In this post, we share the personal journey of a woman who became involved with the religious order that spawned the idea behind the Community of Jesus.
We are grateful that she shared her personal story that gives insight to the very beginnings of Cay & Judy’s belief system and methods. The woman’s name and personal information have been withheld.
The religious order is the Evangelical Sisterhood of Mary.
The author’s post originally appeared in 2007 on a German site: https://hauszellengemeinde.de/
[What follows is a post from that website . . .]
Post and Foreword by:
Roland (a site admin)
Published by:
(name withheld)
[There may be some awkward translations because of German language idioms or word use different than English.]
Foreword
The Protestant Order was founded in 1947 by Dr. Klara Schlink, sister-named Mother Basilea, and Erika Madauss, founded with sister name Mother Martyria. From the very beginning, the head of the Protestant congregation was the now 94-year-old Dr. Schlink, who studied psychology in the 1930s. Today, about 180 women from 19 countries and a few men (Francis brothers) live on the monastery grounds in Darmstadt. About 40 sisters of Mary are active in several branches abroad.
In the 50 years of its existence [as of 2007], the sisters of Mary have come to the public through numerous activities. Preparation times, retreats, youth conventions and festivals brought thousands of visitors to “Canaan,” as the monastery area in Darmstadt is called.
The monastery-owned publishing house has now published more than 100 books by Mother Basilea, construction pages, and “core journals” have been published in 80 languages. Many German newspaper readers find a comforting popularity in the form of a verse on the pages with their death obituaries—signed with M.B.; it comes from Mother Basilea. The Sisters of Mary have also become known for their relentless advocacy against abortion, rock music, pornography, and occultism.
But now former members of the order report on the “other face” of the Evangelical Marian sistership. One of them is [name withheld], the former Marian Sister [withheld].
[Her] Story
Eight years have now passed since I left the “Evangelical Sisterhood of Mary” based in Germany and its apparent paradise “Canaan.” It was perhaps the most difficult decision I ever made, because it meant breaking a vow that I had not only made once, but repeatedly. Since I was convinced that honorable people do not break any promises, this decidedly shaken my deepest convictions of loyalty and decency. I never thought I would be doing something like that. It took years of confusion and struggle to get me to the point of taking this radical step. Fear and guilt accompanied him, because they had convinced me that my eternal fate would depend on whether or not I existed the tests that my calling imposed on me. I had become physically dependent on sisterhood, mentally and, to a certain extent, I had become physically dependent on the sisterhood. And yet I was driven forward as if God were concerned about my well-being in his power and love.
Since then, many people have asked why I left and how it came about. You probably think about it right if you probably don’t know me. Why should a consecrated sister after so many years prefer the uncertainty of security and encounter a decision that has had to be dismayed in so many others, when she enjoyed the peace of Canaan and could enjoy the apparent paradise of the sisters? Why should she do something that would perhaps cause spiritual wounds to her and dishonor the Lord? And besides . . . not all sisters are happy? In all innocence, most people believe it. The other way a Canaan girlfriend wrote to me, “I am sure you have been happy for many years. Why did you change your mind?”
In order to be able to address all these issues, I must go back to the year 1974 with you, when I first had to deal with the sisterhood. For most of you, it will be difficult to find a reference point for their own lives. Nevertheless, I hope that you, my readers, will discover something that touches you in your life—something that encourages you and gives you new insights. I have no intention of discrediting the sincere believers with whom I have shared my life for so many years. I realize that the sisters helped people on their spiritual journey and brothers and sisters who had grief encouraged and comforted. But this service has its dark sides, which must be discussed. I would ask you to read on without prejudice.
We know countless people who have been blessed, but we also know first-hand by many who have been hurt and kept on their spiritual journey. What the sisterhood wants to convey to the outside world about their lives is not consistent with the reality that many of us experienced. My story sheds light on a way of thinking that places obedience and loyalty above integrity and sincerity, and the well-being of the system above the well-being of the individual.
Entry into the Sisterhood
As a young, 17-year-old Christian girl, I have not yet had any concrete ideas about my future and was unprotected, quick to impress and in a typical way ideally table. After graduating from high school, I spent the summer at the suggestion of my parents on “Canaan,” the home of the Evangelical Marian Sisterhood in Germany. In many respects, it was uplifting to live with volunteers from different countries. From the distance we admired the sisters who—separated from the helpers and visitors—lived in their own areas. Because of this separation, we had little to do with most of them. However, many of us young women were fascinated by the mysteriously hidden life and the equal apparition of the sisters. Most of us were in a transition phase of their lives, and so we began to explore the possibility of finding whether we could have a “reputation for this semi-detached life. To renounce Christ everything and to offer his life radically and demonstratively was equally tempting and challenging.
