By JILLIAN KRISTINA
It’s 1939 in a mountainous region of rural Spain. A young girl is kneeling on the ground, arms spread to the sky, appearing to have an ecstatic experience. The sun shines brightly, illuminating her small frame. She walks among the townspeople, holding a crucifix to the sky, kissing it. The townsfolk gather around her, their own crucifixes and rosaries in hand, revering the child for what she says she has just witnessed…
A vision of the Holy Mother Mary.
In Paco Plaza’s Spanish supernatural testament to terror, SISTER DEATH, the trauma of the Spanish Civil War is still very much alive as Sister Narcisa (Aria Bedmar) makes her way to teach at a convent turned school for impoverished girls. As she approaches the building, she can’t help but notice bullet holes in the walls, a lasting reminder of the horrors that fell upon this house of the alleged holy.
“No amount of plaster could ever cover up this shame.”
Sister Julia (Maru Valdivielso), one of the three remaining sisters from before the war, knows much about shame. And rage. And envy. It’s fitting that it is she who greets Sister Narcisa, or as she first came to be called ten years ago, “The Holy Girl of Peroblasco,“ the girl who saw the Virgin Mary in the mountains, the girl who continues what she feels is her calling – her duty.
“Was it the Blessed Mother who asked you to take your vows?”
“No, that was my choice. I felt like it was my duty.”
Duty. Devotion. Calling. Purpose. These are all strong themes interwoven into the sign of Virgo, where the moon will reach its fullness on February 24. Virgo is an Earth sign that derives deep satisfaction from its roles of service, care, nurturing and upholding those traditions and beliefs that they deem sacred. Yet, as with all signs, there are highs and lows, strengths and weaknesses. To plumb the pristine depths of the virtuous Virgo, we must ask ourselves, “Where does our sense of duty come from? Where do we feel compelled purely based on how we’ve been raised, or what we’ve been told?” This Full Moon in Virgo will ask not only for our devotion but for our unwavering drive to question everything before we commit to that which does or does not deserve our service.
“I have doubts. Many, many doubts.”
“You? The Holy Girl?
This last full moon of winter is also called the Hungry Moon, and these last few weeks have been hungry, indeed. Several planets have moved into Aquarius, a fixed sign ruled by Uranus, a planet of sudden disruption and creative chaos that is concerned with independence, rebellion, and envisioning a new way forward for everyone – not just an elite few. Within this energy, so many have found themselves grappling with nightmares – poltergeists from their pasts – rearing up and screaming, stirring up vicious memories and traumas, forcing us to face the horrors and toxic behaviors from times we cannot change but must not repeat.
As Sister Narcisa begins to settle into her new home, she immediately begins to experience certain phenomena. She discovers a cigar box in the closet of her bedroom, and upon opening it, finds a photo of a deceased nun, Sister Socorro. Along with the photograph, she finds a pair of scissors. Then, a chair falls over on its own. Later, she hears the voice of a child outside her door. Upon opening it, she finds only a small ball that rolls along the hallway and down the steps into the basement. Here, she makes a startling find – the preserved, severed hand of Saint Martha, thought to have been lost during the war. Saint Martha, the patron saint of homemakers, domestic workers, cooks – essentially, the keepers of the home, the tenders of the flame.
This element of the story touches upon the history of the Vestal Virgins. In ancient Rome, the Vestals were priestesses in service to Vesta, goddess of the hearth and the sacred flame. They were chosen by the Pontifex Maximus, the leading male priest, in prepubescence, thereby relieving them of all duties and ties to their families, and placing them in service of this revered goddess. They served at the temple for 30 years, after which they were given a choice to continue serving or go out into the world as a citizen. Interesting that the Romans would have a group of dedicated priestesses, all of whom were appointed by the leading priest, to devote themselves to the service of a deity the culture highly venerated, perhaps laying the foundations for Christianity to seize upon and twist and morph to their liking, as it has been wont to do. But in the Christian version, these priestesses – these nuns – were not given a choice, only servitude. Forever. A lifetime vow efficiently stripping these women of any sense of self-sovereignty. Self-ownership. Self-agency.
Perhaps it’s due to this complete eradication of agency that the phenomenon that Sister Narcisa is experiencing is not an isolated event. The girls under her tutelage have strange stories of their own, tales that the sisters are all too quick to shut down.
“I see they have told you their story…The girls have too much free time and make up fantasies. If Sister Ines had done what I said and exerted a little bit more discipline, it would have been better for everyone.”
Sister Ines is the teacher whom Sister Narcisa had come to replace. According to Mother Superior (Louisa Merelas), Sister Ines had to leave unexpectedly to care for her parents. According to the students, Sister Ines listened to them when they told her of the little girl whose spirit haunts the school. The little girl whom you shouldn’t play with – or touch her paintings. The little girl who likes to write names on the blackboard, the names of those who are cursed. And there’s no girl more adamant or vocal about this ghastly presence than Rosa, and Sister Narcisa is more than willing to listen.
“It doesn’t matter what I say.”
“It does matter. I want to know the truth.”
Indeed, Sister Narcisa does, and as it would happen, the truth is seeking her. Stalking her, even. One night, she dreams that she’s trying on the gown and veil that once belonged to Sister Ines in preparation for her perpetual vows, and something inexplicable and terrifying begins to happen. The veil begins to tighten of its own accord as if it were trying to strangle her. The gown follows suit, squeezing the woman with such force that the buttons lining the back enclosure split, exposing not only her back but scars from the self-flagellation. But these scars are no dream. They’re a very brutal reality. Another form of discipline. Another form of control.
