Today I’m pleased to host a leg of Beryl Singleton Bissell’s blog book tour for the newly-released paperback edition of her memoir The Scent of God, the extraordinary story of Beryl’s life journey out of and then back into the world as most of us know it.  It is comparatively simple to say what this book is about:  it describes Beryl’s entrance into the Monastery of St. Clare in her early womanhood, and how she and a priest, Padre Vittorio, fall in love and choose to leave their Church vocations in order to celebrate the communion of marriage and children.  The exceptional richness of Beryl’s life experience makes this memoir moving and engaging, and the elegant simplicity of her storytelling style and language create a rare transparency of narrative:  there is no protective authorial “persona” present — the voice is intimate and honest.

One need not have any traditional Christian belief or grounding in Catholicism in order to appreciate Beryl’s story; indeed, one of my favorite parts of the book is the exquisitely detailed description of daily life with the Poor Clares, which allows the reader to stand beside Beryl as she lives a life that most of us have never imagined. 

The Scent of God was in some ways a difficult book for me to review, because my response to it was so personal.  After a great deal of thought, I’ve decided to share why the book was important to me, although I’m not sure that it will make sense to anyone else. 

A while ago a friend asked me whether I thought the nature of the Divine to be immanent or transcendent.  I immediately said: “Both.”  He told me that it couldn’t be both, but my feeling is that it must be — or that perhaps that everything contains the infinite universe within itself, and fails to realize it most of the time, and so questions of immanence or transcendence are rendered inefficient.  In any event, Beryl’s life struck me as the story of a woman continually finding different aspects of the Divine by confronting and embracing different aspects of herself.  Ideally I think that this is what life is, whether we realize it or not — we’re on some sort of journey of refinement, of enlightenment; we find something within ourselves and yet greater than ourselves, by wrestling with who we are and where we fit into the world.  Beryl’s journey, to me, was one of continually coming face to face with something greater than herself by continually facing herself, in circumstances few people have the courage or discipline to undertake.  And while the surface story of her life is interesting in its factual reality, the subtext of it was even more interesting to me as a reader, as an example of a life lived with devastating, liberating, exhilarating, and challenging honesty.

Interview with Beryl Singleton Bissell

1) Is there a story behind the title of the book?

The title, The Scent of God, was given to me by a writing friend. She’d critiqued many of the chapters in the book. One day she called me up and said “Let’s have lunch.” We met over bowls of soup and she told me that ”as long as I’ve known you you’ve been on this passionate search for God, and from what I know of Vittorio so was he.  I have a title for your book. The Scent of God.” A shudder of recognition ran through me. She’d captured the book in four little words. It was a much better title than the one I’d given the manuscript (Transforming Beatrix).

2) Much has been said, in the past few years, about truth and ethics in memoir.  Was there anyone you feared you might hurt, or any reservations you had, in telling your story?  If so, how did you overcome them?

It is strange that it was only after the book had been published that I began to fear this. Almost everyone mentioned in the book knew that I was writing it. I’d traveled back to the Monastery several times to verify my memories and to meet with and interview the nuns who’d been with me in the novitiate. I’d also traveled to Puerto Rico to meet with and interview as many people as I could. I actually sent the chapter on Nellie Carrion to her daughters to okay because of the family was so well known on the island. I gave an advance reading copy to Sister Mary, my best friend in the monastery to read but the book had already been published when she called to tell me that the nuns felt very vulnerable because I’d identified the place and them by name. I suffered terribly because of their reaction and wondered if anyone else would feel the same way. My parents and brother Greg had died so I didn’t have to worry about hurting them. My other relatives have loved the book. If I had it to do over again, I’d change the names of the nuns and monastery, and I’d soften the description of the dream I had about Gogui having died.

3) Do you think there is a viable future for cloistered or contemplative orders in the Church? 

I believe very strongly in the value of the contemplative life and try to live a life of contemplation in the world. Cloister is often necessary, especially in today’s modern life, where the world thrusts so noisily into our lives. Lives dedicated to the practice of the presence of God and prayer, need silence and separation. Cloister provides this. Contemplatives can be beacons of holiness and health in the world and many monasteries, recognizing the hunger of many to live more meaningful lives, have begun reaching out by offering spiritual direction, opening sections of their buildings to retreatants, and even offering the wisdom gained through centuries of spiritual practice to Protestants seeking to set up their own monasteries. I attended a monastic workshop at St. John’s in Collegeville last summer and was stunned at the ecumenical composition of the group.

4) As a Catholic, how do you reconcile your spiritual communion with the Church with the fallibility of its bureaucracy, which you encountered so painfully when you and Vittorio sought to marry?

There are times when I want to throw up my hands in distress when I hear some of the proclamations coming from Rome or diocesan offices. But the Church is my home. I love its wondrous liturgies, its heritage stretching back to the apostles. I practice the recitation of the Divine Office in modified form–Lauds, Noonday prayer, and Vespers, sometimes Compline and would attend daily mass if there was a church nearby. I have had to dismiss the patronizing aspects of religion and move into a faith based on experience rather than dogma. In staying true to my experience of the divine, the bureaucratic church becomes less important than the people of the church. The people, as Vittorio so often reminded me, ARE the church.

5) What has been the most rewarding part, for you, of telling and publishing your story?

Knowing that my story has brought hope and healing to so many. I get letters daily from people thanking me for writing the book. These touch me deeply and I try to respond to each one. What greater reward can an author have than knowing that in telling their stories they’ve captured those of others. I’ve been surprised especially by the number of Jewish readers who have written to thank me. I’ve only received two letters admonishing me for having written the book. I’ve been surprised that even very conservative Catholics have loved it, including my parish priest who bought six more copies to give away. 

You can purchase The Scent of God here:Link to Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Scent-God-Beryl-Singleton-Bissell/dp/1582433615/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/002-7507884-8514410?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1177582210&sr=1-1 

You can read more about Beryl on these sites:

 Web site : http://www.berylsingletonbissell.com

Gather blog: http://www.beryl.gather.com

Journey blog: http://berylsingletonbissell.livedigital.com/blog