Morning melody

One morning each week for many years, Einsiedeln Abbey’s Fr. Maurus (right) and Dr. Hans Ulrich Jäger-Werth have mounted the hill overlooking the monastery, town, and nearby lake to play a few numbers on their alphorns.

Alphorns are long wooden horns traditionally used by Switzerland’s mountain dwellers to produce rich, natural, open-pipe harmonies.

Fr. Maurus, who is 80 years old, is the former pastor of the Catholic parish in Einsiedeln, while his friend is the former pastor of the Protestant church in town. Now that they are “retired,” the two have continued providing their brief ecumenical hilltop concerts (although admittedly a little later in the morning than in earlier years) for anyone within earshot.

It’s a splendid way to greet the sun—Swiss style.

Tradition and culture

Yesterday I had the opportunity to see sections of the Einsiedeln Abbey Library, which as librarian Fr. Odo remarks in an English brochure, is a treasure trove of “tradition and culture.” Housed here are many thousands of invaluable books, manuscripts, missals, codices, and prints covering many centuries. Included are works dealing with Einsiedeln history and culture, Benedictine monasticism, theology, liturgy, biblical studies, and spiritual and devotional literature.

Although I was not able to see it, one of the library’s most prized possessions is a transcription of the Rule of St. Benedict brought here by St. Meinrad over 1,000 years ago.

Reading and writing have always been important aspects of Benedictine tradition and culture. In his Rule, St. Benedict specifies that monks devote daily periods to spiritual reading. For many centuries, students were educated by monks, and before the invention of the printing press, monks were largely responsible for preserving and passing on the written word in Western culture. For centuries, Bibles and missals, among other works of literature, were transcribed by hand (and quite artistically) by monks. According to Fr. Odo, of the 117 choral manuscripts dating from the 9th to 12th centuries that are in the library, 64 of them were transcribed at Einsiedeln. Just thinking about it gives me writers’ cramp—no laptops, spell-check programs, or even electrical light to work by.

Pictured is a block book on the Life of St. Meinrad from the 15th century. The artwork depicts the holy martyr’s death. Notice the ravens, which are part of the insignia for Einsiedeln—and Saint Meinrad Archabbey.

Impressions

As the mountains surround Jerusalem,
so the Lord surrounds his people,
from this time on and forevermore.
Psalm 125:2

It’s difficult for me to believe that I’ve spent nearly a month in Europe already. It has been an enriching experience, primarily because of the people I’ve met, and also because of the things I’ve taken in while here—be it a breathtaking view, a different way of doing or seeing something, or a native culinary delight (a euphemism for Swiss chocolate).

One of the monks here at Einsiedeln asked me what has impressed me most thus far. “The mountains” was my answer, and it’s true. I was raised in a region (northwest Ohio) that—while it has its own positive attributes—is extraordinarily horizontal. Daily lifting my eyes to lush hills, towering snow-covered mountains, deep forests, and village-dotted valley lakes is a completely new experience for me. Such vertical surroundings are overwhelming for some who are unfamiliar with it. I’m told there are those who feel “smothered” or even crushed by such a mountainous landscape, but for me it’s comforting—like being wrapped in a blanket.

With all that said, however, there are two things that impress me more than the mountains, and they intersect with one another on both vertical and horizontal planes. First, I am edified by the commitment to prayer that I have witnessed within the communities of men and women that I have visited—whether it’s been expressed in Latin, German, Italian, or English. “Let nothing be preferred to the Work of God,” St. Benedict tells his monks in the Rule. I am reminded of this each day when I see Einsiedeln’s Fr. Wolfgang—who is over 90—gliding to church at the sound of the bells behind his walker. As his devotion demonstrates, prayer requires effort, submission of the will to the guidance of the Holy Spirit (or der Heilige Geist, one of my favorite German phrases, simply because of the way it sounds when it is spoken).

This past weekend I experienced der Heilige Geist in two other ways. I had the privilege of spending a couple days at Kloster Fahr, a convent of Benedictine women near Zurich about 30 minutes away. Fahr (top photo) dates to the 12th Century, and is a sister of sorts to Einsiedeln. Together they constitute a double monastery of men and women under the abbot of Einsiedeln. Fahr is administered by Prioress Irene Gassmann (second photo), who visited Saint Meinrad Archabbey in 2006.

At Fahr, I was invited to pray Lauds and Vespers with the sisters in their choir. Since the pitch of their combined voices was a bit too high for me to match, and because my liturgical German is somewhat uncertain, I mostly listened. Closing my eyes, I was able to let the sisters’ spirited chant of praise wash over me like water through the rocks in a Swiss mountain stream. And I was reminded of St. Paul’s words to the Romans: “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). The spirit of the sisters of Fahr lifted my own.

