Among the Masses

As a young student in Catholic school, I was very shy and withdrawn.  I lived in almost constant fear of the teachers, especially the Sisters.  That fear wasn't rational then.  In the convent, when fear was often justified, I became more outgoing.  I discovered that I related well to most people.

When I began taking classes at Portland State, wearing a habit really made me stand out.    Sometimes it made me a target.  One day in the book-buy-back line, a devout pagan eager to make me uncomfortable approached me with  declaration of his pagan beliefs and the coming of the solstice.  He loudly said, "I don't believe in God.  I'm a pagan.  I celebrate the solstice.  Are you going to celebrate it?"
He was so looking for trouble but I didn't want it or the extra attention.  I looked at him and said, "Yeah, I'll celebrate in my own way.  I don't have a problem with your pagan beliefs.  I admire your conviction."
He stared at me blankly.  Then with a dismissive gesture turned and walked away.  I knew if some of the nuns heard what I'd just said there would have been hell to pay.    His being a pagan didn't threaten me or detract from what I chose to believe.  If I expected to be respected for my choices, I'd better extend that same courtesy to someone else.    That habit didn't allow me to be blissfully anonymous but this was the life I had chosen and there were bound to be sacrifices.

Being approachable and human seemed the best way to honor my "uniform".  I never cared much for preaching to others.  I wanted to be accepted by them even more so now that I wasn't widely accepted into convent community life.  Once most students got used to me in class, I could relax and learn.   It was harder to make friends while a nun.  I was too much an anomaly.  People were either too solicitous or projected too many of their own negative feelings about God or religion on to me.  Can't say as I'd blamed them.
The outfit brought out the classic "brown-nosers" and the occasional kook.

One hopelessly obnoxious student kept drawing attention to me in a Mythology class.  This older male student was very literal and very Christian.  He'd interrupt the professor at least several times a class and try to divert the lecture to me with phrases like, "Let Sister tell you" or "I bet Sister knows."  The prof and I would just ignore him.  Inside, I was steaming.  Finally, I got angry.  After another, "Let the Great and Wonderful Oz tell us, "  I said to him in front of the entire class,
"You've got to stop doing that.  I'm here to learn and listen to the professor.  I'm not an expert on mythology.  I'm just like you.  You've got to stop interrupting and so we can all learn something."
The professor shot me an odd glance.  The interrupter mumbled a quiet, "Sorry, Sister" and class returned to normal, well as normal as it could.

Several years later this same professor was fired.  He'd falsified his degree and education apparently claiming a Ph.D from a Chinese university that didn't exist.  He lacked the proper credentials to be a professor.  It was too bad.  He sure knew a lot about mythology.  He'd even created a myth for himself and tried to live in it.  I could understand his motivation even if I didn't approve of his methods.

In between classes, I'd try and find a quiet place to hide and to study.  On a particularly cold day, I decided to wear a pair of black tights under my habit.  I may even had some "old-lady" boots on too.    I wasn't dressed like the typical nun.  The uncouth was oozing out of me for the sake of warmth.  An angry young student walked up to me and with a sneer in his voice and on his face said, "What are you dressed up for?"
I looked at him and allowed time for a pregnant pause and asked him, "What are you dressed up for?
He slunk away, mumbling something under his breath.  I sat there hating that I was such a target for other people's anger at God, religion and themselves.  I hadn't signed up for this.  I never anticipated being so visible.  The chasm that existed between myself and the world at large often felt too wide.  At the same time, it didn't seem that there was a chasm at all.  On some level, I understood their anger and felt it too.
I'd entered to escape the world and maybe some of my anger but I discovered that the world inside the convent was not the haven for which I had longed.  My Utopian search had landed me in a hell of Miltonian proportions.    In my mind, the angels wept.

Yet, there were many bright spots found at college.  Ever the nerd, I loved most of my classes and what I was learning.  I stumbled into a Shakespeare survey course taught by a fabulous professor who made Shakespeare come alive.  To him, I will be forever grateful.  After completing an essay test one day, the professor followed me out of the room and called after me, " Sister, do you have a minute?"  Sister, I'm Jewish but a lot of my friends are Christians and gentiles.  I admire many of them.  Do the Sisters at your convent know how talented a writer you are? Are they letting you use that talent?  You could be of such service to your faith."

Blushing, at a complete loss for words, I managed to squeak a small, "Thank, you."  How could I possible explain to him what my life was like?  Ironically, his words felt more like a slap than most of the abusive verbiage spat at me by some of the Sisters.  How long it had been since anyone had given me a compliment?  What was I to do with the information?  Seeing my distress, he quickly added, "You have a wonderful way of touching the reader when you are allowed to write about something for which you have great passion.  You could really touch the world."
He turned and went back inside the classroom.  I stood and blinked back tears.  So very flattered and crushed by his words, all at the same time.