “But I probably wasn’t listening.” He laughed again. I seemed to amuse him. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.
“You were young,” he said. “And I was boring, I’m sure.”
“I’m not biting,” I warned him.
“Fair enough. A contemplative order of nuns is onethat’s devoted mostly to constant prayer and adoration,” Father Bob said.
“Adoration of what?”
“God,” he said, spreading his hands in what I took to be the polite, priestly gesture for duh .
“Right,” I said. Duh.
“The enclosure—and by that I mean the retreat from worldly life—is meant to preserve the peace necessary for such rigorous contemplation,” Father Bob said. “It isn’t easy to pray without ceasing when you’re constantly being distracted by the outside world.”
“So what you’re saying is that some nuns go out and help people and try to make the world a better place, and other nuns just lock the door and shut it out so that they can talk to God all day?” I grimaced. “Seems a little unfair to me.”
“You have to understand,” Father Bob said, “the Sisters of Grace—all contemplative religious, in fact—believe that by making prayer the focus of their entire lives, they are making the world a better place. The power of prayer is a documented phenomenon; it can cure the sick. They’re not just talking to God, either. They’re focusing their entire force of being on improving the lives of people around the globe. It’s a pretty tall order.”
“I guess,” I said, though I wasn’t convinced. You couldn’t prove prayer had anything to do with makingthe world a better place, and the idea that it could cure illness seemed like a bunch of voodoo magic to me, something that probably had more to do with the power of suggestion than it did with God.
“It’s not easy,” Father Bob insisted. “That life is very demanding. It requires an extremely strong and dedicated will, and an almost complete obliteration of the ego. Can you imagine how hard it is to never think of yourself above others ever again?”
“Are you saying Hannah wasn’t strong enough?” I asked. I was peeved on Hannah’s behalf. She’d wanted to be a Sister of Grace so badly that she’d sacrificed her youth and her family to do it.
“It appears that the contemplative life didn’t bring out Hannah’s best self,” Father Bob said. “It didn’t fulfill her in the way it should have if it was her true, lifelong vocation. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I looked up sharply at Father Bob. This, I realized, was why he had come. He wanted her to know she wasn’t a failure for leaving the Sisters of Grace. I started to wish Hannah had been willing to talk to him. She probably needed to hear that.
Dad came back into the room then, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, Father,” he said. Father Bob rose from his seat, and so did I. “She just won’t come down.”
“I understand,” he said. “I can see that Hannah is going through a difficult time. Maybe she needs to sortsome things out on her own first. I’m looking forward to meeting her, though, when she’s ready.”
Dad nodded, although, really, none of us knew what Hannah needed. If leaving the Sisters of Grace was Hannah’s great shame, then this was theirs: they didn’t know how to fix her.
“My wife would come down, but …” Dad spread his palms the way Father Bob had, but it didn’t mean the same thing; it meant Here are all the things I wish I had the words to explain .
“I understand,” Father Bob said sympathetically, offering Dad his hand. Dad shook it gratefully, and Father Bob turned to me.
“It was nice to see you again, Caro,” he said. “If you ever need to talk, you know how to find my office, right?”
I nodded. He smiled.
“Good. Thank you for
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