Saint John’s Abbey 2900 Abbey Plaza Box 2015 Collegeville, Minnesota 56321–2015 saintjohnsabbey.org/abbey-banner
Change of address:
Ruth Athmann
P. O. Box 7222 Collegeville, Minnesota 56321–7222 rathmann@csbsju.edu
Phone: 800.635.7303
Subscription requests or questions: abbeybanner@csbsju.edu
Cover: Bell Banner and Auditorium, drawing (detail) by Matt Larson, 1981
This Issue
If we walk in hope, allowing ourselves to be surprised by the new wine that Jesus offers us, we have joy in our hearts, and we cannot fail to be witnesses of this joy. Let us be lights of hope!
Pope Francis, World Youth Day homily, 24 July 2013
This Issue examines the virtue of hope. During a papal audience shortly before Christmas 2024, Pope Francis asserted that hope is the “most beautiful gift” Christians can share with one another and with the world. “The Holy Spirit is the ever-gushing source of Christian hope,” the pope said, referencing Paul’s Letter to the Romans (15:13). But we “cannot be satisfied with having hope”; we must “radiate hope, be a sower of hope.” Abbot Douglas Mullin opens this issue with a reflection on the springtime of hope and on the Jubilee Year of Hope proclaimed by Pope Francis. Brother Aaron Raverty introduces us to the concept of a holy year and to the Jubilee Year of Hope 2025.
Easter, Jesus’ resurrection, is the foundation of our hope. Father Anthony Ruff reflects on the Easter presence of our Savior—the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Father Cyprian Weaver shares another facet of the celebration of Easter: the production of Ukrainian pysanky eggs.
Though his physical health has been precarious in recent months, Pope Francis’ commitment to serving as a teacher of the Christian flock has not abated. Dr. Micah D. Kiel introduces us to Francis’ encyclical, Dilexit Nos (He Loved Us), as well as to Antiqua et Nova (Ancient and New), the Vatican’s guidelines on artificial intelligence. In a letter to the bishops of the United States (10 February 2025), Pope Francis exhorted all the faithful to support and welcome migrants, to construct a society “that is more fraternal, inclusive, and respectful of the dignity of all.” We share excerpts from the Holy Father’s letter.
Within a year of their arrival in Minnesota to “establish a school for the service of the Lord” (Rule Prol.45), Saint John’s pioneer monks also established a school for educating local youth. Tuition often enough meant bartering, including donations of pigs and cows to the monastery’s farm! Brother Denys Janiga introduces us to another form of payment: Saint John’s own currency! In this issue, we also explore whether Saint Benedict was a Pelagian, meet a monk from the Buckeye State, conclude our series on monastic timekeeping, and more.
The staff of Abbey Banner along with Abbot Douglas and the monastic community extend prayerful best wishes to all our readers for a joyous, hope-filled Easter season. Let us be lights of hope! Peace!
Brother Robin Pierzina, O.S.B .
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Romans 15:13
Springtime of Hope
Abbot Douglas Mullin, O.S.B.
As spring unfolds at Saint John’s, we are reminded of the profound connection between the changing seasons and the deeper rhythms of our spiritual lives. This year, as the Church celebrates the Jubilee Year of Hope proclaimed by Pope Francis, we are invited to embrace the renewal that both nature and our Benedictine tradition offer—a renewal rooted in faith, community, and the enduring promise of God’s presence.
Spring at Saint John’s is a season of transformation. The frozen lakes begin to thaw; trees awaken with new life; and the familiar hum of outdoor activity returns to campus. These visible signs of renewal reflect the hope that is at the heart of Benedictine life. Saint Benedict’s Rule reminds us to seek God continually and begin anew each day. Hope, in this sense, is not a fleeting emotion but a steady commitment to growth, trust, and perseverance. Just as the earth endures the long winter in anticipation of spring’s warmth, we, too, are called to live in hopeful expectation, trusting in God’s unfolding plan for our lives.
The Benedictine values of stability, conversatio (ongoing conversion of life), and obedience guide us along this journey of hope. Stability calls us to remain faithful, even when the path ahead seems uncertain. Like the deeply rooted trees of the abbey arboretum, we are invited to stand firm in our faith, knowing that God’s love is our foundation. The changing seasons reassure us that while life’s circumstances may shift, God’s presence remains steadfast.
Conversatio, the call to continuous growth and transformation, resonates deeply in this season of renewal. The buds on the trees and the blooming flowers remind us that we are always being drawn into deeper relationship with God and one another. This journey of conversion is filled with hope—offering fresh beginnings and the promise of God’s grace working within us each day.
Obedience, the cornerstone of Benedictine life, calls us to listen—to God, to others, and to the world around us. In the gentle signs of spring, we are reminded to listen with the “ear of the heart” (RB Prol.1), becoming more aware of God’s presence in the small, simple moments of our lives. This kind of listening fosters a hope that is active, not passive, encouraging us to respond with love, generosity, and a renewed sense of purpose.
As we journey through this Jubilee Year of Hope, may the beauty of spring and the wisdom of the Benedictine tradition renew our hearts, reminding us that hope is always present—growing quietly, steadfastly, and abundantly in our lives.
Paul Middlestaedt
Hope is at the heart of Benedictine life.
Title of Article
Bread of Life
Anthony Ruff, O.S.B.
[Jesus said:] “There are some of you who do not believe.” Many [of] his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him. Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?”
John 6:64–67
The disciples had heard quite a story and quite a claim from Jesus as recorded in chapter 6 of the Gospel of John: “I am the bread of life,” he said. I am “food that endures for eternal life . . . bread come down from heaven . . . living bread.” “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood remain in me, and I in them.” Many who heard these claims departed from Jesus and walked away. What about us? Do you also want to leave? To whom will we go? What is the meaning of the Bread of Life, the Eucharist? What does it mean to decide for Jesus—to decide not to depart from him but to remain in him?
There is a story that tells of a meeting between Pope Francis and a young Jesuit theology student in Rome. The pope asked him what branch of theology
The
Real
Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is not physical; it is spiritual.
he was studying. “Fundamental [that is, systematic or doctrinal] theology,” the student said. “Really?” Pope Francis responded. “That sure sounds boring.”
Yes, as a teacher of doctrinal theology, I acknowledge that some theologians have managed to make our product seem boring! But part of my life’s journey and ongoing conversion has involved digging deeply into the theology of the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Christ. It has gradually begun to dawn on me that not all of this sacramental theology is a dry, academic, intellectual exercise. In reality, it is something very life-giving and life-changing. The Bread of Life is living bread!
Saint Thomas Aquinas, the thirteenth-century Dominican theologian, wrote much about the Eucharist—much of it, not boring! Thomas posed the question, “Can the eye see the body of Christ when it looks at the host?” “No,” Thomas asserted. We cannot see the body of Christ. Our natural eyes can only see natural bread. The human eye can’t see the real substance. Only the mind, in faith, can perceive the body of Christ.
Thomas also posed the question, “When the priest moves the host on the altar, does the body of Christ move?” “No,” Thomas again said. The body of Christ, risen and glorified, is everywhere. The body of Christ cannot be limited to a place, and
it cannot be moved by humans. And yet, Thomas taught us, what still looks like bread is the real substance of Christ’s body, really present for us.
The Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is not physical; it is spiritual. The risen and glorified Lord cannot be contained in one place. The bread is entirely transformed into the substance of Christ’s body, but this substance is a mysterious and spiritual presence, seen only in faith.
This mystery raises more questions: Do we have a real faith in the risen and gloried Christ, present at all times and in all places? Do we have real faith in Christ as an ongoing presence in our lives? Do we wish to remain with him—or do we wish to depart from him? “Lord, to whom shall we go?” (John 6:68).
According to Thomas Aquinas, the ultimate reality and meaning of the Real Presence is not the transformation of bread and wine—though he affirmed that. Transformed bread is the “middle term,” he taught, the means to the end. The reality and meaning of the Real Presence, according to Thomas, is the unity of the Mystical Body of Christ—that is, the Church community. Bread and wine are transformed in order that the Church can be built up as a unified community.
And so we have arrived at the purpose of the Eucharist. The point of the Real Presence is
representations
not to understand in our mind what happens to bread and wine—that is to get stuck at the means rather than the end; that is to live for flesh of no avail and to miss the Spirit that gives life. The real question is: Why is Christ present? Why does Christ want to give himself to us? And the answer is: Because Christ loves us. Because he wants to befriend us. Because he wants to change us.
This is what it means to say, in faith, that Christ is our living bread. This is what it means to have the Bread of eternal
Bread and wine are transformed in order that the Church can be built up as a unified community.
Life, already now—at each celebration of the Eucharist—but more importantly, during every moment of our lives. Bread is transformed so that you and I can be transformed. Christ is present so that we can be related more closely to one another as the Body of Christ. Jesus gives us his body and blood so that, if you will, we can be transubstantiated.
“Do you also want to leave?” Jesus’ call to the disciples is also our call. Come, decide for the Bread of Life. Come, the fullness of eternal life awaits you. Come. I promise, it won’t be boring.
Father Anthony Ruff, O.S.B., organist and abbey music director, teaches liturgy and liturgical music at Saint John’s School of Theology and Seminary.
Third-century fresco of a feast in the Saint Callixtus Catacomb near Rome. One of the earliest
of the agape (spiritual love) banquet, the artwork recalls the Last Supper of Jesus.
The monogram of Christ (Chi Rho) is depicted on a marble plaque of a fourth-century sarcophagus, Vatican Museums.
Ukrainian Pysanky Eggs
Cyprian Weaver, O.S.B.
Christianity adopted eggs as a symbol of the resurrection of Christ and eternal life. In the Orthodox Christian tradition, a gorgeous egg-painting technique has been passed down through generations of Central and Eastern European families, dating back to pagan times: pysanky eggs! Ukrainian pysanky eggs are decorated using a wax-resistant method, resulting in unique Easter egg designs that are deeply symbolic and meaningful. Making pysanky eggs is a labor of love requiring patience, attention to detail, and a steady hand.
The name of these Easter eggs contains part of their story. Pysanky (or pysanka, singular) is rooted in the Ukrainian verb “to write.” In this case, it refers to the beautiful patterns scrawled across the eggs. Ukrainian Easter eggs often feature intricate designs and symbols such as flowers, animals, or geometric shapes, each with its own significance.
