(Also available in booklet form. To request a free copy, send e-mail to [email protected] )

Eight years have passed since I left the Sisterhood of Mary. Leaving was perhaps the most difficult thing I've ever done. It meant breaking a commitment I made not just once, but repeatedly. Since I believed that honourable people don't break promises, this step defied my deeply held values of loyalty and propriety. I did something I never imagined I would do. It took years of turmoil and struggle to come to the point of taking this drastic step. After being led to believe my eternal destiny was linked to passing or failing the test of my calling, leaving was a step surrounded by fear and guilt. Spiritually, psychologically and, to a certain extent, even physically, I had become dependent on the Sisterhood. Yet, as if by the power of God and His love concerned for my welfare, I was propelled forward.

In the transpiring years since, many people have asked why I left and how it all came about. Even though you may not know me personally, you, too, may be wondering the same. Given the serenity of Canaan and the apparent paradise the Sisters enjoy, why would a consecrated Sister of so many years choose uncertainty over security, and make a decision which would incur the displeasure of many? Why would she do something that could potentially hurt her spiritually and bring dishonour to the Lord? And…aren't all Sisters happy? Innocently enough, many people believe this. A Canaan Friend wrote to me recently, "I am sure you lived happily for many years. What changed your mind?"

To address these questions, I must take you back to 1974 when I first became involved with the Sisterhood. For most, my personal journey will be difficult to relate to; however, I hope you, the reader, will find something that will touch your own life, something of insight and encouragement. It is not my intent to malign the sincere believers I shared my life with for so many years. I realise that the Sisters have helped people on their spiritual walk, and brought encouragement and comfort to fellow Christians in distress. But there is a darker side to their ministry, which must be shared. I invite you to read on with an open mind.

We former members know of countless people who have been blessed, but we also know first-hand of many who have been hurt and whose spiritual walk has been hindered. There is a discrepancy between what the Sisterhood attempts to present to the outside world about their life, and the realities many of us experienced. My story sheds light on a mind set which priorities obedience and allegiance over integrity and honesty, which places the good of the system over the well being of individuals.

Becoming a Canaan Helper: the first step

As a young 17-year-old Christian girl undecided about my future, I was vulnerable, impressionable and typically idealistic. Upon graduating from high school, at the suggestion of my parents I spent the summer on "Canaan," the home of the Evangelical Sisterhood of Mary in Germany.
In many ways it was exhilarating to live together with volunteer workers from different lands. From a distance we so-called "Canaan Helpers" admired the Sisters who lived in their own quarters segregated from the helpers and visitors. Set apart as they were, our interactions with most of them were minimal. But many of us young women became intrigued by the mystery of the hidden lives and angelic appearance of the Sisters. Most of us were in a life transition, and so we began to explore the possibility of having a "calling" to this semi-secluded life. To forsake all for Christ and lay down one's life in a radical and demonstrative way was both alluring and challenging.

Following the summer of '74, I returned to Canada to begin university studies. Though involved in church and church-related campus groups, I had made Canaan my spiritual home and reference point. I read and re-read Mother Basilea's books, I circulated all of her materials, and I showed the Canaan film in churches and meetings. The Sisters applauded me for my efforts, calling me a "fire soul" ("on fire" for the Canaan ministry). And so it happened that after interrupting my studies for an extended stay as a Canaan Helper, I asked to join the Sisterhood and become a permanent member. I was 20 years old.

Entering the Sisterhood

There were six of us joining together: one from Germany, two from Norway, one from Australia, and two from Canada. (A close friend from Edmonton joined with me.) Our first commitment was commemorated by a festive ceremony with both Mothers and all Sisters. Practically speaking, our first step involved moving out of the house where the Canaan Helpers lived, into our own little apartment dwelling in a different corner of Canaan. Not officially part of the Sisterhood family, yet set apart from the Canaan Helpers, we were preparing for investiture. This so-called time of probation lasted approximately 7 months.

As "Sisters of the Call," we were invited to the Mother house on special occasions and for Sunday meals, but most of our time was spent working or amongst ourselves, accompanied by an older Sister of Mary who was entrusted to us for direction. Her title was "little mother." Our day was structured with plenty of work, minimal free time, and morning and evening times together, just the 6 of us. We readily accepted without objection whatever was mandated. Questioning and open discussions were not permitted, of course, since we had chosen the way of Jesus, the way of obedience.

