Alice Claire’s Question

Here is a question from fellow consecrated virgin Alice Claire, on my post Open Discussion on “Dedication to the Service of the Church”:

At this time I have no comments, only a question. I get the impression from your blog that you feel very strongly that the life of a consecrated virgin should be very much regimented. While such regimentation is appropriate for a religious order or society of some sort, it is not necessary, appropriate or desirable for a consecrated virgin, who is not a member of an order or a society. Our consecration as virgins presupposes that we have the maturity and integrity to live out our vocation in the world in a manner pleasing to the Lord and in keeping with the teachings of the Catholic Church. I respectfully ask why you feel so strongly about regimenting the life of a consecrated virgin.

Dear Alice Claire,

Thank you for taking the time to comment. Although I was mainly hoping to hear other consecrated virgins’ thoughts on the subject of service (since sometimes I feel as though, unfortunately, I’m the only one who has written in depth on this particular topic), this is still the kind of thoughtful discussion I had wanted to foster.

Before I write any further, I need to point out that this following post is not so much a matter of me trying to articulate an academic theological point, as much as it is a kind of cry of my heart. I don’t usually blog very much about my personal feelings, but that’s exactly what I’m doing now.

So consequently, nothing I write here should be taken as a criticism of any individual consecrated virgin. I’ve never doubted that my sisters in Christ have ever had anything but the sincerest intentions in their living out their vocations, even if I don’t always agree with certain practical interpretations of the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity. The aim of this post is simply to describe the thoughts that go through my own mind.

First of all, I guess I don’t think of my ideas on consecrated virginity as calling for a truly “regimented” lifestyle. To me, “regimented” seems like it would be best used to describe the lifestyle of cloistered nuns or other religious who follow a strict horarium, a detailed Rule of Life, or an extensive set of customs.

I do believe that consecrated virgins should live what I suppose you could call a more distinctive, demonstrably “consecrated” lifestyle. In other words, I do think that our life should be different from that of an average devout Catholic laywoman.

I do not feel that it’s enough for us merely to follow the basic teachings of the Church. Rather, it would seem that our virginal consecration calls us to be specially conformed to Christ in a way that goes above and beyond the call that all the faithful receive by virtue of their baptism.

It likewise seems to me that out identity as “sacred persons” would call us to be oriented towards God and the things of God to with a more intense focus and in a more exclusive way than would be proper or possible for the vast majority of the laity.*

In light of this, I personally believe that in order to live an appropriately “consecrated” lifestyle (and one which is also in accord with our own particular charism), we consecrated virgins should live out our vocation in the following concrete ways:

- By engaging in activities which directly and explicitly advance the Church’s mission on something akin to a full-time basis (which could—but does not always necessarily have to—be accomplished by working in a Church-sponsored institution);

- By praying the full Liturgy of the Hours, spending substantial time in private prayer, incorporating some kind of penance and mortification into one’s spiritual life, and attending daily Mass wherever this is possible;

- By having some kind of serious and meaningful bond with the diocese for which one was consecrated;

- By living in a spirit of evangelical poverty through an attitude of radical detachment from earthly pleasures and through consciously choosing to maintain a very simple standard of living;

- By living in a spirit of evangelical obedience via having at least some kind of accountability to one’s bishop, and through the manifestation of one’s willingness to place the needs of the Church above one’s own personal preferences; and

- By demonstrating an openness to being known as a consecrated virgin at all times and in all places.

This could perhaps be considered a rather demanding lifestyle, and it’s one which certainly would require a great deal of discipline and personal maturity. (I would even argue that it takes more maturity for a consecrated virgin to observe these practices faithfully than it would for a consecrated virgin to live a less-structured lifestyle.)

But, I don’t think you could consider the way of life which I propose here to be an especially regimented one. Even if consecrated virgins everywhere were to model their lives on the above-mentioned points, this would still allow for a great deal of freedom and legitimate diversity—much more freedom and diversity than would be possible within a single religious congregation.

For example, I am emphatically NOT saying things like: all consecrated virgins have to be Catholic school teachers, say Vespers at exactly 5:00 pm, or fast on bread and water every Friday. It has never been my intention to make up a universal set of very detailed instructions to cover a consecrated virgin’s every waking hour; to propose that consecrated virgins all take on one common apostolate; or to argue that this vocation should be lived in exactly the same way, right down to the last detail, around the world without taking into account the different local circumstances and the unique spiritual gifts of each individual consecrated virgin.

Nor am I saying that a consecrated virgin would need to ask her bishop’s permission for every minor choice she needs to make during the day, or that a consecrated virgin would need to be specifically “commissioned” every time she wants to do a good deed for someone or help out at her parish. I’m not even suggesting that consecrated virgins should write out their own personal “rules of life” to be submitted for their bishops’ approval.

What I am suggesting is that, since consecrated virginity is a public state of consecrated life, it should involve some level of real self-sacrifice and accountability. It should not in any sense be understood as a wholly private reality.

I’m also trying to say that consecrated virginity is a vocation which significant enough to determine absolutely every aspect of our lives, and that it should never be viewed as anything along the lines of a part-time commitment. Our call to consecrated virginity should be the center around which we order our entire existence; it should not be something we try to “fit into” an already-full life.**

Unlike membership in a parish organization or a Third Order, consecrated virginity (like marriage, religious life, or priesthood) is a “first” or primary vocation.

You would never say to an earthly bride-to-be, “It would be great if you could live with your husband, or use the title ‘Mrs.,’ or aspire to raise a family—but don’t worry about trying to do these things if they don’t fit with your present work or career situation, or if you don’t feel personally ‘called’ to do them.”

This kind of advice sounds ridiculous to us, because the Catholic view of matrimony recognizes that marriage as a vocation fundamentally entails a specific way of life.

We also acknowledge that marriage, by definition, involves a total self-gift to one’s spouse. And logically, it would seem to us that this self-gift is not occurring if the spouses aren’t willing to give each other the first priority in planning the concrete details of their respective daily lives. We would never say that it’s sufficient for a married couple simply to start adopting a “married spirituality” while living in exactly the same way they did when they were single.

You could draw similar parallels with vocations to the priesthood. Could anyone imagine a bishop ordaining a man who didn’t want to engage in any kind of pastoral ministry, didn’t want to make a commitment to a diocese, and didn’t want to obey anyone, but still sought Holy Orders just because he wanted the grace of the Sacrament to enrich his personal prayer life?

But, to be brutally honest (and, once again, I’d like to remind everyone that I’m speaking only for myself and of my own personal impressions), to me it seems that people often mistakenly see consecrated virginity as being a less serious commitment than marriage, religious life, or priesthood. Either that, or consecrated virginity is viewed as being a kind of vocation designed so that you can have your cake and eat it, too.

For example…

Consecrated virgins are described as women who marry Jesus—but who can still enjoy the freedoms and conveniences of a single lifestyle.

…They should enjoy their bishops’ special attention and concern—but they shouldn’t be obligated to render any practical service to the local Church or be expected to make any binding commitments to their diocese.

…They are publicly established as icons of the Church through a beautiful liturgical ceremony—but they can’t be asked to modify the concrete details of their daily life after the ritual’s conclusion.

…Consecrated virgins are given the privilege and duty of being prayerful intercessors for the needs of the Church—but prayer is to be relegated to their free time and shouldn’t take precedence over their family or professional obligations; and what, when, and how often they pray is to be determined totally by their own inclinations and preferences.

…They sacrifice marriage and family life—but just to be on the safe side, they are ordinarily encouraged to do this only after their child-bearing years have come to a close.

Obviously, this is a very unflattering portrait of consecrated virginity. And to be sure, in my own life I have never met a consecrated virgin who discerned her vocation with this object consciously in mind.

However, I think that as ugly (and let’s hope generally inaccurate) as this description is, I think it needed to be written because, in my own experience at least, this seems to be the popular conception of consecrated virginity as a vocation.