After the summer of 1974, I returned to [her country] and started my studies at a university. Although I was involved in the congregation and in church-oriented college groups, Canaan had become home and point-of-reference in my heart. Again and again I read Mother Basilea’s books, distributed all her materials, and showed the Canaan film in congregations and at events. The sisters praised me as a “fire soul” (“burnt” for the Canaan service). And so it happened that after an interruption of my studies because of an extended stay as a helper in Canaan, I asked to be able to join them as a permanent member. I was 20 years old.
Six of us joined: one from Germany, two from Norway, one from Australia, and two from [her country]. (A close friend from [city] and I joined together.) Our first commitment was celebrated in a festive ceremony, in which all the mothers and sisters attended. Practically speaking, our first step was to move out of the helpers’ house to our own small apartment and thus live in another area of Canaan. We were not yet part of the sisterhood family, but we were already preparing separately from the helpers for official reception. This so-called probation lasted about seven months.
As a “repatriate,” we were invited to the mother house for special occasions and for the Sunday meals, but most of the time we worked or were among us, accompanied by an elderly Maria nurse who had been entrusted to our leadership. She was called a “little mother.” Our day was divided into a lot of work and a minimum of leisure. In the morning and evening we were six among us. Without contradiction, we agreed with everything that was done. Questions and open discussions were not allowed, finally we had chosen the way of Jesus, that is, the way of obedience.
Gradually we were introduced to the customs and rules of the sisterhood. For example, we were generally not allowed to speak with helpers or guests of Canaan, as conversations would distract us from prayer and work. We were also informed that we should stop corresponding with previous friends, because life in the sisterhood would no longer have time to maintain previous relations. We were told that we were not allowed to write anything about personal problems or struggles for our families, since personal matters would now belong without exception in the environment of our new family, the sisterhood. Our “small mother” carefully explained all these requirements to us by using Bible verses about denial, sacrifice, and the cost of discipleship and following Jesus. She also told us that it was quite natural that our vocation would be tested. Satan would attack us with doubt, but those of us who faithfully fought the fight of faith would remain victorious.
On the one hand, I was happy to join a select group of women who loved Jesus above everything else. On the other hand, what I heard and experienced became confused and overpowered. I also felt alienated from my family and home. A feeling of being locked up and powerlessness suffers me. And what was worse: I was unable to talk freely and openly with others about these feelings. We were only allowed to talk about personal matters with the mothers and with a sister who had been assigned to us for advice. However, such opportunities for personal conversation were only limited and at irregular intervals. In the relationship with our respective sisters, the rule was “no conversation about personal things.” I started to feel incredibly lonely and loaded.
I realized that without the freedom to express my thoughts, myself and feelings, I gradually lost the access to my own thinking. The “no-conversation” rule was perhaps the hardest restriction I had to face during my time in the sisterhood. If I noticed questionable statements and habits, I could not openly speak with a person of my trust about it and ask: “Doesn’t this come ahead? Do you not feel burdened by this or that? What do you think of this rule?” I only had self-talks, and they ended up with feelings of guilt because I had refused the sin of the question. Over time, the “No Conversation” rule led to the feeling of losing sense of reality. Slowly, the ability to think critically died.
Alone and frightened, I lost most of my stilling time by the fact that the growing psychological pressure was unloaded in streams of tears. I did not like to go ahead, and yet I tried in vain to find the courage to exit—everyone from my surroundings would have shown me humiliation and disdain. I had already made my most obligation. The mothers had received a confirmation of God’s call for my life. How could I do something else than stay and perish? Finally we knew that it was a great honor and a privilege to be able to become a Marian sister. Paralyzed by fear, disappointing God, silence and myself, I renewed my obligation to suffer every day. To a certain extent, I tried to share my pain to the sister, which had been placed aside for spiritual guidance. Their advice was to say again and again, “I want to suffer.” I took their words to heart and somehow managed to bring me every day by pretending to be happy, and I believed that I would be happy if I only stayed out in prayer.
I would have liked to know how the other sisters who were called with me felt. I had no idea if they were sad or truly happy. Of course, we never asked personally meant questions. The record of the sisterhood formed a limit that separated us emotionally from each other.
