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Snowshoeing sister finds God in still of winter |
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By Dave Hrbacek
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Wednesday, 27 January 2010 |
A stout winter complete with heavy snows and subzero temperatures has had Minnesotans reeling since mid-December.
 The Outdoors
Dave Hrbacek
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But not Sister Nancy Bauer, prioress of the largest Benedictine community in the nation.
“I just plain like winter,” she said. “That’s the bottom line. Winter is my favorite season. It always has been.”
And, she has a unique way of taming the arctic beast. She conquers the
cold, the snow and the icy winds with a simple pair of wooden snowshoes.
It started in 1985, shortly after the death of her grandmother. She
wanted to get something as a memorial and chose a pair of wooden
snowshoes.
“Grandma did have a pair of snowshoes in her closet,” she said. “I was always fascinated by them.”
That fascination has turned into a passion that not only helps her
enjoy her favorite season, but draws her closer to God. For her, winter
is the silent season that creates opportunities for reflection that are
integral to Benedictine spirituality.
“I love the quiet,” she said. “I think we would be more peaceful people if we stopped, had quiet, and reflected on things more.”
Seeking quiet
It was this kind of experience that I was hoping for as I drove an
hour-and-a-half northwest from the Twin Cities to the St. Benedict’s
Monastery in St. Joseph to spend an afternoon with the woman I dubbed
“the snowshoeing nun.”
Actually, there is a lot more to Sister Nancy than that, as I
discovered on a beautiful winter day in the middle of our state’s
traditional January thaw. In addition to snowshoeing, she also has a
love of nature photography. She is quite skilled with a camera.
I also learned that she grew up in this archdiocese, on a small farm
near the town of Miesville, a few miles south of Hastings. Among her
favorite childhood memories are the times when she could walk out of
the house on a snowy winter night.
“I just loved those still winter evenings,” she said. “I loved going
out to the barn and just standing there while [my father] milked cows.”
She still likes such scenes today and insists that one of these days,
she’s going to see a farmer going to his barn while she’s driving down
a road, and will pull in to talk to him.
Sister
Nancy Bauer, prioress of the Benedictine Monastery in St. Joseph,
enjoys snowshoing on a small piece of wooded property on the monastery
grounds. - Photo by Dave Hrbacek / The Catholiic Spirit
I know the feeling. I, too, recall walking down deserted streets at
night during winter and watching snowflakes gently falling and lit by
streetlights. And, once, I experienced the same thing while seated in a
deer stand at dawn on a farm near Red Wing, with snowflakes falling
gently as they landed on the brim of my blaze orange cap. The morning
vigil was capped by the sight of a nine-point buck that strolled
silently across the field in front of me.
Sister Nancy has her own deer stand on the edge of a wooded piece of
property on the monastery grounds that borders a restored prairie
filled with native grasses and wildflowers. In her case, she shoots
deer with a camera and not a gun. Yet, sometimes, she climbs up into
the wooden platform just to have some peace and quiet. Now, other
sisters in her community are following suit. There is spiritual
significance to these noiseless moments.
“The purpose of silence in the monastery is to be mindful of the
presence of God,” she said. “And, as human beings created by God in a
world created by God, we’re always in a sacred space wherever we are. I
think that’s the essence of monastic life.
“I think it’s what many people are looking for. They want a spiritual life, but it’s hard work and it takes time.”
It seems strange that sitting quietly could be such a chore, but I
think it’s that way because we live in such a noisy world. I know that
all too well, living in a bustling household with five other people —
my wife, Julie, and our four children.
This is why I was looking forward to the trip to the Benedictine
monastery to visit Sister Nancy. Not so much as an escape, but as a way
to experience a little quiet that, hopefully, would draw me closer to
the one who created everything in nature that both Sister Nancy and I
admire and love to photograph.
The beauty of nature photography is you can just go out and shoot what
comes. Sister Nancy can do that right outside her third-floor window.
She has a bird feeder set up well within range of her telephoto lens,
and has gotten some amazing shots of song birds that come in for a
snack.
But, as satisfying as the results have been, she is on a quest for
something bigger — literally. She has made several trips to
southeastern Minnesota to try her hand at photographing the eagles that
congregate along the Mississippi River during winter.
“I don’t have what I want in an eagle picture yet,” she said. “But, it’s fascinating being down there and seeing the eagles.”
If anyone thinks it odd for the prioress of a monastery to be spending
so much time behind a camera, consider this — she has a bachelor’s
degree in journalism from the University of Minnesota, where she
studied both photography and writing. And, she has 20 years of
experience in the field as a writer, photographer and editor for the
St. Cloud Visitor, the official newspaper of the Diocese of St. Cloud.
Her background is nearly identical to mine. I have the same degree from
the same school and slightly more years in the newspaper business (23).
I definitely feel a kinship with Sister Nancy, even though I do
photography for a living, while she does it as a hobby. Still, she has
some important reasons for taking her camera out into God’s creation.
“I don’t have a lot of [free] time, so I find that, more and more,
going out with my camera is the best way to take care of myself,” she
said. “I find that I can let everything else recede and just relax and
enter into something that doesn’t have anything to do with all of the
responsibilities and commitments of being a prioress.”
But, don’t misunderstand. Sister Nancy loves the job she was elected by
her community to do in 2005. She feels privileged to spend time with
the 271 sisters she leads, especially during their times of need. Just
days before I visited her, she spent time with a sister who was dying.
And, within about an hour of my departure, she would be attending a
wake for this sister and leading prayer.
Her passion for this kind of ministry easily matches her passion for
photography. Yet, there is an end in sight. A Benedictine prioress can
serve only one six-year term, which means her leadership
responsibilities will end in June 2011. As we neared the end of our
brief snowshoeing foray into the small piece of woods and restored
prairie, she revealed her thoughts about life after being in charge.
“My goal when my term as prioress is up is to take a one-year
sabbatical and spend most of it doing photography,” she said. “I’d like
to spend time on the Gunflint Trail.”
Sounds like a great place to find good photos, quiet — and God.
Dave Hrbacek is a staff photographer at The Catholic Spirit. Visit his Faith Outdoors blog at community.thecatholicspirit.com/blogs/faithoutdoors .
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