While we shouldn’t let misunderstandings or plain ignorance cause us to lose our interior peace, I still do think that the widespread nature of this misunderstanding should give us pause. Maybe it should even be the occasion of an individual and collective examination of conscience among consecrated virgins. We need to be brave enough to ask—and honest, prudent, and discerning enough to answer—the question of whether or not this popular misconception might actually contain a grain of truth.

I remember one time a very holy priest (for whom I have enormous respect) once said to me, after I had the chance to share my vocation story with him: “But you can’t honestly compare yourself to a Missionary of Charity or a Carmelite. They sacrifice everything!…No one will ever think you’re as good as a nun.”

If you can imagine it, the priest didn’t say this in a way that was at all unkind (the conversation basically concluded with a effort to provide some pastoral encouragement by suggesting that God could still call me one day to be a Carthusian or a Poor Clare...). And for the most part I was able to brush off the unintended offensiveness of this comment by considering the context, and by remembering that one priest’s perceptions don’t dictate the objective reality of a situation.

However, the comment was still a bit disturbing to me, because it posed that same unspoken but haunting question: Could it be that serious Catholics would see me as someone who gave her life to God in half-measures…because I did in fact only give my life to God in a partial and incomplete way? Even if, by the grace of God, I was able to give myself wholly over to God in the quiet recesses of my soul, could it be that consecrated virginity, on an objective level, was not even intended as a vocation that allows a woman to make a complete gift of herself to Christ?

I am writing this as a sinner who consistently fails to meet even her own minimal expectations. I know I am not a saint. Despite the effort I put into discerning and outlining what I think a consecrated virgin’s life should look like, I would be the first to admit that my efforts to reach the perfection of charity within this way of life are always flawed at best, and that my sinfulness keeps me miles away from reaching my goal.

However, this doesn’t change the fact that complete, radical, sacrificial self-giving is still the goal to which I long to be called!

Even if I can’t ever fulfill it perfectly, I still want my vocation to be that of a total, spousal, giving of myself to Christ in every single area of my life. I desire with every fiber of my being to be called to be concretely, literally, visibly—and entirely, without reserve or exception—given over to God and the Church.

But, I have never wanted to strive for this end simply because it happens to be what I feel like doing at the moment; I want to strive for it because I have been explicitly called to do so by God, speaking through His Church.

And I wanted the chance to say “yes” to this call in a public, binding, permanent, and “official” way. Yet my thought is that if the Church were in fact to see consecrated virginity as being a “less total” vocation than marriage, priesthood, or religious life, then it wouldn’t actually be my vocation to give everything to Christ in a radical way.

I could still try to do this on my own, of course—but in that case it would just be an aspect of my own private spirituality. My formal place in the Church wouldn’t be that of one who gives her life wholly over to God, and in that specific sense I truly wouldn’t be “as good as a nun.”

I know this is a very subtle distinction (and one which probably isn’t always the most pastorally prudent thing to discuss openly). But as a young woman who’s signed up for consecrated virginity for the rest of her life, it’s one which nevertheless seems terribly important to me.

So in a nutshell:

I believe what I do about the most appropriate way of life for consecrated virgins because, first and foremost, on an objective theological level this seems to be most consistent with the Church’s teachings on the nature of the liturgy and of consecrated life in general.

The reason I feel so strongly about what I believe is because I want to give everything to Christ in an absolute and radical way; and I think that, in most cases, one of the surest signs that you are truly given over to Christ is that your commitment concretely affects the ways in which you order your exterior life.

And, I want to be wholly given over to Jesus in a way that transcends the limits of my own personal spirituality—I want it to be in response to an unambiguous call from Christ, mediated through His body, the Church.

notes:

* This is not to undermine the Church’s teaching on the universal call to holiness or to obscure the many contributions that laypeople make to the life of the Church; it’s only an acknowledgement that consecrated life is a distinct vocation with its own particular nature and purpose.

** I do understand that many consecrated virgins today were consecrated when they were middle-aged or elderly, and I’m sympathetic to the fact that many older consecrated virgins are truly unable to make major changes in their lifestyle. However, I think we should consider these situations to be the exception, and not the rule. (I also think that this is one of the strongest arguments for encouraging—or at the very least, to cease actively discouraging—vocations to consecrated virginity among younger women.)

Open Discussion on “Dedication to the Service of the Church”

One of the most controversial topics I write about here on “Sponsa Christi” is what is meant concretely when Canon Law, the Church’s liturgy, and other magisterial documents describe consecrated virgins as being “dedicated to the service of the Church.”

As regular readers know, I believe that the phrase “dedicated to the service of the Church” should be understood as indicating that consecrated virgins are, under ordinary circumstances, expected to be literally dedicated (i.e., “totally given over”) to works which directly and demonstrably further the Church’s mission. Usually, I think this would mean that a consecrated virgin would be involved in some kind of Church-sponsored, or at least Church-related, work on something like a full-time basis.

Since I’ve written on this topic before, I know that there are many people who disagree with me on this—which is perfectly legitimate, since it doesn’t seem that the Church has yet issued an authoritative clarification on exactly how a consecrated virgin’s call to service should affect her day-to-day life.

However, while I respect those who have a different point of view than I do on this, there is still one element of these kinds of responses which strikes me as odd. Namely, I don’t think any of my “opponents” have ever articulated a positive theological argument as to why “dedication to the service of the Church” should be understood as meaning anything other than literal dedication to serving the Church in direct ways.

In other words, while people have often pointed out the ways in which they believe that I am wrong, I haven’t come across anyone here who has given a cogent argument as to why they believe that their differing view is right.

So, I’m trying something a little different in this post!

If you believe that for consecrated virgins, “dedication to the service of the Church” means something other than what I think it means; and if you have a cogent, positive rationale for your position, you are invited to share it here in the comment box.

But first, some ground rules:

1. Be respectful, and please presume my intelligence, education, and good will, as well that of all others here. (No one here believes the things they do because they are intellectually careless or because they somehow harbor a desire to mislead people!)

2. By posting here, you are given me permission to reprint and discuss your comment on this blog (in either this post or in a future post, depending on the volume of the responses I receive). If you have a problem with this, please refrain from participating in this discussion.

3. You must advance a whole, internally consistent interpretation by means of a positive argument. That is, it has to be an interpretation that can stand on its own. (You can’t just point out the areas in which you think that someone else is mistaken.)

4. “Because Cardinal Burke and/or the USAVC said so” is NOT an acceptable argument. If you agree with Card. Burke and/or the USACV, that’s great! But if you want to comment here, you have to be able to: 1.) articulate the precise position of Card. Burke or the USACV; and 2.) give your own arguments as to why you think that Card. Burke and/or the USACV are correct.

5. Comments are moderated, and I reserve the right to delete comments which I feel are off-topic or seriously disrespectful. Also, since my intention in creating this post is to foster wholesome mutual theological discussion, I may delete this entire post if I feel that it’s fostered an unhelpful and overly heated debate.

6. No anonymous commenting. If you have something to say, you have to be willing to sign your name (or at least pseudonym or a screen name) to it!

7. Always pray before posting!

Also, as background, here are some previous posts I’ve written on what I think it means to be “dedicated to the service of the Church”:

What Does It Mean to Be “Dedicated to the Service of the Church?”
Responses to Comments, Part I
Responses to Comments, Part II
“Being” versus “Doing”
What Does It Mean to Be “In the World?”
What if Serving the Church is Seriously Inconvenient?

What If Serving the Church Is Seriously Inconvenient?

As regular readers of this blog well know, one facet of consecrated virginity which I find particularly meaningful is a consecrated virgin’s call to be “dedicated to the service of the Church” (a phrase taken verbatim from the Catechism of the Catholic Church from Canon Law).*

The topic of my Master’s thesis, as well the topic of many previous blog posts, was why I feel that it is most appropriate to interpret this call to service literally—i.e., that “dedication to the service of the Church” should be taken to mean that, barring extraordinary or extenuating circumstances, consecrated virgins should be committed to service which is visibly and directly Church-related on something like a full-time basis.

