One of the things that I have wondered about in terms of this blog is how much personal material I should include. When I first heard about blogs, and thought of them as a sort of online diary (never imagining that I would start one myself!), I regarded the idea of writing about one’s own life online as horribly egocentric. And, while I have also recognised that the genre of blogs dealing with “religious life” (or, less frequently, with monasticism) do have a role to play - indeed I would have found them rather useful had they existed ten or fifteen years ago! - I have been fairly clear that that is not what this blog is about. Indeed I have rather an aversion to idealised presentations of monasticism, for the truth of the life is only to be grasped - and that only fleetingly - in the rather messy nitty gritty of what happens when our ideals fall apart. But I don’t really feel able to write concretely about the messier stuff, for that usually involves people or situations whose privacy I need to respect. In any case, my primary purpose in starting the blog was to provide a space in which I can process my own reading, and, when all is said and done, I’m not convinced that being a monastic is fundamentally different from being any other kind of a baptised Christian.

However, I am also convinced that theology is integrally related to the whole of life and have no desire to engage in purely abstract discussions. And I have become aware that in recent years that my writing has sometimes acquired a more personal tone than it previously had. In this sense, I sometimes feel like writing things about things that arise out of concrete situations (e.g. my reactions to the sort of homilies that get preached on Trinity Sunday might not be a bad way to process my reading of Zizioulas!), but am still a bit hesitant about this.

In any case, having mentioned that I was making profession, and given that it has rather disrupted things in the last couple of weeks, it may be appropriate to say something about it briefly! I thought that I may have been able to post a photo of myself prostrate on the floor of the church, but that hasn’t worked out yet. But that was, perhaps, one of the most memorable moments for me. I was touched to hear afterwards of the impression that the ceremony made on all sorts of people, but, to be honest, during it my major concern was with not getting totally mixed up (which I almost did a couple of times - I almost forgot to sing the Suscipe, after endless practicing) or getting obviously emotional. But lying on the floor during the litany of saints lasted long enough for me to begin to take something of it in. (Indeed it lasted longer than it might otherwise have done as I had included saints who are not necessarily always included - but whom I regard as pretty central to the tradition - and our long-suffering cantrix ensured that it remained singable!) I was conscious of standing in a tradition, and of being sustained by the generations who have gone before us. And, after that, after receiving the cowl, while greeting all of the professed sisters, I was conscious of being taking up into the community in this time and in this place.

However, I still need to process all of these impressions more and so I won’t say much more. In one sense life continues as it is, and it will be good to get back to normal life again. But, whenever I put my cowl - and the practicalities of getting it over my head will still take some getting used to - I am also struck by a certain sense of newness.