It’s been a while since I last blogged and I have to say I started to develop some guilty conscience. So, in order to make up some of the time, I will hopefully write a few articles, writing about a few things that have happened and few places I have visited.

Let’s start with the Schwanberg.


I have known the Schwanberg for almost twenty years now and it holds a very special place in my life. Literally translated as “Swan Mountain” it is more a hill, especially considering what kind of mountains I look at when I walk about in Vancouver… However, the Schwanberg is distinct since it is on the edge of the Steigerwald, a mountain range in Franconia, my home territory in Germany. When you stand on top of the mountain you have quite a stunning view across the Main valley, a beautiful wine growing area scattered with tiny, medieval, and picturesque villages: timbered houses surrounding a church, which is still at the centre of the village community, at least geographically…

The Schwanberg has had a special place in the folklore of the area’s people since anybody can remember. There are ruins of a Celtic fortification and historians know that the hill was considered sacred for those people. Over time, the overlord changed many times and the last ruling Lord of the Schwanberg was a member of the princely house of Castell, which to this day is known for a private bank and rather good Franconian wine. I mention this, because this part of Franconia traditionally is Roman Catholic, as the lands belonged to the Prince-Bishop of Würzburg. However, the Principality of Castell joined the Reformation early on and the villages around the Schwanberg have been Lutheran since.

Today the Schwanberg is a holy mountain once again (or still?). It is home of the Communitaet Casteller Ring (CCR), a religious order of Benedictine sisters, that is (surprise, surprise!) part of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church of Bavaria.

The order came into existence shortly after World War II, and its foundation-history is closely linked to the experience of the Nazi terror. Shortly after Adolf Hitler became took over government, the Nazis stared to control all aspects of life. This meant that all youth organisations were forced to join the Hitler Youth, even church run youth groups. At the time, there was a rather active Lutheran girl scout group under the leadership of one Christel Felizitas Schmid. When their troop was forced to merge with the Federation of German Girls (in German: Bund Deutscher Madchen (BDM), which was part of the Hitler Youth), some of the group decided to take matters into their own hands: They did not want to support the Nazis and refused to join the BDM. Rather, a number continued to meet secretly for prayer and Bible study. Sounds relatively non-threatening, right? However, if discovered, the young women could have faced the death penalty… Prayer indeed is subversive. Even today! One lone night, the group even took a further step. They met under an old stone cross on the cemetery in Castell, and vowed their life to God – without any compromises. This was the seed out of which the CCR grew and prospered. Today, there are some 30 sisters mostly living in a beautiful new convent on the mountain around a beautiful new church, built in the 1980s.

I first met some of the sisters in Nuremberg, my home town. In the 1980s CCR had started to send some of the sisters to larger cities to live the Benedictine sprit and rhythm of prayer and work in the urban centres, thus reaching out in mission not only in an environment that had become more and more secular, but also in a social climate that had become colder and colder. Benedictine ideals of singing God’s praises (even when it seems that God has been silenced), of welcoming whoever would walk through the doors (and to recognize Christ in them), and of forming a stable, secure, and reliable home (even in an ever-shifting world) were a radical answer to the harsh realities of the inner-city.

When first met the sisters before graduating from high-school, I was hooked – and I have stayed in touch ever since. There was something about the life of the sisters that was a radical challenge to the empty trust in money and science that was taking hold all around me. It was (and still is) a profound and deeply meaningful response to the Gospel. To see God’s love been answered with such love for God and for one’s neighbour in return was (and still is) deeply moving.

It was “meek and right” to visit the Schwanberg on my sabbatical shortly after my arrival in Germany, i.e. right on my first weekend.

One of things I had been looking forward to doing in Europe was excessive train-use – and I mean excessive. Already during my stay in the UK I had ample opportunity, i.e. my trip to Canterbury and, of course, my trip home across (or, rather, under) the Channel, which was not quite voluntary not unwelcomed, either…). In the past I had taken my motor-bike or a car to the Schwanberg, shying away from the 4.5km long hike from the train station up a rather steep hill to the convent. But this time, I wanted to brace it - and I did.

It is only an hour on a local train from Nuremberg across some rather beautiful landscape. Once you reach Iphofen, you better put some good shoes under your feet. Up it goes. And up. And up. And up! Still, after about an hours walk, I was excited to reach the convent, and really glad I had taken the hike. It was beautiful to walk through a medieval city (city walls and all), through picturesque vineyards, and (finally) through a mountainous forest – just before you reach the peek. And once there, you are rewarded with a gorgeous view and a deep, deep seated spirituality that blesses not only the sisters, but the local area around too.

