Elizabeth Schoffen, One Month Before Leaving Home for the Convent.
On entering the novitiate, I was given a formula, which I said kneeling, as follows: "Reverend Mother, I beg to enter this holy house, and will submit to all the trials to prove myself worthy to become a servant of the poor, and pray for perseverance." I was then led into a large, barn-like hall or room, with a long, sort-of-workshop table in the center, and a number of plain chairs—this was all the furniture. There were a few holy pictures on the wall which broke the awful bareness. The frames were black, coffin-like strips of wood, very forcibly impressing the idea of death on my mind.
I was then led to a graded oratory where there were various statues and lighted candles, before which I knelt, ahead of the novices and the Mistress of Novices, and prayed: "Veni, Creator Spiritus," meaning, "Come, O Holy Ghost," and the Litany of the Saints. With this introductory ceremony over, the Mistress came to me with a large pair of scissors and cut off my beautiful, golden-brown hair, my only beauty. This was the first "mark of the beast," the first preparatory act for Rome's "holy" institution.
I was then a "postulant" which means on probation. The postulant period generally is six months. During that time the sisters decide whether or not the candidate has a religious calling—that is, to find out more intimately her character, disposition, temperament, inclinations, disinclinations—to see if she has the bodily fitness and soul requirements to be permitted the next step of advancement in this "holy" calling.
I was told by the mistress that the closing of the door of that "holy" house was a complete separation of myself from the sinful world. That if I wanted to be a spouse of Christ and a good sister, I had to absolutely forget everything outside the convent, even to my own parents and relations. "He that is not willing to leave father and mother for my sake is not worthy of me." The one important obligation that was repeatedly impressed upon my mind was that I had entered the convent to become a religious to save my soul. The quotation, "Let the dead bury their dead," was translated literally to me, and I was not to worry about any one outside the four walls that enclosed me.
As a postulant, I was to learn the fundamental virtues of the community of the Sisters of Charity—Humility, Simplicity and Charity. For the acquisition of these virtues I had to learn to diminish in my own estimation; be glad whenever I was given an opportunity to abase, to renounce or to mortify myself. By the interior and exterior practice of these virtues I had to prove myself. By true humility of heart, I had to bear all things and refuse the soul its desires. The poor and humble in spirit pass their life in abundance of peace, I was taught.
One of the first humiliating experiences I had, to illustrate the above teaching, was one Sunday evening soon after I entered. The sister who was to relieve me in the department I was working in, had failed to report and I had not had any supper. The next exercise was benediction in the church and I could not absent myself from this without being dispensed by my superior, and then for only very grave reasons. I went to the novitiate room about eight o'clock, and the mistress of novices rebuked me severely for not being in rank with the novices. I told her that I had not had any supper yet, as the sister officer had failed to replace me in time. I had broken a rule by being absent from supper without permission, so I went on my knees and asked a penance. The mistress told me that I could go to the pantry and get some eatables and take them up to the novitiate room and eat my supper before the novices. She also informed me that I had done wrong for blaming a professed sister for the breach of the rule.