Sunday Nunday: This Is How I Am Repaid?

General life rule, whether you're Catholic or not: don't mess with nuns. If you do, they have various options for vengeance at their disposal. They can pull a John Paul II and just instantaneously forgive you, after which you will be so riddled with guilt that you will actually ask for punishment, or, failing that, they can always go old-school and whack you with rulers or make you stand in a trash can or something. (True story: that actually happened to a family friend of ours in the 60s.) Either way, it's not a good situation.

Scamming nuns is never a good idea, because not only will the nuns ultimately have their revenge, but the world will generally agree that you are a horrible human being. Rip off a nun and you've pretty much consigned yourself to a life of slapping orphans and scaring old ladies, because what else is left, really?

Thus, if this Chicago couple is indeed guilty of what the FBI says they are, I fear for their future. In 2004, according to an FBI affidavit, Angela Martin-Mulu and Edward Bosire turned up at a Carmelite monastery near Milwaukee and told the nuns there they were homeless Kenyan refugees who needed food and money, adding that they would be killed if they returned to Kenya. (The two immigrated from Kenya in 1999 and recieved political asylum in 2007.)

The nuns understandably took pity, because they are adorable, and gave them more than $800,000 over three years. Even worse, the money came straight from their personal health fund, according to a Sister Mary Agnes.

So if the couple are guilty (they were indicted by a federal grand jury recently and face up to 20 years in prison if convicted), they didn't just steal a fortune -- they stole it from a bunch of Carmelites who couldn't pay for health insurance. Low point, kids.

To top it all off, the FBI says most of the money was spent in casinos, which makes me want to bang my head against my desk. Gambling with nuns' money is practically asking to be struck down by lightning.

There's not really much I can say about this situation other than "well, that was dumb." And there's no word on what the nuns think about the whole thing, but personally, I'm hoping they break out the rulers.

Sunday Nunday: A Very, Very, Very Fine House

Note: I spent nine years getting taught by Sisters of Saint Joseph, and I have generally found that nuns are pretty much the best people around. Thus, I introduce Sunday Nunday, in which I find interesting news about nuns and blog about it.

Nuns should get anything they want. (Within reason, of course. Renouncing your vows, for example, is probably not the best idea.)

But still. They give up everything they own, they get up early for Mass every morning (a feat indeed), and they can get serious stuff done when they want to (word, Mother Teresa). So when a FOX affiliate got all up in arms this weekend over a New Jersey parish that purchased an $800,000 McMansion to house its nuns, I was left wondering what all the fuss is about.

At first glance, this seems mildly excessive. After all, the nuns at my high school lived in a convent that was attached to the actual school. That's like working in an office all day and then walking down the hall to your bedroom. No one but nuns could do that without wanting to burn the place down within a week.

Anyway, nuns are generally expected to live in weird/terrible conditions and like it, and no one ever really makes an issue about it, including the nuns, because they know it's all part of the vows, yo.

Thus, when a parish in New Jersey bought a swanky new house for its five nuns, people were upset. The news report quotes some parishioners yelling about how nuns take a vow of poverty and that this is a waste of money for the parish and it's a terrible example to set, etc. etc. etc.

My favorite line is the lede in the article that accompanies the video: "Why are five New Jersey nuns living in a mansion that should be in Beverly Hills?"

BECAUSE THEY'RE AWESOME. OKAY? Okay.

The FOX affiliate also takes stalker helicopter photos of the house. Not cool.

The report goes on to mention, a little halfheartedly, that the nuns in question were living in a three-bedroom house and expected to welcome three more by the summer. Eight nuns and three bedrooms doesn't exactly work out. And building a new but more modest house for the nuns would have set the parish back by about $2 million, the archdiocese explains.

So we have eight nuns in a six-bedroom house, plus several acres of land, all bought at a discount price from a Catholic couple who were selling their house and wanted to help the parish out. Not only do the nuns get an awesome house, but the parish plans to use it for retreats, too. And you can totally throw giant church fairs on the new land.

I highly doubt that living in a huge new house will suddenly cause the nuns to adopt a high-flying nouveau riche lifestyle in which they ride around their new estate in personalized golf carts or something. And if they do, who cares? If I encountered a bunch of nuns driving a golf cart with their order's logo on it or something, I could die happy.

So: the parish saves money, the nuns finally get some decent housing, and the parishioners get a giant multi-acre party zone on which to throw fairs and raise more money for the church. Clearly, there is nothing wrong with this scenario. Catholicism for the win.