Gradually we were introduced to Sisterhood practices and ordinances. For instance, as a general rule we were not allowed to speak with Canaan Helpers or guests, since conversations would deter us from prayer and work. We were also informed that we should discontinue correspondence with friends from our past, since the Sisterhood life offered no time to maintain former relationships. We were told we must not write about personal problems or struggles to our families, since personal issues now belonged solely within the context of our new Sisterhood family. Our "little mother" carefully explained these requirements using Bible verses about denial, sacrifice, the cost of discipleship and following Jesus. She also told us it was natural that our calling would be tested.
Satan would attack us with doubts, but those of us who faithfully fought the battle of faith would be victorious in their struggles.

Happy on one hand to be joining a select group of women who loved Jesus above all else, on the other hand I felt confused and overwhelmed by what I was hearing and experiencing. I also felt alienated from my family and homeland. Feelings of imprisonment and powerlessness crept over me. The inability to share freely and openly about these feelings was even worse. We were allowed to speak about personal issues only with the Mothers and one Sister assigned for counsel and advice. But these occasions for personal talks were infrequent and limited. Otherwise, with our Sister colleagues there was a "no-talk" rule.

I began to feel incredibly lonely and burdened. Without the freedom to express thoughts, opinions and feelings, I found that I began to lose access to my own thinking. The "no-talk" rule was perhaps the hardest restriction I faced in my Sisterhood experience. When I encountered questionable statements and practices, I was not permitted to talk openly with someone of my choosing and say, "Does that sound strange to you? Are you feeling burdened by such-and-such? What do you think of this rule?" I could only dialogue with myself, which resulted in feelings of guilt for succumbing to the sin of questioning. The "no-talk" rule led over time to a sense of the loss of reality. The ability to think critically slowly died.

Alone and afraid, I spent most of my personal quiet time releasing the growing internal psychological pressure in torrents of tears. I did not want to go forward, but in vain I tried to find the courage to leave. Leaving meant facing humiliation and disapproval from everyone in my environment. I had already made a first commitment. The Mothers had received confirmation of a clear calling of God on my life. How could I do anything but stay and persevere? After all, we knew that becoming Sisters of Mary was a great honour and privilege. Paralysed by fear of failing God, the Sisterhood and myself, I renewed my commitment daily to suffer. I tried sharing a certain degree of my pain with the Sister assigned to me for spiritual guidance. Her advice was to say over and over, "I want to suffer." I heeded her words, and somehow endured each day, pretending to be happy, and believing I would become happy if I persisted in prayer.

I wondered how my colleague "Sisters of the Call" were feeling. I had no idea whether they were truly happy or sad. Of course, we never asked personal questions. We were separated emotionally by an invisible barrier of Sisterhood protocol.

Our behaviour was closely monitored by the Sisters. Thus it happened suddenly that one of us was sent away in humiliation. Secretively, she broke the "barrier" by pulling me aside one day and in tears pouring out her fears. "I'm in big trouble. They're going to send me away; I can feel it. I don't know what I've done wrong, but I'm so scared. Please pray for me." She left our little family quietly and quickly with few words of explanation from the "little mother" and no further discussion. Neither did we hear from her again, nor was she ever spoken of. We were told it had become clear to the Mothers that the Sisterhood of Mary was not for her. Perhaps she was too outspoken, I speculated.
I myself experienced my own personal discipline during this time. I was told that Sisters observed an arrogant tone of voice in my speech. For this, a somewhat prestigious responsibility was removed from me, and my place of work was also changed. I was now to work in the laundry room under the supervision of a very harsh Sister. There in the musty basement of an obscure building in a remote part of Canaan, I surrendered my will to the Lord time and again. The more I tried to do everything right, the more I was criticised and punished. I struggled by day to keep my emotions intact, but at night I sobbed uncontrollably. "No matter what it costs I want to go the way of humility; I want my pride to be broken. Yes, Father," I wrote in my journal. I was determined to go on out of love for Christ. Only a coward would quit! But at the same time, fear grew. Unknowingly, I also underwent a gradual personality change, becoming withdrawn, compliant, and timid.

Following those bleak, difficult months, in January 1978 we were admitted to the Mother house with a formal ceremony during which we made a public commitment to following Jesus on His way. We were graduating from being "Sisters of the Call" to becoming "Sisters of the Way." It was a solemn commitment of service, loyalty and sacrifice, the beginning of life in the Mother house. But it was also a joyous, festive occasion. The Sisters knew how to celebrate, putting much love and attention into making these events beautiful and special. There were songs composed and sung just for us, and we were showered with little Sisterhood treasures of song books exclusive to Sisters and hand-painted cards and religious pictures. Each of us received a personalised booklet about our new name, ornately decorated with exquisite calligraphy. I felt special and very welcomed into the family.