The sisters observed carefully how we behaved. Then it suddenly happened that one of us was sent away in a humiliating way. She broke the “close” by one day pulling me aside and venting her fears with tears. “I am in great difficulty. They will send me away, I feel that. I don’t know at all what I did wrong. I am so afraid. Please pray for me.” Still and quickly she left our little family. There were only a few explanatory words of our “Mother” and no further discussion. We were told that the mothers had become clear that the sistership of Mary was not for them. It was probably too open-hearted, I speculated.
During this time, I felt my own discipline. I was told that other sisters had found an arrogant tone in my voice. Therefore, I was taken a respected responsibility in a sense, and I also got another job. I have now had to work in the laundry under the supervision of a very strict sister. There, in the basement of a gloomy building in a remote part of Canaan, I repeatedly handed over my will to the Lord. The more I tried to do everything right, the stronger I was criticized and punished. During the day I struggled to control my feelings, but at night I woke up sobbing.
“Whatever it takes, I want to walk the path of humiliation. I want my pride to be broken. Yes, father,” I wrote in my diary. I was determined to go forward out of love for Christ. Only one coward would pinch now. But at the same time fear grew. Without knowing it, I also made a personality change—I encapsulated myself, became submissive and shy.
Following these desolate, difficult months we were admitted to the mother’s house. During an official celebration, we publicly vowed to follow Jesus on his journey. It was a serious vow to service, to fidelity and to sacrifice, to the beginning of life in the mother house. But it was also an opportunity to celebrate and cheerful. The sisters knew how to celebrate and used a lot of love and attention to making these events something beautiful and special. Songs were composed and sung only for us, and they showed us with small sisterly treasures: hymnals only for sisters, hand-painted cards and religious pictures. Each of us got a personalized booklet about our new name, richly decorated with exquisite calligraphy. I felt something very special and very welcome in the family.
This day of consecration was followed by many changes. We got used to it. The mothers gave us new names. We had a new home, a new family and new rules. I was given the name “Sister [withheld]” or “my [withheld] child,” as Mother Basilea always called me. An essential part of our new identity was that we became Mother Basilea’s children. Being your child was the highest calling and the highest privilege, we were constantly told.
Everyday Life
During the probationary period, I noticed that many sisters of Mary work for a very long time. I did not learn anything more, but my suspicions were confirmed at the night I was sleeping for the first time in my new bed in the mother house. The excitement of festive activities had kept me alive all night. My room camera dinner, a sister who had moved into there a year before, came from work at about 3 o’clock, in the middle of the night. Frightened, I thought, “How am I supposed to do that?” This late night and early morning was followed by many others for this sister. I never dared to ask. I was grateful that I didn’t have to work so long, but I was sorry for it, and I wondered how she could survive with so little sleep. For these and other sisters with special tasks, working was a “sacrifice for Jesus” and a sign of spiritual zeal until late at night.
The timetable for us new sisters started at 5.30 a.m. with getting up. Washing with bucket and sink was followed by 25 minutes of personal silence. At 6:28 a.m. there was breakfast, then half an hour of Bible studies in the “Zion Hall” of the Sisterhood. Then followed the “house offices,” and then we worked at the place assigned to us until noon. After lunch we had half an hour off. During this time we were able to read Mother Basilea’s books, pray, write letters to our families, tinker with greeting cards or wash the hair. Without special permission, we were not allowed to lie down and rest. (With progressive membership of the sisterhood, we were encouraged to sacrifice our free time to work.) An older sister was assigned to us to introduce us to our new life. It was with us most of the time we did not spend at work. Every “family” had her “small mother” who was responsible to her.
They may think that our timetable was very strict, but I actually found it quite easy to keep to it—maybe because the routine of security and security skill for me.
Mother Basilea determined what we had to do every night, and that depended on her schedule. In general, we had a time together (or a “hour”) twice a week with Mother Basilea or a time of worship and prayer. Other evenings were dedicated to work, stopping underwear and socks or quiet time. Occasionally we also had a “free” evening, or a guest, e.g. a missionary, spent an evening with us and gave us an insight into his experiences. These evenings together with the sister and brotherhood are remembered. They laughed, they behaved unconstrained and at the same time remained in deep veneration for the Lord. I learned to worship. Music was an essential part of life in the sisterhood. We loved singing numerous songs accompanied by our talented musicians Mother Basilea.
During this second phase of my life in the sisterhood, things became easier for me. I was transferred from the laundry to the publishing house, where I enjoyed my work. It was a blessing to work side by side with an American sister whose kindness and relaxed manner put me at ease.