In a nutshell, my reason for arriving at this conclusion is that, if you interpret consecrated virgins’ call to service in a non-literal way, you’re left with two very imperfect options for understanding this aspect of the vocation: either being “dedicated to the service of the Church” means that consecrated virgins are to strive to imbue the secular “marketplace” with Christian values, making the vocation of consecrated virginity most similar in nature to membership in a secular institute; OR “dedication to the service of the Church” means that consecrated virgins are supposed to do whatever volunteer Church-related service they can fit into their schedules during their free time, making this vocation most similar in nature to membership in a secular Third Order or a in lay parish group like the Altar Rosary Society.

Understanding consecrated virginity as being most similar to secular institute membership is theologically problematic because this is an unwarranted and unjustified** superimposition of secular institutes’ specific and very modern charism (i.e., that of being a “hidden leaven” in the world) onto what is an ancient and entirely different form of consecrated life.

Seeing consecrated virginity as being most similar to membership in a secular Third Order or to a lay association is theologically problematic because it suggests that consecrated virginity is not a commitment which is significant enough or in such a way as to warrant any major changes in one’s exterior life. This is at odds with the Church’s understanding of consecrated life in general as involving a complete and total gift of self and a more radical observance of the evangelical councils than would be possible or advisable for most lay people.

But even after establishing some solid theological and canonical grounds for a literal interpretation of what it means for consecrated virgins to be “dedicated to the service of the Church,” often questions arise which relate to the purely practical aspects of this assertion. Here is one such question from a regular reader:

I have a question about working for the Church to directly advance her mission. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but not all of us live in the Archdiocese of New York, where there are numerous Catholic institutions. What about women who live in small, or even large, rural dioceses? These dioceses tend to be poorer, without a lot of resources and with few Catholic institutions. In my diocese, for instance, there is not a single Catholic health care facility. Would a consecrated virgin who was a nurse have to go to another diocese to work in a Catholic sponsored hospital? Or should she quit nursing to become a teacher in one of the few Catholic schools in the diocese, even though she has neither the interest or ability to be a good teacher? —Curious

This question is somewhat complex, in that it touches on several related but distinct issues at one time. But in my reading of this comment, is seems to me that the central question being asked here is whether or not a consecrated virgin would be obligated to serve the Church in a full-time and direct way even in situations where this would be seriously inconvenient.*** (With apologies to “Curious” if it turns out that I’m misunderstanding.)

Given my reading of the question, and assuming that it references a hypothetical situation, my own thought is that the short answer would have to be a qualified “yes.”

That is, in my own OPINION, a true “dedication to the service of the Church” in one’s home diocese is so intrinsic to the vocation of consecrated virginity “lived in the world,” that an aspiring consecrated virgin should be willing to undertake even substantial inconveniences in order to live out this aspect of her calling, or else reconsider her vocation entirely.

Further, as I see it, in order to serve one’s local Church effectively—as well as to emulate the sacrificial love and self-emptying which the Church holds as the ideal for all forms of consecrated life—it’s necessary to take into account the actual needs of one’s diocese, even if these needs do not dovetail perfectly with the kind of work which one would find the most personally fulfilling.

So, speaking purely in principle, if there was an aspiring consecrated virgin who was trained as a nurse, but who lived in a diocese where a nursing apostolate was truly and absolutely impossible, my thought would be that she should either:

- consider some other type of apostolate;
- consider moving to a diocese that did need nurses;
- consider whether or not she might actually be called to some sort of dedicated lay life (e.g., private vows); OR
- consider whether or not she might be called to some other form of consecrated life besides consecrated virginity (such as an active religious community traditionally dedicated to nursing).

But with all that being said, I have to point out that these kinds of abstract considerations are just that—considerations in the abstract. Real-life cases often have nuances which can’t be adequately taken into account within the context of a hypothetical situation.

If a potential consecrated virgin who was in the situation which “Curious” describes came to me asking for advice, I would ask her the following questions or make the following points:

1. Are you absolutely sure that there is no possibility whatsoever of you using your gifts as a nurse within some sort of Catholic institution in your diocese?

With all due respect, to be honest, I guess I have a hard time imagining that in a rural, economically poorer diocese there would be zero need for nurses—if anything, as an outside observer, it seems like such a diocese would needs nurses even more urgently than a place like New York!

Even if there aren’t any Catholic hospitals in your area, is there any other Church-related organization that could use a nurse? Maybe a crisis pregnancy center, or a nursing home, or in one of the many kinds of programs run by Catholic Charities? Is there a Catholic school that needs a school nurse? Or would you be qualified to teach nursing at a local Catholic college? Does your nursing background make it possible to become an NFP instructor? Or could you see yourself transitioning into an apostolate the focused on educating the faithful on Catholic medical ethics? (These are just a few ideas I’m coming up with off the top of my head—I’m sure there are even more possibilities.)

And, in the event that none of these “creative options” involved a paid position, would it be possible for you to work just enough hours in a secular (but Catholic-friendly!) institution to support yourself in a very simply lifestyle, while you devoted a truly substantial amount—perhaps the majority—of your time to pro bono nursing work?

2. Keep in mind that it is theoretically possible to work for the direct advancement of the Church’s mission without necessarily coming under the formal auspices of a Catholic institution. My thought is that a consecrated virgin who, with the approval of her bishop, gave herself over entirely or near-entirely to prayer or charitable works would be indisputably “dedicated to the service of the Church,” even if she wasn’t considered an official diocesan employee.

For one thing, sometimes institutions are not considered “Catholic” or “diocesan” simply because of an administrative technicality. As one example, the Georgetown Visitation Preparatory School is a girls’ high school in Washington, DC, which is run by the Visitation nuns of Georgetown. Even though the students there take theology classes, learn about Catholic values, have the opportunity to attend daily Mass, and see plenty of fully-habited nuns on campus, the school is not considered a “Catholic school,” but a “private school in the Catholic tradition.” However, this distinction is due only to comparatively minor administrative details, such as not being bound by the local diocesan-wide academic calendar.

In other words, you could hardly argue that the Visitation nuns were not serving the Church simply because their educational apostolate doesn’t include a “Catholic school.”

Likewise, the apostolates of many active religious congregations wasn’t considered an “official” work of the Church at the time of their foundation, since as emerging communities they were not recognized as being formal representatives of the Church.

E.g., when Bl. Theresa of Calcutta first went out to serve the poorest of the poor, initially she was simply performing acts of mercy on what was essentially, from a canonical point of view, her own initiate. The corporate apostolate of the Missionaries of Charity wouldn’t be recognized and formally endorsed by the Church until many years later. Yet, since Mother Theresa’s intention in working among the poor was to manifest the love of Christ, and since this can rightly be considered an extension of the Church’s charitable mission, it would be wrong to say that Mother Theresa was doing anything other than serving the Church in a direct and literal way.

Also, some forms of service don’t really lend themselves to “institutionalization.” For instance, I think it would be perfectly legitimate (albeit not very practical in a lot of cases) for a consecrated virgin to be “dedicated to the service of the Church” through an apostolate of full-time prayer in the context of a contemplative, semi-eremitic lifestyle. Yet, embarking on this particular way of life is a far cry from being hired by an institution.

Similarly, I think there are many conceivable situations where a consecrated virgin could—with the approval of her bishop—take the initiative in developing her own apostolate. I could easily imagine a consecrated virgin serving the Church through something like making vestments, tutoring disadvantaged children, writing books and free lance articles on Catholic spirituality, creating Catholic art, using her professional legal training to do advocacy work for the poor, studying psychology to become a Catholic counselor with her own private practice, and so on.

3. In some ways, to me it seems like it might actually be easier for a consecrated virgin from a small rural diocese to find a way to be directly and explicitly “dedicated to the service of the Church,” than it would be for a consecrated virgin from a large metropolitan See.

