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FrontRangeLiving.com -> Escapes -> St.. Walburga Abbey
 COLORADO
RETREATS: A Medieval Respite in the Heart of the American West
By Niki Hayden
(VIRGINIA DALE, COLO.)--A few miles from Wyoming, in the spare landscape of
giant boulders and wind-swept canyons, alongside a dirt road, a small sign announces the "Abbey of St. Walburga."
One
of a handful of cloistered abbeys for Roman Catholic nuns, the
remote location shields a medieval respite in the heart of the American West.
Surrounded by cattle ranches, rocky hills and a narrow valley of freshly mown
hay, a small community of
about 23 nuns devote themselves to ancient practices of prayer and chant. They
follow the Rule of St. Benedict, a religious order established by a 6th
century European monk. During times of war and upheaval, he advised his
colleagues to provide hospitality to wayfarers,
nourishing their bodies as well as their
souls. The monastery served as a haven in times of turmoil, creating a template
for abbeys hundreds of years later.
 While the nuns have adopted
contemporary trappings like computers, the Internet, gift
shops and tractors, they continue to dress in a formal attire of black and white
habits, pray seven times each day, remain on the premises, and dedicate
themselves to providing a retreat for those who seek shelter from daily stress
and strain.
They don’t require those who stay with them to be of their faith. The outside world is invited to
share in their prayers and bask in the extraordinary landscape. A brief
interlude in a contemplative atmosphere is the objective. No television, radio or movies. Headphones are urged for those
who bring music. Phones are available sparingly.
The abbey is housed in a new structure of Rastra blocks made of concrete and
chips of recycled polystyrene foam covered by gray stucco. With a round copper
dome and thick walls, the buildings were intended to look like a traditional
abbey, but also blend or recede into the landscape of giant gray boulders that
line the valley.
Weary pilgrims walk along narrow paths, or take in a sky the color of lapis
lazuli as the nuns continue their daily chores of bread baking, cleaning,
tending a greenhouse, caring for an elderly nun and running a small gift shop. With names like Sister Scholastica and Sister Angelika, each has
been christened anew according to a particular characteristic she may have revealed to her community. They are pleasant and
smiling, but there’s no chatter. Silence is cherished.
 Seminars Probe A Life Of Solitude, Community, Prayer
For those who are open to religious direction, a group of four or five give
seminars based on a particular personal interest or drawn from a life of
community living. Sister Genevieve’s is about
creating a balance between work and quiet time. Even cloistered nuns, she
laments, can become too busy, too frantic, intent on accomplishing mundane tasks
and overlook the joy of their vocations. Their purpose, they all say, is rooted
in prayer.
On a Saturday afternoon, the Mother Abbess, Maria-Thomas Beil, explains to a
small group of visitors her personal approach to prayer: "Sometimes we
need only a simple prayer to make a connection to God. So much of our empty time—walking,
peeling potatoes—the mind chooses to be in contact with God. Prayer is going
on uninterrupted in our hearts. It is up to us to join. And, sometimes, it is up
to us just to listen."
With her soft Bavarian accent, practical eyeglasses and heavy black garb, the
Mother Abbess is both scholarly and gentle. Occasionally, she will play the
guitar to accompanying hymns. The strumming is soft, almost a whisper, much like
her own voice.
Without probing or prying, she listens to
the questions visitors ask, and answers as if she has given great thought to
each. While other religious leaders may choose a life of service, the
contemplative is drawn inward, she says, "You cannot grow in your spiritual
life unless you get back to prayer, to make a bridge to connect to God. Not that
the prayer must take a long time. Anyone who has a desire to grow will do this
in her own circumstances."
 Visitors Share in Tradition
The nuns follow an ancient prescriptive from the Book of Psalms 119:164:
"Seven times a day have I praised you," which they call the Hours of Divine
Office. Seven times each day, they chant the Psalms in Gregorian
tradition. Like a flock of small birds, their high, reedy voices float in
unison. True to their vows of community, no voice rings out above and beyond the
others. They form a harmonic body to the soft strains of the organ.
The small
black-clad figures are framed in a light-filled chapel lined with windows that
reveal remarkable views outside. The contemplative environment is divided into
an interior—the chapel, where concentration leads to the altar, hand-woven
tapestries, chants and prayers. The counterpart is the exterior--where the focus
is on the landscape.
The chapel accommodates the nuns and perhaps 20 visitors. A hardy soul
might rise early for the 5:30 a.m. Matins, or catch the later 7:15 Lauds on
Sundays. On other days, the services are a bit earlier.
 American Abbey Fled Nazi Germany
This American branch of the Abbey of St. Walburga dates to 1935, when three nuns fled Nazi
Germany, seeking refuge. Their mission was to establish a destination should the remaining nuns need a quick exit. A group of Benedictine monks lived
in Boulder, Colorado, and agreed to share property with them. The
original nuns established a small abbey that served as an outpost, waiting for
word when they could return. After the war, the Abbey of St. Walburg in
Eichstatt, Bavaria, continued. But the American group had attracted new nuns from
America and Canada. Today, they are a group of diverse women from various
continents. The Mother Abbess was sent from the original German cloister in 1979 to head
the American abbey in Boulder. Decades later, the community moved to Virginia
Dale.
Along with retreatants, the abbey provides housing for visiting priests.
Walking along the gravel drive, an elderly priest described his stay as a
"rest and chance to do some writing." He gave his own reasons for a retreat at the
abbey, "good food, plenty of rest and walks. Lots and lots of walks."
Eventually the abbey will offer good food, but until they build a new wing,
visitors stay in modular housing about one-fourth of a mile away and bring their own food.
Groups sleep in small, clean
and comfortable rooms with a bed, small set of drawers and closet. A shared bathroom is available on each hall.
There's a kitchen where groups cook meals. A dining room with
serviceable furniture looks out to a small deck and there’s a meeting room for
seminars.
Plenty of rest and walks are provided, though. In the stillness, there’s not a sound to be heard other than birds.
Located in a fierce wind zone, the abbey can be off-limits in winter if a
blowing storm sweeps in. Even cattle have a tough time in this terrain. On a
mild fall day, with a wide blue sky and only the crunch of feet on a gravel
drive, a hawk soars above. Cattle from a nearby ranch bellow and a slight figure
in the distance scurries toward the chapel for evening prayers.
To check on prices and availability, go to http://www.walburga.org or call
970-472-0612. There’s also a Benedictine monastery in Snowmass,
Colorado, offering retreats: www.snowmass.org.
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