One sign of Spring at the Abbey is the presence of hummingbirds. While the human visitors here are lacking due to COVID-19, there is no shortage of winged guests begging our hospitality in the form of sugar water.
In memory of our Sister Augustina (1925-2019) on the anniversary of her monastic profession, May 3, 1950
When our Sister Augustina Höchbauer died October 8th, she left many delightful memories of her caring, humor, wisdom, and love to those who knew her.
Growing up in Hundsschweif, Bavaria during World War II sharpened her awareness of those suffering or in need around her, and she brought this deep care for people with her when she entered St. Walburg in Eichstätt and later when she came to the foundation in Boulder. As cook in the Abbey kitchen, she did not limit herself to feeding the sisters and guests, but also fed any comers, including dogs, cats, and a local skunk.
Later in life when she no longer cooked, she was still very concerned that those around her were well fed. During many a community supper, she would look up from her wheelchair and spot a sister down the table who hadn’t been served yet. Tilting her own bowl in the direction of the Sister, she would inquire, “Would you like some soup, Sister?” Only after she had offered each part of her supper to each Sister would she eat it herself. Sr. Augustina seemed convinced that all young Sisters were ravenous at all times, and she would save the cookies and candies she received in a special tin in her room. “Not now, Sister, I eat it later,” would be the explanation. But later: “Do you see that box?” she used to whisper conspiratorially to her assistants. “Open it up. There is something nice for you inside.”
Her caring attitude toward people around her extended beyond feeding them. She had a particular knack for correcting with humorous affection. To the Sister who drove her wheelchair with greater speed than grace, Sr. Augustina would say with a playful shake of her finger, “If the police catch us, they give you a speeding ticket!” Another helper cleared her throat excessively. When the racket did not subside, Sr. Augustina said with a twinkle, “I’m terrified! Do you hear the bear growling in here? I think he eats me up!” Once, when a younger Sister was trying to give physical assistance too efficiently, she cautioned her: “Sr. Scholastica doesn’t like it if she has to sew my head back on.” Since she offered rebukes as affectionately as she offered cookies, it was never in doubt that all would be forgiven and forgotten.
Sr. Augustina’s example was one of practical wisdom, and her great love for the Lord shone through it. On Sundays, the Sister assigned to help her after Mass would offer her coffee, a snack, a German magazine, a walk in the garden, and anything else she could think of. The answer was usually an off-handed, “nein!” (“no!” in German). As the assistant began running out of ideas, Sr. Augustina would say at last, “You know what I really want, Sister? What I really want is to go to Church.” It was no surprise when Sr. Augustina greeted her final illness with the same joy and wit as ever. She smiled at her visitors and sang to her helpers as they put her to bed the last time. She suffered bravely to the end. All her cares and quips and efforts flowed naturally from her life of joyous love and hope in God.
But one wintry night a few years before she died, Sr. Augustina herself best summed up this love that fed everyone she met. In the midst of lively stories of her childhood and merry quips about bedtime, she suddenly paused and smiled at the Sister assisting her. “I think about it so often…I’ll actually look at God,” Sister Augustina said. “I want so badly to see Him…”
by Sister Maria-Raphaelle, OSB
A reflection on the joy of Christ’s Resurrection by Mother Maria-Michael Newe, OSB
If the evil one plots evil against others, I think that God must all the more plot our good. Now have you ever heard of anybody plotting good for another? No, because “good” doesn’t seem like it’s something to hide. “Plotting” implies that you’re creeping around waiting for the moment to do something; well what if that’s exactly what God is doing? What if God is just waiting for the right moment to plop good into our laps? I think He likes to keep us waiting sometimes so that we are all the more surprised when the good happens. It’s like when you turn around and you find unexpectedly delightful. There are so many ways in which God plots good for us, and if we can join Him in that and look for the little good we can do for each other, then we are participating in that joy of Christ’s giving.
After Jesus’ Resurrection He is really funny; His personality really seems to delight in surprising people. Think of that wonderful image of Christ sitting on the beach making breakfast for His friends, telling them how to have more success with their fishing efforts, and just waiting for them to catch on to the fact that it is Him (John 21). We will be able keep our minds on the good things if we try to imitate Christ’s example of plotting good, always thinking of ways we can surprise one another with unexpected acts of love.
Our little Paschal Candle Department did a beautiful job with this year’s artwork. Sister Ancilla masterminded the unique pelican design, and Sister Fidelis the parting of the Red Sea design. Since about the 12th century the pelican has been a symbol of the Passion of Christ, since the mother is known to pierce her own chest to provide blood for her young if there is no other food available. The parting of the waters is reminiscent of the Catecheses by Saint John Chrysostom, bishop:
The Israelites witnessed marvels; you also will witness marvels, greater and more splendid than those which accompanied them on their departure from Egypt. You did not see Pharaoh drowned with his armies, but you have seen the devil with his weapons overcome by the waters of baptism. The Israelites passed through the sea; you have passed from death to life. They were delivered from the Egyptians; you have been delivered from the powers of darkness. The Israelites were freed from slavery to a pagan people; you have been freed from the much greater slavery to sin.
