I purchased a book from the Graduate Theological Union‘s (now defunct) bookstore during the summer. It’s Following Francis: The Franciscan Way for Everyone by Susan Pitchford. (Morehouse Publishing:2006) It dawned on me that it might be fun to read the book during this semester that I’m residing with the Franciscans. I know: duh!

The book has sixteen chapters. One for each week of school. How convenient. It’s already week four, going on to week five so I have some catching up to do. I’ve read the Preface and chapters 1 and 2, “Why Follow Francis?” and “Holy Eucharist: The Passion of Our God”.

The author is a senior lecturer in sociology at the Univ. of Washington in Seattle.  She’s a member of the Third Order of the Society of St. Francis. She’s an Episcopalian, as I am. I’m not sure what the relationship is between the SSF (Society of St. Francis) and the Community of St. Francis (CSF), which is where I’m living during the school week.

I started the book last week, a week before the Feast of the Stigmata, on September 17. I consider myself equal parts Franciscan and Benedictine, that is, I have a fun-loving, get-down-in-the-trenches sort of spirituality as well as a scholarly, reflective, and solitary bent. I could relate to Pitchford’s comments about the “romantic” and “passionate” Francis. There is definitely an exhuberance about him and his movement. I didn’t realize the Feast of the Stigmata was this week, though. Hearing the readings from Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, so full of images of following Christ, being single-minded in desiring to follow Christ, all really impressed me. I hadn’t thought about Francis’ single-mindedness much. But if you think about it, all the saints have this trait. We “normal” folk are fairly scattered in our desires and wants. Our attention fleets from one “love” to the next.  I remember DZ Phillips shaking his head in wonder as we would think nothing of saying that “we loved” a particular kind of salsa or beer or what have you. The California penchant, well, southern Californian penchant for hyberbole always startled him.

Pitchford says that what finally drew her to Francis (and Franciscan spirituality) was the view of Francis the romantic. She does a good job describing the passion that’s involved here in both its senses.

Francis understood that the God who is love (I John 4:8) is also a “consuming fire” (Hebrews 12:29), and he spent his life being consumed by that love. Yet Francis understood passion in both its senses: his love wasn’t just a rush of intense feelings, the spiritual joyride that is the goal of those we used to call “bliss ninnies.” Francis’ passion embraced the Cross along with the Crucified: he longed and prayed to share in Christ’s suffering, a prayer that was generously answered.

Well, I’ll say so! I frankly had never given much thought to the stigmata. I don’t know if the sisters accept it as something that was very real (they’ve given every indication that they do) and not just something “symbolic”.  The readings we had for the the Daily Offices emphasized this “passion seeking” nature in Francis, i.e., the suffering-seeking nature.

This all probably sounds a bit creepy to the uninitiated. I certainly am no fan of the “dark” side of religious repression. I still have a hard time with certain feasts, especially Christ the King. I don’t mind talk of sacrifice, but good grief! It is such a downer! I’m showing my immaturity, perhaps. After all, there is the Incarnation but there’s also Calvary. I want to skip the “bad” part and go straight to Easter! Who wouldn’t?

Week three is past. The two sisters who were away in Australia (or New Zealand) came back Wednesday afternoon. The stories were wonderful. Lots of snakes, weird birds, fun, tons of rain (it’s winter over there).  I walked around the neighborhood a bit. There’s a great little grocery store a block away. I’ll take a photo of it next week and post it. Strauss organic ice cream – yum! All the delicious chocolates you could want. A place to visit and look, not purchase and eat!

Speaking of eating, convent food is…um, interesting. They are masters at consuming leftovers. Honestly, they put the rest of us to shame. Lunch is basically the leftovers from several meals. It leads to some “creative” (shall we say) combinations.

I’m more accustomed to some of the rituals and traditions of the house, but even so, it’s always very clear to me that I’m in a “convent” and not a hotel or just hanging out with friends. Anyway, here’s this week’s top ways to know you’re living in a convent.

1. When you’re greeted at the door with the announcement that evening prayer will be at 5:30 instead of 6:30pm.

2. When it’s 5:49am and you’re taken the fastest shower you’ve ever had in your life.

3. When you feel something tickling your arm, see that it’s an ant, and your immediate impulse is to flick it off not kill it. (This especially indicates that you’re living in a Franciscan convent!)

