Emerging from the ocean of trees, we found ourselves in a large open space. In front of us stands the temple. On its sides there are two large horizontal constructions that mirror each other, connected to the temple like the arms of a giant. The building has an inverted "u" shape looking at it from the front, from the north, embracing the church. One could cut it in the middle and be left with two perfect halves.
These horizontal constructions do not reach the height of the church, rather they feel like an extension of the trees that mark out a single possible path, where we must go: to the doors of the temple. Although there are long windows in these also long buildings, large curtains cover the other side. No one can see from the outside what is going on inside.
Fear has not yet completely left us, but we see our first faces at the doors of the temple. There, like a guardian, stands a sister. Behind her stands a long-faced boy, like a child being scolded by his mother. His hair is a bit long and a bit unruly, not like a woman’s, but not like a boy's is supposed to be. Before we can hear what the reprimand is about, the woman looks at us.
“Explain yourselves.”
We don't even get to say hello and we are hit by those words. Are we late? That voice quickens my pulse a little, a terrifying authority.
As if guessing our confusion, it is the boy with unkempt hair who, with a malicious smile, directs his gaze to our clasped hands. We pull them apart abruptly. David's blush is not helping the situation... neither is mine.
“Explain yourselves,” more stern, curter.
“This is my brother; I'm holding his hand so he doesn't slip away”
“This is my sister; I'm holding her by the hand because she's afraid of getting lost in the forest”
We finally manage to express ourselves. The sluggish-looking boy seems amused by our conflict. Well, I'm glad we served to take the edge off your bad mood at least.
Almost as if reading my mind, the boy winks at me. Impudent.
“No hand-holding in here,” adds the sister. Her face doesn't seem to believe a word we said. Talk about making a good first impression. Her stern but calm words snap me out of my indignation. We nod, I don't even want to see David's face. Taking my eyes off him I can examine the nun for a moment.
She wears her dark robe that reaches down to her feet and a black veil on her head that reaches below her shoulders, only the white coif giving a contrast to her attire, hiding her hair in the process.
If all goes well, someday I'm going to dress the same way. She looks so young too, it's really amazing. I wonder if I'm going to make it before my thirties. I also wonder if there will still be churches in this country by then. An unpleasant feeling in my chest grabs my attention.
“You are going to leave your cell phones with the sister at the entrance. Young man, you will go to the left with the other boys. You, girl, will go to the right with the ladies. In five minutes, we start.” The words snap me out of my discomfort. Although her voice is friendlier, her face does not lessen in severity.
“But how could we talk to our families?” says David. When he realizes his tone and the look the sister's face, he adds, "Uh...miss," with a stiff body.
“You will be able to do it, but at the end of the day. Just one message and then you put your cell phone back in the tray.”
And my mother used to say that when we turned eighteen, no one would treat us like children anymore. She doesn't seem willing to say more. Good. I don't want to cross my path again with this sister, honestly, she's scarier than my mom when she gets angry. Although lately it's not anger that invades mom.
We pass through the entrance, the huge roof replaces the blue of the sky and the green of the trees with a grayish color. There is something truly comforting about being sheltered by such an immense roof.
We do as we were told with our cell phones. We seem to be the last ones. Ahead of us are long benches arranged in two rows spaced just far enough apart to leave a central aisle, like a small walkway. The occupants are in the front seats. Between the boys, the girls, the three sisters I count, plus the two we left behind (and that obnoxious boy at the entrance), there must be forty of us. Lots of benches, lots of space, great distance between ceiling and floor. Too big to be filled by only forty people. I can't see any priest.
Mind you, everything is gleaming, alternating black and white waxed tiles, smooth textured sturdy wooden benches, so clean they can reflect an image. It's a world of difference between how it looks on the outside. If it's five sisters who have to deal with all this, I can't blame them, I commend their work, in fact. Still, you can see cracks in the ceiling and walls, the confessional to our left has a little swinging door, one of its parts fallen, like a defeated man resting his weary head on his shoulder. At our feet, a large fissure stands out from the other places on the floor, similar to when the roots of a tree break through the cement of a sidewalk.