“House Cleaning and Spiritual Cleaning”
Canaan was to be a foreshadowing of Paradise on earth. In order to fulfill this vision, neatness, cleanliness and order were crucial. The gardens and fields were spotless, as were the kitchens, laundries and everything else. Each of us who lived on Canaan invested time and effort in keeping Canaan and its buildings clean. We took turns washing the dishes and cleaning the chapel. As physical exercise was not planned, we always kept moving in this way. Cleaning the Motherhouse chapel early in the morning before breakfast was grueling, but I enjoyed washing the dishes, even had fun. We didn’t waste a second washing and drying hundreds of plates, pots, and pans every day. In the midst of all this busyness, there were always songs or sung prayers to be heard.
Spiritual purification, the foundation of the community, was also at regular intervals, both in relation to the individual and on a common level. Personal sins against Mother Basilea and Mother Martyria were necessary and were expected. We confessed our sins face to face when we had been invited to a personal conversation, or we wrote down our confession in a letter or confession. We were constantly admonished not to keep anything for ourselves, to confess everything and to “live in the light” of our thoughts and feelings. By hiding unhappy sin we would have given Satan power over our lives. After their confession, the mothers admitted their absolution and forgiveness and encouraged us to fight our sins.
Sin confessions and content of personal letters were not always treated confidentially. I found it very hard that Mother Basilea sometimes shared confidentiality, personal problems and sins of the entire community, especially when it was referring to a sister who left the order. Sisters who had left us always got the blame for it, and their character was discredited. The confessions were used against the sisters. It was also not uncommon for mothers to raise affairs from the confessions of sin within ears of other sisters. Such breaks of trust contributed to the fact that I was able to trust the school n less and less.
Over time, Mother Martyria suffered more and more, and Mother Basilea took over the overall management, including the weekly “light communities.” On the basis of John l , n.9, these sessions were intended to cleanse the sisterhood of all the evils that were lying in wait within their ranks. We had these holy meetings praying and willing to tackle. Since it was not allowed to speak behind the backs of others, complaints should be brought openly and in a “healthy” way on this occasion. Here, too, there was again a strict “no conversation” rule on the events in the light communities.
And so the “light communities” were carried out: one sister after the other known first words and deeds, which had affected each other. While she was still there, anyone who thought they had discovered something sinful in her was invited to speak. I am shocked to admit that I found it uplifting to criticize the respective sister. When I think back, I am shocked at how ruthless I could be. We had been taught that we would indeed shed our sister and make it easier for her sanctification and spiritual growth if we showed her her sins. So we were encouraged not to mince words.
The “communities of light” lasted hours, and often sisters, who were strongly criticized, cried and condemned themselves. Mother Basilea, who sat in front of the room on a pedestal, was not subject to this procedure, of course. She had the last word to every sister. Sometimes she spoke pity with suffering, then again she was strict, judged motives and drew unrealistic conclusions. Among many other examples, I remember one thing above all: one sister was blamed for the fact that another sister had become seriously ill because she, the accused sister, was so hard to live with her. Especially some gentle sisters were targets for criticism. Some people took themselves more often than others.
During these meetings, it was not allowed to justify itself somehow. They had to endure silently and submissively what was said and to humiliate. Theoretically, misunderstandings and injustices could have been clarified privately with Mother Basilea on another day, but I guess that rarely happened. The time was short, Mother Basilea’s schedule was filled and her strength was limited.
I believe I have never overcome the horror of those meetings. Instead of promoting harmony and healing within the community, they have basically, I find, distrust and fear relieved. We were told to accept the humiliation and even love the condemnation, whereby we would kiss in spirit the hand of God that chastised us.
Because of these “light communities,” I caught myself looking around again and again in everyday life, carefully weighing every word, constantly in the feeling that every movement is observed. Once, during a “community of light” the names of such sisters were read out who did not smile enough. We were expected to radiate bliss—at any price, even if it meant to be dishonest. If you had asked me whether I was happy, I would have given them an enthusiastic positive answer. And yet other former members and I can testify that many of us suffered from despair and depression for a long time. Yes I denied my true inner state and told my parents and others how happy and content I was, while in private I was so disturbed that I wished and even constantly in prayer to be able to die. To be honest about his sadness and despair would have meant casting a bad light on Christ and the sisterhood. So for the sake of God, I lived behind a facade of forced smiles. If I were to reveal my sorrow to my parents, the mother of Basilea’s heart would break, my pastoral sister, a head of the order, told me.