As much as I absolutely love being a part of the Archdiocese of New York, to be honest I have to admit that there are drawbacks as well as benefits to being a consecrated virgin in such a huge urban-centered archdiocese. While I appreciate, among other things, the vibrant and diverse Catholic culture here, our rich historical background, the great number of solid local religious communities, and the many nearby cultural and educational resources, at the same time the sheer size of the Archdiocese could tend to make it easier for a consecrated virgin to get “lost in the woodwork.”

On the other hand, it seems to me that an aspiring consecrated virgin from a small rural diocese would be more likely to have a vibrant, personal relationship with her bishop. This in turn could foster a more in-depth, carefully considered and truly mutual discernment of the aspiring consecrated virgin’s gifts and skills vis-à-vis the needs of the diocese.

4. Speaking as respectfully as possible, is there some aspect of your discernment you might need to reconsider?

Are you really sure that you couldn’t fulfill God’s will for you in any apostolate besides full-time nursing? When you’re being as honest as possible with yourself and with the Lord in prayer, do you feel that nursing is truly your vocation, or does it just seem to be the most logical way to use what you perceive as your gifts? While it’s important for us to be good stewards and to employ our best human judgment in using the gifts we have been given wisely, sometimes there can be a bit of a gap between what God actually does want of us and what we think would make the most sense for God to want of us.

If nursing was utterly impossible in your diocese, would moving really be all that bad? Is their another diocese where you could imagine feeling just as “at home” as the place where you live now? Or do you think God could be calling you—almost like a missionary—to pack up and move in order to love and serve Him in a place where your gifts are most needed?

Or are you sure that you’re called to be a consecrated virgin in the first place? If being a nurse is such a central component to your experience of vocation, perhaps that’s a sign that God is actually calling you to be a Sister in a congregation with a nursing apostolate. (And there are some great ones out there, like the Hawthorn Dominicans and the Little Sisters of the Poor). Or, maybe you’re called to join a secular institute, or else to make a private vow on your own.

5. Even if your diocese’s greatest, most pressing need was for Catholic school teachers, you wouldn’t necessarily have to become a teacher if you were sincerely convinced that teaching would be a completely horrible “fit” for you. While I believe that consecrated virgin are, with very few exceptions, indisputably called to be literally dedicated to direct service of the Church, I think it would be wrong to assume that consecrated virgins are necessarily called to any one specific type of apostolate (even within a particular diocese).

And although I personally don’t think that I would, in my own life, have a problem if I were asked to serve the Church in the context of a religious life-type structure of formal obedience (i.e., where you go where you’re sent, regardless of how you happen to feel about your assignment), on a theological level I actually don’t think this is the most appropriate system of ecclesial service for consecrated virgins “in the world.”

The Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity itself seems to envision a sort of mutual discernment between the bishop and the consecrated virgin in determining the exact way in which the consecrated virgin is to serve the Church. In number 2 of the gereral introduction of the Rite, it states that consecrated virgins are to “spend their time in works of penance and of mercy, in apostolic activity, and in prayer, according to their state in life and spiritual gifts” (my emphasis).

The bottom line is that, while certainly consecrated virgins should always be willing and even eager to “empty themselves” by putting the needs of their diocese above their own personal preferences, I don’t think that consecrated virgins’ call to service should ever be misunderstood as an obligation to undertake a type of work for which one is totally unsuited, unqualified, or incompetent.

Above all, we would be wrong and terribly mistaken if we were to understand a call to a life of direct, Church-related service as being anything at all like (as has at times been suggested) a way for the hierarchy to obtain cheap labor from an unquestioning celibate workforce. The theology of consecrated life, especially as it pertains to service, is so much richer than that!

As I see it, a consecrated virgin’s vocation to service is first and foremost a vocation to manifest, in a concrete manner, her spousal love of Jesus and her maternal love of the souls in her diocese. (And could anyone really argue that it would be inappropriate for a consecrated virgin to make sacrifices and “spend herself” for the sake of souls, since everyday we see natural mothers “spending themselves” for the sake of their natural children?)

A call to be “dedicated to the service of Church” is undoubtedly a call to generosity and self-sacrifice; it is emphatically NOT a call to abandon human prudence and common sense.

notes:

* See CCC 923; canon 604.1.

** I know “unwarranted” and “unjustified” might sound like inflammatory words, but I truly don’t mean them to take on this sort of tone. All I’m trying to say is that there isn’t anything in the Church’s history, tradition, or current authoritative documents which actively suggests that consecrated virginity should have a spirituality or charism similar to that of secular institutes.

*** But in referring to “seriously inconvenient” circumstances, I’m not talking about matters of life or death! If a consecrated virgin really and truly were to have absolutely no other options besides working in a secular job in order to support herself in the basic necessities of life, then of course I would not fault her for this.

Likewise, with the popular understanding of consecrated virginity being what it is right now, I think that those virgins who were consecrated when they were in their fifties, sixties, and seventies are now called simply to do the best they can in striving to live a life of service. While I personally belive that it would be commendable for an older consecrated virgin to prayerfully discern changing careers in order to devote more time to direct service of the Church, I do appreciate the fact that in many cases it may be prohibitively difficult or else gravely imprudent for middle-aged or elderly woman to seek to make such a radical change.

Consecrated Virginity versus Private Vows

(Image: St. Catherine of Siena, a great saint who is popularly called a “consecrated virgin living in the world,” but who was actually a third-Order Dominican who professed a private vow of virginity.)

Some of the kinds of questions I’m asked most frequently, whether through email or in real life, have to do with the differences between the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity and the profession of a private vow of virginity.

Often, consecrated virginity and private vows are identified with each other—or sometimes even considered to be the same thing! However, on a theological and canonical level, reception of the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity is very different from the profession of a private vow.

Consecrated virginity, like religious life, is a public state of consecration; whereas a private vow of virginity (or celibate chastity) is, by its very nature, private.

But what does this actually mean?

Basically, a state of consecration is “public” when it is recognized as being so by the proper authority in the institutional Church (for a consecrated virgin, this would be the bishop of her diocese; for a nun or religious Sister, this would be the legitimate major superior of her community). If a commitment to celibacy or virginity is NOT officially recognized in this way, then it is considered “private” or personal.

Perhaps in contrast with the more colloquial usage of these two terms, “public” and “private” commitments to perpetual virginity have less to do with how many people witness or are aware of such a commitment, as it does with whether or not that commitment was formally accepted in the name of the Church. For example, a consecrated virgin who had only the bishop present at her consecration (or a religious whose profession of vows was attended by only her superior and the required two witnesses) would still be a publically consecrated person. However, even if a woman were to make a private vow of virginity in front of hundreds of people, with her picture and her story printed in the diocesan newspaper, this would not make her private vow into a public one according to the way in which the Church uses these two terms.

Yet with all this being said, it’s also worth noting that in almost all circumstances the Church usually does intend public vows or consecrations to be “public” in the more common sense of the word. I.e., the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity and the Rite of Religious Profession both explicitly state that the faithful should be invited to attend both these rituals, and publicly consecrated persons are for the most part expected to be open about their special identity within the Church.

Conversely, those who have made private vows are generally advised not to present themselves as though they were publically consecrated persons, which in many cases can mean that they are discreet about their commitment to the evangelical counsels.

In other words, we could say that entrance into a public state of consecrated life not only involves God and the person to be consecrated, but also the Church’s magisterium and the entire visible body of Christ. But on the other hand, a private vow is essentially a matter which is for the most part between God and the individual soul.

Understanding the nature of liturgy and public consecration

From my point of view, one helpful way of understanding the difference between public and private commitments to the evangelical counsels is to reflect on the similar difference between public and private forms of prayer—that is, between the Church’s liturgy and personal devotions.

In the Catholic Church, the Divine Office, the Mass, the Sacraments, and other rites (such as the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity, the rite for the consecration of a Church, the blessing of an Abbot or Abbess, ect.) are all considered liturgy. By definition, liturgy is the public, official prayer of the Church. This means that those who are engaged in praying the Church’s liturgy aren’t speaking to God in their own name as much as they are speaking to God on behalf of the Church herself. They pray, not in their own voice, but with the voice of the Church.