On Sunday morning, I was picked up at Fahr by Fr. Aaron Brunner, a monk of Einsiedeln who studied at Saint Meinrad, and who is now an associate pastor for Queen of Peace and St. Anthony churches in Zurich. After being shown both churches by Fr. Aaron, I attended an English Mass at St. Anthony. The church was filled with English-speaking worshippers, though they hail from many different countries. It was a great blessing to pray, sing, and listen to the readings in English after a month of German, Italian, and Latin. I hope that I retain that appreciation once I return to the United States.

The observance of Benedictine hospitality is the second thing that has impressed me even more than the mountains of Switzerland. In his Rule, St. Benedict says that all guests to the monastery should be received as Christ. The mere presence of a guest always imposes on the host what could be considered as obligations or limitations. As a visiting monk from the United States staying here at Einsiedeln, I am well aware of this. However, I cannot speak highly enough about how warmly I have been welcomed by the monastic community of Einsiedeln. Rather than obligation or limitation, my presence here has been treated as an opportunity. I feel as though I have been received as Christ.

Even with the language issue, this has been the case. The other day, one of the monks here apologized to me—me, a foreigner who doesn’t speak German visiting a German-speaking country—for not knowing enough English to carry on a conversation. If an apology is warranted, the reverse should be the case. To be sure, the language differences have been frustrating at times, and prevent me from getting to know many of the monks here as well as I would like. However, there are plenty who speak at least some English, and when that is lacking, I can sometimes pick up the gist of what is being said in German. Beyond that, genuine Christian hospitality requires no speech, and as monks the one language we have in common is our life of prayer. As Benedictines from two different continents, it may be expressed differently, but it has the same structure, flow, and content. Vespers is essentially the same whether it is said in German, Latin, or English.

Hospitality was also in abundant supply during my visit to Fahr. There are nearly 30 sisters at Fahr, which is known for its agricultural boarding school for women, its winery, and its restaurant (Zu den Zwei Raben, or “Two Ravens,” a reference to Einsiedeln’s coat of arms, which pictures the two ravens that brought St. Meinrad’s killers to justice.) It is a lovely place, and while most of the hard-working sisters at Fahr speak little if any English, they were most gracious in welcoming me. For one meal, Einsiedeln’s Fr. Patrick (who was serving as the weekend chaplain) and I joined the sisters in their refectory. Prioress Irene even took time out of her busy day to give me a personal tour, and to have afternoon coffee (and Swiss chocolate!) with Fr. Patrick and I.

Later, Fr. Aaron also extended hospitality by giving up most of his Sunday and some of his discretionary income to show me around Zurich. Like me, he’s fond of chocolate, and he insisted that I sample several Swiss varieties. “You have to try this,” he repeated. Our sweet tooth tour included a stop at a Sprüngli confectionary shop for its celebrated Luxemburgerlis. We worked off the calories by hiking a couple hours along the top of the large hill to the southwest that overlooks Zurich, called Uetliberg. There, we climbed an observation tower to get a birds-eye view of the city, Lake Zurich, and the surrounding countryside (third photo). Since the skies were cloudy, visibility was limited, and the Alps could not be seen as they normally are.

We also briefly toured the heart of Zurich, at the north end of the tip of Lake Zurich (last photo). The largest city in Switzerland (around 2 million in the metropolitan area), Zurich is a global financial center. Some of the world’s biggest banks are in Zurich. Wearing my $30 Timex while walking along the avenue Bahnhofstrasse, I peered in shop windows at Swiss watches priced at what some people pay for a nice car.

I will have to return to Zurich to visit some of the museums and famous Protestant churches in the city, which include St. Peter (largest church clock in the world) and Fraumünster (featuring stained glass windows by Marc Chagall).

Looking over what I have written here before signing off, I see that chocolate seems to be a recurring theme. Perhaps it should be added to my “most impressive” list for Switzerland. It needed a little more balance on the horizontal plane anyway—mountains and prayer, hospitality and chocolate. So be it.

Ehre sei dem Vater und dem Sohn und dem Heiligen Geist.

Sankt Gerold

This week I spent a couple wonderful days in Austria at Propstei Sankt Gerold, which has long been associated with the Abbey of Einsiedeln in Switzerland. Sankt Gerold is about an hour and a half away from Einsiedeln by car, just over the border from Switzerland and not too far from the Austrian border with Germany. Incidentally, we also passed through the very tiny country of Liechtenstein (I think).

