The Habit: A History of Clothing of Catholic Nuns

Elizabeth Kuhns was raised a Protestant in Catholic Baltimore where “nuns were always present in my peripheral vision.” Years later, a Catholic convert, she began “to understand the devotion and heroism of these women. With few exceptions, their lives of steadfast prayer and service, even in the face of extreme hardship and brutality, are models of the Christian ideal.” This evident respect and admiration for women religious is the strength of The Habit and enlivens the historical anecdotes she employs to illustrate the book’s themes.

Thus, she honors Honoria “Nano” Nagle, who founded the Sisters of the Presentation at a time when penal laws were enforced against Catholics in Ireland. “Nano and her sisters operated in secret, fashioning a habit from a black gown, a black silk handkerchief crossed in front, and a plain black cap that fit close to the head and fastened with a broad black ribbon.” This was but one of many times when openly wearing a habit was an invitation to martyrdom.

Kuhns writes about the courage of women religious who served as exemplary nurses during the Civil War and by their witness did much to soften American anti-Catholic prejudice. She quotes President Lincoln’s eloquent praise of their “mercy and charity”: “Gentle and womanly, yet with the courage of soldiers leading a forlorn hope, to sustain them in contact with such horror.”

She offers abundant examples of the exquisite “mercy and charity” of women like Mother Marianne Cope, who worked with Fr. Damian de Veuster, the “leper priest” of Molokai in the Hawaiian Islands. “Although Mother Marianne wore the plain, rough habit of a Franciscan nun, as a teenager in New York she had worked in a clothing factory and had a great sense of style. ... When Mother went to the island, people there had no thought for the graces of life. We are lepers, they told her, what does it matter? She changed all that.”

Kuhns is a journalist, and her reporter’s eye and ear make her an adept narrator. The book is replete with crisp vignettes, whether she is writing about the development of Maryknoll headgear or delineating the range of reactions that followed the post-Vatican II modification of habits. These journalistic strengths are not, unfortunately, sufficient to handle a topic as complex as the religious habit. In a book of only 168 pages, she can only superficially address the issues she alludes to -- including reasons for the successful early growth of Christianity, the role of class in convent life, legislation that governed secular dress and the laity’s reaction to post-Vatican II changes in habits.

The book would have benefited from a clear focus, a lens through which to view the habit in sharper clarity, rather than the diffuse material she presents. Ecclesiology could have been that lens, because the habit, ultimately, is a symbolic narrative about the meaning of the consecrated life.

For the first consecrated Christian women, “the act of changing clothes was the act of religious profession by those who aspired to holiness.” Women donned “sacred garb without ceremony or clerical oversight, privately transforming their outward appearance to reflect their spiritual commitment.” As the religious life of the church was formalized, the habit itself became a holy object. “By the middle of the 10th century, the clothing ceremony for many nuns represented an elaborate secular marriage ceremony. ... She became the Bride of Christ, symbolized with a ring and crown.”

In monastic communities the habit was understood within the context of obedience: “The individual relinquished his or her personal desires for those of the community” and the habit moved from being “an exterior gauge of personal commitment into one of group conformity.” Yet the Benedictine abbess Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1197) had “lavish taste” and designed “elaborate crowns ... from memories of her heavenly visions. She allowed her nuns to wear these ornaments along with loose, flowing hair and floor-length, luxurious white silk veils on feast days, reasoning that Christ should be presented with as much beauty as they could offer.”

The habit was an essential element in developing the unique identities of the hundreds of apostolic religious congregations that were formed in the 19th century. For more than a century there was a clear relationship between the stability of the habit and the stability of religious life, one reason why the post-Vatican II changes in the habit were so distressing. Today the habit has become a “visual barometer” of a nun’s “politics, philosophy, and loyalties.”

These are the threads that give shape to the habit -- autonomy, obedience, martyrdom, identity and stability. They are woven into cloth, which is then stitched in a complex pattern by individual women, cloistered and apostolic communities, the church hierarchy, Catholic laity and the secular world. It was, is, and will be a garment that expresses the paradox of religious life. Elizabeth Kuhns has not given us the pattern of the habit, but her book can serve as a beginning text to explore its many and diverse themes.