The process of making the patterns involves applying melted wax to the eggshell in a design, then dipping the egg into different colored dyes, layer by layer. The key to making pysanky eggs lies in symmetry. This is achieved by using a pencil to section off the egg into a grid and then drawing the basic design within the grid. Next, a traditional tool (called a kistka) is used to apply melted beeswax to
Brown vs. White Eggs
The color of eggshells depends on the breed of the chicken. White Leghorns lay white-shelled eggs. Plymouth Rocks and Rhode Island Reds lay brown-shelled eggs. Some breeds, such as the Araucana (originated in Chile), Ameraucana (developed in the United States, derived from Araucana of Chile), or Dongxiang and Lushi (both from China), lay blue or blue-green eggs. The different eggshell colors come from pigments that hens produce. The main pigment in brown eggshells is called protoporphyrin IX. It’s made from heme, the compound that gives blood its red color.
Many people have a preference when it comes to egg color. Some believe that brown eggs are healthier or more natural, while others are convinced that white eggs are cleaner or simply taste better. But are the differences between brown and white eggs more than shelldeep? The truth is, all eggs are nutritionally very similar, regardless of their size, grade, or color. There is no nutritional difference between brown and white eggs. However, a hen’s diet and environment can affect an egg’s nutrition.
Does one color of egg taste better? Some swear that brown eggs taste better, while others prefer the taste of white eggs. But just as with nutritional content, there is no real difference between the taste of brown- and while-shelled eggs.
any areas of the egg that are to retain the shell color—the wax seals off the section from the dye. The egg is dipped in the first dye.
Wax is continually added, and the egg is continuously dipped into different colors to achieve the desired design. When dry,
the beeswax is melted off with a candle, revealing the colorful, intricate patterns. Pysanky are often varnished to preserve them before being displayed.
The symbols found on pysanky eggs carry particular meanings. Triangles, for example, represent the Holy Trinity. Chicks can represent fertility, and deer represent strength. Traditionally, the designs are chosen to represent the character of the person to whom the egg will be given. The colors of pysanky eggs also hold special meanings. Red can symbolize happiness, love, hope of marriage, passion, or blood. White is associated with light, purity, or birth. Blue symbolizes the sky or good health, while green suggests spring, hope, or renewal. Yellow is associated with the celestial bodies—sun, moon, stars—as well as with harvesttime and warmth. Endurance and strength are expressed in orange. Brown symbolizes mother earth, while black suggests eternity or the afterlife.
The Ukrainian pysanky eggs shown here are from a collection of the author. Photos by Alan Reed, O.S.B.
Benedictine Volunteer Corps
Evan Mattson
Kibeho, Rwanda
Along with my fellow volunteer, Ian Aadland, I was blessed to be a member of the Benedictine Volunteer Corps, serving at Monastère de Gihindamuyaga, a Benedictine community of some forty monks founded in 1958 in Butare, Rwanda. I taught English and art at a primary school, prayed in three languages twice a day, and performed other tasks for the monastery as needed. Last August, during my second day in the country, I had the opportunity to celebrate the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Kibeho, Rwanda. It would prove to be a monumental experience for me personally.
Located in southern Rwanda, Kibeho is a symbol of hope and of sorrow. The small town is famous as the site at which the Virgin Mary, under the name “Nyina wa Jambo” (Mother of the Word), appeared to young girls between 1981 and 1989. It is also infamous for the Kibeho Massacre in April 1995, when several thousand internally displaced people were killed by the Rwandan Patriotic Army.
The Assumption festivities in Kibeho began while I was still fighting sleep deprivation after almost thirty hours of international travel. I was quickly introduced to the unique manner of timekeeping in Africa. On the bus to Kibeho (which left
Celebration of hope in Kibeho
nearly 45 minutes later than we were told), I didn’t know how long or how far we were going, but the monks sang beautiful hymns in French and Kinyarwanda throughout our journey. I was mesmerized by the surroundings, the beautiful hills, the number of people walking along the highway—and the people we would pick up on our way. Before leaving, I had asked how many people were going to be there—thinking perhaps a few hundred. The brothers laughed at me and proceeded to tell me that there would be thousands. Upon arrival in Kibeho, we were dropped off about a half mile from the church. Buses had been lining the roads for a couple of miles already, and thousands of people surrounded us, but since Gihindamuyaga Monastery is a religious order, we were able to move to the front of the line.
For me and for the native population, the occasion was mutually surreal. Many of the locals, and especially the children, had never encountered a white
person. Based on the number of handshakes, pictures, high fives, and “hellos” exchanged, one would have thought that I was the president of a country! One of the brothers cautioned me not to keep my wallet in my pocket, as it could be easily stolen. Yet, there I was with my iPhone and wallet, strolling through a crowd—estimated to number between 60,000 and 85,000 people!—from Tanzania, Burundi, Uganda, and even a few European pilgrims from Germany and Poland. As for my personal appearance, because not all my luggage had arrived at the airport, I was wearing a woven hat with a giant bow on the front along with my collegiate red Tommy 2 t-shirt that featured a Johnnie rat on the front.
The liturgical life of Rwanda is amazing! Once the Mass started, we sang and danced nonstop for about five hours! We listened to several speeches during the Mass, translated into French, Kinyarwanda, and English. In his homily, Bishop
Célestin Hakizimana urged the members of the assembly to distance themselves from the many temptations of daily life and instead to share the Good Word. Initially, clouds were covering the area, but at one point, the sun peeked through those clouds, and everyone went crazy. The women ululated loudly and beautifully. The people believed that Mary was reaching out to them through the warm touch of the sun. You could feel the hope in the air—a hope that accompanied all of us as we returned to our homes after the celebration.
That feeling of hope is all the more amazing and uplifting because of the sad history of Rwanda and especially of Kibeho. Beginning in 1981, the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to three girls—Alphonsine Mumureke, Nathalie Mukamazimpaka, and Marie Claire Mukangango—in Kibeho. In the visions, Mary urged penance and fasting for the conversion of sinners, frequent recitation of the rosary, and endless prayers. The apparitions were not expressions of beauty, however, but of sorrow. The girls also saw violent images, including rivers of blood and slaughtered bodies—a prophetic vision of the Rwandan Genocide that would occur a few years later.
In April 1994 the message of the apparitions became real through the Rwandan Genocide—the murder of more than 500,000 (perhaps as many as 800,000) Tutsis in one hundred
days. Hundreds of thousands of women were victims of sexual assault. Following the genocide, a camp for internally displaced persons was opened in Kibeho, where conflict broke out among the Rwanda Patriotic Front (Tutsi) and the Hutu people in the camp, resulting in hundreds to thousands more deaths.
There are many explanations or theories as to why the genocide happened and how the post-genocide period might have gone better. For Rwandans to be reconciled and to continue
moving forward with their lives is a testament to their faith.
Despite the horrific past, hope for the future is strong at Kibeho. The celebration of the feast of the Assumption serves as a reminder not to lose faith. The people of Kibeho confirm that it is possible to live through the battles between hope and sorrow—and hope will win.
Mr. Evan Mattson, a political science major from Aurora, Minnesota, is a 2024 graduate of Saint John’s University.
Father Nickolas Kleespie, BVC alumnus, is spending a sabbatical at Hanga (Saint Maurus Abbey), Tanzania. He has been warmly welcomed by the Benedictine community and by current Benedictine Volunteers Jacob Gathje (left) and Max Doom.
Jubilee Year 2025
Aaron Raverty, O.S.B.
Originating with our Jewish forebears, the jubilee year is an especially sacred time emphasizing reconciliation and renewal. We can trace the beginnings of the jubilee to the Old Testament, especially Leviticus 25, which is suffused with calls for social justice and moral rectitude. This holy period included the Mosaic Law prescription that slaves could regain their freedom and that the land, which really belonged to God, should be returned—in the interests of a more equitable distribution—to its former owners. Debts were remitted during the jubilee year, and normally cultivated fields were allowed to lie fallow so that they could regenerate to produce a rich future harvest.
Jubilee Year 2025 was proclaimed by Pope Francis in Spes non confundit (“Hope does not disappoint”) in May 2024. Pope Francis formally inaugurated the observance by opening the Holy Door at Saint Peter’s Basilica at the Vatican during the Christmas Eve liturgy. Several days later he opened a door at a Roman prison and at several major basilicas. He requested that bishops around the world celebrate the opening of this jubilee on Holy Family Sunday, 29 December 2024. It will close on Epiphany, 6 January 2026.
Pilgrimage is a basic component of jubilee years. Pilgrimages usually have a terminus—a holy
site or designated shrine. The Rome Tourism website notes that “Millions of pilgrims from around the world will converge on Rome to participate in religious ceremonies, cross the holy doors of the main basilicas (Saint Peter’s, Saint John Lateran, Saint Paul Outside the Walls, and Saint Mary Major), and experience a powerful moment of prayer and conversion.” For Catholics, the jubilee has all the marks of what anthropologists would describe as a “rite of revitalization and intensification” (see Spes non confundit, §5). Besides the many spiritual and liturgical events designating a jubilee, it is also a time for attending to essential construction upgrades to the urban environment of Rome. Divine and infrastructural improvements complement one another!
At the core of Jubilee 2025 are the expectations of social justice. Pope Francis wants to apply the fruits of this holy season especially to the disenfranchised: prisoners, the sick, migrants, exiles and refugees, the poor. The observance should be accompanied by works of mercy and works of penance.
In ancient Jewish practice, the jubilee year occurred every fifty years. In the Christian era, after the first Jubilee of 1300, Pope Boniface VIII fixed the frequency of jubilee celebrations to every
one hundred years. In 1470, Pope Paul II declared that ordinary jubilees were to be celebrated every twenty-five years. Extraordinary jubilees still occasionally punctuate the continuum of jubilee—such as the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy in 2015–2016.
The motto for Jubilee Year 2025 is summed up in the opening words of Spes non confundit: “Hope does not disappoint.” Pope Francis chose this theme because he is eager to stimulate a renewal of hope in the faithful. Why hope? The global surge in violence has alerted the pope to the great desire for peace in the world. He longs to instill a deeper sense of hope among all peoples: for those enmeshed in any form of slavery (including addictions), for victims of war and violence, for the poor, for prisoners. A sense of hope also needs to be extended in the face
of the grave ecological challenges that loom before us.
The pope has encouraged all dioceses to create their own celebrations of the Jubilee 2025. In the Saint Cloud Diocese (to which Saint John’s belongs), pilgrimage sites have been designated, and wayfarers will be equipped with a special “Jubilee Passport: Pilgrims of Hope.” A distinct jubilee logo has been designed to earmark many events, and a Jubilee 2025: Pilgrims of Hope Millennium Cross is also part of the observance. The special
Jubilee Cross that had been crafted specifically for the Diocese of Saint Cloud to welcome the new millennium (Jubilee Year 2000) was refurbished for the Jubilee 2025 inaugural Mass in December. Originally designed and crafted by local artist and abbey organ builder K. C. Marrin, the cross includes a relic of the True Cross.