It is to Sankt Gerold that several monks from Einsiedeln escaped with the original Black Madonna during the French Revolution until they were able to return to Switzerland. St. Gerold, as legend has it, was a hermit living on the site in the 10th century. Later, a monastic community was established. St. Gerold’s tomb and the original walls of the church can be viewed in the crypt below the existing church. Einsiedeln has held the property for over 1,000 years.

In the late 1950s and 1960s, Einsiedeln’s Fr. Nathaniel Wirth carried out an extensive renovation of the buildings, many of which had fallen into disrepair. It is now a popular retreat and cultural center that draws many people from Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. It includes a chapel dedicated to Our Lady of Einsiedeln, guest rooms, conference rooms, restaurant, swimming pool, hiking trails, and a lovely garden. A number of programs are conducted at Sankt Gerold, including concerts and horse riding therapy for handicapped and disadvantaged youth. It also serves as the church for the town of Sankt Gerold. Einsiedeln’s Fr. Kolumban (who studied at Saint Meinrad in the late 1990s) has been assigned to Sankt Gerold since last year.

It is a place of beauty and restoration for soul, mind, and body, as the top two photographs help illustrate. The sculpture helps define Sankt Gerold’s perspective. Fr. Kolumban explains that the mother represents visible reality while the child represents invisible or transcendent reality. Together, through the love of God, they are held together as one in this world. “As human beings, we are sinners redeemed by God’s love,” Fr. Kolumban says. “But before that was made necessary, we were created in God’s image by that very same love. Sometimes we forget that.”

It’s a good image with a simple but profound message.

During the visit to Sankt Gerold, Fr. Kolumban and I visited a couple of very old churches in the surrounding area. Pictured is the interior of St. Martin on the outskirts of the mountainside village of Ludesch. It is one of the loveliest, most well-preserved old churches I have ever seen. The current stone and stucco structure (with walls about 4 feet thick) was built around 1400, but evidence suggests its history stretches back at least a couple hundred years further. The current interior architecture, artwork, and Gothic furnishings date to about 1600. Also included is a Romanesque crucifix from around 1200.

The thin but sturdy wooden rails in the foreground of the photo were used as benches and kneelers on the right side of the sanctuary where the men sat (15th or 16th Century). Women had to sit on the left, but they didn’t have to kneel as the men did, so there are no elbow rests on their side. Another church we visited in Bludesch had the same seating arrangement. I suppose anything is possible, but I can’t imagine anyone nodding off in such circumstances.

Lastly, purely for your amusement, is my new friend Tiffany hamming it up after giving me a ride around Sankt Gerold. It was my first jaunt on horseback, but Tiffany was very patient and attentive—not to mention sturdy. After all, she’s used to dealing with children.

High praise

Lobet den Herrn, ihr auf der Erde … ihr Berge und all ihr Hügel, ihr Fruchtbäume und alle Zedern, ihr wilden Tiere und alles Vieh, Kriechtiere und gefiederte Vögel, ihr Könige der Erde und alle Völker, ihr Fürsten und alle Richter auf Erden, ihr jungen Männer und auch ihr Mädchen, ihr Alten mit den Jungen!
-- Psalm 148:7, 9-12

Would you go to Mass on a high mountain? What if it were said in German? What about in a wooden chapel surrounded by cows? Would you go to one there?

My apologies to Dr. Seuss, but yes I would—but please hold the green eggs and ham.

On this rainy, foggy Sunday I did all of the above. Shortly after Lauds, I accompanied Fr. Gregor (the novice-junior master here at Kloster Einsiedeln) on his chaplain assignment. Together we walked to the bus station in Einsiedeln, and rode for about 20 minutes toward Schwyz to the south. In Brunni we got off and rode a cable car up the mountainside, about 500 meters below the summit of the Big Mythen, to Holzegg. There, a number of hiking trails converge on a café/bar and a small wooden chapel dedicated to St. Nicholas.

After come coffee and tea, Fr. Gregor went ahead to the chapel to prepare for Mass, while I lingered and took in the view. Unfortunately, it was quite limited due to the weather. I’m told that when the skies are clear, the vantage point offers an incredible view of the Alps (which was fine, since I forgot my camera).

