Nun of My Dreams! (Part 5)

A Nun’s Testimony by Sister Charlotte  Keckler

Continuation…..

I now belonged to Rome and the Pope and Mother Superior had turned me over to a lustful priest who leeringly invited me to join him in the “bridal chamber.” I did not enter the convent to become a bad, but a holy woman, by giving my heart and life to God. I firmly rejected his sexual advances and was strong enough to put up quite a fight had he insisted. I was prepared to struggle to my last drop of blood to preserve my virtue.           

When I signed those vows with my own blood I did not realize the enormity of what I had done. I had surrendered away every human right, in order to become a mechanical, robot-like person. From henceforth I would not be able to sit, stand, or speak without permission. I could not lie down, eat or do anything else unless authorized by my superiors. I was allowed to see, hear and feel only what they permitted and ordered. I had become a helpless puppet of the Roman Catholic hierachy.           

The next step was my initiation and for this I had to go to my convent. They had my passport all signed and tickets ready to ship me out to a foreign country. Two priests met us at the boat and we were taken, heavily veiled, out into the mountains to be put in a cloistered convent, one story underground. (Of course when the priest sat in our living room at home he never told my dad I would live for years one or two stories underground in a foreign land.)           

I faced initiation penances, so after three or four days at the new convent, about 9:00 o’clock one morning the Mother Superior told me to come with her. She told me were going to do penance and I would begin my initiation as a Carmelite nun. I remember when she walked me down that dark tunnel and into the room one story below ground level. I had always lived on the first floor, but after taking the black veil I was to live one or two stories underground. When we entered the cold, dark room it was hard to see, for all the light came from seven flickering candles. I was frightened and apprehensive, not knowing what to expect, nor what she planned to do to me.           

As we came closer, I could make out a nun lying on a board six feet long (a cooling board). I realized with a shock that she was dead. Although I was not afraid of the dead nun my heart ached for her. When I signed those perpetual vows I had unknowingly signed away every human right. I was not allowed to see, to hear, to complain, to feel or to murmur. I had ears but was to be deaf; eyes but must not see; feelings but soon would be brainwashed so they would be blotted out. As I stood looking at the body, many thoughts and questions raced through my mind but I was bound to silence. How and why did she die?           

Mother Superior ordered me to stand vigil over the dead body for one hour, then she went away. I was required to walk over to the frail body frequently, sprinkle it with ashes and holy water and say repeatedly, “Peace be unto you.” In an hour a bell was to be tapped somewhere and out of the mysterious darkness behind me another nun came to relieve me. Because she was barefooted on the dirt floor there was no sound. We were forbidden to speak, therefore my relief reached out and touched me on the shoulder. I leaped with fright and began screaming hysterically at the top of my voice.           

This loss of control meant I must be punished by being tossed into a dark and dirty dungeon. There I lay for three days and nights, without food or water, just because I had shrieked in fear–a terrible crime. I assure you I never screamed again. You learn fast in a convent to observe the rules.           

On the fourth day, again Mother Superior told me we were going to do penance and we went deep under the convent into another dark chamber. We started through the tunnels (there were 35 miles of them under this convent) and, other than candles, there was no light in the rooms we passed. She marched me into a large penance chamber, arm in arm, on our toes, with downcast eyes.           

In the flickering candlelight I saw the usual statues of Jesus and Mary in the room. There was also a large eight foot cross, made of heavy, rough timber, lying on its side. She took me near the foot of it and proceeded to strip my clothes off down to the waist. Then she bent my body down over the cross, pulled my hands down below it and fastened them securely to my knees, under the cross.           

This was where I was to begin to spill my blood as Jesus had shed His on Calvary. I had been told earlier that I would shed my blood for lost humanity, but they never gave me any idea of how this would be accomplished. Now I was to learn one of the many ways this was to take place. Two other nuns were given flagellation whips fashioned from six leather straps fastened to a wooden handle. In the ends of the thongs were embedded a number of sharp, jagged bits of metal. They began to flog me methodically with these cruel instruments until my bare flesh was thoroughly lacerated from hundreds of cuts and my blood ran all over the floor.           

Twist and writhe as I might, there was no escape from the relentless, fiery bite of the ruthless whips. Let me tell you they did a thorough job on me and I was aflame with awful pain and agony. Sobbing and screaming did not stop them, nor were they affected by pitiful cries for mercy. They were well trained and utterly heartless and I was swallowed up in a sea of pain and awful despairing. It was unbelievable, yet it was happening. I thought the beating would never stop. I was helpless and totally without defenses.            Mother Superior released my hands from my knees after I had slumped into a moaning, suffering heap and she was satisfied I had spilled enough blood for this time. She drug me to my feet but did not bathe me nor treat the mass of bleeding wounds on my body. She simply pulled my clothes back on and I was forced to work all day, until 9:15 that night. Needless to say, the day was one of agony, but no one seemed to notice. with a sickening horror I realized the meaning of the teachings I had received that God is made happy by this penance and other sufferings. This was supposed to make us holier.           

That day was a living hell for me, but this was only the beginning of hundreds of such days. When night came I stood in front of my cell bed where we were required to undress, with our backs to each other. I could not remove my clothing. The garments stained with blood had dried and were stuck tightly to my gaping wounds. It was several nights before I could take them off, and then it was an agonizing and bloody procedure. At mealtime I was not hungry because of the terrible misery I was suffering.

To be continued……….