The Benedictine sisters of Holy Wisdom Monastery in Wisconsin are not ones to seek the spotlight. Yet, their decades-long dedication to healing the land around them is nothing short of revolutionary.
They’ve transformed 170 acres of former farmland and manicured lawns into a vibrant tapestry of native prairie and oak savanna, buzzing with wildflowers, grasses, insects, rabbits, and birds. This ecological revival, alongside their decision to open their Roman Catholic community to Protestants, stems from a core belief: to welcome all and treat Earth as a sacred, living entity.
Their commitment extends beyond the landscape. The monastery’s main building boasts the highest LEED sustainability certification, powered by solar energy and regulated by geothermal wells. True to their vow of humility, any accolades received for their groundbreaking environmental work are modestly kept out of public view.
A Testament to Local Solutions
This initiative is part of a broader movement, “50 States, 50 Fixes,” highlighting community-driven solutions to pressing environmental challenges across the nation.
Spend time with the sisters, and their deep love for the rejuvenated land becomes clear. Sister Lynne Smith, the 71-year-old prioress, beautifully articulates their mission: “We need refugia now for the human spirit where we can come and remember what it is to be human… Part of that is knowing that we are in a mutual, integral, interdependent relationship with this Earth.”
Conservation biologist Darcy Kind from the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources praises the land’s “incredible” health and significant ecological impact. Over 130 bird species, including the state-threatened Henslow’s sparrow, and the federally endangered rusty patched bumblebee, have been observed thriving here. Leah Kleiman, a land restoration specialist, aptly describes the sisters and their helpers: “They’re small, but they’re mighty.”
The monastery’s roots trace back to the early 1950s when Benedictine sisters established a Catholic girls’ high school on 40 acres of farmland, cultivating gardens and constructing their initial buildings.
A pivotal shift occurred in the 1960s with the Second Vatican Council’s call for Christian unity. Embracing this vision, the sisters closed the high school and transformed their campus into a retreat and conference center, warmly welcoming non-Catholics.
Sister Joanne Kollasch, who joined the order in 1954 and celebrates her 95th birthday this week, recalls the local bishop’s disapproval of their inclusive stance. “But I felt we were trying to listen to God, not to the local bishop,” she stated, “We were simply responding to need as we saw it.”
Disaffiliating from the Catholic Church to formally become an ecumenical community in 2006, the sisters continued their mission of welcoming diverse faiths. Sister Lynne, a retired Presbyterian pastor, joined in 1998, exemplifying their broad embrace. Today, the monastery, supported by a staff of 24, hosts daily and weekly prayer services open to everyone, including regulars like Terry Larson, a 78-year-old retired Lutheran pastor and board member.
“During my 40 years as a Lutheran minister, I’ve never felt as spiritual as I do here,” Mr. Larson shared. “It’s the magic of the community and the magic of the prairie.”
With less than half a percent of Wisconsin’s original two million acres of native prairie remaining, the sisters see it as their sacred duty to restore and protect these precious lands. “Benedictines are ‘lovers of the place,’” Sister Lynne explained. “We stay in one place. We get to know it. We get to know what it needs. It feeds our spirituality.” This stewardship, she emphasized, is done with a deep consciousness of future generations.
Their ambitious restoration journey began modestly with tree and shrub planting. Over time, they implemented grass waterways to combat farm runoff and converted erosion-prone hillsides into woodlands.
A significant undertaking involved removing 85,000 cubic yards of silt from a glacial lake on their property, choked by drainage from farms and development. The lake was returned to its original nine-acre surface area and depth, its edges carefully replanted with native flora.
The prairie revival gained momentum with the purchase of wildflower and grass seeds for two acres. Between 2000 and 2015, they consistently planted an average of 10 acres of prairie annually, utilizing both donated and collected seeds, expanding their ecological footprint.
The sisters, along with a dedicated team of workers and volunteers, meticulously tend to the land. Since 2020, Dr. Amy Alstad, a conservation ecologist with a doctorate in prairie grassland ecology, has led these efforts as the monastery’s staff ecologist.
The monastery’s four miles of winding trails are open to all visitors, though dogs and bikes are restricted to maintain the contemplative atmosphere and protect ground-nesting birds and other wildlife. Dr. Alstad notes that many visitors are inspired to create their own pollinator or rain gardens at home. “It’s a place of connection, awe and reverence,” Dr. Alstad reflected. “You feel both big and little when you’re out in that restored prairie. This healed land is now the healer.”
On a crisp September morning, beneath a maple tree already ablaze with ruby-red leaves, dozens of volunteers convened at the monastery. They set out along mowed paths winding through the monastery’s vibrant, decade-old prairie, which boasts 150 species of native grasses, sedges, and wildflowers. Indian grass swayed like a nodding sea, and sawtooth sunflowers towered overhead after a season of abundant sun and rain. Monarch butterflies drifted gracefully, and goldfinches and black-capped chickadees chirped lively tunes.
With bags slung over their shoulders, the volunteers ventured into the dense thicket to collect precious seeds, destined to rejuvenate prairie lands elsewhere.
While the number of sisters has fluctuated, four remain: Sister Mary David Walgenbach, 86, a member since 1961, and the newest, Sister Everline Jeruto, 53, who joined in 2019. Sister Lynne affirmed that the monastery’s board has been restructured to ensure that even if no new sisters join, laypeople will carry on the vital work of nurturing the land—and its spiritual essence—for all life. “Humans need creation to find ourselves,” she concluded, “To know that we’re not God over other human beings, or over the earth.”