Suffering from Sin
At the centre of Mother Basilea’s teachings within the silence was faith that we must “shed our sin.” Although it did not deny Christ’s forgiveness, it was bound to repentance. And repenting should be lowered by certain signs, in other words, one must suffer in some way for one’s sins. “Well, it is that we still have to suffer the punishment we have earned over there” (Mother Basilea on the 9th century). January 1989). For every sin that had not been known and brought to light is of a conscious or unconscious nature, we would have to give an account in eternity. An unknown sin can prevent a soul from entering the city of God. So we prayed daily that God now uncover our sins before we entered eternity and it would be too late.
Sisters, whose sins were comprehensively revealed in the “cape communities,” often had to undergo times of judgment, during which they were excluded from the evening meetings and meals with the other sisters. They had to eat alone and standing, fulfill special obligations when dish washing and cleaning, and working longer. They either sought these punishments for themselves or got them imposed by the mothers. Some sisters had their birthday after, others refrained from free time or their holidays. Some of the sisters were constantly “under judgment,” as it was called. These times of purification should eventually lead to an experience of grace. We were told that we should not shame such hard judgment times, but accept them, because they would purify us and make us tested and proven, genuine Sisters of Mary. We should not be friendly to ourselves or sensitive to others who were “under judgment.” Occasionally, we were instructed not to witness to a certain sister who just had a court, not to witness any signs of sympathy or kindness. Sin had to be taken very seriously.
Mother Basilea often spoke very seriously about sin and hell. I learned to fear hell and doubt my salvation. Mother Basilea’s lively descriptions of the agony of the damned are still lively in my memory. She told us about visions of nuns and priests who had become unfaithful to their vocation and now fainted in Hellfire. In this way we were challenged to renew and deepen our dedication to our calling and to Jesus. This meant, of course, loyalty to Mother Basilea.
“In the Family”
Within the Sisterhood, the absolute commandment was not to talk about the sisters’ penances—not within the Sisterhood and certainly not to outsiders, because this information had to remain “in the family.” In fact, neither Mother Basilea’s sacred revelations, visions and personal biographical films nor her special non-public teachings to the Sisterhood were discussed. We were told that outsiders were not spiritually mature enough to receive such messages. Only we, the privileged few, could hear them. Later, after the great world catastrophe, in a new age, it would be appropriate to make these messages known. Now, however, they had to remain strictly “in the family.” We were threatened with God’s punishment if any of us broke this rule.
Young sisters were not included in many of the non-public gatherings within the sisterhood where “In the Family” messages were heard. However, as we matured as sisters, we were together more often at meals and meetings with mothers and other sisters. But it wasn’t until we took our final vows and became “bride sisters” that we were able to participate in everything. For me and the others I had joined with, this took place in 1980. It was an exception to the typical waiting period of six years between joining and “bridal consecration.” Becoming a real sister was a gradual process.
We also gradually heard, read, and saw the highly secret “non-public family material.” Central to this was Mother Basilea’s prominent position in God’s kingdom and in God’s work of redemption in the world. In visions and revelations, she was shown to be God’s end-time “sacrificial lamb” who held back God’s wrath. In very special moments she shared with us something of her mystical life, in which there were sensual undertones of an intimate relationship with Jesus, the Bridegroom. But her mystical world also contained much inner suffering. Some of her revelations seemed strange to me at first, but over time the strangeness disappeared. What would once have seemed excessive to me had become not only normal, but highly spiritual.
Mother Basilea Worship
The emphasis on the person Mother Basilea within the sisterhood was far beyond each description. On some occasions it was even raised above Christ. The sister who was Mother Basilea’s right-hand woman once told us that Jesus had said in the Garden of Gethsemane: “Father, if it is your will, take this cup from me . . . ” Mother Basilea, on the other hand, said: “Father, I want the cup.” In other words, Mother Basilea surpassed Jesus when it came to accepting suffering!
The life of the sisters revolved around the mothers, especially Mother Basilea. Her health and whether she was happy or sad because of the sisters was of utmost importance. Her words, her deeds, and her service were constantly praised at every meal and every meeting. The mothers’ favor or disfavor was seen as God’s favor or disfavor. Each sister participated in worshiping her as intensely as possible, both privately and publicly. It was as if the more compliments you paid her, the more status and favor you gained.
I had to struggle with Mother Basilea from the beginning, but over time I found my way around, even if not entirely. I remember asking a leading sister in the late eighties whether one had to agree with Mother Basilea in everything, even in his thoughts. I was required to ask such a question for my pride: “Who are you actually to question what Mother Basilea says?” She was convinced that Mother Basilea was infallible.
