Outskirts Press, INC.

In Jesus and Other Lovers, a Memoir of a Catholic Nun, Judy captures the inner workings of a convent, pointing her lens straight at its rules, rituals, and relationships. We first meet Judy as a high school freshman who is enamored with the beautiful Sister Maureen. Their relationship deepens and becomes daringly physical. Judy enters the convent to be near her beloved. However, the Mistress of Novices has other plans and works diligently to eradicate this passion. Sadly, Sister Maureen and Judy are never assigned to the same convent. Although Judy applies herself to become a good nun in her twelve years of teaching, she finally realizes this lonely life is not for her. With the help of a kind Mother Superior and a colorful outside therapist, she successfully leaves the convent in 1967, the Summer of Love. She then pursues her real passion by enrolling in the California School of the Arts in Berkeley to become an artist. Her memoir shines a light on convent life—institutions that are now dying in the U.S. Those who have attended Catholic schools will especially love this account told with refreshing honesty, humor and insight.

                  
                  I could hear her coming after me with slow deliberate steps. I was hiding in my third floor bedroom cell but she would find me. SisterAquinas always found me. How could I escape? I looked at the window of the bedroom cell, hesitated, then, I threw it wide open, tucked up my habit and pulled myself to the sill. I swung my black stockinged legs outside and eased my headgear out, hoping my veil wouldn’t catch on the window frame and hold me back. Inhaling nervously, I slowly stood up on the ledge three stories above the manicured lawn of the front of the motherhouse. I pressed my back against the outside of the convent and, though my palms were sweaty against the wood, it was warm against my back. I squinted, as the sun was startlingly bright after the dim bedroom.
                  Suddenly, my body sagged. To stay calm, I focused on my breathing and reccalled that I had never been afraid of heights. Three stories below cars whizzed through the intersection. Across the street the gas station bell sounded as cars came and went. Two old women waited at the bus stop. I  was like an omniscient observer. I edged even further away from the window in case Sister Aquinas happened to look out. She wanted me to love her and was angry that I couldn’t love her anymore.
                  After ten years I was weary of the struggle to be a good nun and lonely. I felt overcome again by that feeling I had weeks ago when I was driving and coming off the Golden Gate Bridge and tempted to accelerate on a curve and simply speed into space. Now I could just fall forward and I’d be free. The long struggle to be a good nun would be over. Peace, yes, peace. Oh, it was tempting. Cautiously, I shifted and looked down. I was weary of the struggle of working with the Old Guard nuns, trying to be a good biology teacher, though I wanted so much to teach art. Would my biology students miss me? Would my Mom, always so proud of my decision to become a nun, now be ashamed?  Would the Superior try to hush the fact that a young nun, only 27, killed herself.
         I stood breathing deeply for a long time, away from everything, the rules, the teaching, the loneliness. Then I recalled suicide was punishable by everlasting hell fire. No, no, I didn’t want hell fire!  
            Slowly, I edged back to the open window. When I slid inside it was dim and quiet and cool. I collapsed on my bed in my small cell. I had a sense of having been away a very long time.