For instance, even while it is certainly to be hoped that Catholics who recite the Liturgy of the Hours will interiorize the psalms, canticles, and other prayer to the point where they can be said truly to “make them their own,” the Liturgy of the Hours isn’t intended as a reflection of the interior state of any one individual.

Likewise, the holy sacrifice of the Mass isn’t “about” the particular spiritual life of any one priest or parish, which is why the prayers and rubrics can’t be changed by anyone except the Holy See—even if there was a situation where an individual priest sincerely felt that an alteration to prayers of the Mass would make the liturgy subjectively more “meaningful” to his particular community.

In contrast to this, private or devotional prayers are prayers wherein we do speak to God in our own name, in our on voice, and on our own initiative. Private prayer is any prayer which is not an official prayer of the Church, and this category includes everything from silent meditative or contemplative mental prayer, to highly structured devotions such as the Rosary or the Divine Mercy chaplet.

Unlike liturgy, which is intended as a formal corporate praise of God (and which, in the case of the Sacraments, is something which makes Christ present to us in a primarily objective way), private prayer can and should be reflective of, or tailored to, our personal interior life.

For example, all Catholics are required to attend Mass at least once a week whether or not they find it emotionally fulfilling, and they can benefit spiritually from the reception of the Sacraments regardless of whether or not they feel any sensible consolation in them. But Catholics in general are NOT required to participate in devotional prayers which they don’t subjectively experience as being personally helpful.

Also, in many cases devotional prayers, since they are considered private or non-liturgical prayers, can be freely modified according to the particular spiritual needs of the people in a given situation. (This is one reason why there are so many minor variations of how to say the Rosary.) And of course, if we’re engaging in something like silent meditation or making a Holy Hour, most of the time we should try to share with the Lord those things which truly are in our own hearts, instead of to make our conversation with Christ fit a pre-fabricated pious formula.

But even though private devotions aren’t the Church’s official prayer, this doesn’t mean that they are not worthwhile or valuable with respect to our relationship with God. While the Church doesn’t mandate set devotional prayers, she does encourage them insofar as they assist the faithful in developing a more fervent and affective prayer life, or in fostering a greater understanding of certain Christian mysteries (such as the Pascal mystery or the mystery of the Incarnation).

Because of this, private prayer should not be looked down upon as being somehow “not real prayer” because of its non-liturgical character. Whether we’re praying in the name of His Church or on our own behalf, God hears and appreciates all of our petitions, our efforts to adore or thank Him, and our acts of repentance. To further illustrate this point, it would be absurd to suppose that God would ignore a cry for help from one of His children simply because the request wasn’t included in the general intercessions of the Mass, or that God would fail to be pleased by a spontaneous act of praise.

Yet at the same time, it’s important that we respect the special nature and dignity of liturgical prayer. When we participate in Mass, the Sacraments, the Divine Office, or any other liturgical ritual, it’s important that we be aware of the fact that we are involved in something much larger than ourselves. While certainly we should be as personally, interiorly engaged in liturgy as is possible for us in our own circumstances and stage of spiritual maturity, liturgical prayer is something fundamentally outside of ourselves.

Therefore, in liturgical situations, we should strive to conform ourselves to the Church’s prayers, as opposed to regarding our individual spiritual needs as the standards to which the Church should cater.

For example, the Sacrament of Baptism is a call to a new life in Christ which comes from an authority external to us. It is NOT our way to express the feelings of renewal which we have had from a conversion experience. This is not to say that these feelings need to be altogether ignored (certainly, one should take the time to thank God for His gift of consolation in this instance), but only that the Church’s public prayers are neither the appropriate vehicle nor the appropriate context for such self-expression.

Likewise, public states of consecrated life—which are inherently liturgical—should never be seen as pertaining solely to the interior life of an individual. A vocation to a canonical form of consecrated life originates from God and is first perceived by the individual soul, but it is confirmed and mediated by the authority of the visible, institutional Church.

This is not the case with a private vow of celibacy or virginity. A woman who makes a private vow of virginity may in all likelihood be responding to a genuine inspiration of the Holy Spirit; however, this importation would be considered and entirely private, personal, and interior matter, which the institutional Church will not take upon herself to confirm formally.

Discerning a vocation to consecrated virginity versus private vows

Like devotional prayers, private vows are considered personal responses to individual spiritual needs. Because of this, the Church does not impose any obligations (besides those to which all the baptized are bound) upon the privately vowed, since private vows pertain only to the individual soul’s interior relationship with God. While the Church looks favorably on the practice of professing private vows insofar as it helps certain members of the faithful to grow in holiness, the Church does not consider the privately-vowed to be “consecrated” according to Canon Law.

This does NOT mean that a private vow is any less “real” than a public form of consecration; a private vow can in many cases be on, a subjective level, as much (or more!) of a self-gift to God as the self-offering which occurs during the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity. A private vow of perpetual virginity is still a serious promise made to God, which should not be taken lightly.

On the other hand, a vocation to consecrated virginity (or religious life, or any public state of life within the Church) can never be simply “between Jesus and me.” A consecrated virgin is consecrated through the ministry of the Church by means of a public prayer of the Church. Her vocation doesn’t “belong” to her as much as it belongs to the entire people of God.

As a result, a consecrated virgin is called to bear an especially radical Christian witness, to represent the Church in a more explicit way, and to be more directly and intimately involved in furthering the Church’s mission. Because of the public nature of her vocation to consecrated life, she needs to go “above and beyond” the common baptismal consecration to Christ.

With this in mind, in my OPINION, generally speaking a woman may have a vocation to consecrated virginity if she:

- feels a definite, specific call to live and be known as a spouse of Christ with an explicitly “bridal” spirituality;
- feels called to a life of public witness, and is willing and able to be open about her vocation at all times and with everyone she meets;
- feels a special attraction to the Liturgy of the Hours, and is willing and able to recite the Divine Office every day;
- feels called to live a demonstrably “consecrated” lifestyle, and is willing and able to live in the spirit of evangelical poverty and obedience;
- feels called to devote her life to work which directly advances the Church’s mission;
- feels special spiritual bond with the local Church, and is willing and able to spend her life at the service of God’s people within the diocese where she is to be consecrated;

- is emotionally well-balanced, in good mental health, and has adequate social skills (i.e., she could have lived community);
- is willing and able to learn and to be open to formation.

On the other hand, my thought is that simply making a life-long, private vow of virginity would be a better course of action for a woman who:

- feels called to live as a spouse of Christ, but in a subtle, more “under the radar”-type way;
- OR feels that her own individual call to be a bride of Christ is meant to be a essentially a personal matter between herself and the Lord, and thus something which should involve only a very minimal degree of formal structure or official recognition;
- OR feels a special call to “evangelize the world from within” as a “hidden leaven” in the midst of secular society;
- OR feels called to offer her heart entirely to Christ, while at the same time using her gifts to strive for excellence within a purely secular career;
- OR feels that her primary vocation (i.e., that around which she is to order her life and base all her major decisions) is to some particular apostolic work, and therefore sees a spousal relationship with Christ as a somewhat “secondary” vocation, but who still desires to offer herself to Christ in a way that excludes human marriage;
- OR feels that her primary vocation, or at least a majorly significant component of her call to be a bride of Christ, is membership the secular third Order of a religious community (quick fact: St. Catherine of Siena actually was NOT a consecrated virgin, but was instead a lay third-Order Dominican who made a private vow of perpetual virginity).

Because private vows are, in essence, a wholly personal and individual response to the love of God, there are as many ways to live out a private vow of virginity as there are souls who are called to profess one.

And as a side note: since the profession of a private vow can legitimately be viewed as being primarily oriented towards the personal consolation of an individual soul, a woman can make a private vow of virginity in whatever way is most helpful to her. For example, a woman could promise her virginity to God when she’s alone in her room and without telling anyone; OR she could make a private vow in a Church, while wearing wedding dress, with all her family and friends as witnesses, and then celebrate with a party afterwards.