An example of women working FOR the greater Glory of God as opposed to trying to usurp the Traditional order of the Church. Thanks for the post. (One might ask where are the habits today? Many Religous no longer bother with them, no?)

Kuhns recently appeared as a guest on EWTN's The Abundant Life. It was an excellent interview and discussion.

Kuhns has personally interviewed hundreds of nuns in every age bracket. Some of the religious orders have now understood that when the habits were dropped and the sisters adopted 'street clothes', they were no longer distinguishable from any other woman. That lead to an even clearer understanding that women who wanted to serve our Lord in the religious life, sought a form of attire that would identify them with their personal mission.

You will be consoled to know that those orders which have returned to their formal habits, are experiencing a significant growth. Those who have retained the 'street clothes' continue to dwindle in numbers.

It's a complex question.

I think it works both ways. Not only does the habit set the sisters apart and act as an outward sign of their devotion to God, it also has an effect on those they go among.

Even though I was a cradle Episcopalian, I was always taught to greet every priest or sister I met with a respectful "Good morning, Father!" or "Good morning, Sister!" (Now that I think about it, I can't ever recall meeting a brother, say a Franciscan . . . I wonder why not?) So, you see, the habits put ME also in mind of their devotion and the value of dedication to God. Maybe that was one factor in my eventually finding my way to the Catholic church?

I think habits are a good idea. They should be honored, and how can we honor them if we can't tell them from anybody else?

The Sisters of St. Mary of Namur, who are the most numerous of the Orders in our diocese, have all returned to a modified habit, but it does distinguish them as religious. They wear a veil (off the forehead), a grey, white, or black habit/dress, and a ring on the right forefinger.

One of the SSMNs with whom I studied theology (still in the order after 31 years), Sister Patrice, recently turned up at our parish. She's truly a servant of the Lord.

I think habits are a good idea. They should be honored, and how can we honor them if we can't tell them from anybody else?

The habit can be a reminder of the holiness that we're all called to... sure couldn't hurt these days!

It's sort of ironic to think that the sisters were looking to "blend in" but I have yet to meet a de-habited nun who didn't look like a nun [in rather unbecoming attire]!

NYer, I'm sorry that I missed the Abundant Life interview with Miss Kuhns; I believe I saw her on with Raymond Arroyo a few months back. Sound right?

Nice to "see you". Pax et bonum!

It's sort of ironic to think that the sisters were looking to "blend in" but I have yet to meet a de-habited nun who didn't look like a nun [in rather unbecoming attire]!

I have. And truthfully, they didn't act much like nuns at all. Most of those orders in this part of the country are dying out and the habitted ones are getting quite a number of vocations.

There must be some kind of happy medium or concession to the vocation that would allow an updated but thoroughly recognizeable look for nuns.

I don't think they should be forced to wear burkahs in the 21st century.

Priests look very smart in their garb and are universally recognizeable (if they would wear it). But yet they have moved past the friar Tuck look. Why should the Nuns be stuck in 1st century garb?

"You will be consoled to know that those orders which have returned to their formal habits, are experiencing a significant growth. Those who have retained the 'street clothes' continue to dwindle in numbers."

"Unless the Lord builds the house, the laborers labor in vain" (Psalms 126:1 Douay-Rheims).
Fortunately it's now becoming clear the dwindling "street clothes" congregations have not been built by the Lord.
Bring back the old habits, I say - and I'm not just talking about clothing.

I have this book on my list to read. A description I read at EWTN says: "...This evocative narrative explores the timeless symbolism of the habit and traces its evolution as a visual reflection of the changes in society."

I didn't realize how much I missed seeing Nuns in their habits until I crossed paths with a group of them downtown one day...immediately (and quickly), I straightened my posture and automatically (and respectfully) said "good morning, Sisters."

It felt good knowing they were there. And yes, they did give me a scrutinizing look and nod...just like the old days!

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