In the sisterhood, it was a matter of survival to praise Mother Basilea. It was a way of life. Often even outsiders noticed this extreme emphasis, although they were unaware of its full extent within the Order. Criticism from outside also reached Mother Basilea. She responded by telling us that people were simply jealous of her position and authority. There was a simple answer to every objection.
Years of Change
Since I was considered a well-established Sister of Mary, Mother Basilea sent me to [city, country] in 1980 with three other sisters to establish a branch of the Sisterhood. In 1982, I was transferred to Phoenix (Arizona) to help the evolving video and television ministry get off the ground. Videos about Mother Basilea, filmed by the brotherhood and sisterhood in Germany were completed there and distributed in no time. I enjoyed this challenge and the contact with the outside world that came with it. I enjoyed the freedom we had in this branch in contrast to the rigidly ordered life in the Motherhouse. The “Light Communities” were not so intimidating, the rules were not so strictly monitored, and we were not so heavily scrutinized. I know that other sisters also much preferred living in this branch to Canaan in Germany.
In the branch, however, we kept in close contact with the Motherhouse. We received spiritual nourishment from “back home” in the form of tapes and writings to keep us in touch. Each of us had a regular correspondence with Mother Basilea. From each branch, the sister in charge reported to Mother Basilea anything that concerned her about the sisters under her charge. When Mother Basilea sensed from these reports and letters that a sister was drifting away from her heart, she was called back to the Motherhouse for a time of “renewal.” All of us regularly had the opportunity to go “home” to Germany for a time to reconnect, which turned out to be a time of grace, a time of judgment, or a combination of both.
After more than a decade in the sisterhood, my thinking had been almost completely reshaped—except for a tiny corner that was still looking in vain for satisfactory answers to fundamental questions. Was the fanaticism surrounded by the mother Basilea? He was woven directly into the sisterhood, I knew that. That would never change. What about the convictions and punishments of the sisters? What about the sect-like “No Conversation” rule? And with this “In the Family” stuff? Was this all hidden because it was wrong? What about the visions and revelations? Were they type-applied? What about my inability to trust, with the constant fear of punishment that I felt? Were the fears simply my business? I tried to meet these questions in two ways: I discovered them by telling myself that no work was perfect and that there was plenty of evidence of God’s blessing on the Order. And I suppressed them. But the thoughts and questions rose again to the surface. They did not disappear.
Deeply immersed I knew that I lived a lie—that I pretended to be someone I was not. I couldn’t totally swallow everything that was said. But I could not discuss these things either. When the questions arose in me, I listened to them, only to immediately rebuke my critical spirit and to punish me that I had nourished such thoughts.
Although I seemed like a happy sister, I was not. The facade began to crumble, and I was faced with two conflicting versions of personal identity: the strongly sincere “me” and the smiling, unhappy Sister [withheld]. It was 1990.
1990
Suffering from non-response insomnia, depression, anxiety and weight loss, I fell into considerable night. I didn’t have the courage to open myself about all the concerns I hid in myself. My feelings of guilt grew, because I was torn apart of the decision to confess my thoughts or not to do so out of fear of the effects. Again I approached the point of considering a goodbye.
In 1986, I had confessed to Mother Basilea for the first time that I was thinking about leaving the order. She wrote to me that such a step would lead me directly into the hands of Satan. I would have to fight such thoughts with all my might. And I did.
But the sleepless nights remained and demanded their tribute to my physical and mental health. I tried to hide my problems as best I could, but the claim I had lived under so long waned. I was sent back to the mother’s house for six weeks.
Shortly before I arrived there, two long-time Finnish sisters had left the Order and explained the reasons for it in a letter. Mother Basilea told us a few chunks of it and said he was so full of lies and hatred that she would never let him read him completely. Frankly, I hardly felt I felt that the letter was really the same as she described it. It was customary to talk badly of sisters who had left the order and denounce them, so I took up all that was said with a spark of doubt. What happened in this case, however, was simply incredible and completely confused my already troubled soul. In the evening, the sisterhood gathered, spoke badly about the two who were departed and denounced them. Whoever knew what to say something negative about it was encouraged to do it.
These sessions then followed an outbreak of love and loyalty to Mother Basilea. The ex-sisters were converted into “Judas souls,” and Mother Basilea warned that everyone plays with Satan, who even had a sympathetic thought towards them. I could not accept that these women should be satanic only because they had to cover themselves with Mother Basilea. The radical denunciation by Mother Basilea and the sisters only because of the disagreements was another factor in my declining loyalty. Years later, I received a copy of the letter written by the two Finnish sisters to Mother Basilea in March 1990. Believe it or not, Mother Basilea had completely twisted him. He was a polite expression of their concerns written in carefully weighed words. What they wrote was true, and indeed I could have written it myself. Other former members see it as well.