So even while consecrated virginity is often misunderstood as being something like a more elaborate or an “official” private vow, nothing could be further from the truth. Consecrated virgins must be consecrated by a bishop according to the specific liturgical rite approved by the Church, and I believe that in their subsequent consecrated lives they are obligated to place the good of the Church even above some of their subjective affective spiritual needs.

And finally, my thought is that the Church has a right to expect certain things from her consecrated virgins (such as intercessory prayer, a life of service, and a specifically “consecrated” witness); whereas the only thing the Church can ask of a privately-vowed woman is that she, along with the rest of the baptized, continue to grow in holiness.

A Dress Code for Consecrated Virgins?

Here’s a comment from reader on this post, which I received back in July:

“If consecrated virgins are to live a life that is readily identifiable as consecrated, what about their appearance? Should they wear some kind of habit, or at least have a dress code? While some consecrated virgins I know dress very simply and appropriately, others follow the fashions including make-up, jewelry, even immodest styles, or sloppy jeans and T-shirts.” —Curious

While questions of what to wear certainly aren’t the most profound or significant issues with which I have to contend in my life as a consecrated virgin, figuring out how to dress in a way appropriate with respect to my vocation isn’t totally unimportant, either.

For one thing, since I do have to get dressed every day, the question of what to wear is a necessary one, as it’s impossible to avoid. Also, what we wear does say something to the world about who we are and how we see ourselves. Hopefully it goes without saying here that clothes don’t make the man (or the woman). But because it is a kind of self-expression, our choice of clothing does merit at least some consideration.

First, a few words about the “elephant in the room” in any discussion on consecrated virgins’ clothing—consecrated virgins “living in the world” and religious habits:

I actually don’t think that non-monastic consecrated virgins should aspire to wear “habits” per se, because a habit is a mark of membership in the spiritual family of a religious Order or congregation. That is, I don’t think that consecrated virgins should attach a lot of importance to specific articles of clothing in the way that, for example: Dominicans and Carmelites treasure their respective scapulars; Franciscans wear a knotted cord cincture, or the way that some congregations (e.g., the Redeptoristine nuns or the Holy Spirit Adoration Sisters) have a tradition of wearing a specific color in honor of the particular Christian mystery around which their charism is centered.

Unlike members of religious communities, the spirituality of consecrated virgins isn’t rooted in any one particular set of historical circumstances (other than the foundation of the Church, that is!) or in the unique spirituality of a particular founder or foundress. So I don’t think it would be correct for consecrated virgins to have a practice of dressing in a way which was reminiscent of a particular time in history in such a way that specially highlights any one specific spiritual devotion or mystery of the faith.

Additionally, while of course consecrated virgins should strive to foster amongst themselves a sense of sisterhood in their common vocation, consecrated virgins aren’t bound to each other in the same strong sense as nuns and religious sisters are. Therefore, I think that the family-type relationship expressed by a common habit is something truly proper only to religious life, or perhaps also other communal forms of consecrated life.

However, all other things being equal and considering the question in the abstract, I would be in favor of consecrated virgins wearing some kind of distinctive clothing, or possibly even distinctive clothing which was uniform within a given diocese. (The difference between a proposed diocesan-wide distinctive “uniform” for consecrated virgins and a habit properly so-called would I think be very similar to the difference between a religious habit and the clerical garb worn by diocesan priests and religious priests who aren’t in habit. I.e., a clerical collar and a cassock or black suit marks the wearer as a priest, but not as Franciscan, Dominican, Carmelite, ect.)

Also, I personally think it would be wonderful if it became an established custom for consecrated virgins to wear some sort of veil as part of their every-day attire. On a theological level, I think it would be especially fitting for consecrated virgins to wear veils because of the rich symbolism behind such a practice; because the veil is an ancient and venerable insignia of the Order of Virgins,* and because the reception of the veil is a part of the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity.

Contrary to popular belief, and while obviously there are no authoritative documents which suggest that consecrated virgins should wear be required to wear “habits,” the Church has also never stated anywhere that consecrated virgins are forbidden from wearing distinctive clothing which identifies them as consecrated persons.

Right now, the question of identifying garb is left entirely to the discretion of the local Ordinary. In other words, it is completely up to individual bishops to decide if the consecrated virgins in their respective dioceses will wear special clothing, and I believe that the bishop would even have the right to require that the consecrated virgins under his care wear distinctive garb. (In fact, apparently few bishops in the United States, such as Bishop Jenky in the diocese of Peoria, Illinois, actually have asked that the virgins consecrated in his diocese wear veils full-time.)

I think that, in many cases, it would be most fitting for consecrated virgins—who have, after all, freely entered into a PUBLIC state of consecrated life—to wear distinctive, identifying garb, because of the value of such a visible consecrated Christian witness to the modern Church. As mentioned in countless articles and reflections such as this one and this one, people today are often hungry to see obvious reminders that the Holy Spirit still inspires men and women to offer their entire lives to Him.

Yet at the same time, regular readers of this blog have probably noticed that (aside from my ring the mantilla I started wearing to Mass after I was consecrated) I myself do not presently wear any distinctive clothing. My reasoning for this is that, since consecrated virginity is still in some sense a very “new” vocation, there are legitimate pastoral concerns to be taken into account—concerns which I feel outweigh my theoretical ideas on the preferable garb for consecrated virgins “living in the world.”

Namely, due to the widespread popular understanding of consecrated virginity—or more accurately, the lack thereof—right now I’m inclined to err on the side of discretion to avoid confusing the faithful in an unhelpful way.

However, I don’t think that it’s totally unrealistic to imagine that in several years time the pastoral situation might be different in such a way where consecrated virgins wearing distinctive garb would be generally considered a wholly helpful influence in the life of a diocese.

Given this, for me personally the bottom line is that: I’m very open to the idea of wearing a veil or some kind of “habit.” But, I don’t presently have any plans to do this in the foreseeable future. So for at least the time being, I do have to pick out my own clothes in the normal way.

Admittedly, I have found it a bit challenging at times to determine the best way to dress as a non-habited but publicly consecrated woman. The following portion of this post reflects my own ideas about this, and is the fruit of my individual discernment on the matter (which is open to on-going refinement, by the way). It represents my thoughts on the best practical approach to a totally practical question, and NOT anything like a restatement of an official Church doctrinal teaching.

Therefore, while I hope that some consecrated virgin- or aspiring consecrated virgin-readers find this helpful, please feel free to disagree with me in the comment box! I would be very interested to hear how other consecrated virgins (or candidates) have dealt with the issue of how to choose one’s day-to-day clothing.

In a nutshell, I feel that it is important for consecrated virgins to dress in such a way which could be described as modest, simple, tasteful, and practical:

Modest – Of course, all Catholic women are supposed to dress modestly, but I think that I would be justified in saying that consecrated virgins are ordinarily called to take modesty one step further than Catholic laywomen. Not only are consecrated virgins called to dress in such a way so as not to distract the men around us, but the clothing we wear should convey the clear message that we are not romantically available to any mortal man on this planet.

For me specifically as a consecrated virgin (and please note that I am not, not, NOT trying to define the appropriate standards of modesty for Catholic women in general—that’s one minefield I’ll best leave to other bloggers!), this means that I follow all the obvious guidelines: I would never wear anything skin-tight, see-through, midriff-bearing, blatantly provocative, or any permutation of “underwear as outerwear.”

Beyond this, all my skirts are knee-length or longer; and all my shirts, dresses, and tops cover my shoulders. I don’t wear any low- or lower-cut shirts, even those which wouldn’t seem immodest on my mother or sister. My clothes aren’t really baggy, but I don’t think I would ever wear anything truly form-fitting.

Simple – I also think that consecrated virgins should have simplicity as their “look.”
In addition to choosing clothes which celebrate the virtue of chastity, I think it’s just as important for consecrated virgins to dress in a way that reflects a spirit of evangelical poverty.