Many adjustments followed our dedication day. We took the habit; we were given a new name by the Mothers; we had a new home, a new family and new rules. Essentially, we were given a whole new identity. I was given the name Sister Adaja, or "my Adaja-child," as Mother Basilea always called me. An integral part of our new identity was becoming children of Mother Basilea. Being her child was the highest calling and privilege, we were constantly told.

Day-to-day life

During the time of probation I learned that many Sisters of Mary work long hours. No specifics were given, but my suspicions were confirmed the first night in my new bed in the Mother house. The excitement of the day's festivities kept me awake the entire night. My roommate, a Sister who had joined one year earlier, came in from work in the middle of the night at approximately 3:00 AM! Horrified, I thought, "How will I cope?" Many late nights and early mornings followed for this Sister. I never dared ask questions. Thankfully I did not have to work late, but I felt sorry for her and wondered how she survived on so little sleep. For this Sister and others involved in special commissions, labouring far into the night was "an offering to Jesus" and a sign of spiritual fervour.

As new Sisters, our schedule required rising at 5:30 AM, washing using a basin and a bucket, then 25 minutes of personal devotional time. At 6:28 breakfast was eaten, followed by a half-hour Bible Study at 6:45 in the Sisterhood "Zion's Hall." We then did household chores, and afterward we went to our assigned place of work until noon. Following lunch, there was a half-hour of free time. We could use this time for reading Mother Basilea's books, for prayer, for writing a letter to our families, for making a greeting card for someone, or for washing our hair. We were discouraged from reading any books other than Mother Basilea's. In our precious minutes of free time, we were not to lie down and rest unless we had special permission. (As we grew older in the Sisterhood, we were encouraged to sacrifice our free time for work.)

An older Sister was assigned to instruct us in our new life. She was with us most of the time when we were not at our work places. Each work "family" had its own "little mother" to whom we were accountable with our work. Accountability was always strong and pervasive. Although you may think we kept a rigorous schedule, I actually found it quite easy to adjust to. Perhaps the routine provided a framework of security and safety.

Mother Basilea decided each evening's schedule, which varied according to her itinerary. Generally twice a week there was a time of sharing (or "teaching") by Mother Basilea, or a time of worship and prayer. Other evenings were designated for work, for mending personal undergarments and socks, or for quiet time. Occasionally we had a "free" evening, or a guest (e.g., a missionary) would share experiences with the entire Canaan family of Sisters and Brothers. I have fond memories of many of these evenings in the Zion's Hall. There was laughter, spontaneity, and at the same time deep reverence for the Lord. I learned to worship. Music was an integral part of Sisterhood life. We loved to sing Mother Basilea's numerous songs accompanied by the Sisterhood's talented musicians.

During this second phase of my life in the Sisterhood, for two years things became easier for me. I was transferred from the laundry room to the publishing department, where I enjoyed my work. It was a treat for me to work side-by-side an American Sister whose friendliness and easy-going manner put me at ease.

Cleaning House

Canaan was supposed to be a foreshadowing of paradise on earth. Tidiness, cleanliness and order were essential in fulfilling this vision. The gardens and grounds were impeccable, as were the kitchens, laundry facilities and everything else. Each of us Canaan residents invested time and effort into keeping Canaan and its houses clean. There were rotating dish washing and chapel-cleaning teams of workers. Since there was no time allotted for recreation, this was how we got our exercise! Cleaning the Mother house chapel early in the morning before breakfast was gruelling, but dish washing I found enjoyable and even fun. No second was wasted as hundreds of dishes, pots and pans were washed and dried each day. Amid the hustle and bustle of dish washing duties, songs and song-prayers always resounded.
Spiritual cleansing, the foundation of the community, also took place on a regular basis. This happened on both personal and communal levels. Personal confessions to Mother Basilea and Mother Martyria were expected and necessary. We confessed our sins face to face, when we were invited to a personal talk, or we wrote letters or notes of confession. We were constantly admonished to keep no secrets, to confess all, to "live in the light" regarding our thoughts and feelings. By harbouring unconfessed sin, we would be allowing Satan power in our lives, and we could even jeopardise our salvation. After confession, the Mothers pronounced absolution and forgiveness, and encouraged us to fight against our sins.

Confessions and the contents of personal letters were not always kept confidential. I found it hard that confidentialities, personal problems and sins were sometimes shared by Mother Basilea with the whole community, particularly when, on rare occasions, a Sister left the order. The Sister who left was always blamed and her character discredited. Confessions were used against Sisters. It was also not uncommon for the Mothers to address issues shared in personal confessions within earshot of other Sisters. Breaches of trust in this manner contributed to a growing inability on my part to trust the Mothers.

