Outside, Republic Street is loud with life. But inside the monastery of the Augustinian cloistered nuns of St Catherine, Fiona Vella finds peace.

The concept of life as a cloistered nun has often intrigued people. How could one choose to deny oneself the privilege of freedom and instead opt for a life behind the walls of a monastery?

As I knock on the door of the monastery of the Augustinian cloistered nuns of St Catherine in Republic Street, Valletta, I wonder how I’m going to find an answer to my question. Soon, a female voice answers the intercom and when I identify myself, the door opens automatically and I step inside. I’m greeted by three barred windows in a thick whitewashed wall and I stand there in silence, unsure of what I’m expected to do.

Indeed, I’m quite surprised when Rev. Mother Abbess Sister Michelina Mifsud calls me in, for I had the impression that this interview would take place behind bars and that I would never have the opportunity to meet her in person.

“This would not have been possible if you had visited us about eight years ago,” Sr Michelina tells me as she reads the question in my eyes. “Back then, you would have needed a special permit to contact us. And on your arrival, I would have sounded a bell so that all the other nuns would know that you’re here and retire to their rooms until you left.

“Necessary communication with people used to take place only behind those bars,” she continues. “We could neither read newspapers nor listen to the radio or watch television. Our lives were meant to be completely shut off from the rest of the world so that we could focus only on God and our prayers.

“None of the nuns could get out of the monastery except when they needed help for serious health reasons. We could not even visit our parents when they were sick and, if they died, we were not allowed to attend their funeral. At times, our close family members could come to see us at the monastery but we would speak from behind the bars.

“This style of life does not make us feel miserable because this was our choice,”Sr Aloisia Bajada, who joins us, responds gently. “Our faith keeps us strong. Certainly there are moments when life gets pretty hard but whose doesn’t? I’m sure that even though you did not choose to become a cloistered nun, you too have to make several sacrifices for your family. So you see, there is not much difference between us.”

The sincere and serene demeanour of the nuns leaves me in no doubt.

“Sometimes even we find it difficult to understand and explain our vocation,” the nuns tell me. “We see it as a gift from God.”

We walk around the monastery and here I’m in for another revelation. For the nuns do not live in some sombre or joyless building but in a spacious and historical palace which was built during the period of the Knights of St John.

“This monastery has a long and interesting history,” Sr Aloisia tells me as she observes me admiring the old paintings hanging on the walls, the colourful patterned floor tiles and the exquisite architecture. In my earlier years, it was my joy to study the monastery’s ancient archives. Our archives date back to 1606 and narrate detailed incidents which took place in this building.

“They also tell of the lives of the nuns who lived here hundreds of years ago. It’s a pity that very few people have ever laid eyes upon them.”

Sr Aloisia, 88, is the oldest of the remaining six nuns in the monastery. I’m delighted by her passion for the history of this place which has been her home for the last 70 years. As she leads the way, she tells me that originally this building was the residence of Marquis Giovanni and Katarina Vasco Oliviero, and it was known as Casa Vanilla. In 1576, the couple’s son contracted the plague. In desperation, Katarina, who was a devotee of St Catherine, pledged to donate her house to the church if her son survived.

The boy survived and Katarina was adamant to keep her word. However, in 1611, she got to know of a group of girls known as the Orfanelle della Misericordia, who had decided to become cloistered nuns and were taking care of children with family problems. She decided to donate her property to them.

In order to turn Casa Vanilla into a monastery, the couple had to buy some of the neighbouring properties to accommodate around 45 nuns, 15 girls and a chapel. This is why today, this monastery stretches out into Republic Street, St Christopher Street, Strait Street and a section of St Dominic Street. Incidentally, within a year from their testament this noble couple died and since their son had already passed away, the cloistered nuns of St Catherine inherited all that remained.

By time, it became customary for girls from noble families to take their vows and join the monastery: these included Grandmaster Manuel Pinto de Fonseca’s sister. Certainly, these girls brought with them generous dowries which supported a comfortable life. However, in 1714, the monastery required huge structural changes and the money ran out. Then in 1798, when the French occupied Malta, the nuns found themselves in a dire state of poverty and they could not afford to take care of children any more. The number of nuns dwindled to eight but once the French left the islands, new nuns joined the monastery and life started afresh.

We enter into a lift which takes us straight up to the monastery’s huge roof. A fresh breeze and a breathtaking view of Valletta’s splendid architecture welcome us.

“How can we feel restricted when we have all this to enjoy?” the two nuns ask me with a bright smile.

We stand together in silence, relishing the beautiful stillness.

“Look down there,” Sr Aloisia asks me as she indicates the monastery’s garden far below us. Originally, the garden was a quarry, from which the stone for the monastery was extracted.

“During World War II, that garden suffered a direct hit and the nuns sought refuge at Ta’ Ċenċ in Gozo. I was 16 and from Xagħra and I did not even know what a cloistered nun was. One day, I saw some creative sewing which they had done and I felt curious to meet them. However, people told me that this was impossible, unless I wanted to join them. I felt terrified at the idea that they could keep me with them and yet finally some older friends accompanied me to see them and I liked the nuns’ company. As time went by, I continued to think about them and when I was 18, I decided to join those nuns who had in the meantime returned to their monastery in Malta. And here I am.”

“I was also 18 when I took my vows and became a cloistered nun of this monastery,” Sr Michelina tells me. “When I was younger, a priest who often watched me praying daily in front of the statue ofSt Rita had suggested to me that I should consider becoming a nun.

“I was furious. I want to enjoy life, I told him. However, some time later, heconvinced me to meet the Rev. Mother Abbess of St Monica who in turn invited me to spend some weekends with them whenever I wanted. I liked the idea and little by little I got very close to these nuns until I could not imagine any other life but to stay with them.

“Then, one day, I went to visit Frenċ tal-Għarb and without even knowing me, he made a cross upon my forehead with some oil that was blessed by the Virgin Mary and he told me that I would soon become a cloistered nun in the monastery of St Catherine and that eventually I would die there. When I returned home to my father and told him about this, he swore that I would not withstand the life of a cloistered nun for more than 15 days. And yet I’m still here 51 years later.”

The monastery's crypt.The monastery's crypt.
 

We go down again and this time I’m shown the crypt where the monastery’s cloistered nuns are buried. Interestingly, in this crypt, there is also the tomb of the son of the original owners of this building.

We move on to the small chapel where the nuns pray.

“After 1963, we received new regulations and many things changed. One of these included the possibility of receiving the public in our monastery, even if we still stand behind bars. Indeed, within these last years, many individuals have sought us for spiritual help and advice. Many more have chosen to join us during Mass and so people have grown more accustomed to our presence and I think that their respect towards us has increased, now that they know us better,” Sr Michelina tells me.

“Through these encounters, we want to show people that life does not end when you become a cloistered nun. We simply start a new chapter of a life which is simpler and closer to God. We have our daily chores, we pray and help others, and we also enjoy developing our talents in sewing, crochet and art.”

“We miss absolutely nothing here except the need for more nuns to join us as we are too few now and most of us are also too old,” Sr Aloisia admits.

I cherish their warm hug when they embrace me before I leave, and for a moment I felt a distinct sense of happiness. Yet once the monastery’s door close behind me, I’m concerned about how these nuns will live once they will be too old to take care of each other. And what will be this monastery’s destiny if one day these nuns all fade away?

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