Saint Cloud Bishop Patrick Neary, C.S.C., in the General Decree Crux spes nobis (“The cross, our hope”) calls upon the faithful of the local diocese to engage in pilgrimages and visits to sacred spaces and
especially “to bear the burdens of our neighbors” by “visiting those in need or difficulty, such as the homebound, prisoners, or the ill; fasting for a day from virtual distractions such as media and social networks; making a donation of time or treasure to the poor, to works of the Church, or to the service of the whole human community” (§2).
Brother Aaron Raverty, O.S.B., a member of the Abbey Banner editorial staff, is the author of Refuge in Crestone: A Sanctuary for Interreligious Dialogue (Lexington Books, 2014).
With the refurbished Jubilee Cross, hundreds gathered at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Saint Cloud for the official opening of the Jubilee Year of Hope on December 29.
Signs of Hope
During the Holy Year, we are called to be tangible signs of hope for those who experience hardships of any kind. I think of prisoners who, deprived of their freedom, daily feel [a] lack of affection and lack of respect for their persons (§10).
Signs of hope should also be shown to the sick. Their sufferings can be allayed by the closeness and affection of those who visit them. Gratitude should likewise be shown to healthcare workers who carry out their mission with constant care and concern for the sick and for those who are most vulnerable (§11).
Signs of hope should also be present for migrants who leave their homelands behind in search of a better life for themselves and for their families. A spirit of welcome, which embraces everyone with respect for his or her dignity, should be accompanied by a sense of responsibility, lest anyone be denied the right to a dignified existence (§13).
I ask with all my heart that hope be granted to the billions of the poor, who often lack the essentials of life, [who may be] homeless or lack sufficient food for the day [or] suffer from exclusion and indifference (§15).
Pope Francis, Spes non confundit
Dianne Towalski/The Central Minnesota Catholic
Heart Matters: Dilexit Nos, Antiqua et Nova
Micah D. Kiel
Some aspects of Catholic piety don’t intuitively make a lot of sense to me—such as the religious art related to the Sacred Heart that depicts Jesus in vivid color, arms outstretched, over-conditioned hair, with light sabers shooting from his heart. Pope Francis to the rescue! His 2024 encyclical, Dilexit Nos (He Loved Us), prompted me to rethink devotion to the Sacred Heart. This writing is a tour de force in how it explains the importance of the heart in Christian tradition.
The origins of modern devotion to the Sacred Heart begin with Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque in 1675, but the scope for Dilexit Nos is all of Church history and Scripture. Francis discusses key figures in Church tradition: Saints Augustine, Bernard, Thérèse of Lisieux, Charles de Foucauld, and the Jesuits en masse, who were known for special cultivation of this devotion. The number of references to the “heart” in Scripture impressed even me, a biblical scholar. The breadth of Dilexit Nos helped me see that the heart has always been at the heart of everything.
The human heart matters because it is where our innermost being resides. The heart makes us who we are, shapes our spiritual identities, and puts us into communion with other people (§14). The heart is the seat of our passions, our longings, and our deepest desires.
It’s our heart that is restless until it rests in God (to paraphrase Augustine). The heart of Christ matters because it sets a pattern of activity for our own hearts. Francis points out how Jesus’ heart was always oriented toward others—reminiscent of Paul’s Letter to Philemon (a scriptural heart reference that Francis does not mention). Hoping for reconciliation, Paul sends Onesimus, a runaway slave, back to his owner. Paul refers to this recalcitrant slave as “my very heart” (Philemon 1:12). In our heart simmers the “mysterious connection between self-knowledge and openness to others, between the encounter with ones’ personal uniqueness and the willingness to give oneself to others” (§18).
I’m struck by how Benedictine Dilexit Nos is. Recall the first line of the Rule of Saint Benedict: “Listen, my son, to your master’s precepts, and incline the ear of your heart” (Prol.1). Benedict turns to the image of the heart repeatedly, particularly in his chapters on good works (RB 4), on humility (RB 7), and on prayer (RB 20). Unfortunately, Pope Francis makes no mention of Benedict in Dilexit Nos, despite all the references to significant figures in the Church who provide insight into the mystery of the heart. I suspect most devotees to Benedictine values and practices will fill this lacuna naturally, for our commitment to stability, hospitality, and awareness of God—our prayer and work—all begin in
our innermost selves. As was the case for Jesus himself, our actions and the patterns of our lives begin with “deep emotion” (§16).
One of Francis’ gifts is his ability to translate Church theology and traditions into pithy insights that challenge how we live our lives. Dilexit Nos is no exception. Francis refers to our world as “liquid,” one in which we are “immersed in societies of serious consumers who live from day to day, dominated by the hectic pace and bombarded by technology.” This makes it impossible to have the “patience needed to engage in the processes that an interior life by its very nature requires” (§9). Our increasingly tech-dominated world, the pope suggests, is not in the “heart” business.
Sacred Heart of Jesus, painting by Pompeo Batoni, 1767
Fast forward to January 2025. With Francis’ blessing, the dicasteries for the Doctrine of the Faith and for Culture and Education published Antiqua et Nova (Ancient and New), Vatican guidelines on Artificial Intelligence (AI). The topic dominates our headlines, sends shocks through the stock market, and upends industries. (For example, AI’s ubiquity and ability has forced me completely to rethink how I teach and evaluate undergraduate students.) The Vatican’s nota on AI sounds many warnings and offers insights
This image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus was carved, using his fingernails, by Stefan Jasienski (1914–1945) into the wall of his cell at the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp in which he died. Abbey archives
´
about a thoughtful, humane, and moral implementation of this new technology. It’s overall framing, however, cautions us to be careful about how we use the word “intelligence.” While AI can perform tasks, it does not have “the ability to think” (AN §12). (I know many engineers and philosophers who would disagree with this conclusion, but the Church’s view here has to do with the origin of human intelligence.)
Humans are not disembodied brains; we are more than a complex connection of neurons. Human intelligence is embodied: “the entire human person is both material and spiritual” (AN §16). And hence the connection between AI and the encyclical. Antiqua et Nova is built on the foundation of Dilexit Nos. Because our hearts put us into communion with others, we are built for love, for experience, and for deep longing. In this way, “true intelligence is shaped by divine love, which ‘is poured forth into our hearts by the Holy Spirit’” (AN §29; Romans 5:5). To put this another way, AI has no heart. It can never be intelligent and can never be human. The “A” is important—it will always remain artificial because AI lacks the “richness of corporeality, relationality, and the openness of the human heart to truth and goodness” (AN §33).
The final paragraphs of the Vatican’s document on AI are riddled with references to Dilexit Nos. It is in our hearts that
“each individual discovers the ‘mysterious connection between self-knowledge and openness to others, between the encounter with one’s personal uniqueness and the willingness to give oneself to others’” (AN §107; DN §18).
While AI is new—and it is not going away—I suspect its challenge is not all that different from the one that the young Benedict faced. Sent to Rome and confronted with the problematic patterns of the world, Benedict decided to live differently. We must do the same. The only true antidote to the problems of AI, and technology in general, is a return to the heart: the place where we listen, where we meet God, and the place from which we are dispatched to receive all as Christ.
Dr. Micah D. Kiel, associate professor of theology at Saint John’s University School of Theology and the College of Saint Benedict, is the author of Be Transformed: A Biblical Journey Toward a More Just World and Apocalyptic Ecology: The Book of Revelation, the Earth, and the Future, both published by Liturgical Press.
Because our hearts put us into communion with others, we are built for love, for experience, and for deep longing.
Migrants
Francis, Bishop of Rome
The journey from slavery to freedom that the People of Israel traveled, as narrated in the Book of Exodus, invites us to look at the reality of our time, so clearly marked by the phenomenon of migration, as a decisive moment in history to reaffirm not only our faith in a God who is always close, incarnate, migrant, and refugee, but also the infinite and transcendent dignity of every person (§1).
Jesus Christ is the true Emmanuel (Matthew 1:23); he did not live apart from the difficult experience of being expelled from his own land because of an imminent risk to his life, and from the experience of having to take refuge in a society and a culture foreign to his own. The Son of God, in becoming man, also chose to live the drama of immigration (§2).
Jesus Christ, loving everyone, educates us in the permanent recognition of the dignity of every human being, without exception. All are called upon to consider the legitimacy of norms and public policies in the light of the dignity of the person and his or her fundamental rights (§3).
I have followed closely the crisis that is taking place in the United States with the initiation of a
This article is excerpted from a letter of Pope Francis to the bishops of the United States, 10 February 2025.
The family of Nazareth in exile—Jesus, Mary and Joseph—emigrants in Egypt and refugees there to escape the wrath of an ungodly king, are the model, the example, and the consolation of emigrants and pilgrims of every age and country, of all refugees of every condition who, beset by persecution or necessity, are forced to leave their homeland, beloved family, and dear friends for foreign lands.
Pope Pius XII, Exsul Familia, 1 August 1952
program of mass deportations. The rightly formed conscience cannot fail to make a critical judgment and express its disagreement with any measure that tacitly or explicitly identifies the illegal status of some migrants with criminality. At the same time, one must recognize the right of a nation to defend itself and keep communities safe from those who have committed violent or serious crimes. That said, the act of deporting people who in many cases have left their own land for reasons of extreme poverty, insecurity, exploitation, persecution or serious deterioration of the environment, damages the dignity of many men, women, and families (§4).
An authentic rule of law is verified precisely in the dignified treatment that all people deserve, especially the poorest and most marginalized. The true common good is promoted when society and government, with creativity and strict respect for the rights of all, welcomes, protects, promotes, and integrates the most fragile, unprotected, and vulnerable (§5).
The true ordo amoris [order of love] that must be promoted is that which we discover by
meditating on the parable of the “Good Samaritan” (Luke 10:25–37), that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception (§6).
I exhort all the faithful, all men and women of good will, not to give in to narratives that discriminate against and cause unnecessary suffering to our migrant and refugee brothers and sisters. We are all called to live in solidarity and fraternity, to build bridges that bring us ever closer together, to avoid walls of ignominy, and to learn to give our lives as Jesus Christ gave his for the salvation of all (§9).
Flight into Egypt by Henry Ossawa Tanner (1859–1937)
ule of Benedict
Eric Hollas, O.S.B.
Was Saint Benedict a Pelagian?
Ascan of the Rule of Saint Benedict confirms his familiarity with the Bible. But what of Benedict’s debt to the theological traditions of his day? He admits his reliance on many Eastern writers, but the West had far fewer resources. Still, among those few, he could scarcely avoid the teaching of a monk and theologian named Pelagius (c. 354–418).
