So there I was, having tea with three nuns ...

In fact, three blue nuns, though some wear black. Apparently it’s a matter of choice. The blue get to wear a blue-grey robe that actually looks quite comfortable, the black wear the more trad and forbidding Sister Act / Blues Brothers garb beloved of Hollywood. Your peripheral vision tells you an emperor penguin is sidling up to you; then you look more closely and see it’s just a saintly lady of a certain age plus, in a garment that her spiritual ancestors 1000 years ago would have recognised.

The sisters at St Mary’s convent in Wantage have helped Best Beloved get through some hard times in the past, the place has a special place in her heart, and she has repaid the favour by becoming an Associate. The Boy and I went along to watch and support, to see that she didn’t say 'I do' to anything which she might later regret, and to make sure that if there was a form saying 'I want to be [ ] an Associate [ ] a Nun' then she ticked the right box.

So, after the service, a silent lunch and then a friendly chat over the aforementioned tea, with mint matchmakers* broken out to the sound of a delighted little 'ooh!' from one of the sisters involved. Mint matchmakers seem to be the permitted vice of choice, a bit like sherry at the vicarage. It was those matchmakers that gave me an Insight.

If the motivating factors of life are sex, money and power, then the traditional nunly vows of chastity, poverty and obedience are the exact opposite. This means that everything in the life of these sisters is a gift and a blessing. Everything that they do within their community is a gift and a blessing to someone else; everything that is done by one of the other sisters is a gift and a blessing in return.

And though I didn’t press, I got the distinct impression that these sisters haven’t always been sisters, which fits with the tradition of that particular convent. Apparently it was founded in the nineteenth century, when Wantage was known as Black Wantage, the most wretched hive of scum and villainy in the Vale. 'Every other house was a pub,' a nun told me, clearly feeling a mild thrill at the thought of such salacious wickedness. A bright dynamic young clergyman brought in the sisters to clean the place up. Anyone who knows Wantage today can conclude they succeeded.

And that is how these communities should work. Their people live out in the world and learn about it. Then, if they feel so called, they take the veil, or whatever nuns do (veils weren't in evidence) and the convent becomes a huge reservoir of life experience and wisdom, stored like a battery and discharged into the community. Meanwhile, asking nothing and receiving little in return, the nuns go about their daily business content with the odd blessing of a cup of tea and a matchmaker. There are worse philosophies.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––-

* By which I mean chocolate matchmakers flavoured with mint, not matchmakers still in their own original wrapping, which would be silly and spoil the taste.