Few times do 700 years of history weigh so heavily. But, times change, or so it is said, and what once seemed unmovable, simply, ends. In a few days, the last Poor Clare nuns who have inhabited the Monastery of Santa Maria de Pedralbes for centuries will move to Vilobí d'Onyar, in Girona, where more sisters of their order live. The Pedralbes monastery is a symbol of that past that is being left behind, with more chances of becoming a tourist attraction of a city that lives off ghosts than of continuing to be a place of worship. This is attested by the number of tenants, with only three Poor Clare nuns living in it, but also by the feeling of a society that increasingly believes less in a Church that carries the scourge of the abuses it has committed.
That history that now ends in Pedralbes dates back to 1326, when Queen Elisenda de Montcada laid the first stone of the monastery on an old farmhouse, within the municipality of Sarrià, to have a place to retire when she became a widow. She did so with the support of her husband, King Jaume II, who wanted it to be dedicated to Santa María. A year later, construction had advanced enough to house the first community of nuns, from the convent of Sant Antoni in Barcelona.
Since its origins, it has been inhabited by Poor Clares, the female branch of the Franciscan Order. "There have been brilliant eras followed by less luminous ones. That's life," summarized Sister Inmaculada, who entered 30 years ago, when there were more than 20 nuns, and was the last to do so. A meager community that contrasted with the more numerous influx of visitors and tourists who entered the monastery and its museum. Today she is only accompanied by Sister Isaura and Sister Pilar, the oldest of all, after Sister Montserrat, the abbess of the monastery, and Sister Adoración passed away last year. For some time, the forty rooms in the cloistered area had become too large for them.
A long stay, interrupted on few occasions, always due to wars, whether it was the Civil War of 1462, the Guerra dels Segadors of 1640 or the more recent conflicts, with the Setmana Tràgica of 1909, the burning of monasteries in 1935 and the Civil War that came a year later. Barcelona's mayor, Jaume Collboni, clings to these small temporary lapses to say that this time the decision of the Order of Santa Clara to move them to Girona can also be reversible. "We are convinced that they will return. For us it is not a full stop, it is a new paragraph," Collboni remarked during the traditional visit of the City Council to the Poor Clares of Pedralbes for Santa Eulàlia's day, Barcelona's winter patron saint.
Despite their departure, Sunday masses at 12 will continue in the monastery, with the support of the Capuchins of Sarrià and other parishes in the area, just as eggs can still be brought to the ceremony to prevent rain on the wedding day. The celebration of February 12 will also be maintained, with mató included. In addition, for next year, the consistory will program the celebration of the 700th anniversary, with events, concerts and exhibitions, among which there will be a display of snapshots of the monastery taken by Sister Isaura, who also dedicates herself to artistic photography with her Lumix camera. "Today Barcelona assumes the commitment to maintain its legacy. We have to defend the identity of the city," the mayor defended. Apart from the religious function, the City Council will continue to conserve and revitalize the space, one of the best examples of Catalan Gothic.
Many neighbors and parishioners have come to see if they could try the last mató accompanied by the Poor Clares, with Collboni eating it despite admitting he has lactose intolerance. There were 200 units and they flew, with many running out sooner than expected. One of them was Rosa, a neighbor from L'Hospitalet de Llobregat who has been going to the monastery all her life, especially for Palm Sunday, when she took her daughter Marta to see a stone at the entrance of the enclosure that seemed insurmountable to her until she grew up. Both returned this Wednesday, with Rosa thinking that, if the mayor is right and the Poor Clares return, she, surely, will no longer see it.
Then, of course, there were the protests, with their own idiosyncrasy, adapting typical choir songs like Frère Jacques with the names of the last nuns of Pedralbes. Montserrat, one of those who have gone with banners and granddaughter of a former electrician of the monastery, says she is afraid that, when the Poor Clares are no longer there, the enclosure will be converted into luxury apartments. "There is a historical relationship between the monastery and Sarrià," she remarked, recalling when the monastery was saved from being burned during the Civil War, with nuns hidden in the neighbors' houses.
The young women of the area have not felt the call, says Sister Immaculada, even though neighbors approach to greet her and queue to talk to her.The emotion was palpable, with some tears about to escape, but it didn't take much for anecdotes to be recalled. Like those of Francisco de la Fuente, former head of security for the collection that Baroness Thyssen had in the monastery between 1993 and 2004.Accompanied by Imma Gómez, who was the conservator and administrator of the works, the day of the inauguration came to their minds, for which the Kings had to come and the entire premises had to be swept for security reasons.That included a crypt located beneath the route the monarchs were to take, but the abbess refused and it took a lot to convince her, not caring if the event was canceled, also marked by one of those rainy Barcelona days that turn everything upside down. About eighty works, including paintings and sculptures from the 14th to the 18th century, filled what was once the nuns' dormitory and the room known as the Queen's Hall, because Queen Elisenda de Montcada received her visitors there when she retired to the monastery, although it later became a novitiate dormitory. On its walls, names like Rubens, Velázquez, Zurbarán, Tintoretto, Titian, Fra Angelico, and Canaletto were found. When they left Pedralbes, the works were distributed between the MNAC and the Thyssen in Madrid.
The young women of the area have not felt the call, says Sister Immaculada, no matter how much the neighbors come to greet her, queue to talk to her, or even ask Sister Isaura for a photo as if she were a celebrity. The parishioners love them, but no one wants to dedicate their life to any God anymore. Of the nuns from other congregations who have come to say goodbye to them, all of them made that decision years ago and few young faces are seen. One of them is named Camila and comes from Venezuela, a Carmelite novice who felt her vocation at 12 and still maintains it at 20. When the mató was long over, Sister Isaura said that two Poor Clare convents have closed in Nicaragua and that they might be able to swell their ranks and return to the Catalan capital. For now, the Pedralbes neighborhood association has patented the recipe for the traditional mató, as similar as possible to the one Sister Montserrat made, and it remains to be seen if they will revive the tradition of selling it in local establishments as was done at the end of the 19th century.