IN THIS column in August 2010, I wrote, "When people ask me, "What will General Synod decide about women bishops?", my answer is, "It depends on the people who are elected this time. If you have a vote, I beg you, take advantage of your opportunity to choose members who will help to carry the Church forward in the way you believe it should go."

Judging by the response in the wider Church to the vote in November, too many electors failed to heed my advice. (Can it be that they do not read this paper? Or that they do not take notice of what I tell them? Surely not.)

If it is true that the Church's elected representatives did not reflect the mind of the Church, then the electors have the remedy in their own hands next time there is an election. Until then, who knows what the remedy might be?

I WATCHED the first programme in the BBC TV series Westminster Abbey, and was dazzled by the history and the splendour of it all. As always with the manifestations of establishment, the question arises: "Is this the Church exercising influence in the State, or the State controlling the Church? And is either of those really desirable?"

A large part of this first episode was concerned with the choristers and their school. I was torn between admiration for the boys' ability and commitment, and the standard of their musical education, and disquiet that this was available for so few - and, in this case, not for girls.

The Master of the Choristers referred to the history of the Abbey as a monastic foundation, and remarked that the choir was carrying on the tradition of the monks with their sung office. We do our best with the music we sing, but I am afraid we do not sound much like the Westminster Abbey choir.

OUR convent has just hosted a day for novices from many religious communities, together with some people who are considering entering them. In these days, it is heartening to meet those who are still feeling themselves called to this way of life, and are not discouraged by our declining numbers and increasing age.

It is always fascinating to see the variety of individuals who are taking this path, and also to experience again the range of different communities available for them to explore. The habits tell their own story, from the long-established and voluminous to the more modern and streamlined, and some communities have dispensed with the habit altogether. This is only one indication of the ways in which they differ in ethos and emphasis, and in the types of people who tend to be attracted to them; but there is also a sense of related purpose and common calling.

Our visitors this time were representatives of traditional communities like ours - those whose members make vows, and live a life of celibacy in community. Fewer are now taking this path, but at the same time there are many others who do feel called to join with others in a deeper commitment. These belong to a movement, amorphous and ill-defined, which has been termed "new monasticism".

These groups are drawn to go deeper into prayer and worship, and at the same time to relate to the present-day world and its needs and searchings. They are often attractive to people who have found conventional churches harsh, cold, or unwelcoming. They could be simply a manifestation of the post-modern search for "something that suits me exactly", but they could also be this century's manifestation of the movement of the Spirit that led to the foundation of communities such as ours, 150 years ago. Meanwhile, let them both grow together.

AT A recent clergy conference, I attended a session on army chaplaincy - not, I hasten to say, because I am considering a career change, but because I hoped that it would be an opportunity to consider the ethics of war and peace. I was disappointed, because the speaker made it clear that the decision to go to war was one made by politicians, and was not the army's business.

The soldier's responsibility was what was known in Just War theory as ius in bello - the behaviour of troops in conflict. He emphasised that killing, however necessary it was considered to be in the context of battle, always had a psychological impact on the one who killed, and that this impact was felt even by those who killed at a distance, for instance by firing drones.

My father, who served in the First World War, always said that the only people enthusiastic about going to war were those who had no experience of it. All of us, as citizens and voters, still need to think about the ethics of war and peace.

The Revd Sister Rosemary CHN is a member of the Community of the Holy Name in Derby.