Pelagius argued that humans could achieve moral perfection, because Jesus would not have commanded perfection were people incapable of it. From Pelagian theology many concluded that monastic life offered the surest way to heaven. All one need do is follow the daily regimen, and heaven’s gates would open on arrival! How did this figure in Benedict’s thinking?
Pelagius raised questions that Benedict and Christians have mulled over ever since. If, for example, God gives us free will, is it mandatory that we strive for moral perfection? If individuals are capable of this, does that make irrelevant the sacrifice on the Cross and the ministry of the Church? Conversely, if there is no free will, then by implication all is preordained by God, and there is no point in trying. To that conundrum came a response variously attributed to Saints Augustine, Ignatius of Loyola, and others: “Pray as if everything depended on God; and work as if everything depended on you.”
It is in the Prologue of the Rule where Benedict seems to show his theological hand. “Whatever good work you begin . . . , beg of him with most earnest prayer to perfect it” (Prol.4). He adds that “the good which is in them cannot come from themselves and must be from the Lord” (Prol.29), concluding: “ask God . . . to give us the help of his grace for anything which our nature finds hardly possible” (Prol. 41).
If the observance of the monastic way of life in no way binds God’s decision-making power, then what is the point of it all? Benedict does not suggest that monks earn their way to heaven by the observance of the Rule. Rather, his school of the Lord’s service provides a relational, almost familial approach to God. It is in this school that the search for God takes place, and at every turn monks strive to see the face of Christ in all whom they meet.
Benedict’s monastery is not a place where monks earn merit badges for entry into the kingdom of heaven. Rather, it provides a way of life in which we walk with God—a pilgrimage that begins now and continues into eternity.
Father Eric Hollas, O.S.B., is the prior of Saint John’s Abbey.
Aidan Putnam
Saint John’s Currency
Denys Janiga, O.S.B.
In the early days of America, prior to the United States becoming a country, paper money and coins were varied and non-standardized and usually produced in Europe. As a result, Native Americans and European settlers often engaged in trade and bartering, especially in goods like food, tobacco, or furs. Paper currency was first introduced by the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the late seventeenth century and was used to fund military expeditions. During the American Revolution, the Continental Congress issued paper money (referred to as “Continentals”) to help finance the war. Legislation was passed during the eighteenth century that began shaping how people obtained goods and services. In 1792, for instance, the passage of the Coinage Act authorized the United States Mint to produce copper, silver, and gold coins of different denominations.
During the nineteenth century, a wide range of entities—including states, cities, counties, towns, parishes, and banks—issued banknotes, that is, forms of currency that one party can use to pay another party. In 1861 the United States government issued its first formal paper money known as “demand notes,” which it used to help finance the Civil War. The next year saw the passage of the Legal Tender Act, and these demand notes were deemed legal tender—officially recognized by law as valid for
settling debts and financial obligations. Thus began the nationalization of currency.
Another type of money printed across the United States during the 1800s was referred to as “college currency.” Business colleges would print their own notes to teach students about banking and accounting. Students used the notes to count, record transactions, and manage deposits. This allowed them to acquire practical, hands-on experience working with money. In addition to the United States, college currencies were in use in Australia, Canada, Great Britain, Indonesia, and Mexico.
Beginning in 1872, Saint John’s operated a commercial department (grandiloquently styled the Commercial College) and printed its own currency! According to the student newspaper, the commercial college was “equipped
with an emporium, a college bank, and all the improvements of modern invention” (The Record, April 1897). Commercial schools had become a necessity across the United States during the nineteenth century because businesses needed skilled workers to fill the positions of the rising clerical sector and help with administrative duties. They required a labor force that had received training in bookkeeping and accountancy. Father Norbert Hofbauer (1854–1901), a monk of Saint John’s Abbey, attended a commercial school in Pittsburgh to receive special training that provided him with the skills and knowledge to run the St. John’s Commercial College. In the early 1870s, the commercial school developed a master of accounts diploma. According to Father Colman Barry, author of Saint John’s centennial history, Worship and Work, this program offered
The blessings of an abundant harvest are featured on the St. John’s College Bank ten-cent note.
Denys Janiga, O.S.B./Abbey archives
lectures on commercial law by “outstanding” Minnesota lawyers, and lectures on banking by bankers (111).
As part of their training, master of accounts diploma students were required to operate a store and a bank. Each student would receive St. John’s College currency as capital to operate a business with transactions. For transactions, a student “bought and sold goods, drew checks, notes and drafts, deposited money and discounted notes at the bank, opened and closed his books according to the different forms of bookkeeping” (Worship and Work, 111). These exercises enabled students to acquire skills in running a business and implementing accounting practices.
Saint John’s University proudly proclaims its liberal arts heritage, but the commercial school of the late 1800s confirms that early on the Benedictine monks of Collegeville found a way to balance liberal arts education with training in practical skills that would assist graduates in the job market. In addition to pursuing courses in bookkeeping and accountancy, students took courses in “religion, English, German, French, elocution, rhetoric, penmanship, geography, history, chemistry, and natural philosophy” (111). Among the first graduates of the program were “Frank Schlick and William Hamm of Saint Paul who went on to distinguish themselves in department store and brewery business in that city” (111). By
1897, 522 students had graduated from the commercial school.
Saint John’s currency expresses a style that reflects the era, including images of riverboats, farming, and metallurgy—farming and metal work were performed by monks as a source of sustenance and revenue. Other images include tree removal for lumber, baskets of produce, and local wildlife. The paper currency came in denominations of 1¢, 3¢, 10¢, 25¢, 50¢, $1, $2, $5, $10, and $50. None of the notes in the abbey’s collection provides a year or date; four have the signature of Abbot Alexius Edelbrock. Each states that it “will pay the bearer in tuition.”
Books have been published on the topic of college currency that inform our understanding of its use. In A History and Catalog of Minnesota Obsolete Bank Notes and Scrip, author R. Shawn Hewitt identifies the various currencies in Minnesota from the era of the Minnesota Territory to the Great Depression, including banknotes, various kinds of scrip (municipal, company, labor exchange), advertising notes, and college currency. In College Currency: Money for Business Training, authors Herb and Martha Schingoethe explore college currency in the nineteenth and early twentieth century by looking at its history, design, and how it has become a collector’s item. Both books mention the St. John’s College Bank and provide
photos of the paper notes. Due to their rarity, historical importance, condition and design, and possible ties to alma maters, college currencies are appealing to collectors. The catalog value of the Saint John’s notes ranged from $200 to $400 when A History and Catalog was published in 2006. In addition, that book includes a photo of a St. John’s College 3¢ denomination signed by Abbot Bernard Locnikar that is not in the Saint John’s Abbey Archives.
College currencies of the nineteenth century offer a portal into the intersection of education, economics, and the wider social and cultural setting. Guided by a spirit of self-reliance and creativity, Saint John’s discovered a way to balance its liberal arts heritage with the practical work of accountancy. And you can bank on it!
The Minnesota Benedictines began early in their educational effort to assist Catholic immigrants and their sons to enter the mushrooming American business world with solid and recognized training.
Colman Barry, O.S.B Worship and Work, 112
St. John’s Commercial College
Beginning in 1872, Saint John’s Commercial College printed its own currency in denominations ranging from one cent to fifty dollars and including images as varied as a riverboat, harvest or farming scenes, wildlife, and lumbering.
The 50-dollar note features the steamboat “City of St. Paul.” Fifty dollars in 1880 had the equivalent purchasing power of about $1550 today.
Perhaps anticipating the establishment of the Saint John’s Abbey Arboretum—and the overbrowsing of its vegetation by hungry deer—the two-dollar note (detail, opposite page) includes a lumberjack with an ax, while the image on the fifty-cent note (right) shows one of the critters that survived the annual hunt.
The twenty-five-cent note bears the signature of Abbot Alexius Edelbrock (abbatial tenure: 1875–1889), president of Saint John’s College.
The three-cent denomination that appears in A History and Catalog of Minnesota Obsolete Bank Notes and Scrip is signed by Abbot Bernard Locnikar (abbatial tenure: 1890–1894).
Photos by Denys Janiga, O.S.B.
Early Risers
John Geissler
Sunlight, the fuel for plant growth, is a precious commodity on the forest floor for most of the summer months. As a result, in a deciduous forest, the window of opportunity for the growth of small wildflowers is early spring before the full canopy of tree and shrub leaves develop overhead. As maple syrup season draws to a close and tree-planting season gets underway (typically in late April or May), I enjoy trying to find the collection of spring woodland wildflowers (called “spring ephemerals”) that have adapted to flower early, get pollinated, and produce seed within just a few weeks.
One of the first spring ephemerals to emerge from the leaf litter in the Saint John’s Abbey Arboretum is the round-lobed hepatica (Anemone americana). Hepatica is an unusual wildflower in that it holds its
evergreen leaves all the way through the winter. This adaptation allows the plant to be instantly ready to start photosynthesizing when the snow melts—an advantage that yields a kickstart of energy for early flowering and growth.
The second interesting spring ephemeral I would like to highlight is bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis). I have accidentally cut the tuber of this plant while planting trees, and it is easy to see how it got its name—the root really does “bleed” a bright red sap when cut! Those who are lucky enough to be in the right place on a sunny afternoon to see a patch of bloodroot in bloom should be sure to stop and enjoy the crisp white flowers of this short-lived beauty. The flowers will be there for a day or two only. On closer inspection you will notice that four petals are longer and four petals are shorter, yielding a unique squareshaped flower when viewed from
above. After the flower blooms and subsequently produces seed, bloodroot (and many of the other wildflowers highlighted in this article) produce tiny food packets called “elaiosomes” attached to their seeds to attract ants. The ants and their larvae love to feed on this seed coating and then return the favor to the plant by discarding the remaining seed in their underground waste area. This is a perfect place for the seeds to germinate and grow. What a clever method for attracting and rewarding ants to plant your seed!
Another notable spring ephemeral in the abbey arboretum is Dutchman’s breeches (Dicentra cucullaria). This was a favorite of arboretum founder Father Paul Schwietz. Dutchman’s breeches are unusual flowers that remind botanists of baggy
John Geissler
Round-lobed Hepatica (Anemone americana)
John Geissler
Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis)
to enjoy the new life and beauty of some of these early risers springing forth in the deciduous forest. Their short-lived nature makes them all the more rewarding to see. (I am eager to get a picture of an ant carrying one of those “to go” seed food packets or a close-up of a queen bee visiting a spring ephemeral for its first meal after winter. Please email me photos if you are lucky enough to observe any of these: jgeissler001@csbsju.edu
Mr. John Geissler is the land manager of Saint John’s Abbey and director of Saint John’s Outdoor University.
pants hung upside down to dry on a clothesline. The flower shape is built for pollination from long-tongued pollinators such as bumblebees. If you see a bumblebee in early spring, you are most likely in the midst of royalty, since queen bumblebees are the only ones to survive the
winter. You will notice these very large queen bees flying low to the ground looking for spring wildflowers, like Dutchman’s breeches, and potential nesting areas.