Over time, Mother Martyria's health failed, and Mother Basilea assumed full leadership, which included leading the weekly "fellowships in the light." Based on 1 John 1:9 these sessions were to purge the Sisterhood of any evils lurking within the ranks. We were to approach these sacred meetings prayerfully and willingly. Since there was no talking behind Sisters' backs, this was a time for sharing grievances openly in a "healthy" manner. Here again, the strict "no-talk" policy about what occurred in the light fellowships prevailed.

This is how the "light fellowships" were conducted: One by one each Sister took her turn, first confessing words and actions that affected community life. Then, as she stood, anyone wishing to tell her something about sins they had noticed was invited to speak. I am embarrassed to admit I found it empowering to criticise the Sister whose turn it was. When I think back, I am shocked at how harsh I could be. We were instructed to speak up, since by telling our Sister her sins, we actually help her, and we facilitate her sanctification and spiritual growth.

The "light fellowships" lasted for hours, and Sisters who were criticised much by many often broke down emotionally, weeping and condemning themselves ruthlessly. Mother Basilea, raised on a pedestal at the front of the room, was of course not subjected to the same ritual, but she had the final say in each Sister's time of criticism. Sometimes she spoke compassionately, and at other times she was stern, judging motives and drawing unrealistic conclusions. Among many examples I remember one in particular, when a Sister was blamed for causing another Sister's disease simply because she, the blamed Sister, was apparently difficult to live with. Certain meek Sisters were particular targets of criticism. Some were picked on more than others.

There was no allowance for self-justification of any kind during these sessions. One was to endure quietly and submissively what was said, and to humble oneself.
Theoretically, misunderstandings and injustices could be clarified with Mother Basilea another day in private if one felt it necessary, but I presume this rarely happened. There was little time, and Mother Basilea's agenda was full and her strength limited. It was also risky to self-justify. By far, it was more spiritual to accept allegations, even if they were false.

I don't think I ever got over the dread of those sessions. Rather than promote overall harmony and healing within the community, I feel they ultimately facilitated mistrust and fear. We were told to embrace humiliation and even love the judgment, in spirit kissing the hand of God which chastises us.

Because of these "fellowships in the light" I found myself in day-to-day life looking over my shoulder, conscious of each word I spoke, feeling every move was being observed. Once, names of Sisters who did not smile enough were read aloud in the "fellowship in the light." We were supposed to convey happiness at all cost, even if it meant being dishonest. If you had asked me back then if I were happy, I would have given you an emphatically positive answer. And yet, other former members and I can testify to the desperation and depression suffered by many of us over long periods. Yes, I denied the truth of my inner state of mind and told my parents and others how happy and content I was, while in my private world I was so distraught that I wished and even consistently prayed to die. I cannot describe in words the growing despair I felt. To be honest about one's sadness would throw a bad light on Christ and the Sisterhood, and so for God's sake I lived behind a façade of forced smiles. To reveal to my parents my distress would break Mother Basilea's heart, my counselling Sister, a leader in the order, said.

Suffering for Sin

Central to Mother Basilea's teaching within the Sisterhood was the belief that we must suffer for our sins. Although she did not deny Christ's forgiveness, it was conditional on repentance. True repentance meant showing signs, or in other words, suffering for sin in some way. "Everything we have not suffered for here in this life, the punishment we deserve, has to be suffered in the afterlife" (Mother Basilea on Jan.9, 1989). And for every sin, conscious and unconscious, which was not confessed and brought into the light, we were accountable in eternity. An unconfessed sin could keep a soul from entering the City of God. And so we prayed daily that God would uncover our sins now before we faced eternity when it would be too late.

Sisters whose sins were exceptionally exposed in the "light fellowships" often underwent times of personal judgment, during which they would be excluded from evening gatherings and mealtimes with the Sisters. They would eat alone and standing, and be required to do extra dish washing and cleaning duties, as well as work longer hours. These punishments were either self-chosen or imposed by the Mothers. Some Sisters' birthdays went unacknowledged, and others relinquished free time or their vacation. At any given time, there were always some Sisters "under judgment" as it was called. These times of purging were to eventually lead to an experience of grace.
We were told not to despise the hard judgment times, but to embrace them since they refined us and made us tried and proven, genuine Sisters of Mary. We had to be neither gentle with ourselves nor empathic to others who were "under judgment." At times, we were instructed to show no signs of sympathy or kindness whatsoever to a particular Sister experiencing judgment. Sin must be taken very seriously.

Mother Basilea spoke often very earnestly about sin and hell. I came to fear hell and doubt my salvation. Mother Basilea's vivid descriptions about the torments of the damned are vivid in my memory. She related to us visions of nuns and priests who left their calling and were now languishing in the fiery pit. Thus we were challenged to new and deeper commitments to our calling and to Jesus. This meant allegiance to Mother Basilea as well.

