How To Become A Nun In England

So, you’re thinking about becoming a nun in England. I know, it sounds like something out of a BBC period drama, right? But trust me, the habit is optional these days, and the Wi-Fi is surprisingly good.

First things first: Do You Have the Calling?

Let’s be honest. You didn’t wake up one morning and just decide to trade your jeans for a wimple. Something deeper is tugging at you. Maybe it’s a quiet voice, or maybe it’s just a massive desire for silence and a lot of time to read.

Don’t worry if you’re not 100% sure. That’s normal. Even nuns have doubts, usually while trying to pray through a headache.

Are you single and ready to mingle… with God?

First rule: you can’t be married. England’s convents aren’t divorce-friendly for this gig. Also, you need to be at least 18, but realistically, most communities prefer you’ve had a bit of life experience. Like, you know, paid taxes and cried over a flat-pack wardrobe.

And yes, you can have a past. A wild one? Fine. A boring one? Also fine. Consistency is overrated; conversion is what they’re after.

Step 1: Stop Googling “how to become a nun” obsessively.

Okay, you’ve done the search. Good for you. Now, put the laptop down. The real work starts with prayer and listening. I know, it sounds fluffy. But it’s the only way to tell if you’re actually called, or if you’re just trying to escape your awful boss.

Start going to Mass regularly. Visit a local church. Sit in the back. Let the quiet freak you out a little. That’s normal.

Find a spiritual director (aka your new best friend).

You can’t do this alone. You need a wise priest or a seasoned nun to talk to. They’ll ask the hard questions, like “Are you running from something, or running to Someone?” Spoiler: they’ve heard every excuse before.

Don’t skip this step. It’s like having a therapist who doesn’t charge by the hour, but does expect you to pray.

Step 2: Get to know the different flavours of nuns.

England has lots of convents, and they’re not all the same. You’ve got contemplative nuns (think silent, cloistered, lots of gardening) and active nuns (teaching, nursing, running soup kitchens). Which one sounds more your speed?

Do you love chatting with people? Go active. Do you want to never see a shopping centre again? Go contemplative. Neither is wrong. Just be honest about your caffeine intake and need for conversation.

Try a “live-in” experience (yes, it’s a thing).

Most convents offer a “come and see” weekend. You stay in a spare cell (not a dungeon, I promise), eat with the sisters, and pray with them at 6 AM. It’s like a very quiet, very early Burning Man.

You’ll either find it deeply peaceful or deeply terrifying. Both reactions are valid. Pro tip: don’t wear perfume. The sisters will smell you from the chapel.

Step 3: The actual application process (boring but crucial).

Once you’re sure, you apply for postulancy. That’s a fancy word for “trial run.” It lasts about 6 months to a year. You live with the community, do chores, and learn how to fold the altar linens without crying.

Then comes novitiate. This is two years of intense study, prayer, and wearing the habit (if they have one). You’ll get a new name, like Sister Mary Something-or-Other. Pick a saint you actually like; you’ll be stuck with them.

Yes, you can change your mind at any time.

Nobody chains you to the pew. If you decide convent life isn’t for you after six months, you simply leave. No hard feelings. The sisters will wave goodbye and probably give you a homemade cake to take home.

The final vows come after 3-9 years. That’s when you promise poverty, chastity, and obedience forever. It’s like a wedding, but with more incense and no honeymoon.

Final, honest thoughts from me to you.

Becoming a nun in England isn’t about becoming a total recluse. Many sisters work, drive cars, and have iPhones. One community I know has a wicked YouTube channel. Seriously, they do baking tutorials.

But it is about giving up control. That’s the scary bit. You give up your bank account, your dating life, and your right to decide what’s for dinner. In return, you get community, purpose, and a ridiculous amount of peace in the middle of a chaotic world.

So, if you’re still reading this with a weird flutter in your chest, maybe it’s not a joke. Maybe it’s a nudge. Go make a cup of tea, and give that nudge a proper listen. You might be surprised where it leads you.

And if not? Well, at least you’ll have a great story for next coffee hour.