The Holzegg chapel is one of several in the mountains surrounding Einsiedeln that some ordained monks travel to on Sundays during the summer to say Mass for vacationers, tourists, and hikers in the area. In most cases, the mountain chapels are operated by foundations of local residents who then find priests to minister during the summer. On a nice day, Fr. Gregor said around 70 people might come to Mass at Holzegg. On this day, there were about 30 or so. There were also plenty of seats available at the café—normally quite crowded on nice weekends.

About 15 minutes or so before Mass began, I began heading down the narrow trail toward the chapel. Surrounding me in the fog and mist was the sound of bells—not from the chapel, but from the necks of dozens of cows grazing in the rocky pasture. These cattle are very friendly—or at least intensely curious. As I stopped to watch them, they all gathered near me, a thin ribbon of rope the only barrier between us. If I moved a few steps further down the path, they came along, galloping, clanging, mooing, and tinkling (yes, I do mean that in the sense you might imagine). As I entered the chapel and took a seat, the ringing and mooing continued outside. For a while, I thought the herd was going to come in and join us. Fr. Gregor, completing one last head count before Mass, passed by me and whispered, “Many cows, few people.”

And so Mass began – in a wooden chapel surrounded by cows, said in German on a high mountain. There we were—30 or so pilgrims, and twice as many cattle—making a racket in the fog, and hopefully praising God with all our hearts. How can you possibly beat that? I loved every minute—though I understand little German and even less Bovine.

Later in the afternoon, back at Einsiedeln, a few of us monks peeked out of the cloister along the gallery railings to see a church packed with Croatian pilgrims celebrating Mass. There were an estimated 3,000 of them. No cows.

Still later, after Vespers, several other monks and I attended a choir concert performed by the students of Einsiedeln high school—and directed by Fr. Lukas, who is also the choirmaster for the monastery. Most of the songs were in English—everything from Billy Joel to Andrew Lloyd Webber to ABBA. It was a rousing performance.

The last piece was “Heaven is a Wonderful Place.” And so it is, whether it is sung in German, Croation, English, or Bovine. After all, the “kingdom of God is among you” (Luke 17:21). Ring those bells!

Praise the Lord from the earth … mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! Wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds! Kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all rulers of the earth! Young men and women alike, old and young together!
Psalm 148:7, 9-12

Happy Tails

Switzerland is a hiker’s paradise. Numerous sign-posted trails crisscross the mountains, hills, and valleys, and a number of them stretch out from the Abbey of Einsiedeln. It is possible to traverse much of the country this way, and there is plenty to see. I have yet to venture all that far, but it seems that one breathtaking view after another lies just around the bend or over the next hill. From top to bottom:

1. Pilgrims of various sorts dot the landscape along the hiking trails. This is near the Abbey’s sawmill/lumberyard and horse training arena. I wonder what the four-pawed pilgrim sporting the backpack brings along for such a journey? Each must carry his or her own weight.

2. A view of the Abbey from the small mountain directly behind it. Included are the church, monastery cloister, and associated workshops, gardens, and other facilities. The town of Einsiedeln lies beyond it. This day, nobody is lifting off the ski jump to the right.

3. In the valley a short distance from the Abbey. The cows and sheep grazing on the hillsides create their own music as they munch away. What sounds like a perpetual orchestra of wind chimes is performed by the bells tied to the animals’ necks (so they can be found in the hills if they stray). I may get one for myself--just in case.

4. The Big Mythen (MEE-tun) as viewed from near the town of Schwyz. Some of the monks of Einsiedeln are from hometowns on this side of the mountain, and others are from towns on the other side (closer to the Abbey). They razz each other about which side is the “front.” I maintain neutrality.

5. The Alps as seen from near the town of Schwyz.

Spirit and fire

All the monks of Einsiedeln under the age of 60 are required to be members of the Abbey’s fire department—unless other assignments dictate otherwise. The Abbey’s fire department also has civilian firefighters, including the current chief. In the event of a large fire at the Abbey, the town’s fire department also pitches in.

On a warm Wednesday afternoon, about a dozen Abbey firefighters—mostly monks—held a training exercise at a facility about 40 minutes away in the town of Schwyz (the capital of the Swiss canton to which Einsiedeln belongs.) I tagged along not only to watch part of the training, but also to do a bit of exploring in the area and see more of the spectacular mountain views which are so commonplace around here.

There are a number of structures at the training facility to simulate real firefighting situations, and the flames are controlled by a flow of gas. I stood at a safe distance taking some pictures. In the top photo, a trainer guides two monks battling a field of flames. In the second photo, Fr. Cyrill steps up, ready for duty.

Afterwards, everyone enjoyed a snack of Swiss sausage, cheese, and bread—even the photographer, who did none of the work!