As we enter spring, I hope our readers will have the opportunity
The bloodroot seed/elaiosome photo above was provided courtesy of Diane Porter, www.birdwatching.com. To view more of her photography and learn of her love of birds, native plants, and other wildlife, see her nature blog, My Gaia, https://mygaia.substack.com
On the outside of their seeds, bloodroots produce tiny food packets (elaiosomes— the white-speckled gummy portion) to attract ants. Enlarged here to show detail.
Diane Porter/www.birdwatching.com
Dutchman’s Breeches (Dicentra cucullaria)
Catie Drew/Wikimedia Commons
Meet a Monk: Edward Vebelun
Timothy Backous, O.S.B.
In every monastery, there are a few confreres who are so naturally gifted with certain talents and abilities that it seems they were born for the roles they play in supporting the community. For Father Edward Vebelun, O.S.B., the call to shepherd parishioners appears to exist in his DNA. He’s a natural at meeting, conversing, and supporting the people he leads in his cluster of parishes in central Minnesota known as Harvest of Hope Area Catholic Community (Church of Seven Dolors, Albany; Church of Saint Benedict, Avon; Saint Anthony Parish, Saint Anthony;
Church of Saint Martin, Saint Martin; Oratory of Saint Catherine, Farming). There he is recognized as a gentle and tireless pastor who lives and breathes his Benedictine vocation in the midst of a continuously frenetic and demanding atmosphere.
Born to a family of dairy farmers near Lisbon, Ohio, in the eastern part of the state, Edward was the third of five children raised by Russ and Mary Vebelun. He and his siblings grew up in the rolling hill country of the Appalachian Mountains. Because his family was deeply rooted in the Catholic tradition, he attended college at the University of Dayton (Ohio), a Marianist institution where, he says, “my worldview was expanded by the friends I made, sociological studies, and service and justice-oriented activities.” After college, he went on to Pueblo, Colorado, as a Vida Volunteer to work in a homeless
shelter and a Latino parish. It was at this point in his life that Edward was already experiencing the seeds of a vocation when he first visited Saint John’s Abbey for what was known in those days as a Monastic Experience Program. In his words, that visit provided some clarity when he realized “the pieces of my life story seemed to fit together here.”
After completing a postulancy program, Edward entered the abbey’s novitiate and professed his first vows as a Benedictine monk a year later, 14 September 1995. As part of his monastic formation, he worked at Saint John’s University Campus Ministry and taught at Saint John’s Preparatory School. Through these experiences, along with the urging of confreres, “a call to the priesthood began to surface.” As he remembers, it was “the desire to study theology that propelled me to seminary. ”
During his theological studies, he was given a chance to spend
Vebelun archives
Vebelun archives
Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon, 2024
Ministering to the faithful of Japan
a summer at the abbey’s priory in Japan. It turned out to be one of the most important decisions of his life. Edward reflects: “It was an exciting time there, as the community was building a new foundation in Fujimi that would be called Trinity Benedictine Monastery. Then Abbot Timothy Kelly asked me if I might consider being a part of this foundation, and I could not think of any reason why I would not want to. So, I suspended seminary studies to move to Japan and begin language studies.” He goes on to explain: “The people of Japan formed me anew. As challenging as it was to be immersed in a new culture, I loved everything about it, and I dedicated myself to learning the language. In a vision of enculturation, I spent two years at a Japanese seminary in Tokyo, Sei Antonio. The priesthood felt like it would be a small corner of my monastic identity until I was ordained in June 2004. It only took one Mass with a local Filipino community, and I felt deeply the scriptural adage, ‘Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope’” (1 Peter 3:15).
Trinity Benedictine Monastery closed in 2016, but Father Edward has fond memories of his service in Japan. “It felt like nothing to me to spend six hours on a train each weekend to do ministry in Yokohama, or wherever I was invited. Mass in Japanese in the morning; English, Tagalog, or Spanish in the
afternoon. I loved the feeling—like all my efforts were put into living and proclaiming the Gospel, and I was enchanted by the unmerited privilege of gaining an important place in the lives of people of every age, race, and ethnic background. So, upon returning to Minnesota, the most natural part of Saint John’s vast web of apostolic activities for me to participate in was the local parishes surrounding the abbey. It is clear to me how mutually beneficial that relationship has always been for our many decades of history together.”
Edward’s story is a fine example of how important the Benedictine vow of stability is. Even though we may be sent to the far reaches of the world and then return home many years later only to be sent to a local parish, we are still monks of Saint John’s to our core. No matter where we serve, at some point the road will take us back to Collegeville! Father Edward reflects on that reality when he observes: “Since I live and minister just a few miles down I-94 from Saint John’s, it is easy to get back to
the abbey often and participate in community life. The people of the communities I am privileged to be a part of continue to expand my understanding of God and enrich my desire to seek God through the monastic life.” He concludes his reflection by citing the letters that adorn one of the towers of the quadrangle at Saint John’s: I O G D (“so that in all things God may be glorified” [Rule 57.9; 1 Peter 4:11]).
Vebelun archives
No task is too big for the Benedictines of the Harvest of Hope community.
Monastic Timekeeping
Cyprian Weaver, O.S.B.
Water Clocks
What do early commentaries on the Rule of Benedict have to say about timekeeping? Writing about 845, Hildemar of Corbie touches upon an array of monastic topics in his Expositio, including some specific references to timekeeping with both the sundial and water clocks. The only images found in the manuscript are those of crudely hand-drawn sundials that emphasize the specifics of the hour in chapter 8 of the Rule (On the Divine Office During the Night) and chapter 48 (On the Daily Manual Labor), both specifying times for the respective duties. Regarding the water clock (of chapter 8), the text interprets Benedict’s meaning of the phrase “the brethren shall rise at what is calculated to be the eighth hour of the night.” In doing so, the author notes the lines and spaces of the sundial as they correlate with hours: “It must be noted that because those spaces are hours, for the lines are not hours, but the end of the hours.” He then adds: “He who wishes to do this rationally needs a water clock.”
Unlike sundials that depended exclusively upon solar illumination, water clocks were crafted in a variety of ways from vessels whereby time is measured by a regulated flow of water, either into or exiting from a vessel by which the amount of water can be measured and used both during the day and the night. As in the case of sundials, water clocks were likely used throughout the monasteries of the early and late medieval era. Another reference to the water clock comes from Jocelin of Brakelond’s Chronicle of the Abbey of St. Edmunds. Jocelin, an English Benedictine monk from Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk, England, maintained a personal diary narrating events between the years 1173 and 1202. These were not simply personal pious notations of monastic life but recorded practical as well as contentious nuances of daily life of a medieval religious community. For example, the following event played out during the night of 22 June 1198:
It happened, so we believe, that part of a repaired candle burnt out on the dais (between the shrine and the high altar), which was covered with hangings, and began to ignite all about it, above and below. Around the same time the clock struck for Matins, and the vestry master, on getting up, saw the fire and ran as fast as he could, and beat upon the board as if someone were dead, and shouted in a loud voice that the shrine was on fire. We all rushed up and met the incredible fierce flames that were engulfing the whole shrine and almost reaching up to the beams of the church. Our young monks ran for water, some to the rainwater tank, some to the clock.
This last source would have been water taken from the monastery water clock—the water clock that had just struck to announce the Office of Matins. Although we lack definitive technical insight as to how such water clocks evolved, we can assume that monastic versions probably followed general technological innovations. The earliest form of water clocks was derived at least conceptually from a form extending back to the Egyptians and Greeks and called the clepsydra or literally “water thief.” Bowl-like vessels measured time by regulated flow of water either into or exiting from a reservoir. We
Image of a water clock from Bible moralisée, c. 1250 [MS 270b, f° 183v°] at the Bodleian Libraries, Oxford
Commons
know that further modified clepsydra were implemented to serve the monastic horarium (schedule). Some were of the simplest construction, while others provided an acoustical system (small bells) to awaken the sacristan. For example, the life of the monks at the Abbey of Fruttuaria near Turin, Italy, was so commendable that they were requested to reform many older monasteries, including the Austrian Benedictine Abbey of Göttweig. It is from an excerpt of a customary written about 1100 by Fruttuaria monks for the community at Göttweig that we have the following description of the sacristan: “The sacristan rises in the night, when the clock strikes, and if the sky is clear, he looks at the stars of the sky. And if it is time to rise . . . he goes to the clock, pours water from a small cauldron into a larger one, pulls up the rope and lead, and then strikes the bell.” This account implies that the main horologium was a water clock designed with an acoustic device that roused the sacristan. The design would likely have had a lead counterweight that was connected to a float within the larger cauldron. Since the sacristan still had to ring the bell
manually, the acoustic device was separate from the horologium and was likely a smaller bell, similar to the scilla used to rouse his confreres in the dorm.
Notations from the Cluniac Rules of this same era imply that aural signals were as useful as visual ones, with vocabulary that included such terms as ad sonitum horologii and audito horologio (Anthony Turner, 2022). Furthermore, Cluniac texts indicate as well that the amplification had increased in signaling power (reaching farther distances), that the time could be read from the clock, and that the phrase signum vel horologium indicated that in some abbeys the horologium was connected to a bell. Even directives guiding festive occasions such as the abbatial election and ceremony at St. Albans Abbey in 1250 promulgated the ringing of bells, including among others the sonatibus burdones cum horologio (the bell connected to the abbey clock). In the 1162 ecclesiastical texts of Johannes Belethus, a noted liturgist and theologian, the author included the bell clock among his list of six specific bell types: squilla in refectorio, cymbalum in clustra, nola in choro, nolula vel duplula in horologio, campana in capanili, signa in turribus, each increasing in size (Gerhard Dohrn-van Rossum, 1998).
Perhaps the most famous representation of a water clock from this period appears in a miniature from the Bibles moralisées (c. 1250)[opposite page]. A water clock recaptures 2 Kings 20:5–11, where God provides King Hezekiah with a sign that he will be healed and his life will be extended by fifteen years. The dial would display the passage of time as the shadow moved in sync with the sun’s descent. The prophet Isaiah asked the king if he would rather see the sun go forwards (ten steps) or backwards (ten steps) on the dial of Ahaz as proof of the divine power of his message. The miracle was accomplished after the king made the latter choice. Although Ahaz’s dial was a sundial of some kind, the artist’s portrayal as a clock has provided us with the only view we have of a monastic water clock from the thirteenth century (C. B. Drover, 1980).