4. When someone has just gotten off a 14? 18 hour? flight from Australia and that person is on tap to prepare dinner for the community in 2 hours — and does it cheerfully.  (Yes, the meal was delicious.)

5. When it’s 6:28am and you’re rushing to get downstairs because you’re almost LATE for prayer.

6. When you’re changing the linens on your bed and wish you’d paid more attention to your grandmother when she showed you how to make hospital corners with the sheets.

7. When it’s 7:30am and still during the great silence, and you’re about to leave the house until next week, and someone bows to you instead of saying goodbye.

I’ve become very aware of my posture when sitting. This is a very good thing. Months of physical therapy and “knowing better” haven’t helped the poor computer posture so many of us have.

Here’s this week’s clue to knowing you’re living in a convent:

When you slouch while sitting at the dinner table, while everyone else is sitting ramrod straight, and you wonder, “Oh no! Am I *becoming* a *slouch*, too?”

Very shortly after I arrived on Tuesday dinner was served. We had a tasty carrot soup Tuesday tonight. I told them about a delicious carrot – pear soup I’ve had. They all said that it sounded like a delicious combo.

I suppose Sr. C saw the perplexed expression I had. I was trying to figure out if I had missed Evening Prayer or what. It should have been about time for Evening Prayer right then. Sr. C explained that on Tuesdays they don’t keep to the schedule as printed.

Sr. D sings with the SF Bach Chorus. They rehearse on Tuesdays so they bump up dinner so that she can eat with everyone and the prayers are pushed up, too. That’s why I was a bit confused about the timing of everything. They had already prayed (but earlier than published).

Next week Sr. B and the other sister living here (I’ve never met her) return from New Zealand, I think, where they’re attending the 1st order (vowed religious)  Franciscan world conference.

Tomorrow two women from Canada (French speaking) are coming to stay two weeks in the guest apartment the sisters have. This retreat apartment is a great source of income for them. Better book now. They’re talking about raising the rates from $40 a night to $50 a night. Yes, in San Francisco.

I asked Sr. C where their farthest visitors have come from: Bali!

And yes, they had a nice “day off” on Labor Day. Some of the sisters went to Point Reyes, I think.

Who says it’s boringly peaceful in a convent?

Parking. Parking. Parking.

On Tuesday I found a parking place about four car slots down on the opposite side of the street. It pays to leave SFSU at a reasonable time, say, by 5pm. I’d forgotten just how impacted residential parking in San Francisco is.

Wednesday I was even later getting to the convent. The sisters asked if I’d eaten (“No”). I parked in the driveway, blocking the sidewalk. I unloaded my school bags (these four bags must weigh 60 lbs easy!), and said, “I’ll be back later tonight or tomorrow once I’ve found a parking place. Please pray for me.”

They laughed and assured me I’d find one close by. Um huh. Right Sr. C. Sure. 7:30pm? “Tony, Tony look around. There is sometihng to be found.” (Tony = St. Anthony. He’s the guy to pray to when you need to find something. At least that’s what I’ve heard.)

Wonder of wonders – after only two loops around the block I found a place on Dolores.

Another week spent at the convent. A student asked me today if my convent gig was in preparation for entering! My dear heavens no! I can’t exactly say, “been there, done that”, but…years ago (about 25), when I was a student at SFSU I did spend a week at St. Francis House. I felt a call to the religious life and thought the Franciscans would be a good fit.

Sr. A (the one with whom I did Compline) was at the time the Sr. Provincial in charge of all the sisters in the US. We went for a walk in the neighborhood and we spoke about what I was doing in school and so forth. I said that after getting my MA in Philosophy and that I wanted to go for the PhD in ancient Greek philosophy. I mentioned also that I wanted to teach at the college level. On top of that, I was discerning a call to the Episcopal priesthood.

I don’t remember her exact words, but Sr. A said something like: “Well, you know dear, the Community will assess its needs. If you’re a member, the community’s needs will come first. We might not need a priest or a philosophy professor.”