"In the family"

It was absolutely essential in the Sisterhood that one not speak about the penance Sisters practised. Not within the Sisterhood, and certainly never to outsiders, for this information belonged "in the family." In fact, nothing of the sacred revelations, visions, biographical private films about Mother Basilea and special private teachings given by Mother Basilea to the Sisterhood family were spoken about. We were told that outsiders were not spiritually mature enough to receive these messages. Only we, the privileged few, could hear them now. Later, after the world disaster, there would be a new era, and then it would be appropriate to introduce these messages. But for now, they belonged strictly "in the family." We were threatened with sober warnings of God's punishment if any one of us were to ever transgress this rule.

Young Sisters were not included in many of the private gatherings within the Sisterhood to hear the "in the family" messages. Over time as we matured as Sisters, we were included more and more at mealtimes and gatherings with the Mothers and other Sisters. But it was only when we took our final vows and became "bridal Sisters" that we were fully participant. For me and the others I joined with, this happened in 1980, an exception to the typical 6 year waiting period between entering and "bridal consecration." Becoming a full-fledged Sister was a gradual process. We received a premature graduation to "bridal consecration," since Mother Basilea felt sure the persecution and world disaster were imminent. It was important in light of the coming persecution that our commitment to Christ and to her was solid.

Hearing, reading and viewing the very secret "private family" material also occurred gradually. The central focus of this material was Mother Basilea's preeminent place in the kingdom of God and in God's redemptive work in the world. It was shown in visions and revelations that she was God's end-time "sacrificial lamb" holding back God's wrath. In very special moments she would share something of her mystical life, in which there were sensual overtones of an intimate relationship with Jesus, the Bridegroom. Her mystical world also consisted of much inner suffering.
Some of the revelations (see "secret teachings" on our website) seemed peculiar to me at first, but over time the strangeness diminished. What once would have appeared bizarre to me became not only normal but also highly spiritual.

Reverencing Mother Basilea

In the Sisterhood, the emphasis on the person of Mother Basilea was excessive beyond description. In some instances she was raised even above Christ. Mother Basilea's right-hand Sister told us once that Jesus in the Gethsemane Garden said, "Father, if it be Thy will remove this cup…" but Mother Basilea says, "Father, I want the cup." In other words, Mother Basilea superseded Jesus in the embrace of suffering! The Sisters' life revolved around the Mothers, and particularly Mother Basilea. Her health, and whether she was happy or sad over the Sisters, was of utmost importance. Her words and actions and her ministry were praised constantly at every meal and Sisterhood gathering. Her personal favour or disapproval was viewed as God's favour or disapproval. Every Sister participated in venerating her privately and publicly as much as possible. It was as if the more you complimented her, the more you gained status and favour.

From the beginning I had struggled with this over-emphasis on Mother Basilea, but over time I bought into it, although not entirely. I remember in the late '80s asking a leading Sister whether one must agree with Mother Basilea in everything, even in one's own thoughts. I was reprimanded for my pride that I would ask such a question. "Who are you to question what Mother Basilea says?" She was convinced that Mother Basilea was infallible.

In the Sisterhood, praising Mother Basilea was part of surviving. It was a way of life. Even outsiders noticed the emphasis was extreme, even though they did not know the full extent of it within the order. Voiced criticism from the outside reached Mother Basilea, who responded by telling us that people were simply envious of her position of authority. There was always a simplistic answer to every objection.

Intermittent years

Considered to be a well-grounded Sister of Mary, I was sent by Mother Basilea to establish a Sisterhood branch in Alberta, Canada, with three other Sisters in 1980. In 1982 I was transferred to the branch in Phoenix, Arizona, to help pioneer the developing video and television ministry. Videos featuring Mother Basilea, produced by the Sisterhood and Brotherhood in Germany, were being created and distributed to the branches at breakneck speed. I enjoyed the challenge of this work, and the contact with the outside world it provided. I also relished the freedom we enjoyed in the branch as opposed to the rigidly structured life in the Mother house. The "fellowships in the light" were less intimidating, the rules were not as strictly observed, and we were less scrutinised. I could tell that other Sisters, too, much preferred living in the branch over being on Canaan in Germany.
Though in the branch, we still remained in close contact with the Mother house, being nourished spiritually by tapes and transcripts from "home" to keep us connected. Each of us corresponded with Mother Basilea on a regular basis. The leading Sister in each branch reported to Mother Basilea any concerns about the Sisters under her charge. Based on these reports and personal letters, if Mother Basilea sensed a Sister was drifting from her heart, she would be called back to the Mother house for a period of "renewal." All of us had regular opportunities to go "home" to Germany for a time of reconnection, which turned out to be a time of grace, a time of judgment, or a combination of both.