Another description of water clocks can be found on inscribed slates excavated in 1894 by Charles
The image, from the Golden Book of St Albans (c. 1380), depicts Abbot Richard of Wallingford pointing to a clock he gifted to St. Albans Abbey.
Leinad-Z/Wikimedia Commons
Licot among the ruins of the Cistercian Abbey of Villers-en-Brabant, Belgium—three slates with instructions given to the sacristan for the regulation of the abbey’s water clock and the ringing of the offices. As analyzed by Paul Sheridan, the dial had four equal parts with each part having twenty-four units, designated by letters of the alphabet (from A to Z, excluding J and V). Each letter represented twenty minutes. The letters corresponded to an artificial day starting at 6:00 P.M.—sunset on the equinox. This day was divided into three parts of eight hours each, each part containing twenty-four subdivisions designated by the letters. Thus resetting the clock first to the movement of the sun observed through the windows and the choir wall of the church, “always adjust the clock, however long you may delay above A; afterwards you pour water from the little pot (pottulo) that is there, into the reservoir (cacabum) until it reaches the prescribed level, and you must do the same when you set [the clock] after compline so that you may sleep soundly.” Obviously, the water clock had to be reset to correct deviation due to irregular water flow and drainage, the reasons for which arose from variations due to atmospheric pressure, temperature differences, and decreasing water level in the reservoir—as the reservoir emptied, the pressure decreased and the flow decreased. (By filling the container every evening at the same time, the sacristan only accumulated deviations. Had he filled it at varying times of the day, he could, to some extent, eliminate their cumulative impact.)
Mechanical Clocks
In the thirteenth century monastic water clocks were still in use but would soon share their task with, if not be quickly replaced by, a new way of measuring time: the weight-driven mechanical clock. Thought to have been invented in England in 1275 by an Italian monk, the earliest records of its public use came with the mechanical clock that was built and installed in 1283 at the Augustinian Dunstable Priory in Bedfordshire, England. While the innovation of weights that store potential energy was significant in producing kinetic energy that drove the gear
Abbot Richard of Wallingford, mathematician and inventor of a mechanical clock, is shown seated at his desk measuring with a pair of compasses. From a 14th-century history of the abbots of St. Albans by Thomas Walsingham.
wheels as they descended and that transferred the power, it was its escapement mechanism, the verge, whose force regulated the descent of the weights at regular intervals. This crucial innovative step must have occurred quite quickly because only a decade earlier the English astronomer Robertus Anglicus wrote in his commentary on De Sphaera Mundi of Johannes de Sacrobosco, a popular medieval astronomical text:
Nor is it possible for any clock (horologium) to follow the judgment of astronomy with complete accuracy. Yet clockmakers (artifices horologium) are trying to make a wheel which will make one complete revolution for every one of the equinoctial circles [the celestial equator], but they cannot quite perfect their work. If they could, it would be a really accurate clock and worth more than an astrolabe or other astronomical instrument for reckoning the hours, if one knew how to do this according to the method aforesaid.
In reality, the earliest description of an escapement, found in Richard of Wallingford’s 1327 manuscript Tractatus Horologii Astronomici, was not a verge, but a variation known as a strob escapement. Richard of Wallingford (1292–1336), Benedictine monk and later abbot of St. Albans Abbey, designed an astronomical clock for St. Albans. It was composed of a pair of escape wheels on the same axle, with alternating radial teeth. The verge rod was suspended between them, with a short crosspiece that rotated initially in one direction and subsequently in the other as the staggered teeth pressed past. It is conceivable that this was the initial clock escapement design, despite the absence of any other known examples. The first drawing of an escapement would follow in 1364 by Jacopo de’ Dondi.
The original Wallingford clock disappeared during the dissolution of the monastery in December 1539. A replica was built in the 1980s by members of the cathedral’s congregation and the St. Albans Engineering Society using manuscript copies of Richard’s detailed notes, held in the Bodleian Library.
Large mechanical clocks began to appear in churches of numerous cities during the early to mid-fourteenth century as attested to by Norwich Cathedral whose Sacristan’s Rolls included the financial records for the construction and installation of a large mechanical clock between 1321 and 1325 (John North, 1975). Although still being subject to both the driving force exerted by the weights and the friction in the drive meant a variance in oscillation time, the tintinnabulation of abbey bells regulated a life of prayer and work both inside the monasteries and outside in the towns that often surrounded them.
The medieval historian Jacques Le Goff has argued that “church time” and “merchant time” were not only at odds but provoked the basis of significant conflict in the Middle Ages. Other scholars, however, reject this oppositional binary construct arising from increasing commodification of time. What came to characterize the existential issue of time-reckoning was at the very basis of monastic timekeeping: not the kind of time as expressed by Le Goff’s concept, but one’s relationship to time. For monks, this relationship—throughout the centuries and continuing today—is the means of working out one’s salvation in the horologically balanced activities of the daily monastic schedule in order to achieve the ultimate balance—ut in omnibus glorificetur Deus—“so that in all things God may be glorified” (Rule 57.9; 1 Peter 4:11).
Father Cyprian Weaver, O.S.B., a research scholar in the role of neuroendocrinology in regenerative and genomic medicine, is a retired associate professor of medicine, cardiology, at the University of Minnesota.
Built about 1386, the Salisbury Cathedral clock is perhaps the oldest surviving functional mechanical clock in the world. It was rediscovered in the 1930s and restored in 1956. When found, the clock’s original verge and foliot escapement had been replaced by a pendulum. A replica of the original verge and foliot were restored in 1956.
Immanuel Giel/Wikimedia Commons
Title of WilfredArticleTheisen
The sixth of nine children of John Franklin and Elizabeth Theresa (Tabery) Theisen, Father Wilfred Theisen, O.S.B., was born in Wadena, Minnesota, on 5 September 1929. At the age of four he lost his father whose death left his mother to raise seven boys and two girls, all under the age of ten! In 1943, he followed his brother Eugene to Saint John’s Preparatory School, where his declared vocation to the priesthood covered all the costs. He was inspired to pursue Benedictine monastic life by the generosity and kindness of the monks he met in Collegeville. After graduation as valedictorian in 1947, he enrolled at Saint John’s University on a pre-divinity scholarship. Two years later, he entered the novitiate of Saint John’s Abbey and professed his first vows as a Benedictine monk on 11 July 1950.
Following seminary studies, he was ordained to the priesthood in 1956. Father Wilfred’s education continued with summer graduate work at the University of Colorado Boulder, where he earned a master’s degree in physics in 1963. He enrolled in a graduate program at the University of Wisconsin–Madison in 1966 and was awarded a doctorate in the history of science in 1972.
A lifetime member of the university faculty, Wilfred’s teaching career began in the physics department in 1953. He resumed teaching in 1962, followed by another thirty-five years in the classroom from 1970–2005, after which he was granted the title of professor emeritus of physics by the faculty. He also served in the dorms during the decade 1956 through 1966 and again from 1970 until 1973. He recalled: “When I was a college faculty resident for twelve years, I enjoyed the special relationships that bound that beleaguered group together.”
Father Wilfred became the liaison officer for the Collegeville Institute for Ecumenical and Cultural Research in 1975, a position he relished for forty years because of its intellectual stimulation. His ability to translate monastic and Catholic spirituality to people of all faith traditions made him a perfect fit for this role. He also served as assistant director of the Hill Monastic Manuscript Library, 1978–1983. In obedience, he
accepted an assignment as a summer chaplain at a chapel on the edge of a golf course, where he celebrated the Sunday and daily Eucharist—and exercised daily on the course.
As a homilist, Wilfred did not shy away from points of ecclesiastical controversy, including the ordination of women. He also loved to delve into the relationship between religion and science, especially the theory of evolution put forth by Charles Darwin.
Above all, Wilfred Theisen was passionate in his support of Johnnie athletics! He dissected each game’s plays, fretted about every season’s losses, cheered for the players and jeered the referees. His induction in 2019 into the Saint John’s University J-Club Hall of Honor for distinguished service was the crowning achievement of his lifelong devotion to Johnnie athletics.
Father Wilfred leaves us an example of how to live the Christian life well and how to hold things in a balance—intellectual pursuits balanced by prayer and spirituality, work balanced by sports and conviviality. His good humor, wit, and warm hospitality endeared him to his confreres, his professional colleagues, and to generations of students. This venerable elder died peacefully on 3 December 2024. Following the Mass of Christian Burial, he was laid to rest in the abbey cemetery.
Abbey archives
Otto Thole
Brother Otto Thole, O.S.B., was born in Fargo, North Dakota, on 13 June 1937, the third of four children of Otto and Margaret (Acheson) Thole. He grew up across the river in Fargo’s sister city, Moorhead, Minnesota, and received his elementary education at St. Joseph’s School. Following the lead of his two older brothers (Fathers Tom [1932–2016] and Simeon [1935–2020]), he enrolled at Saint John’s Preparatory School in 1951; after graduation, he entered the novitiate of Saint John’s Abbey. When he professed his first vows as a Benedictine monk on 11 July 1956, he brought the number of Poor Tholes in Purgatory/Saint John’s to three.
After his initial formation, Brother Otto worked in the Saint John’s printing department followed by the plumbing shop and
car maintenance, and he helped install the Saint John’s University language laboratory where he served as the technician. In 1967 Brother Otto began thirteen years of missionary service at the abbey’s daughter house Monasterio San Antonio Abad (Humacao, Puerto Rico), where he was the director of maintenance. Prior Eric Buermann (1919–2013), the superior of the community while Otto was in Puerto Rico, observed: “Brother Otto has been a most valuable contribution to our community here, for he is not just a plumber but a general fixer-upper from anything to do with the waste disposal plant and the swimming pool to tables, chairs, and ice cream dippers.”
Returning to Collegeville in 1980, Otto was appointed to the Liturgical Press in the audiovisual department. Three years later, he joined the staff of Saint John’s Preparatory School serving as a prefect. Leaving the prep school in 1988, he received training as a physical therapist for the elderly monks of our community residing in Saint Raphael Hall, the abbey’s healthcare center. He served our retired and infirm confreres for years, including driving them to medical appointments, until his
own retirement in 2017. Otto was more than a handyman and more than a driver and a therapist. He was a beloved confrere. He had a smile that exuded joy. He had a laugh that was contagious. And all that suggested that the Lord watched over him, even in the final days when illness robbed him of his personality.
Throughout his monastic life, Brother Otto was recognized as a kindly person with a good sense of humor. Baptized John Anthony, the youngest of the Thole brothers received the religious name “Otto.” His confreres, recognizing that his name is a palindrome (a name that reads the same backward and forward), affectionately nicknamed him “Toot”—Otto spelled inside out!
