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In This House of Brede
House of Brede - Feb 2021
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4. Why did Brede Exist?
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Feb 01, 2021 03:18AM

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The work and role of Brede and all consecrated life in the church and the world is contemplative life. This is the role of Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. Their work and role is to listen to the word of Christ, and to pray for the world and everyone in it.
Martha's work and role is active life: helping others materially, in the fields of education, hospitals, and the poor. The clash between Martha and Mary, which can be seen even in the Gospel, is also apparent in this novel, at the time of the visit of Sister Julian's brother priest, and Sister Julian's subsequent decision, which almost causes the wreck of the Brede house.
Martha's work and role is active life: helping others materially, in the fields of education, hospitals, and the poor. The clash between Martha and Mary, which can be seen even in the Gospel, is also apparent in this novel, at the time of the visit of Sister Julian's brother priest, and Sister Julian's subsequent decision, which almost causes the wreck of the Brede house.

Brede is an enormously large establishment. Was that typical? Seems like friendship and prayer might be easier in a smaller convent.
The introduction says something about Orthodox vs. Roman/western. Is that a mistake?
The distinction between "Choir" Dames (odd term to me) and "claustral" and "extern" sisters isn't well explained and seems antiquated. I also don't understand why Polly's lowly origins would be problematic when she's so brilliant and well-educated. Snobbery? I also don't understand "conversion of manners" as a primary goal.
What do others think of "the discipline"? Masochistic?
Jill wrote: "The introduction says something about Orthodox vs. Roman/western. Is that a mistake?"
My copy of the book has no introduction, just a preface by Rumer Godden herself, where I can find nothing about Orthodox vs. Roman/western.
Jill wrote: "Seems like friendship and prayer might be easier in a smaller convent."
Perhaps you are right. When St. Teresa of Avila founded her convents, they were usually small. When she was made Prioress of the Monastery of the Incarnation in Avila, which was large, it did not work very well. But I don't want to come to a conclusion from a single case.
Jill wrote: "What do others think of "the discipline"? Masochistic?"
This question is answered by Dame Clare in the book: Sexual perversion can manifest itself as masochism, of course... And of course we must be vigilant, but perverts are the exception, don’t you think so? Our rules are not drawn up for them but for normal people.
St. Teresa of Avila also tells how she had to be vigilant to prevent some of the nuns to chastise themselves too much.
On the other hand, many Saints have used discipline, and they certainly cannot be considered masochists. We read here, some time ago, the autobiography of St. Alfonso María Claret, who also used it.
My copy of the book has no introduction, just a preface by Rumer Godden herself, where I can find nothing about Orthodox vs. Roman/western.
Jill wrote: "Seems like friendship and prayer might be easier in a smaller convent."
Perhaps you are right. When St. Teresa of Avila founded her convents, they were usually small. When she was made Prioress of the Monastery of the Incarnation in Avila, which was large, it did not work very well. But I don't want to come to a conclusion from a single case.
Jill wrote: "What do others think of "the discipline"? Masochistic?"
This question is answered by Dame Clare in the book: Sexual perversion can manifest itself as masochism, of course... And of course we must be vigilant, but perverts are the exception, don’t you think so? Our rules are not drawn up for them but for normal people.
St. Teresa of Avila also tells how she had to be vigilant to prevent some of the nuns to chastise themselves too much.
On the other hand, many Saints have used discipline, and they certainly cannot be considered masochists. We read here, some time ago, the autobiography of St. Alfonso María Claret, who also used it.

Monastic communities were just that -- whole communities. They were often designed to be self sufficient, which meant that they needed people of every class and trade. But they were also centers of prayer and scholarship. So they needed both educated people (who would largely have come from the upper classes) and working people. The different roles in Brede seem to reflect this, but the book also touches on the fact that the social distinctions on which this stratification within was based were ceasing to apply externally. This breaking down of social stratification really only took place in the mid 20th century in Britain, so the book is writing about a time when this was just starting to happen, and to be a challenge to the established order of Brede. Polly, at that time, would have been exceptional.
Manners are about how you present yourself to the world. In a stratified society they were far more important than they are today. Your manners proclaimed your class, your status, and your role in the world. In entering a monastery, a person put off their old self, and doing so required a conversion of manners. It is, I think, a way of summing us the change in ones manner of being that is essential on entering religious life.
The mortification of the flesh is an ancient part of Christian practice. Fasting is as much part of it as something like the discipline -- or the cold wash water and plain food. It is about subjugating the demand of the flesh to the needs of the spirit, which, for some, includes inflicting pain on the flesh. It should not be masochistic. A masochist enjoys pain, and the point is to deny the flesh the things that it enjoys and to focus on tending the soul instead. But obviously the practice could appeal to the masochist, which is perhaps why the practice is largely discouraged today.


It is different, though perhaps it seems more different to us today, in a world that has largely conquered pain. While there are specific pains we still can't treat without causing other problems, we have largely banished pain from everyday life. But in a time of hard physical labor, sharp tools, open fires, cobbled streets, rudimentary medicine and dentistry, corporal punishment, and more frequent physical violence, pain would have been a more frequent experience, and maybe it did not feel so exceptional to them to inflict pain on themselves as a form of mortification -- or penance.
I think too that today we have a psychological understanding of appetite, but in times past, they tended to see appetite as of the body. Today we would seek to control our appetites by disciplining the psyche. Then they would be more likely to seek to control appetites by disciplining what they saw as the source of appetite -- the body.

In addition you have the urge to change within the Church itself and the beginning of Vatican II. I found chapter 18 fascinating how Dame Agnes defended against the "reform for reform's sake" push. She pointed out the sacramental and historical reasons why certain rituals are done as they are and to simply throw them out because all of a sudden they are deemed old fashioned is not thinking things through and weighing the spiritual consequences.
I did find it comical though, when the nuns who still wore the traditional habit had little to fear on a breezy day, and the other nuns in "fashionable" habits had to hold on to their veils and the skirts billowing.

Indeed, it must be quite a new thing for everyday clothes to be designed to be worn indoors in heated rooms. For most of history, I suppose, clothes must have been designed for outdoors.

Dame Agnes is right, and nowadays you find many people who become fascinated when they learn about the historical reasons behind our liturgy, like its connections to the worship described in Exodus or in the Apocalypse.