After over a decade in the Sisterhood, my thoughts had been almost completely reformed except for a sliver of my mind, which was still searching in vain for satisfying answers to fundamental questions. Was the fanaticism surrounding Mother Basilea sound? It was woven into the very fabric of the Sisterhood, I knew. That would never change. What about the judgments and punishments of Sisters? What about the cult-like "no-talk" rule? What about the "in the family" things? Were these things hidden because they were wrong? What about the visions and revelations? Were they scriptural? What about my inability to trust, the constant fear of punishment I felt? Were the anxieties just my issues?

I tried to resolve these questions in two ways: I rationalised by telling myself that no ministry is perfect, and after all, there was much "proof" to God's blessing on the order. And I suppressed. But the thoughts and questions kept resurfacing. They did not go away.
Deep down inside I knew I was living a lie, pretending to be someone I was not. I could not truly swallow "hook, line and sinker" all that was being said. But yet I couldn't discuss the issues either. When the questions surfaced in my mind, I would listen to them, only later to reprimand my critical spirit and punish myself for entertaining the thoughts.
Though appearing to be a happy Sister, I was not. The façade began to crack, and I found myself face-to-face with two conflicting identities: the intensely honest, but barely alive, "me" and the smiling, unhappy person of Sister Adaja. It was 1990.

1990

Suffering from unrelenting insomnia, depression, anxiety and weight loss, I began to fall apart. I lacked the courage to be open about all the misgivings I harboured about many things. Torn between confessing my thoughts and withholding confession for fear of repercussions, feelings of guilt mounted. Now again I began to come to the point of considering leaving.

In 1986 I first confessed to Mother Basilea my thoughts of leaving the order. She wrote to me that such a step would lead me directly into the hands of Satan. I was to fight these thoughts with all my might. And I did. But the sleepless nights persisted and took their toll on my physical and emotional health. I tried to mask my problems as best I could, but the pretence I had kept up for so long was ebbing away. I was sent to the Mother house for 6 weeks.
In March, shortly before I arrived, two longtime Finnish Sisters had left the order, submitting a letter to Mother Basilea stating their reasons for leaving. Mother Basilea shared a few bits and pieces of their letter, and said it was so fraught with lies and hatred that she would never let us read it all. To be honest, I found it hard to believe that the letter could be the way she described. Typically, Sisters who left were denounced and spoken ill of anyway, so I always took what was said with a grain of salt. But what happened in this case was beyond belief and brought tremendous turmoil to my already troubled soul.

Evening after evening the Sisterhood gathered to speak negatively of and to denounce these two ex-Sisters. Anyone who had something negative to say about them was encouraged to do so. An outpouring of love and vows of loyalty to Mother Basilea followed these sessions. The ex-Sisters were coined "Judas-souls," and Mother Basilea warned that anyone who had so much as a sympathetic thought for them was playing into Satan's hand. I couldn't accept that these women were satanic simply because they had a "falling out" with Mother Basilea.

That their disagreements led to such radical denunciation by Mother Basilea and the Sisters was another factor in my already deteriorating allegiance. Years later, I received a copy of the Finnish Sisters' letter of March, 1990, to Mother Basilea. Believe it or not, Mother Basilea had completely distorted their letter, which was a carefully worded and polite expression of concerns. What they wrote was true, and in fact, I could have written it myself. Other former members have said the same.

Critics of Mother Basilea and her theology were not new. We were told that persecution of the Sisterhood would grow, and that individual Sisters would be questioned about teachings and practices. We were trained on how to respond to investigators by withholding information and when in doubt, saying, "We live according to the Bible."
Mother Basilea told us that, according to prophecy, persecution would happen also from within our order. Sisters would betray and deny her, just as Jesus was betrayed and denied in His last days on earth. The departure of the Finnish Sisters was the beginning of the fulfilment of this prophecy. She repeatedly told us that those of us who felt too weak to undergo the persecution were free to leave. She said no one was keeping us against our will. We voluntarily chose to be Sisters of Mary, and of our own free will we chose to stay in the Sisterhood, she said.

These statements did not make sense to me at all. In truth, we were not free to leave. Mother Basilea over the years had warned us, personally and as a community, of the danger of hell-fire if we should leave our calling. We had vowed regularly that we would be faithful to her in her time of trial. We had become dependent on the Sisterhood. Psychologically we were bound, not free.

