"We'll put on our own show - right here in our cloister!"

     It all began on the Memorial of St. Louis Bertram, the patron saint of novices and novice directors. That day is also the traditional "feast day" of all novices and novice directors/directresses, a day of games, having jolly meals together, talking and laughing, and generally taking a break from monastic life, except of course for Mass and the Divine Office. Festivities for this day take place in the Gate Parlor, which is the largest visiting parlor in the Monastery of the Infant Jesus, and is a small, separate building all its own (which means you can make lots of noise without disturbing the rest of the community).
     So there we were, the novices, our novice directress Sr. Maria Cabrini, the prioress Sr. Mary Annunciata, and a few others, having dinner in the Gate Parlor and chatting about this and that. I don't remember exactly what prompted it, but I told them about the Christmas madrigal feasts my high school and college choirs did every year -- we would wear Elizabethan costumes, sing Elizabethan carols, and the "guests" (audience) would feast on roast beef, potatoes, and flaming plum pudding. I guess my enthusiasm got the better of me, because they were completely taken with the idea, especially our prioress, Sr. Mary Annunciata, who had been an English major and librarian before becoming a nun.
     Sure enough, a few weeks later, my novice directress, Sr. Maria Cabrini, told me Sr. Mary Annunciata suggested that the novices put on a madrigal feast for Epiphany. Oh, dear, I thought, what did I get myself into? I knew the sisters enjoyed doing little plays and concerts, even making rudimentary costumes and scenery, but it never entered my mind that they would want to do a madrigal feast! The first thing I considered was costuming. Now, you have to understand that nuns cannot take off their habits except to sleep. They are not even allowed to remove the cape or the scapular, and God forbid they should remove the veil. So I devised a costume that, if I do say so myself, was rather ingenious: a second "scapular," to be worn over the cape, the front panel belted empire style with a sash that tied behind and underneath the back panel, which was left loose and flowing. We used all the nicest fabrics to be found in the many cartons of donated "remainder" fabrics kept in the hobby room.
     The headdress was a more perplexing problem. I eventually decided on an Ann Boleyn-type crown, made by attaching heavy cardboard crescents to plastic headbands. Because of the curve of the band, the cardboard stands up like a crown. We novices had great fun decorating each crown with a different design, using sequins and beads. They were actually quite beautiful, and the sisters could wear them right on top of their veils for a surprisingly authentic look.
     As to the music, I chose a mix of traditional and lesser-known carols, mostly in English, with a little German and French thrown in. I wrote simple but effective arrangements for two and three parts; I even wrote an original composition entitled "Responsum Mariae," which is a setting of the second part of the Angelus, "Ecce ancilla Domini; fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum" ("Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done unto me according to thy word"). I wanted to tell the whole nativity story beginning with the Annunciation, alternating music with Scripture readings and poetry. In order to involve the whole community, I assigned the readings and poems to sisters I had not chosen to sing in the choir. (I was given permission to choose the best voices for the singing.)
     December of that year turned out to be a terrible time for preparing a show: bad colds caused many music rehearsals to be cancelled, then there were two deaths among the sisters that month. The madrigal feast had to be rescheduled for the Feast of the Annunciation, March 25, which was also our prioress' feast day. We could still retain the nativity theme, and I could dedicate my "Responsum Mariae" to her. Actually, the postponement was a good thing; Sr. Mary Annunciata gave me permission to set up a rehearsal schedule, telling me I could have as many rehearsals as I needed, as long as they took place during recreation so that the regular horarium would not be disrupted. I scheduled ten hours -- the music itself was not that difficult, since I kept in mind when writing the arrangements the fact that most of my singers had no formal musical training; indeed, some of them couldn't read music at all. German was limited to two verses of "Silent Night" and "Still, still, still"; the only French they had to learn was a short chorus of one carol, the verses of which I sang myself as a solo. Distributing other solos among the stronger musicians helped reduce the actual amount of music for the untrained.
     In the end, it was quite a success. All the sisters were given a copy of the script so they could follow along and stand up when it was time for their readings. Sr. Mary Annunciata was thrilled with all the work we did; the costumes were beautiful, and my choir did me proud. The only not-so-successful element, I think, was the plum pudding. . . .

[The piece I wrote specially for our madrigal feast. Later, I set the whole Angelus for women's voices, continuo, and oboe obbligato; however, except for this movement, it has never been performed by the sisters.]