It was nothing new that Mother Basilea and her theology were crawling. We were told that the sisterhood was being persecuted more and more, and that individual sisters were being asking about teachings and actions. We had been trained to counter persons who did investigations by retaining information and—if we were in doubt—to respond with the phrase “We live according to the Bible.”
Mother Basilea told us that there will be persecution within the Order to a prophecy. Sisters would deceive and deny them, just as Jesus had been deceived and denied in his last days on earth. With the departure of the Finnish sisters, the prophecy will begin to be fulfilled. She repeatedly told us that those of us who felt too weak to endure the persecution were free to go. She said no one hold us against our will. We would have chosen voluntarily to be sisters of Mary, and we also chose for free will to see whether we wanted to stay in the sisterhood. For me, these statements made absolutely no sense. In truth, we were not free to go. Over the years, Mother Basilea had warned us individually and as a community of the danger of hellfire, we should not follow our call. We had regularly sworn that we would remain true to her at the time of their trial. We had become dependent on the sisterhood. Psychologically, we were bound—not free.
For me, the negative things as a whole began to exceed the positive ones. Emotionally and psychologically, I began to replace myself. In my heart I desperately wish I would go. Mother Basilea had no idea of my real dilemma. My last words to them were: “I don’t belong here anymore,” but she consisted of: “You belong to me.” Completely desperate, I returned to Phoenix in June, sourly still loyal to Mother Basilea, but no more sister in my heart.
What followed in the next few months was a dramatic chain of events that culminated in the event that I went in November of that year. I wrote a letter to my parents in which I explained my grief and asked for their help. They never received him because the mail attacked him at my request. After I had sent him and told the branch’s lead sister, the regrets had taken me. She put me under pressure, persuaded me that I had to stay, and warned, among other things, that I would lose my faith if I went. However, she did not have to offer logically satisfactory answers to my questions, which I now made quite open. After making every possible argument to convince me, she said it was my decision.
During this time, Mother Basilea was constantly talking to Mother Basilea, and faxes were also exchanged. I knew I was crossing a line behind which a reversal would be quite impossible. If I remained after all this now, I would have suffered from court for years, I concluded. And yet I wavered between going and staying, unable to choose. After I had refrained from making decisions for so long, how could I have made such a central decision alone? So I asked to be allowed to talk to a person outside the order (with my mother), but that was rejected. I was told Mother Basilea was my advisor and a confidante. But she did not understand me, so I continued to keep myself al-set, to struggle for clarity in prayer. The greatest breakthrough for me personally was the realization that fidelity to Mother Basilea was not the same as faithfulness to Christ.
The Turning Point
In a last desperate attempt to come to an agreement, I wrote Mother Basilea the most open and sincere letter I had ever written to her. I told her about all my torments, through which I had gone through all these years, agony that I could no longer bear, told her that there were many things that I could not agree with and that I could not trust her. I told her that if under these circumstances she felt I should stay my whole life, I would do it, but I would never be one with her. I could not. Her answer, which I was awaiting anxious, surprised me: she said I should go, and she gave me her blessing. Her decision and her actions—leaving a consecrated sister in this way—were apparently unique. And in further letters she offered support and found many kind, loving words.
I can only describe my departure as a “release.” I have never done sorry. With the regained freedom, thinking critically, expressing myself and being able to make a choice, I began to recover and flourish. Certainly, there was also a feeling of grief, a feeling of having lost something with this farewell of about 14 years and everything they had brought with them. Since there was no real openness among the sisters, we were never emotionally very close, but there was a connection to some sisters whose break hurt. The sisters I knew well were very friendly to me, even when I left. (That would have been quite different, if I had gone in dispute.)
When a sister leaves, what she takes with her is usually censored. Sisterhood material had to be left behind, of course, and correspondence with Mother Basilea had to remain in the Sisterhood. I was allowed to select a few letters from Mother Basilea and take them with me—“good” letters without condemnations or anything else that could have been controversial. Mother Basilea had to agree to this selection. Normally, a sister who left the order also had to leave her “silence book” (personal notes). But nobody checked that, so I took mine with me.