We have a moment to ourselves before we leave.
“It looks like we won't get a chance to cross paths very often, Sharon,” David says with slumped shoulders, his usual odd choice of words.
“Don't be so dramatic, won't you be able to make it a week without me?”
“But if all goes well, you may not come back”.
It seems that in this vastness I become even smaller.
I must say something, anything.
“David...”
But I hear footsteps from behind, it's the sister at the door. We have less time than we thought. I rush forward, and I listen as my step synchronizes with David's. We seem to be thinking the same thing. Big mistake, we are now walking together down the center aisle. We should have separated and gone on opposite sides. I feel the sister's gaze burning my back.
Suddenly...
I happen to touch one of David's legs by accident, under his hip.
“¡...!”
I pull my hand away hastily as I see him jerk away and look at me with surprise and heat on his face.
Well... at least he's not sad anymore?
Uh... I pick up my pace looking down at the ground. After an eternity I make it to one of the front benches. A short, light-haired girl sees me and makes a space for me to sit next to her, I'm on the aisle side. My intention was to go to the other end, far away, but I can't dismiss this gesture of compassion.
“Are you all right? You're very red,” she says without looking me in the eye.
“It's the heat.”
One accident after another, it hasn't been a good start. But things will change, there's no reason to be so pessimistic. You just have to have a little faith.
The nun at the door passes by me, hitting me with her aura. My hair stands on end, and I don't even look away from the front so as not to cross her face.
It is that same sister who presides over the welcome, then. My suspicions are becoming true, it seems that there is no priest in the place. Everything is run by these five sisters. It makes sense then that they would make this sort of.... "camp" to attract potential followers. They need people. Well, churches everywhere need people. This could be that sign I've been asking for. Maybe my place is here after all.
The sister, or rather the headmistress of the place, explains our situation. She stands in front of us, but not at the altar.
“We are going to be more lenient with all of you than with an aspirant. After all, you have not taken any vows. Some of you have not even been baptized. But this is the house of the Lord, and we will respect His commandments”
Her gaze turns to the sparse congregation. Her eyes wander around the temple, momentarily settling on one place and another. No corner is left unexamined.
“Besides, you are all young people. You are adults, yes, according to these earthly laws, otherwise you could not be in this place. But we are governed by the divine commandments of the Lord as well.” Her voice again with that authority. It is not a voice of anger, nor does it give any command. It doesn't really take her raising her voice to get you to do whatever it is she asked you to do. Such is her strength.
“You are all still very young”— she reiterates, softening her gaze and voice ever so slightly— “, you’re barely coming out of your childhood. And it is at this age that the Enemy assaults most strongly in your lives. And this goes especially for the young ladies.”
Her eyes, are they directed towards me? Her vision, like a lighthouse that drives away every shadow, allows nothing to be hidden from her.
“Prudence and modesty,” she says. I swallow with difficulty.
Her eyes linger on me. My stomach has dropped to the floor. It's as if all eyes are on me.
“Current fashions do not favor these two virtues, not at all. But this is no excuse to forget or discard them.”
Is it my clothes? The shirt I'm wearing is a turtleneck, there's nothing that resembles a cleavage. It's wide too, it doesn't cling to my body. My skirt reaches almost to the floor. I don't wear rings, necklaces...I look at my outfit, I look for where I've failed.
“And it's not just about the clothes.”
Her intervention makes me look into her eyes again, her head fixed, is she looking here? Is she really looking at me?
“Lustful attitudes are to be avoided. An immodest woman only increases the fire against herself, incites the looks of young men, leads both to ruin and puts herself in danger.”
I lower my head, no longer daring to meet her gaze.
“This is why we propose to you to dress in robes. They are not the clothes we sisters wear, but they are the ones we give to the aspirants. We have plenty to spare because of the lack of people unfortunately, so you will find something that suits you. You young boys can also wear similar robes. It's optional, we can't force you to wear them, but we can reprimand you if your outfits are inappropriate.”
The headmistress keeps giving us instructions, but I can't concentrate on what she is saying. Which of my attitudes has been inappropriate? It's not just about what I may have done in this place. When God inspires, He reveals aspects of life to another that one does not even remember.