Brother Otto received specialized care for his declining health at Mother of Mercy Nursing Home, Albany, where he died on 11 December 2024. His confreres welcomed him back to Saint John’s for the Mass of Christian Burial and interment in the abbey cemetery. Along with his brothers Tom and Simeon, he now awaits us in the new and heavenly Jerusalem.
Otto’s passing in the final days of Advent is an expression of the fullness of nearly seventy years in the monastery. [Throughout] those years, Otto looked for God and saw the face of God in our faces. Otto was that servant who was faithful in a few things and now has been welcomed into the joy of his master. He now sees God face to face.
Prior Eric Hollas, O.S.B.
Cloister Light
The daily routine within the cloister is enlivened by the antics of the “characters” of the community. Here are stories from the Monastic Mischief file.
No rest for the wicked
While reading the local parish bulletin, Brother Simplicius was startled to see that the Lenten penance service was scheduled for a Sunday. “Sunday!” he exclaimed. “Sunday! You’re not supposed to have a penance service on the Lord’s Day!” The pastor did not share Brother Simplicius’ piety nor his indignation. “If you can sin seven days a week,” he asserted, “you can go to confession on Sunday.”
Gyrovague monks
Following decades of generous service to their community and to the priestly ministry, two confreres were blessed with a sabbatical to Europe. While visiting Iceland, the pair approached an active volcano. The lava, molten rock, and intense heat prompted Father Ignatius to comment: “Wow! Reminds you of hell, doesn’t it!” Overhearing the comment, a visitor from England whispered to his wife: “Oh, my, those Americans! They’ve been everywhere.”
Simple gifts
Thank you for keeping your reflections so simple, Father Cyril. I can fall asleep during your homily, and when I wake up, I haven’t missed anything.
April 1: Prayers of the Faithful by Thomas Wahl, O.S.B. The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God (1 Corinthians 1:18).
On this All Fools’ Day, as we remember our foolishness, let us pray for the fools we love and those we don’t, as we say: Hear Us, Good Lord.
For pompous fools and self-sufficient prigs, that they may learn with grace to take themselves less seriously . . .
For people who cannot tell right from wrong, or down from up, or love from ownership, or liberty from selfishness, that their eyes may be opened and they will see . . .
For people who turn their left cheek when hit on the right, or who give their shirt to the one that takes their coat, or who sell all they own and give it to the poor to follow Christ, that there may be more of them . . .
For acrobats and poets and kite fliers and all who do things that are not merely useful, that they may know the pleasure they give to others . . .
For people who cannot stand fools of any sort, that they may be spared . . .
Heavenly admission
Father Arnold visited the home of a faithful—and quite wealthy— parishioner. After explaining at length the goals of the parish capital campaign, he inquired whether she would be willing to make a major donation. “We need your robust support,” he pleaded. After a few moments of reflection, she replied: “If I increase the size of my donation, will I improve my chances of getting into heaven?” “I don’t know,” responded Father Arnold. “But it’s worth a shot.”
They say . . .
When life hands you lemons, make whiskey sours. W. C. Fields
A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running. Groucho Marx
Nowadays they don’t show test patterns at all on American TV, which is a shame because given a choice between test patterns and TV evangelists, I would unhesitatingly choose the test patterns. Bill Bryson
Awindchill factor of -23°F helped end the longest period of open water on Lake Sagatagan (272 days) on November 30. Open-water season had begun with the earliest ice-out date on record, 3 March 2024. Four inches of snow fell in Collegeville on December 19, just in time to create a white Christmas. According to an analysis by scientists from NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration), 2024 was the planet’s warmest among all years in NOAA’s 1850–2024 climate records. January was bitterly cold, including many days with windchill readings in the -20s and -30s. Spring arrived on January 30 when the temp rose to 49 in central Minnesota!
During the first week of February about a foot of snow fell in Collegeville. The roller coaster weather continued: two weeks of windchill factors in the minus teens, -20s, and -30s, followed by light rain and a temp of 46 on February 25. On the Ides of March, rain fell into the night (1.39 inches), turning to sleet and snow as the temp dropped to 22 with a windchill of -7. Irish eyes needed sunglasses for Saint Patrick’s Day when sunny skies were accompanied by a temp of 52. Lake Sagatagan went ice-free on March 24.
Rain or snow, warm or cold, we eagerly await April’s Alleluia chorus. He is risen! He is truly risen!
December
2024
With malice toward none, Brother Eric Pohlman completed his graduate studies at the University of Wisconsin–Madison in December, earning a MA-LIS degree (master of arts in library and information studies) with a concentration in archival studies. Effective 13 January 2025, Brother Eric is the archivist and distinctive collections librarian for the College of Saint Benedict and Saint John’s University, replacing the irreplaceable Ms. Peggy Landwehr Roske who had served the two schools for decades before her retirement.
Father John Meoska, abbey chandler, announced that two hundred candles were poured in the abbey candle shop in 2024, including 100 (12") altar candles, 13 (52") Easter candles, 7 (36") Advent/Easter candles, 8 (26") display/Good Friday
David Wuolu
Pohlman archives
Brother Eric Pohlman
candles, and 72 (14") table candles. Though most of the candles are used for abbey liturgical services, Saint John’s does sell Easter and Advent candles to neighboring parishes. Many churches—as far away as Louisville, Kentucky—recycle their wax through the abbey candle shop.
The significant overbrowsing of vegetation by hungry deer in the Saint John’s Abbey Arboretum disrupts the ecological balance of the woods, thereby threatening the health of the forest, deer, and other wildlife. To reduce the deer population to a level that allows both adequate regeneration of the forest and a healthy deer herd, Saint John’s hosted its twenty-third controlled deer hunt since 1933, beginning on
October 9. When the archery hunt ended on December 31, a total of 31 deer had been taken.
January
2025
Effective 2 January 2025, the Saint John’s Abbey Business Office has been restructured. After twenty-eight years of generous service as corporate treasurer for the Order of Saint Benedict, Brother Benedict Leuthner has stepped down and taken on the new role of business development and revenue strategist for the monastic community.
Mr. Dan DeMars, formerly the controller for the Order, has assumed the role of corporate treasurer and chief financial officer—focused on the financial health of all aspects of the Order. Brother Richard Crawford is serving as chief operating
officer—managing abbey and corporate services, with a focus on long-range planning for the Saint John’s campus. Mr. Patrick Spaniol, a university alumnus, has been hired as controller, replacing Mr. DeMars.
February
2025
“Asian Palaces and Temples,” an exhibition of Father Jerome Tupa’s most recent paintings, opened on February 1 and continues through April 30 at the Basilica of Saint Mary in Minneapolis.
On February 18 Abbot Douglas Mullin and the monastic community attended an information session with university alumnus Mr. Willie Willette regarding a proposal to have Saint John’s
Paul Jasmer, O.S.B.
Candles, including many poured in the abbey candle shop, were blessed during the celebration of Candlemass (Presentation of the Lord), February 2.
Nickolas Kleespie, O.S.B. Barred owl (Strix varia), Best in Show, abbey arboretum
Pope Francis proclaimed 2025 as a jubilee year and chose for its theme “Pilgrims of Hope” (see pages 12–13). Saint John’s Abbey and the Shrine of Saint Peregrine, Martyr, have been designated places of pilgrimage in the Diocese of Saint Cloud during the jubilee year. The relics of Saint Peregrine—whose name means “holy traveler” or “holy pilgrim”—are housed in the crypt of the abbey and university church in a chapel shrine designed by Modernist architect Marcel Breuer that recalls the ancient Christian catacombs of Rome, where Saint Peregrine was first buried.
Abbey and University Church declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Members of a church renovation committee are now exploring the implications and benefits of pursuing such a designation, particularly in relation to the conservation of the buildings within the Modernist Movement.
March 2025
Master trumpeter Caleb Hudson and organ virtuoso Greg Zelek, both Juilliard graduates, transformed the community’s Lenten fast into a feast of musical delights during their performance in the church on the
First Sunday of Lent, March 9. The program featured a variety of musical genres, including Giovanni Battista Martini’s Toccata, “Be Thou My Vision” (traditional in an arrangement by James Curnow), the “Triumphal March” from Giuseppe Verdi’s Aïda and “Nessun Dorma” from Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot, and Romanian Folk Dances by Béla Bartók. Mr. Zelek also showcased the Holtkamp-Pasi Organ with a solo of “I Got Rhythm” by George Gershwin.
Oblates of Saint John’s Abbey gathered in Collegeville for their
spring/Lenten day of reflection on March 16. Brother Bob Kirkley, a claustral oblate of the abbey, outlined the contributions of the visionary scientist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin to scientific inquiry and theology. Teilhard (and Brother Bob) reject the notion that science and religion represent mutually exclusive visons of reality—asserting, instead, that beyond just coexisting peacefully, science and religion can (and do) each contribute toward the other’s insights into reality.
The Westminster Cathedral Choir, one of the finest choirs in the world, journeyed from London to the abbey and university church for a concert on March 29. The choir, founded in 1901, has a history of commissioning and performing new music, including Benjamin Britten’s Missa Brevis (op. 63 for boys’ choir and organ) and the Mass in G Minor by Ralph Vaughan Williams. In addition to hundreds of delighted music lovers, the assembly included a few confused attendees who mistook the event for the Westminster Kennel Club and were disappointed that they were unable to view the Best in Show.
Lewis Grobe, O.S.B.
Shrine of Saint Peregrine, Martyr
Alleluia! He is risen!
Title of Article
Fifty Years Ago
Excerpted from Confrere, newsletter of Saint John’s Abbey:
February 1975
Brother Robert Koopmann won the National Federation of Music Clubs Young Artist Award for the state of Iowa on February 8.
March 1975
Brother Robert Koopmann made it through the first round of the prestigious Naumburg Piano Competition. The judges made their decision based on tapes of the performers’ work. Bob submitted a Bach fugue, the Beethoven 109 [Piano Sonata No. 30], and his Chopin showpiece.
April 1975
Father Sebastian Schramel reports that one of the most memorable occasions ever for Cambridge State Hospital residents occurred on Sunday, April 20. One hundred seventy-five people with severe physical and mental handicaps celebrated the sacrament of confirmation. Bishop Speltz performed the emotion-laden ritual of conferring the Spirit on this large group of God’s special children. Choked up voices and tears of joy were evident among parents and ministers. To see teenage youngsters with tears streaming down their cheeks pushing their brothers and sisters in wheelchairs toward the bishop for confirmation was enough to move even the most professionally hardened participant. Father Sebastian heard Bishop Speltz say as he was leaving, “This has been an experience for me I shall never forget.”
