Mystery In Black

"I don't know why people are so keen to put the details of their private life in public; they forget that invisibility is a superpower." Banksy

In the classroom, she was all-powerful. No one dared question her authority. No one dared sassed her under their breath or to her face. No one dared not follow her commands. When she said jump, we jumped. When she said "sit," we instantly plopped down. When she said "quiet," we immediately hushed. When she told us to read, we opened a book and started reading. Any command given was instantly obeyed, any instruction given was instantly followed. She led, and we fell in step. Everyone toed the line when in her presence.

And the source of this superpower? Definitely not physical strength for the lady was only 5'3" with what appeared to be a very slim physique. Her facial features were soft and delicate, which spoke more of conformity rather than being in command. Her silky-smooth voice was more suited to an audio recording made to help insomniacs fall asleep, not to bring discipline and order to a group of rowdy seven-year-olds. She did not carry any type of weapon be it a firearm or a knife, although she did occasionally carry a ruler in hand just in case one of her students forgot who was the boss. I never experienced the ruler firsthand, or saw it used on any of my schoolmates, but the possibility was always forefront in our minds. A possibility that never failed to encouraged discipline from the most undisciplined.

She was a member of a group of women who each had the same indistinguishable outfit as all the others – a black robe. And that daily same old clothing essential covered them from head to toe, leaving only their faces and hands visible. Such a formidable fashion statement created a daunting image to look upon, especially for a young child. But the robes were dauting for adults as well. Their outward appearance always gave anyone in their presence a sense of uneasiness. The same uneasiness one felt when walking into a completely darkened house or room. What was the dark hiding? What were the robes hiding? Was it a monster or an angel? Was it something or someone to be feared or was it something or someone to embrace? Was harm just seconds away? Or happiness just seconds away?

Each member of the black robed group wore a gold band on their ring finger. Inscribed on the ring was " HIS", a monogram symbolizing Jesus Christ. and a string of like beads hung from their waistbands, always on the right side. Those that wore glasses looked through simple wire-rimmed spectacles...no designer frames for those with failing eyesight. Simplicity was the name of the game, and in their simplicity, and in their invisibility, they all projected a mysterious aura that followed them wherever they went. No matter if alone or with other members of the group, the mystical aura, that sense of superpower, was always with them.

As a group, they kept to themselves, never socializing with the outside world and thus never becoming part of their assigned locality. They never told their individual stories, not to their students nor anyone in the lay community they served. Their personal histories remained under lock and key within the group. Where were they born? Did they have brothers and sisters? Were they raised in a large city, or on a small farm? What made them laugh, and what made them cry? Did they like to dance? The stuff of being human, life’s experiences, never shared.

And displays of emotion were considered taboo as well; little outward laughter, definitely no physical signs of personal sadness or, at the other extreme, exuberance allowed. Always attending to the business at hand with an unemotional straight forward "get the job done' approach. At the end of the school day, they left their teaching duties and returned to their house, their sanctuary. Here they would spend the remainder of the day behind a closed door. In their seclusion, did they laugh, share the day’s experiences, discuss politics, listen to music? Did they turn on their human side once they were safely inside the convent? Or was doing so impossible? Can one turn on and off emotions much like turning on and off a faucet? Turn left to express, right to suppress.

Their isolation was not rooted in some deep-seated ant-social or political viewpoint. In fact they had no political persuasions. No, the isolation was an integral part of their religious order's prescribed philosophy. A philosophy that provided a guiding path for the achievement of two noble lifelong goals: serving others and serving God. Focusing on the external kept one from concentrating on their chosen purpose. It was a simple philosophy but not so simple a philosophy to live by. Keep one’s life simple, clean, and without the heavy weight of possessions and you just might occasionally achieve one of those altruistic goals.

This inner and outward approach not only gave them superpower status it also elicited enormous deference from all those they encountered. When approaching entryways men would run to open doors for them, and, in their presence, women would carouse their unruly children for fear of a reprimand. Not a verbal reprimand, but a disapproving look that caused embarrassment and shame. Even members of the most notorious and wicked gangs would never dream of challenging or taunting one of these women. The most muscular, most hairy, most tattooed gang member would willingly bow his head in respectful submission and step aside, making room for the ladies dressed in black to pass.

They acquired their superpowers by way of the unknown. The mystery that surrounded their lives and the simplicity by which they lived those lives bestowed upon them grace and a spiritual power few can achieve. Powers they used to educate generations, to feed the hungry, to care for the sick, and give hope to those who have lost their way. And that is the very essence of a superpower.