Was it when my pants once ripped in elementary school? I covered myself with my sweater for the rest of the day until my mom could pick me up. I think a couple of girls caught a glimpse of me. I cried a lot that day.
Would that really be it, when I wore pants? I started wearing skirts when I was ten.
“Huh...”
No, it's not just about the clothes. My attitudes, my actions...
Something I said at school? In the last few years no one spoke to me, really.
“Friend?”
Things I saw? Once I found a weird picture on the Internet, but it was completely an accident. I also saw on TV (back when I used to watch TV) a movie with two cowboys that turned out to show aberrant acts between two men.
A thought? What thought could I...
“Friend!”
I feel a slight jolt on one shoulder, I almost have a stroke.
“Excuse me, we have to follow the nuns," says the light-haired girl, the one who gave me a seat a short while ago. She avoids looking at my face.
I see how the others are getting up and getting ready to leave from the right side of the temple. I thank the girl and get up to follow them. Walking a little bit rescues me from my discomfort. The boys go through the left exit, a mirror image of mine.
The east lateral exit connects the temple with the horizontal construction. The west one has to do the same with the other one. Oriented now overcoming the exit, I manage to see to the left as a very narrow corridor extends behind the temple, must also connect the two buildings. I manage to see near our end a half-open door through which the headmistress enters. Her office, I guess. If she has to take care of all the paperwork and formalities… Good, then I'm not going to cross paths with her often...
And like this, my insolence is punished by slamming my face against a wall. My eyes get watery and I feel wet inside my nose, I hear some chuckles that are drowned out.
“Are you all right?” Again, the blonde girl. She is an angel.
Reddened I just shake my head up and down. What an eventful day. My nose isn't broken or anything, thank God. After this sad spectacle, we continue our tour guided by a sister.
To my right is a wall that doesn't quite reach the ceiling, but high enough that even the tallest of people can't see what's behind it. The wall extends all the way to almost the other end of the place, ending shortly before reaching the wall, leaving a narrow opening through which we turn and finally access the other section of the building. Now we face south.
This gives us access to what would be the dining room, several small school tables piled up to give the impression of a large table. On one side windows with curtains, this is what we saw from the outside. On the other side, the bathrooms and showers, appendices to the long building.
At the back of the dining room there is a wall just like the one we had just passed, behind it are the bedrooms where there are twenty-four beds, more than enough for all of us, arranged in pairs, twelve on one side and twelve on the other, spaced far enough apart to leave a little path to maneuver between them.
I get the bed at the back. At its back, where my head will rest, is the large window with its thick curtain. The mattress next to me belongs to the light-haired girl. I ask for her name at last.
“Raquel. Nice to meet you," she smiles, but again, her eyes escape mine.
I tell her my name and she nods at me, like a small bow given stiffly which I reflexively mimic as well, just as awkwardly.
We are given our new clothes. Finally, the embarrassment of the day begins to evaporate. Although the robes are optional, no one dares to refuse them.
It may seem a trifling, frivolous act to receive robes that may look inelegant to foreign eyes, but it feels good, like a reward after all that has happened. Giving up the world is difficult, friends are lost, loves are lost.
You can even lose a mother.
It is sad, but this is a happy moment, my moment of joy, no one can take that away from me.
We talk, we eat and just like that, the last of the shame fades away as the sun starts to go. We go to bed early, although the darkness is great in spite of what the clock shows, a witness that the lights of the city do not interrupt the night of this place.
It is almost tragic to take off my robe to put on my pajamas to go to sleep. I pray, I ask for my mother, I know that God can bring her back to His house.
It is easy to relax and rest here. Silence reigns and the shadow of night is vast. A Friday in the city would be noisy, especially now that school is over in these late days of December, the spring leaving us in this south hemisphere to give its place to the Summer. Thousands of young people going to nightclubs, drunk, stoned, going to their doom. I ask God to have mercy on them as He has had mercy on me.
A person's life can change from one day to the next.
Many people's lives can change from one moment to the next.