Speaking for myself, I never wear any jewelry besides my consecration ring and a small silver cross necklace. I don’t use cosmetics or wear any makeup at all, unless you count colorless moisturizer and lip balm in the winter. My hair is long, but besides keeping it clean and trimmed, I don’t do anything special to it and I try to arrange it as simply as possible. The things I use to put my hair up or tie it back are strictly utilitarian—I don’t use fancy barrettes or hair ornaments of any sort.

I also tend to favor clothing which is white, dark, or in muted colors, though I do have a few exceptions in my closet.

When I was younger, I used to love to wear skirts with bold floral prints. I still wear these once in a while (though I find myself feeling less and less comfortable in them), since I generally try to wear my clothes until they wear out. But now, whenever I have to buy new clothes, I stick to solid colors or occasionally some very simple prints such as small dots or pinstripes. In other words, I try to avoid giving the impression of having brilliant plumage!

I’m not against buying wardrobe staples (like shoes or a suit jacket) which are slightly more expensive if they’re well-made and will last for many years. However, as a rule, I don’t think that consecrated virgins should spend lot of money on clothes. For us, shopping should NOT be a recreational activity; and if we’re drawn towards flashy or designer clothes then something is wrong.

Also, we should be careful not to buy or accumulate more than we actually need. For example, women in general (at least in the United States) are notorious for collecting a lot of shoes and handbags. I think this is fairly harmless for most women, but it is hardly appropriate for a consecrated virgin. Speaking for myself, I try not to have more than one purse and one or two pairs of shoes at one time. My own personal rule of thumb for looking presentable while owning fewer clothes is to buy ONLY things that are easy to mix-and-match, and which will never go out of style (which usually means that they were never truly in style in the first place!)

Since modest and simple clothes are so hard to find these days, I wouldn’t have a problem “stocking up” if I came across something like a sale of really practical items. But, in my opinion consecrated virgins should not buy clothes just for fun. We need to be able to determine the difference between needs—even if these needs are just in the foreseeable future—and wants, and then buy our clothes accordingly.

Tasteful – Consecrated virgins are public representatives of the Church, and so beyond dressing modestly and simply, I think it’s also important that we dress in a way that would readily be regarded as presentable, appropriately feminine, and elegant (albeit elegant in a very plain way).

For me, “presentable” means that we as consecrated virgins should always try to look clean, neat, and “put together,” whenever we leave the house. This doesn’t mean that I don a business suit just to run out to the grocery store, but I think it does mean that whenever we go out in public we should always dress with the appropriate level of formality and “polish” (in accord with the particular occasion) which befits someone who lives her life as a “sign” or “icon” of the Church.

Also, since the vocation of consecrated virgins is a specifically feminine one (consecrated virginity is actually the only state in life within the Catholic Church which is categorically off-limits to men), and since we’re thus called to relate to Christ and His people in a specifically feminine way, in our choice of clothing we shouldn’t try to hide the fact that we are women! In my mind, dressing in a purely androgynous fashion is hardly helpful to our efforts to serve as a witness of Christ’s love for His Church. And I believe it is possible to look feminine without being immodest or extravagant in one’s dress.

For me in my own life, the desire to appear feminine influences my clothing choices in a number of ways too subtle to write about in great detail. But basically, I try to look for clothes that fit well while still being modest, and which, while being simple, are still aesthetically pleasing and reasonably attractive. There’s no sense in wearing un-flattering clothes just for the sake of wearing something un-flattering; even religious habits are envisioned as being something “at once poor and becoming.” (See Perfectae Caritatis, 17.)

Also, while I often wear blue jeans when I’m doing housework or when I’m relaxing at my parents’ house with just my immediate family present, I generally put on a dress or a skirt whenever I go out in public.**

Finally, although I certainly don’t believe that consecrated virgins should invest time or resources into keeping up with current trends in the secular fashion world, I still think that we should make a point to dress with class and relevancy. I.e., we shouldn’t come across as eccentric. While our modesty and simplicity should be notable, I also think that we should dress in such a way that even a well-meaning non-believer would feel comfortable approaching us.

Our clothing should convey maturity, intelligence, and competence or professionalism. It should also make it clear that we had enough sophistication to have renounced the glamour of the world by means of a free, deliberate choice—as opposed to, say, having adopted a modest and simple lifestyle out of fear or naïveté. On a concrete, practical level, I think this would mean that consecrated virgins should avoid things like: shapeless ankle-length denim or plaid jumpers, nineteenth century-style prairie dresses, long dresses homemade out of floral quilting fabric, muumuus or housedresses worn as street dresses, et cetera.

Practical – And in all of these considerations, common sense should reign supreme. If we as consecrated virgins are going to spend our days hard at work building up the local Church, we need clothing which will be comfortable and study enough to allow us to do our work well. I think it’s also important that most of our clothes be fairly simple to maintain, so that our wardrobe doesn’t demand too much of our attention.

Also, individual consecrated virgins need different clothes depending on their individual circumstances. E.g., a consecrated virgin who works in a diocesan office would probably need more formal business-type clothing than a consecrated virgin who worked in a soup kitchen or taught at an elementary school. If a consecrated virgin’s apostolic activity involved attending a lot of fundraisers or formal dinners, she might need to find something which, while being modest and simple, could pass as an evening dress. Yet for many other consecrated virgins, it would be terribly superfluous to own anything even resembling cocktail attire.

The climate and local cultural expectations in a consecrated virgin’s home diocese is another consideration, since it’s important to dress in way that is practical and appropriate for one’s surroundings. Even just within the United States, what works well in one region of the country might look out of place and be unduly uncomfortable in another.

For example, at home in New York, I love wearing black—it’s simple, dignified, and matches everything. But over the past few years I learned the hard way that black is NOT a friendly color in south Florida! It’s too hot to wear for most of the year; the harsh sun invariably fades it to some shade of brown, gray, or navy blue; and compared to all the loud, bright colors that people in the Miami area tend to wear, wearing black clothing makes it look like you’re in mourning for a close relative (really—I’ve encountered this particular misunderstanding personally before).

Anyway, that’s my two cents! Once again, comments on this post from other non-habited consecrated women are most welcome.

notes:

*In fact, I believe the reason that women religious typically have a veil as a part of their traditional habit is because of the historical overlap between the Order of Virgins and the earliest forms of monasticism. So you couldn’t say that I think modern consecrated virgins should wear veils to act more like religious Sisters—rather, it would be more accurate to say that nuns starting wearing veils in the first place because this was the custom of consecrated virgins!

** But this is emphatically NOT intended to echo the “Great Pants Debate of 2010.” I most certainly do not think that pants are intrinsically immodest; and to me it seems ridiculous to propose that it might somehow be inherently sinful for women to wear slacks. All I’m trying to say here is that in my own personal OPINION, skirts are a better “look” for consecrated virgins living in the world.

What Does It Mean to Be “In the World?”

As regular readers of this blog have probably picked up by now, I strongly believe that, in terms of the general pattern of our day-to-day concrete experience, consecrated virgins should strive to live lives that are readily identifiable as being “consecrated.” My opinion is that consecrated virgins should live out their spousal relationship with Christ through a more visible dedication to prayer, service, and simplicity of life.

In other words, I think that consecrated virgins are called to an intensity of Christian witness which goes beyond that proper to a devout, single Catholic lay woman. This is in contrast with the popular conception that consecrated virgins are instead called to a more “hidden” witness within the context of a secular lifestyle.

Often, this idea—i.e., that women consecrated to a life of virginity according to canon 604 are normatively called to “blend in” with the lay faithful, without any conspicuous outward expressions of their consecration, and without undertaking any life-altering obligations other than celibacy—finds as its justification the fact that consecrated virgins are described in the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity as living “in the world.”

But after considering this argument more for some time, I’ve come to my own conclusion that this line of reasoning may not be accurate, and is perhaps based on some unsupported theological or canonical assumptions. Namely, to understand consecrated virginity as ordinarily entailing a more or less “lay” mode of life would seem to be giving the words “in the world” a weight and connotation which the Church does not actually appear to ascribe to them.