For me, the cumulative negatives in the Sisterhood began to surpass the positives. Emotionally and psychologically I was separating. In my heart I wanted desperately to leave. Mother Basilea had no idea of my real dilemma.
My final words to her were, "I don't belong here anymore," but she insisted: "you do belong to me." Greatly distressed and with no real solutions, I returned to Phoenix in June, still under the guise of Mother Basilea allegiance, but no longer a Sister in my own heart.

What followed in the next months was a dramatic chain of events, which culminated in my leaving in November of that year. In a rash moment, I wrote my parents a letter, explaining my distress and begging for their help. They never received it, since the postal service intercepted the letter at my request. I had become repentant after mailing it and telling the leading Sister of the branch. She persuaded me of my need to stay, warning me, among other things, that I would lose my faith if I left. But she also offered no logically satisfying answers to my questions, which I now presented openly. In a rare moment of vulnerability, she admitted that in her younger years, she struggled with the same issues. After using every argument she could think of to convince me to stay, she finally said it was ultimately my decision.

During this time, telephone calls and faxes about me were exchanged with Mother Basilea regularly. During one such phone call in July, I experienced a downpour of "judgment" like I had not experienced before. Reduced to tears, I said nothing other than "Yes, dearest Mother." The call lasted only half an hour, but it left me shattered and numb. The phone call was recorded in the Mother house, immediately transcribed by a Sister there, and then faxed to the leading Sister in the Phoenix branch, in order to inform her how I should be treated "in Mother Basilea's spirit." I had reached the lowest point of my life. God seemed far away, I knew no human compassion, and I did not know what to do or where to turn for help.

I knew I was crossing a line, making it sheer impossible to turn back. I would have to suffer years of "judgment" if I decided to stay after all this, I reasoned. But still, I vacillated back and forth between wanting to leave and wanting to stay, feeling incapable of making a decision. After having relinquished decision-making for all these years, I was now to make such a pivotal decision alone. How could I? And so I asked permission to speak about it with one person outside the order (my mother), but permission was denied. I was told that Mother Basilea was my advisor and confidante. But she did not understand me, and so, on my own, I continued to wrestle in prayer and come to clarity. Perhaps the most profound breakthrough for me personally was coming to the realisation that allegiance to Mother Basilea was not the same as allegiance to Christ.

The Turning-point

In a final ditch effort for understanding, I wrote Mother Basilea the most open and honest letter ever, telling her of the torments suffered all these years, torments I could barely endure any longer, telling her there were many things I could not agree with, and how I could not trust her. I told her that if she felt under these circumstances I should stay my whole life, I would, but that I never would be in unity with her. I could not.
Anxiously awaiting a reply, I was surprised by her response. After all these agonising years, she told me finally to go, and she even gave me her blessing. Apparently, her decision and course of action, i.e., letting a consecrated Sister go in this manner, was unique. In letters that followed she offered support and many kind, affectionate words.

I can only describe leaving in terms of "release." I have never been sorry. With restored freedom to express myself, to think critically, and to make choices, I began to recover and blossom. Certainly there was a sense of loss and grief, too, in saying good-bye to approximately 14 years with all they entailed. Since there was no real openness among Sisters, we were never emotionally very close, but with certain Sisters a bond was shared which hurt to break. A few of the Sisters were kind to me when I left. This would have been different, however, if I had left on bad terms.

Typically if a Sister leaves, what she takes with her is censored. Sisterhood materials are to be left behind, of course, and also correspondence with Mother Basilea was to remain in the Sisterhood. I was allowed to choose a few letters from Mother Basilea to take with me, "good" letters devoid of judgment or anything that might appear controversial. These letters had to be approved by Mother Basilea. Normally, a Sister who leaves must also leave behind her personal journals, but no one checked, and so I took mine. Now, years later, when I read my journal entries from those years, I am shocked at the self-criticism and self-hatred I find.

Mother Basilea continued to correspond with me even after I left, assuring me of her prayers, her support, and how much she thought of me with love. But not long after returning to the home of my parents, I received a variety of mail including a letter written by Mother Basilea addressed not to me, but to someone else. This letter had been inadvertently enclosed in the other mail I received. I was hurt to read her description of me in the letter. She wrote suspiciously of my parents, and of me in terms of "evil." Having experienced her paranoia of ex-members, I knew not to take it personally, but it was disappointing since I had been up front about my reasons for leaving, and I had left on good terms, or so I thought.