We are now in our second week of “lock-down” at the Abbey. Thankfully, none of our Sisters have shown signs of the coronavirus yet, but our hearts go out to all those who have suffered and died from this disease. We hope that it will quickly come to an end, and that in the meantime we may use this trial as an opportunity to grow in deeper, more intentional love for each other and for the Lord, fixing our gaze on those things that are eternal.
“…light and darkness, bless the Lord…”
Daniel 3:72
God our Father,
the life and deeds of St. Walburga are resplendent with your glory.
As we join with her in worship before your throne, grant that our prayer may effect healing and comfort for all those who seek her aid.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Liturgical Prayer for the Solemnity of St. Walburga
With 43 calves down and only one to go, our calving season is almost over! The only scare we had was a premature calf born in the middle of the night, which we found in the morning fighting for his life. Thankfully, after nursing him back to health in our barn for a couple days he is now running with the rest of them and rapidly catching up in size, too.
Mother Maria-Thomas wrote the following poem to accompany the first volume of her Reveries Under the Fig Tree, in which alludes to the theme she chose for her books: the encounter between Nathaniel and Jesus as described in John 1:45-51. In this passage we hear Christ telling Nathaniel that he saw him under the fig tree before he was called by Philip, which mysteriously led to Nathaniel’s immediate belief in Jesus as truly being the “Son of God” and “King of Israel.”
Our God is Coming
We don’t know what Nathanael saw that night
under his fig tree in the dark winter’s skies.
Was it a dream like Jacob had on his flight?
A vision of angels soaring up to the heights
carrying with them his prayers and tears,
bringing back God’s assuring promise of light
and protection which put an end to his fears?
Or did the Messiah appear to Nathanael,
as he once did to the young Prophet Daniel
who saw the Son of Man coming as Ruler of nations?
At the end of all time from heaven he’ll descend
as Savior and Judge from the Father’s right hand,
Offering all mankind God’s new-born creation:
Pure oceans, fresh air, and in spring-bloom the world;
in fire all hearts then cleansed from transgressions.
Look at that star over Bethlehem:
It seems to announce the place of his birth,
As Balaam foresaw in the Hebrew story:
The Magi set out from the ends of the earth,
to worship the King, precious presents they bring.
In vain did they seek him in palaces’ wealth.
They found him at last in a cold, dripping cave
on his mother’s lap while angels would sing
of peace to all people and to God alone glory.
No witness we have of that reverie
which only Nathanael himself could know.
But so far he kept it in tight secrecy
hiding this vision from his fellows below.
Now here comes this Rabbi from Nazareth,
a small unknown city of dubious fame.
The Messiah this man cannot possibly be,
as some of his followers boldly proclaim.
But his eyes pierce deep into my innermost heart:
All my doubts, my desires he seems to see
He must be the Messiah, the Son of God.
© September 2019
Below is the poem she wrote for the second volume of her Reveries Under the Fig Tree:
The Phoenix
We don’t know what Nathanael dreamed that night
under his fig tree in early spr
Was it the same dream that Jacob, in flight,
saw of the angels on a ladder to God
carrying up his desires and fears,
and in turn God’s assuring response did bring?
Or did the Messiah appear to Nathanael
ready to free from the tight Roman yoke
his ancestral heritage, the land Israel
still held in bondage despite attempts of revolt?
Or was it more like a vision? Who knows?
An appearance like that to Ezekiel
who witnessed the throng of dead-stricken bones,
arising to life by the fresh Spirit’s breath
from the rubble of ashes, of fire and death?
Or did he see “Phoenix” in jubilant blaze
ascending to God out of Calvary’s grave?
taking dead humankind to God’s living face?
No witness we have of that reverie
which only the dreamer himself could know.
But he kept it so far in tight secrecy
hiding this mystery from his fellows below.
Now here comes this Rabbi from Nazareth
who beholds the deep secrets of all human hearts.
He must be the Messiah, Israel’s King
who, arising to glory from torment and death,
to all waiting souls God’s salvation will bring.
© December 2018
Mother Maria-Thomas Beil, OSB, has recently released two new books: Reveries Under the Fig Tree Volume I – Reflections for the Advent and Christmas Season, and Reveries Under the Fig Tree Volume II – Reflections for the Lent and Easter Season. They are compilations of the letters she sent out to our Oblates when she was Oblate Director (from the year she retired from serving as Abbess in 2003 until 2012), in addition to various supplemental reflections and conferences given to the community. Her insights constitute an invaluable resource for spiritual meditation. To accompany her literary work she composed beautiful oil paintings, which are featured on their covers. A third and final volume will be released for the Summer and Fall Seasons, with a special emphasis on Oblate formation and Final Oblation.
Click here to visit our Gift Shop page where you can purchase Mother Maria-Thomas’ books.
To learn more about our Oblate Program, visit our Oblate Page.
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