One more thing about the convent. Of course, the convent wasn’t just planted on top of the mountain by accident. I already mentioned that the Schwanberg has been a sacred place even during Celtic times (yes, the Celts resided in Central Europe at one time). Furthermore, the Princes of Castell had built a lovely castle in the 17th century, which had been taken over by a cadet line in the early 20th century. And the Earl of Castell-Rüdenhausen had been very fond of the sisters after the war and had invited them to take over part of the castle. Over time, the sisters had taken over more and more of the castle-property and lands and when the earl died childless in 2004 (I think) the sisters were able to move into all of the castle. Today, the castle serves as one of the guest houses, while the sisters live in contemporary housing next to the church of St. Michael, the centre of the building complex.

I remember well the first time I had entered this sacred space. And indeed, it was one of those moments when my breath was taken away and the veil was lifted just a bit to create a thin place (after all there is a Celtic connection here too…). The church is very different to describe, so please bear with me.

When had outgrown their original chapel they commissioned an architect to build a church that not only combined light and water (metaphors used over and over in the Bible to reveal God’s love), but also incorporated somehow the vision of the New Jerusalem found in the Book of Revelation. Furthermore, the church had to be built primarily to serve a religious community of Benedictine nuns. And what a fine job! The architect really was able to translate the vision of the sisters into stone and walls – or at times the lack of stones and walls: it is a building flooded with light! And there is even a huge font with flowing water!

The central focal point of the church is the altar, around which the sisters and the congregation sit to pray and praise. However, the altar space is lowered into the ground with the choir stools on the same level. The congregation sits a few steps up, giving them a unique view and a sense of being included. Furthermore, this visualizes in a unique way the idea that the altar (the place where we offer our prayers to God and where God offers Himself to the world in bread and wine) is not only at the centre, but also is the foundation of the life of the community and of life itself. The altar carries the sisters in their dedication to God and to neighbour and in their mission and ministry. Finally, it is a way of expressing that the Christian way is to know God deeper and deeper, is to avoid staying on the surface, is to find God also in the depth of the human experience: the cross and the grave. It is quite spectacular!

As I said before, I was able to join the sisters on my first weekend in Germany. It was a weekend of prayer and contemplation, including a day-long seminar on meditation and a more intentional conversation with one of the sisters, who will be a spiritual advisor while I am on sabbatical.

But I also came back to the Schwanberg on Pentecost – for four days! It was (again) a time of spiritual renewal – and I was able to enjoy the outdoors too. A lot of walking in the forests. I even tried myself at jogging, well, at east here I realised that this is not for me! But I do enjoy the daily routine of offices: 6.30am Morning Praise, 12noon Midday Prayer, 5pm Vespers, 9pm Compline. There is something beautiful about having your day interrupted by prayer… Or is it the other way around: Is prayer, which should be our constant modus operandi, interrupted by our business? I sometimes wonder… However, it will be interesting to see how the insights of these retreats, these intimate periods of time with God will be translated into my life now and when I am back in Vancouver. This goes for my relationship with God, for what I have discovered about myself and for the way monastic spirituality has and will influence who I am.

One of the highlights during my time on the Schwanberg at Pentecost was attending the life-profession of one of the sisters. Life-profession is the final “yes” to life in a monastic community. After years of prayerful discernment, preparation, and at times hard decision-making, the sister or brother becomes a full member of the monastic or religious community at life profession. Those who reach this stage also acknowledge that that this is what God calls them to be. This is, however, not a personal decision alone. The community also says “yes” to the brother or sister. Becoming a monk, a friar, a nun, or a sister indeed is not an easy process and not a lot of people make it to the end, which is not to say that only “special” or “better” human beings can join a monastic community. No, it is an indication that God calls only a few and that monastic/religious life is not easy, is not for the faint of heart. It is furthermore not a flight from the world. Rather, it is a flight into the world as a prayerful witness to God’s love and God’s grace. Yes, God does call some to this life – and I hope and pray that the monastic and religious life also takes a deeper root in our beloved Anglican Church of Canada. We do have a few orders, but only one community is home-grown (the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine), all are small, and there is no noviciate available for men. So, I would like to finish this blog-entry with a prayer from the Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal Church:

O Lord Jesus Christ, you became poor for our sake, that we might be made rich through your poverty: Guide and sanctify, we pray, those whom you call to follow you under the vows
of poverty, chastity, and obedience, that by their prayer and service they may enrich your Church, and by their life and worship may glorify your Name; for you reign with the Father
and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.