May 1975
Mr. Frank Eisenschenk, former assistant to Brother Clement Frischauf, is currently restoring damaged parts of the murals in the refectory. [In the 1930s] Mr. Eisenschenk [had served as an apprentice] to Brother Clement who was at that time working on the old church [Great Hall].
Father Athanase Fuchs, pastor of Saint Joseph’s Mission (Ball Club), hosted the Catholic Indian Congress on May 11. Fathers Jordan Stovik (Red Lake), Clement Burns (Cloquet), Jude Koll (Collegeville), and Brother Julius Beckermann (Red Lake) joined with missionaries, mission staff workers, and Indian representatives from throughout northern Minnesota to discuss Indian affairs. The first Catholic Indian Congress had been held in Ball Club in June of 1915.
[On May 28, at the Horace Mann Hall of Columbia’s Teachers’ College in New York] Father Bartholomew Sayles gave a musical recital at which he sang German, Spanish, and English songs. He received a standing ovation for his sterling performance and obliged the 150 appreciative music lovers with an encore of several more choice vocal pieces.
Father Henry Bryan (Hippolytus) Hays (Dority) announces that he has finished work on four complete operas. The first is based on Flannery O’Connor’s “Parker’s Back.” The second, The Sauna, is based on a dream by the former Brother Kurt Kaiser about a returning war veteran. Gilgamesh, the next, brings the characters from the epic together in a theatre lobby. The fourth opera is a reworking of Bryan’s The Little Match Girl.
Like the deer that yearns for running streams, so my soul is yearning for you, my God (Psalm 42:2). Detail of a mural in the vestibule of the monastic refectory.
Robin Pierzina, O.S.B.
Monks in the Kitchen
A Pilgrimage Tart
Ælred Senna, O.S.B.
Acouple of years ago, I had the privilege of spending some weeks in Spain, first at Santa Maria de Montserrat Abbey and then traveling with a choir across the northern part of the country. I admit that, while there, I never tasted or even saw a Tarta de Santiago, but since returning from that trip, I discovered this delicious dessert and have made it several times. Once I made fourteen of them for a single event to honor the choir I had traveled with in Spain. One of the things I love most about this tart is that it is gluten-free!
The Tarta de Santiago is named after Saint James, commonly associated with the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, but the tart’s true origin is unclear. It is typically prepared by dusting powdered sugar over a stencil of the Saint James Cross (Cruz de Santiago). An image of the cross can be found via a simple internet search for “Saint James Cross stencil,” if you’d like to present your tart that way. I used a heart stencil on the tart for a Valentine’s Day event. The lemon zest and cinnamon give the finished tart a refreshing flavor, and the whipped eggs that provide the leavening make it a light, after-dinner treat!
Brother Ælred Senna, O.S.B., is publisher of Give Us This Day and abbey refectorian.
Tarta de Santiago (makes one 9" tart)
• 1 cup sugar
• 4 eggs
• 2 cups fine almond flour
• Zest of ½ lemon
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• ½ teaspoon cinnamon
• Powdered sugar
Preheat oven to 350°F.
1. Grease a 9" tart pan (with removable bottom) or springform pan with butter or nonstick spray, and line pan with a parchment circle.
2. Beat sugar and eggs together with whisk attachment of mixer until airy and very light in color.
3. Fold in almond flour, zest, vanilla, and cinnamon. Mix until just combined. Do not overmix—keep as much air in the eggs as possible.
4. Transfer to tart pan and bake 30–35 minutes.
5. Cool for 10 to 15 minutes before removing tart pan ring or opening springform. Cool completely.
6. Dust with powdered sugar using a stencil of the Saint James Cross or other design.
Please join the monastic community in prayerful remembrance of our deceased family members and friends:
Donald Martin Ahlbach
Donna Marie Anderson
Sonja M. Anderson
Louis J. “Louie” Bartscher
William Nolan “Bill” Beddor
Donald R. “Don” Blais
Terry A. Braaten
Phyllis Laverne Braith
Rochelle “Shelly” Brandl
P. Patricia “Pat” Brink
Jayna Jo Campbell
Arlene Capistrant
James “Phil” Casey
Nathan P. Chase
Jackie Chattopadhyay
Lorraine H. Cofell
Nancy Jean deMattos, O.S.F.
James Ryan “Jim” Ditzler
Millicent B. “Millie” Dosh
Annella “Nelle” Doyle
Mary Lou Dummer, O.S.B.
Sandra L. “Sandy” Ehresmann
Joan Carol Ellens
Pamela Etienne-Planche
Alvin H. Fasen
Agnes Fleck, O.S.B.
Richard Joseph Frey
Mary Joan Gerads, O.S.F.
Michael G. “Mike” Gillen Jr.
Vernon Goebel
Russell P. Goerger
James C. “Jim” Goossens
Adella Anna Gross, O.S.F.
Hilary Hanrahan, O.S.B.
Lyle A. Hoffarth
Juliana Howard
Jacqueline “Jacque” Ice
Richard “Dick” Ice
Robert Allyn “Bob” Kierlin
Ronald Edmund “Ron” Kohorst
Thomas Henry “Tom” Koopmeiners
Janet Marie “Jan” Kopp
Barbara Jeanne “Barb” Kranz
Mary Christa Kroening, O.S.B.
Scott Emmett Kuykendall Sr.
Ardella Kvamme, O.S.B.
Mary Lambert
John E. “Jack” Lange
Daniel E. “Dan” Leamy
Patricia Lefevere
Rev. Don Malins, Obl.S.B.
Martin Ambrose Manahan
Rev. Martin E. Marty
Eugene C. “Gene” Masterson
Jolenta Mary Masterson
Rev. LeRoy A. Maus
Earl James McGovern Jr.
Hazel M. Meoska
Caroline Mersch
Kathleen Kelly “Kathy” Mucha
Garrett E. “Gar” Mulrooney
Lois Ann Muyres
Harriet Irene Nerud
David R. Noack
John James “Jack” O’Brien
James A. O’Donnell, O.S.B.
Mary Charlene O’Keeffe, C.S.J.
Aurelio Olivan
Susan Theresa “Sue” Pankratz
Constance Marie “Connie” Pellegrene
Shawn Lee Phillips
Alice Ann Piotrowski
Chung-Whan Ra
John B. “Jack” Rassier
Jerome T. “Jerry” Raymond
Richard L. “Dick” Reger
James “Jim” Remmerswaal, O.S.C.
Frank J. Rioux
Samuel A. Salas
Sharon Schiller, O.S.B.
Rodney Benedict “Rod” Schloesser
Roman J. Schmitz
Herbert Richard “Herbie” Sewell
Sam Skoien
James A. Snyder
Rev. Clyde James Steckel
Robert Thomas “Bob” Stich
Judy Studer
Cecil Mathias Suchy
Charlie Taylor
Samuel David “Sam” Tempel
Wilfred Theisen, O.S.B.
Otto Thole, O.S.B.
Judy Ann Tykwinski
Mary Ann Valley
Eleanor Wartman, O.S.B.
Alice Ileen Wasileski
Mary Lou Wcislo, I.B.V.M.
Henry Greenleaf Weyerhaeuser
Rev. Stanley Francis Wieser
Margaret Wilke
Rev. Thomas J. “Tom” Zarth
Patrick S. “Pat” Zilka
William C. “Bill” Zimmerman
Precious in the eyes of the LORD is the death of God’s faithful ones. Psalm 116:15
A Monk’s Chronicle
Father Eric Hollas, O.S.B., offers spiritual insights and glimpses into the life of the Benedictine community at Saint John’s Abbey in a weekly blog, A Monk’s Chronicle. Visit his blog at: monkschronicle.wordpress.com
Father Don’s Daily Reflection
Father Don Talafous, O.S.B., prepares daily reflections on Scripture and living the life of a Christian that are available on the abbey’s website at: saintjohnsabbey.org/reflection
Gift of Darkness
Timothy Backous, O.S.B.
The great poet Mary Oliver (1935–2019) once observed:
Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.
One of life’s mysteries is trying to make sense of why those closest to us can also be the source of our deepest conflicts. They should be a respite from trouble, not the cause of it. And yet, too often, the most important relationships present the greatest challenges. For this reason, Mary Oliver chooses to do the hard work of accepting these baffling situations as gifts. To see darkness as a gift, while difficult, is not unprecedented. Some of the values we tout as being important to the human family are capable of helping us tolerate the darker moments in life and helping us turn seemingly destructive experiences into moments of growth and opportunity.
My years of working with college freshmen provide a good reminder of this constant struggle. For example, when a disappointing academic performance prevents a student from taking on jobs or enrolling in study abroad programs, the student might react with total denial or blame that deflects any personal responsibility for what has happened. It could be the fault of a professor who doesn’t know how to teach, or a roommate who disturbs the atmosphere of study, or the unfortunate illnesses that piggybacked each other—or, or, or, the list could go on and on. The darkness of the moment is not seen as “gift” but rather an injustice, an intrusion, an unfair attack from less than friendly outside influences. If, however, that box of darkness were to be opened and welcomed as a moment of grace, we might find a remedy for our humiliation or hurt. We might find the strength needed to address the real problem and begin to transform what needs to be improved.
Mary Oliver’s words are a poetic way of saying what many consider to be wisdom: failure or darkness can be a source of inspiration and hope for the future—enabling an honest look at what needs to change in us and providing the impetus to make that change happen. In the Christian and Benedictine way of living, darkness always gives way to light. Death always gives way to life. It is for this reason that Saint Benedict urges his monks to embrace humility and to “hold fast to patience” when encountering “difficulties and contradictions and even any kind of injustice, enduring all without growing weary or running away. For the Scripture says, ‘Whoever endures to the end will be saved’” (Rule 7.35–36 [Matthew 10:22]). It is consoling to note that both Saint Benedict and Mary Oliver seem to trust in the resilience of the human spirit when darkness can overwhelm it.
Darkness can be a source of inspiration and hope
“The Uses of Sorrow” by Mary Oliver Reprinted by the permission of The Charlotte Sheedy Literary Agency as agent for the author.
The monks of Saint John’s Abbey welcome people of all faiths to share our hospitality for a time of spiritual renewal. In addition to joining the monks for daily prayer and Eucharist, guests are also welcome to participate in retreats sponsored by our Abbey Spiritual Life Program.
Saint John’s offers two kinds of individual retreats: private or directed. You choose the dates, the length, and the kind you want.
Private retreats provide solitude for rest, reading, reflection, and prayer. Directed retreats provide the private retreat experience plus regular one-to-one conversation with a spiritual director.
For additional information or to register, visit abbeyguesthouse.org; call the abbey guesthouse at 320.363.2573; or email us at: guestmaster@csbsju.edu