Still, Sister Narcisa questions. She grows curious. She becomes closer to the students, listening, observing. Attuning herself to the invisible current that she cannot deny, especially in the face of the nightmares that are increasing in frequency and intensity. Visions of deceit. Of betrayal. Of an insidious energy permeating this place of education and worship.
Ghosts remain, whether we see them or not. They have myriad ways of communication – through sight, sound, feeling, and even smell. Children seem to be the most sensitive to these disturbances, and sometimes, the most susceptible. Often, children must convey unimaginable truths. Truths they may not even understand, and yet, they do their duty. They honor their gifts, as unnerving and terrifying as they might be. They become the messengers at the peril of the depth and darkness of the secrets they must help reveal.
“Help me see her. Please, Rosa.”
“She’s behind you sister. But she’s not a girl. She’s saying something.”
Rosa tries, and even though she can see something – someone – Sister Narcisa cannot. But her momentary lack of sight cannot prevent the horror that is about to befall the small girl. It seems nothing can prevent that horror, or further horrors, from unraveling, except the truth. And Sister Narcisa is going to require an altogether different kind of sight for that. One that will come in the aftermath of guilt and the predatory and accusatory ramblings of Sister Julia, following the savage end of Rosa’s journey, with the ominous secrets trapped within the school…
“You don’t understand. The more you believe her lies, the worse things will get…Let me tell you something, I don’t believe you…you might have fooled us all those years ago, and now that I know you, I know it was all a lie….”
Overwhelmed with grief, Sister Narcisa begins to take her leave of the school. She walks out into the surrounding fields, not realizing what day it is – the day of the lunar eclipse that she’s been teaching her students about, warning them not to look directly into the sun lest they go blind. She stares straight into the radiating ball of fire as the moon begins its passage over Sol’s face, and in that instant, drops to her knees, arms outstretched, just as she did ten years earlier. Just as she did when she claimed to have seen the Holy Mother. Now, she finds herself again enraptured in an ecstatic trance. Now, she will gain the exact sight she needs to receive the blasphemous truth flowing through Sister Julia’s hands – the hands that now clutch Sister Narcisa’s face.
Now, Sister Narcisa will see all that has been so meticulously hidden. The atrocities of war. The sins of our mothers.
“I saw what happened during the war. Before the liberation.”
“What?”
“When you touched me. Suddenly I was there, and the smashed saints, the relics. And that’s not all. I saw what happened. I saw what they did to one of the sisters. She was lying…”
“Shut up! You don’t know. You can’t know anything. How could you?”
A soldier. Sister Socorra. Violence. Violation. And in the aftermath, a baby. A girl.
“And the girl…only the sisters knew about it…”
A child that the nuns vowed would never leave the walls of the convent, no matter what, because the sanctity of that holy house must be preserved. Even when sickness strikes the little girl and her mother, Sister Socorra wanted to bring her to the hospital, but the nuns took matters into their own hands, and in a tragic accident, committed the most egregious act. And then, covered it up. Overcome with grief, Sister Socorro stood atop a chair so she could join her daughter.
Now, Sister Narcisa knows everything, and within that knowledge lies immense power. She and she alone frees the spirit of the anguished nun by feeling her rage and turning it loose upon the three remaining sisters – the very three who were responsible for the child’s death. The past and the present coalesce, delivering bloodied, brutal, bone-crushing vengeance. And blood. So much blood. There is poetry in blood because blood doesn’t lie. It bares the truth in all of its purifying splendor and drowns out all that stands between the final spiritual reunion of the two tortured, desperate souls who remained buried within those walls for far too long.
So again, the question, “Where does our devotion, our loyalty, lie? Why? Who are we being asked to serve and at what cost? What deserves our undying attention, our most sacred service?” The Vestal Virgins served, but when their time came, they had the option of freedom, of service to themselves. To selfhood. To self-sovereignty. When that’s taken away, we get the opposite – Women pitted against each other. Women in competition. Women holding each other back. Suppressing. Silencing. We need to do better and to do that, we have to recognize where that separation began. We’ve got to do better at dismantling the institutions that still stand today, stronger than ever, dividing us, pitting us against each other and perpetuating the lies that we are less than. That our minds and bodies can’t be trusted. That our minds and bodies don’t belong to us. That we have no agency. That we have no voice. This Full Moon in Virgo is giving us a radical opportunity to remember and reclaim our voices for something worth fighting for. Something worth screaming and wailing for. What could be a worthier cause than self-agency? What could incite more groundbreaking change than devoting ourselves to our truths and not letting them go, no matter who demands we do? Especially in the twisted faces of those who demand we do.
I’ll offer this tarot card as a point of meditation and inspiration for the energies and memories and current events we’re all finding ourselves grappling with, the eleventh card of the major arcana, Justice. Even though the Justice card is typically attributed to the astrological sign of Libra, where she balances the scales, I find there’s meaning here in Virgo, too, because it’s in Virgo that we reclaim our truths from terror. Where we reclaim our agency. Where we reclaim what it is to be the Virgin or the Maiden, archetypes steeped in what it is to not simply be virginal but honoring and worshiping our inward feminine energy – no matter what that looks like. This is where we call back the goddesses that we’ve been – that we are. And this is when we call upon their enormous power to do the work that needs to be done. It’s in this space that we remember the original trinity, the Maiden, Mother and the Wizened Crone, and find them all alive and thriving within ourselves. This is how we restore balance. This is how Justice is served.