When I read my notes now, years later, I am shocked by the self-criticism and hatred towards myself that they express. Mother Basilea continued her correspondence with me after I left and assured me that she was praying and supporting me and often thought of me with love. But not long after my return to my parents’ house, I received a wide variety of mail, including a letter from Mother Basilea that was not addressed to me but to someone else. It had accidentally gotten into my other mail. I was hurt by the way she described me in this letter. She had nothing but mistrustful words for my parents, and she described me as having “malice in my heart.” Knowing her paranoia about members who had left, I didn’t take it too personally, but it was disappointing because I had given the reasons for my departure beforehand and had left on good terms—or so I thought.
Life After
I was now 34. A new beginning is never easy, but my family supported me and took me under their wings. Soon I began to deal with the trauma I had to go through. Contrary to what is supposedly happening to sisters who had gone, I experienced blessings. I felt good, and to this day. Other ex-sisters are amazed at how well things have developed for them. They had expected God’s punishment and experienced blessings instead. And separation from sisterhood did not mean a separation from God, his blessing and the body of Christ.
At first, I was quite overwhelmed by having to find my way around the company. I had not been on a bench for 14 years. In supermarkets and shops I felt strangely out of place. I had no idea how to dress in the nineties. Banal tasks of everyday life frightened me and had to be learned to some extent.
It took me a long time to talk about my experiences in the sisterhood. But when I was close to my family, first to others, I experienced an even greater liberation from bondage and also a liberation from Mother Basilea’s influence on my life. I was free from fear. During these endless years of inner agony, I could never have imagined that one day I would be so good and that I would be so healthy emotionally.
One of the things that were most difficult for me was to make contact with the two allegedly “bad” Finns who had left the sisterhood in 1990. While I was thinking about doing this, I was still afraid of God’s wrath. This showed me that the fetter of spiritual bondage was not yet completely resolved. So I dared this healthy step in 1995. The connection with them gave me more freedom and awakened in me the desire to re-connect with others who had left the Order.
In 1993 I left the [university] with a degree in special education. I had found my niche in helping children with special needs. My career as a teacher has been versatile and full of surprises! I have been blessed with many wonderful, close friends. God has given me a new life and opened me up to a new, exciting world that I still explore and which I enjoy.
In the years that followed my departure from the sisterhood, I felt the desire to marry. I knew that if it were to come, it would have been someone with understanding for my unique past. I couldn’t imagine in my dream who could have been! God must have a sense of humour, because—you may believe it or not—I married a former brother from [a brotherhood]! [Name], who lived at the [brotherhood] for 17 years, and I found us and were married after a short time visiting [city] in 1996 as part of a beautiful celebration. The depth of mutual understanding between [Name] and me is very special.
One of my most important life experiences is that “the ones who love God are helping all things for good, those who are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). I do not despise my past, because the pain of these years will always be part of me and what I am today. My life in sisterhood has developed parts of my life that have founded and enriched me more deeply. As a result, I have become stronger and can understand others better.
Some Final Thoughts
I hope my story could help you somehow. You may not be in the sisterhood, but you feel trapped in other ways. I hope that my report renews in you a sense of God’s goodness. He knows ways to lead each of us on stable ground and to the fullness of life.
My account may be a warning about the subtle power of spiritual seduction. We must be attentive and vigilant. When I joined the sisterhood, I did not know what I was getting into. There were no doubt red signals, but I somehow preferred to ignore or suppress them. It can end tragically if we act from the desire (or not to act) to please, rather than on the basis of honesty and sincerity.
I don’t know if you can be truly happy as a Marian sister. Perhaps it is possible to stop thinking for yourself and buying everything that is said. It means belonging to an elite group of “bride souls.”
I realize that my story is influenced by my perception, but I have done my best to tell the truth and present my experience accurately. I do not claim to believe that my experience is an indication of what the majority is going through. However, I am not alone in my experience. Others have also been wounded and raise their voice. It makes me sad that the sisterhood does not respond to the accusations, but tries to silence her critics by slandering the character of those who raise the questions. There has also been tremendous hostility on the part of Canaan sympathizers because of the controversial issues. Leaving aside the experiences of earlier members of having been abused, Mother Basilea’s secret teachings alone are enough to constitute gross seduction.
Those of you who have never belonged to a sect will be very difficult to understand this story. And those of you who have connections with the Sisterhood of Mary could be my history and our website a source of excitement and sorrow. It is not our intention to provoke dispute and division, as some claim. Nevertheless, there can be no true peace and reconciliation if one covers up actions and teachings that hurt and exploit well-meaning, especially young people. We wish all those healing and freedom that have been negatively influenced by “Canaan.” To this end, we will continue to tell the truth. Let us be reminded that we are all responsible to God for what we do with our knowledge.
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