Poor Clares of Eindhoven

At this point we are undecided if our month of radio broadcasting ended with a bang or a whimper. A certain anticipation floated on the small cloud of incense as we waited to begin the last Vespers of our assignment from Radio Maria. The sister who arms Radio Maria’s impressive audio mixer console disappeared into our miniature sacristy and we listened for the tingle of a bell to alert us that we were on air. We waited. We waited two minutes more, then sister emerged, her face drawn with contained dismay as she walked down the nave and out the choir door as quickly as monastic decorum permitted. This had happened before, so each took the opportunity to say a small prayer that she would find the cause: would it be that one of the phones in the house was not sitting securely in its resting place? Or would it again be that the plug was just a little loose?

Sister returned, looking relieved and tried not to hurry to the sacristy, only to emerge again. Still no connection, and it was less than one minute until the listeners would tune in for Vespers. Once more she left to check the last possibility and then returned. Still unable to make the connection, the Poor Clares personal hotline to Radio Maria was used. More than 90 percent of Radio Maria’s personal are volunteers, vrijwilligers as the Dutch say, and being so, they have more than their share of mishaps. What type of magic the good lady on the other end of the line worked, we will never know, but the bell did tinkle, our radio sister carefully tip-toed to her place and we began the beautiful Gregorian Admirable Nomen Jesus. So neither a bang nor a whimper, but the Divine praises sung by millions down the centuries closed this most unusual month.

Hopefully before this month ends –six hours from now– we will have some photos of a choir beseiged by microphones. The photo album is forging forward.

Any morning a sister can walk into our choir, dimly lighted by the light shining on the tabernacle, and blink when the portress rounds the corner. It looks as if she has a gray python wrapped around her arm, and it is anyone’s guess if she is petting it or trying to free herself. Neither actually. What she carries is the large roll of telephone wire that has to be laid twice a day for the broadcasts on Radio Maria.

Our lack of daily contributions to this blog can be explained in several ways, but at the top of each explanation there stands: we are on air. Not as some saints were, like our Franciscan brother Saint Joseph of Cupertino when he levitated above the earth. In stead we continue to walk on radio waves each day, during the morning celebration of Holy Mass and the evening Office of Vespers. Hopefully a forthcoming newsletter for December/January will give more details. For now it suffices to say there isn’t one of us who doesn’t wish she really could levitate slightly above her choir stall rather than listen to loud creaks of old wood playing an off-key accompaniment to the singing. That ‘tune’ reaches from the south of Belgium to the beaches of the North Sea.

It is a communal effort in every way, but it is the little touches that make this month one to remember: the unknown sister who turns on lights so the portress can find her way, another who is always there, unasked, to haul a needed bench. It is the small services which make the real waves in life.

The Christ Child resting on his hand made manger in our cloister choir has a ring seat as his Poor Clares attempt radio broadcasting. Radio Maria asked us to broadcast our Holy Masses as well as Lauds and Vespers during the month of January. Most of the seminarians in the Netherlands and Belgium are still home on vacation, and others who usually fill these time slots are also overloaded. With great hesitation we said ‘yes’ and the saga began.

First snags involved just getting the main transmission box to talk to our antiquated phone system. Then after three days of broadcasting Vespers, it was decided our microphones just were not up to par. So today the young technician came with an impressive array of microphones and what seemed a mile of cable. The final result was two microphones for nun’s choir where Vespers is chanted, three for the side choir where we share in the offering of Mass each morning, and still one more microphone for the Mass altar.

At the first Christmas Little Jesus watched while mounds of straw were pushed this way and that by singing shepherds; here He watches the sisters wind and unwind cables and tap at microphones. The song though is the same, Gloria in excelsis Deo!