Here, it is important to note that within the Church’s authoritative writings the phrase “in the world,” like the word “secular,” is not a univocal term. That is, these words can be used to mean different things in different contexts. (Unlike, for example, terms such as “Coajuter bishop” or “papal enclosure,” which refer to one specific thing regardless of the context in which they are used.)

In some instances he words “secular” and “in the world” are intended to be taken in the strong sense of implying total immersion in, or a close association with, the sphere of temporal affairs. This is certainly the more colloquial usage of the two phrases. For example, in every-day conversation we generally speak of things being “secular” in contrast with those which are wholly dedicated to God as “sacred;” and sometimes religious Sisters refer to their pre-consecrated lives with the expression: “when I was in the world…”

There are also some official, formal contexts in which the Church uses the terms “secular” and “in the world” in this strong sense. In the Vatican II document Lumen Gentium, the Church gives this description of the role and identity of the lay faithful (here specified as those who have neither received Holy Orders nor who have entered into a public state of consecration):

“What specifically characterizes the laity is their secular nature. …the laity, by their very vocation, seek the kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and by ordering them according to the plan of God. They live in the world, that is, in each and in all of the secular professions and occupations. They live in the ordinary circumstances of family and social life, from which the very web of their existence is woven.” (Lumen Gentium, 31.)

Here, the context makes it obvious that, when in reference to the laity, “in the world” and “secular” should be taken in the strong sense, or “at face value,” so to speak.

Likewise, Canon Law indicates that, when used to describe the special vocation of secular institute members, “in the world” and secular” should also be understood in this strong sense.

For example, canon 710 states that:

“A secular institute is an institute of consecrated life in which the Christian faithful, living in the world, strive for the perfection of charity and seek to contribute to the sanctification of the world, especially from within.”

Canon 713 tells us that:

Ҥ1. Members of these institutes express and exercise their own consecration in apostolic activity, and like leaven they strive to imbue all things with the spirit of the gospel for the strengthening and growth of the Body of Christ.

§2. In the world and from the world, lay members participate in the evangelizing function of the Church whether through the witness of a Christian life and of fidelity toward their own consecration, or through the assistance they offer to order temporal things according to God and to inform the world by the power of the gospel. They also cooperate in the service of the ecclesial community according to their own secular way of life.”

And in canon 714 we read:

“Members are to lead their lives in the ordinary conditions of the world according to the norm of the constitutions, whether alone, or in their own families, or in a group living as brothers or sisters.”

However, there is also a more limited meaning to the words “secular” and “in the world.”

Sometimes, in some instances, these terms can be used simply to designate that certain individuals are not technically a part of a religious community, even while these same individuals may have a role in the Church which is more similar to that of religious than it is to that of the laity.

For example, diocesan priests are often said to be “in the world,” and Canon Law describes them as “secular clerics.” Yet at the same time, nobody with an adequate understanding of the Catholic priesthood would argue that the clergy should live a lifestyle that could be called “secular” in the strong sense of the term. (In fact, “secular priest” can sometimes be a confusing term for people, since it sounds so much like an oxymoron!)

Even if we were to set aside for the movement the various theological descriptions of the priesthood as men specially called and chosen to be set apart for the God’s service, it’s possible to demonstrate, even working just from Canon Law, that the Church clearly envisions diocesan priests as living a distinctively “consecrated” lifestyle.

Diocesan priests are solemnly obligated to a life of celibacy (can. 277), obedience to their bishop (can. 273), and to the recitation of the Liturgy of the Hours (can. 276). While all Christians, including laypeople are called to the type of chastity and obedience proper to their state, secular priests are asked to live these with a radicalism that would be inappropriate for most Christians “in the world.”

Canon Law often states that secular priests are supposed to be completely devoted to the work of the Church (can. 281), to the extent that nothing else in their life should interfere with the exercise of their ministry (cf. can. 278 §3). Additionally, secular priests are also asked to refrain from involvement in political, military, or civil affairs (can. 285-289). This is very different from the vocation of those in secular institutes, or from that of the laity in general, who are specifically and authentically called to exercise a Christian influence in realm of temporal affairs. Further, when canon 284 asks that priests wear clerical garb, this obviously presumes that the Church intends her priests to be recognizable, public representatives of the Church.

So even while diocesan priests are properly considered “secular” clerics who live “in the world,” in this case it is very clear that these designations do NOT mean that they are called to live lives similar to that of devout single laymen.

Now, given that we can acknowledge more than one possible interpretation of what it means to be “secular” and to “live in the world,” the question is how to understand these terms when applied to consecrated virgins.

In my opinion, consecrated virgins living in the world are only “in the world” in the more limited technical sense. That is, consecrated virgins, like diocesan priests, are “in the world” insofar as they are not members of a religious community. This means that, while consecrated virgins obviously from religious Sisters in some fundamental ways (e.g., they do not have cloister regulations or community obligations), at the same time consecrated virgins are still called to live lives that are demonstrably “set apart” for God alone.

I think that this conclusion is evident by the way in which the phrase “in the world” is actually used in the Church’s authoritative writings on consecrated virgins. Typically, when the liturgy and other Church documents refer to consecrated virgins as being “in the world,” this is simply used to distinguish virgins consecrated according to canon 604 from solemnly professed cloistered nuns who received the Rite of Consecration according to the traditional practice of their Order.

And unlike the official literature and Canon Law on secular institutes, there are absolutely NO authoritative documents which suggest that consecrated virgins should be living out their vocation to perpetual virginity in the context of an otherwise lay lifestyle.

The fact that the call to evangelize “in the ordinary conditions of the world” is emphasized so clearly in the Church’s writings on secular institutes proves that the Church is indeed capable of articulating the charism of living the evangelical counsels while intimately involved in the sphere of temporal concerns.

Because of this, the lack of such language in reference to consecrated virgins should really be quite striking. Had the Council Fathers of Vatican II intended the restored Order of Virgins to be distinctively “in the world” in the strong sense of the term, then surely they would have thought to articulate this point unambiguously.

It could perhaps be argued that, because we also lack any authoritative statement forbidding a secular institute-type lifestyle for consecrated virgins, it is still reasonable to understand consecrated virgins as being “in the world” in the strong sense of the term.

However, I think this is also a mistake. Because it cannot be disputed that consecrated virginity is a public state of consecrated life, in the absence of any modifying directive (i.e., a statement that explicitly allows or requires consecrated virgins to adopt a “lay” and strongly secular mode of life) we should presume that consecrated virgins are called to a manner of living which is most similar to that of other public states of consecrated life (such as religious life).

It could be said that the Church’s “default setting” for consecrated life—as well as the Church’s standard for all public states of consecrated life—involves a life lived exclusively for God and the Church in a radical, total, open, visible, and readily obvious manner. Because of this, I think the burden of proof would fall on those who believe that consecrated virginity, as a public state of consecration, would be best lived in a subtle or “part-time” way, or that it would pertain primarily to an individual’s private interior life.

Similarly, to assume that consecrated virgins are called to live a secular institute-type lifestyle would seem to show a misunderstanding of the Rite of Consecration’s place in history. Consecrated virginity is a truly ancient vocation, one which pre-dates religious life by several centuries. Yet in contrast, secular institutes are a distinctly twentieth-century development.

Even while it could rightly be said that secular institutes were in some sense anticipated by the various lay fraternities of the Middle Ages, or by the early Ursulines in the sixteenth century, the existence of secular institutes as such was not formally acknowledged by the Church until 1947. Likewise, the idea of living the evangelical counsels in a discreet way, as a “hidden leaven” in the world of temporal affairs, with the object of imbuing those temporal affairs with Christian values, was not given serious theological consideration until fairly recently in the history of the Church.

And so my own thought is that, if were we to assume that consecrated virgins are normally called to life and mission similar to that of secular institute members, them we would be inappropriately superimposing a very modern ideal onto a Patristic-era form of consecrated life.