Gulp! I didn’t start packing my bags immediately, but it was clear to me that I had held a far different view of what living in a religious community was like than was the actual lived experience. I simply couldn’t take the “chance” that I would not be given “permission” to continue my studies. I felt strongly that the academic path was the path for me.

Yes, the realization about what one gives up was a bit scary. I remember telling my spiritual director about my “rude awakening”. He said, “It sounds to me as though you were looking for a womb with a view.” He was right. I was imaging convent life along the lines of roommate life: hanging out with people you like, all of you of one mind, doing neat spiritual activities together. What’s not to like?!

Oy! Anyway, this period with the sisters is only to make life a little easier for me. Instead of commuting 50 miles to school twice a week, I only do it once a week. And I have a nice day of work at school or at the convent on Wednesday. The price can’t be beat . $40 including meals – that’s per week, not per night! Yes, in San Francisco! Plus, I get all the prayers I could possibly want at no extra charge.

Shortly after dinner, the sisters end the day by going to the chapel for the last joint prayer of their day, the Office of Compline. The community then keeps the “great silence” until after Morning Prayer the Eucharist the next day. I certainly like to think that I keep the silence. It’s not as difficult as I thought it would be. There’s no TV blaring or CD’s playing. No one is walking about the house.

But does my blogging and grading papers interfere with keeping the silence? Is it in keeping with the same spirit of the great silence? I wonder. I know that sometimes one or more of the sisters works into the night. But I don’t know if this is a “normal” thing or not.

The sisters do not strike me as being overly “rule bound”. I know. That’s hilarious! What part of “convent” don’t I understand?! But really. These Franciscans are quite flexible and understanding. The spirit of St. Francis House seems to be that the “spirit” is more important than one being forced to obey the letter of the law under some medieval penalty of doing some penance or other.

Years ago (about 20!) when I first visited the sisters here I came downstairs  happy as a lark. I cheerily greeted everyone. “Hi Sister X! Good morning Sister Y!” They nodded — silently. After the third “silent” response it sunk in! Ooops!

Off to grade some more papers. I shall not mutter under my breath.

Everyone else was away so it was just me and Sr. A for Compline. I can handle the BCP as well as anyone, but the Sisters have their own prayer book. I’ve been meaning to spend some time to get better acquainted with it, but the mad rush and press of school has put the task on the back burner. Oh? Did I mention that Sr. A was the former minister provincial for the order for the entire US! Gulp. The Sisters really are very easy going. I’m the nervous ninny at times. Anyway, Sr. A asked me if I would like to join her for Compline and I said “yes”. I was just hanging out in the living room waiting for the rustle of feet heading off to the chapel. Little did I know there would be just the two of us.

I’ll have to ask her whether the custom is to pray “out loud” if one is alone or whether one ought to pray silently.

Well, it’s begun. I finished my first week (two overnights, really) at St. Francis House in San Francisco. It’s wonderful. It’s weird. It’s restorative. It’s weird. What’s “weird” is simply being in a completely different environment for two and a half days. The silence is pervasive. It’s not oppressive, but it imbues everything. I tell you, living in the convent has made me very self-conscious about my being. I’m aware of being loud, or dropping something on the floor. I’m careful not to mindlessly butt-bump a drawer shut. I haven’t seen any TV for three days. I have gone online, but just a little bit (too much web work to do for my classes). Anyway, this week’s top ways to know you’re living in a convent:

1. When you worry whether you’ve turned your cell phone to vibrate.
2. When you worry whether you’ve turned your cell phone entirely to mute since the vibrate mode is still pretty loud.
3. When after you press your computer’s start button, you worry — REALLY WORRY — whether you have the computer on mute.
4. When you wake up in the morning, go downstairs, and everyone around you is in identical brown robes tied with white rope.
5. When you’ve said the Lord’s Prayer more times in 24 hours than you thought was humanly possible or necessary.
6. When you feel minor irritation with yourself for losing your place during the prayers. (There’s something decidedly “unconvent-like” about shining such things on. Just being there makes you want to get it “right”. And this has nothing to do with the sisters. They’re unflappable. What’s more, since they’re Franciscans, they don’t mind letting out a giggle or a belly laugh when something funny happens during the liturgy.)
7. When you can eat a meal with others present and nobody utters a word and there’s no worry that someone’s not speaking to you because you made them mad.