Habit A History of the Clothing of Catholic Nuns

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CHAPTER 1 Enigma A Catholic sister wearing religious garb can board a city bus and not be surprised if the bus driver places his hand over the fare box, insisting she ride free of charge. Respect for the habit remains universal--nun imposters who panhandle in city subways bank on wearing it to collect as much as $600 per day. It also can be an easy target for lampooning--consider the popular "Fighting Nun" puppet or the "Nunzilla" windup toy.1 The nun's habit is one of the most widely known and recognizable religious symbols of our time, an icon deeply embedded in our cultural consciousness. Perhaps the habit has continued to fascinate us because of its unique blend of associations. As memoirist Mary Gordon recently wrote, "The image, the idea, of a nun brings together three powerful elements: God, women, and sex." At the same time that the habit serves to shroud the body and to mask the individual, it also dramatically announces its wearer to the world. The habit has the glamour of fashion while being antifashion; it is the antithesis of extravagance and sexual allure, yet it impresses and arouses. The sighting of a nun in habit remains for most of us a notable event, because what the habit proclaims is something so counterculture and so radical, we cannot help but to react with awe and reverence or with suspicion and disdain. From this clothing, we immediately recognize a woman who has decided to commit her life fully to God, to renounce the possibility of bearing children, and to work within the boundaries of a community for some specific sacred purpose, frequently in neglected or controversial areas. She seems both less than female but greater than human--it was not unusual for schoolchildren of only a generation ago to believe that Sister had no hair, no legs, and no biological parents, for example. Habit scholar Rebecca Sullivan notes that although the habit might seem like a static uniform, it has reacted to social and moral changes throughout history. It is a creative and imaginative clothing carefully constructed to impart meanings to its observers. It has also been used to instill unquestioning conformity and an identity that absorbs the self into a collective whole. Sometimes the habit replicated the clothing of the foundress of the community. It might have been designed by a bishop, or revealed in a mystical vision, or simply evolved from the peasant garb of the times. The habit embodied the mission of an order, joining together groups of women across the globe and across centuries in a common creative purpose.2 Today many people may not realize that sisters in North America who wear the habit are an exception rather than the norm. Most nuns say they have chosen to move to secular dress to serve their constituency better. But for some it has been a matter of personal autonomy, an emergence of the individual, and a reshaping of religious life. These sisters believe that secular clothing allows them to be approached as a "who" rather than a "what." Although public identifiability has long been a practice and law of the Church, they feel that the benefits gained from shedding the habit more than justify the change of attire. Some women religious have retained a symbolic ring or pendant, while others appear quite indistinguishable from laywomen, lipstick and jewelry included. But while it may seem that these sisters have become "invisible" on the streets and in parishes, they believe their actions are speaking louder than any physical symbols. And one nun notes, "They can still tell who we are. Our hair is too short, our skirts are too long, our shoes are too flat."3 It is this particular image to which many in the laity object. They do not want to see their cherished sisters as dumpy or unattractive--their plainness seems too close to the ordinary. Bonds formed with nuns in past genera