Life Beyond

I was now 34 years old. Starting over is never easy, but I had a supportive family who took me under their wing, and in time I began to deal with the trauma I had been through. Contrary to what we had been told happened to Sisters who left, I experienced blessings. Good things actually happened to me and still do to this day! Other ex-Sisters, too, marvel at how well things have gone for them. They had feared punishment from God, but experienced blessing instead. And separation from the Sisterhood has not meant separation from God, faith, His blessings, and the Body of Christ.

The adjustment to living in society was quite overwhelming at first. Simple, everyday things had to be relearned. I hadn't been to a bank in almost 14 years!
I felt strangely out of place in supermarkets and stores. I had no idea how to dress in the '90s. Commonplace tasks seemed daunting to me.

It took me a long time to speak about my experiences in the Sisterhood. But as I shared, first with my family, and then with others, I experienced a greater freedom from bondage, and a releasing of Mother Basilea's hold over my life. I became free from fear. During those endless years of inner pain, I never imagined the emotional health and sense of well being that would be mine one day.

One of the hardest things I did was to make contact with the two supposedly "evil" Finns, who left the Sisterhood in 1990. In considering contacting them, I was still fearful of God's wrath. This indicated to me the hook of spiritual bondage was not completely severed. And so I took this healthy step in 1995. Reaching them gave me greater freedom and a desire to re-connect with others who had left.

In 1993 I graduated from the University of Alberta with a degree in special education. I have found my niche in serving children with special needs. My teaching career has been one of variety and surprises! I have been blessed with many wonderful, close friends. God has given me a new life and opened to me a new, exciting world, which I continue to explore and enjoy.

In the years following my departure from the Sisterhood, I had a longing to marry. I knew if it were to happen that I would need someone with an understanding of my unique past. I never dreamed who that might be! God must have a sense of humour, because yes, believe it or not, I married a former Canaan Brother! Peter, who had been a Brother on Canaan for 17 years, and I found each other. After a brief courtship we were married in a beautiful ceremony in March of 1996 in Edmonton. The depth of understanding Peter and I share is very special.

One of my most important life experiences has been that "God causes all things to work together for good, to those who are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28). I do not despise my past, for the pain of bygone years will always be part of me and who I am today. My life in the Sisterhood has cultivated areas of my life which have deepened and enriched me as a person. I have become a stronger person as a result, and more capable of understanding others.

Although I have found meaning in my painful past, not all questions have answers. Did God not call me into the Sisterhood after all? If this was not His will for me, why did He not make it clear? I had prayed intensely for His direction. If it was His will, why would a wise and all-loving God lead me into a system which would damage and harm? After exploring these questions and not finding definite answers, I have peace nonetheless in accepting that intellectually satisfying answers to every question in this life are not always necessary or all-important.

There may be insights that can be gained, and some questions answered, but fellowship with God transcends all and gives us the grace we need to live through suffering.
Some final thoughts

I hope my story has been helpful to you in some way. You may not be in the Sisterhood, but you may feel trapped in some other way. I hope my account will renew in you a sense of hope in God's goodness. He has a way for each of us to lead us to stable ground and fullness of life.

Perhaps my account will be a warning to the subtle power of spiritual deception. We need to be watchful and aware. When I joined the Sisterhood, I did not know what I was getting into. Undoubtedly, there were red flags I chose to somehow ignore or suppress. It can be tragic when we act (or don't act) from a desire to please rather than from integrity and honesty.

I do not know whether one can be truly happy as a Sister of Mary. Perhaps it is possible if one stops thinking for oneself, and completely buys into all that is said and done. There is meaning, and perhaps a sense of happiness and fulfilment, in belonging to an elite group of "bridal souls."

I realise that my story is influenced by my own perceptions, but I have done my best to tell the truth, and to accurately present my own experience. I do not pretend to believe that my experience is indicative of what every Sister goes through. But I am not alone in my experience either. There are others who have been wounded and who are speaking out. It saddens me that instead of addressing the allegations, the Sisterhood is trying to silence its critics by slandering the characters of those who raise the issues. There has been a display of intense hostility from Canaan sympathisers, too, over these controversial issues. The abusive experiences of former members aside, Mother Basilea's secret teachings are enough to raise serious questions concerning deception.

For those of you who have never been part of a cult, this story may be very difficult to understand. And for those of you with ties to the Sisterhood of Mary, my story and our website may be a source of agitation and distress. It is not our intent to cause dissension and irreconciliation, as some charge. And yet there is no true peace and reconciliation by covering up practices and teachings that harm and exploit well-meaning people, particularly young people. We desire healing and freedom from bondage for all those who have been negatively affected by Mother Basilea's "Canaan." To this end we will continue to speak the truth. Let us remember that we all are accountable before God for what we do with what we know.

Written by Charlene Andersen in the summer of 1998.