A Journey to the Abbey
Somewhere along I-94, just less than two hours northwest of Minneapolis/St. Paul, amid Minnesota’s rolling farmlands, spread across twenty-six acres of land adjacent to Lake Sagatagan, sits St. John’s Abbey.
Arriving in late March with sideways snow, not much, but enough to know you were in Minnesota—driving into the Abbey along a sweeping drive, the emergence of the Abbey Church is startling.
Contemplation of brutalist architecture has had a reexamination due to a recent Oscar-winning film. But nothing could prepare you for the gargantuan cement testament to faith Marcel Breuer conceived in the 1950s.
A “Bell Banner” with many bells, peals for prayer three times a day. There is no mistaking it. Gorgeous, beckoning as its intention and raw in its testament.
A Hotel Hidden Within a Monastery
My mission was to help the Brothers, Benedictine Monks all, improve the hotel’s sales performance of a gorgeous, spare, thirty room jewel box called, “Guest House”, of St. John’s Abbey.
I am not Catholic. I might best be described as a failed Episcopalian. But none of that matters. What mattered is that my host, Brother Benedict, needed to turn a profit, at least a modest one.
Brother Benedict was my employer, my guide, my inspiration. His is a difficult task; lead a Benedictine Monastery, curate a remarkable collection of creative Monks, and make payroll. Added to this, every day, no matter what befalls him, he stops three formal times a day: and prays. Every day.
Today there are 90 men who comprise the Monks of St. John’s Abbey, in 1950 there were 450. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune are well documented about the Catholic Church. The fact that a Conclave begins tomorrow is no small matter either.
But, back to Brother Benedict. A man with a twinkle in his eye and faith in his heart. The critical skills of running a charitable, endowment leveraged, joyful expression of monastic artists who produce Church pipe organs, milled from lumber they harvest on property built over three years at a selling price of three million dollars with minimal margin, or pottery that rivals the world’s best in class, or St. John’s Bibles of gargantuan size lovingly scripted and illustrated complete bibles, or curating a library repository of the worlds Benedictine aspirations—is no small feat.
He also has to run a hotel.
A Jewel Box of Hospitality
With Brother Isidore (A GM we would call him), they do that spectacularly. I call it a jewel box because it is. The Guest House is spare in all furnishing, Scandinavian perhaps, but Japanese in its simplicity and accents of glass, carved blocks and windows prominent to let all the light refract as it will.
The rooms are spare, designed for solitude and contemplation. No TVs. I didn’t miss it once in my three days. And a massive window dominates the wall facing their wonderful lake. After fourteen years of “original equipment” (no renovations), the property is immaculate. This is a property running close to 60% annually, and 100% in peak season.
The food was delicious. The staff attendant. The genuine hospitality evident. Yet the world is a tricky place when you minister to the poor, the downtrodden, the seekers, who at times cannot pay, who need a hand. It’s a fact of Benedictine service: you give comps. You have to, it is what you do.
Serving Guests, Serving Souls
The financial reality says, “Ah, within reason…”
So, on the culminating moment of the last day; six men, dressed in monastic robes, sat before me and my flip charts. With a little tweaking, it was clear St. John’s Abbey Guest House will be fine, and profitable.
Brother Benedict, at my request, on a slick, snowy Minnesota afternoon took the wheel and toured me through St. Jo’s and the local hotel competition, the adjacent St. John’s University and St. Benedict’s College (for women), and some of the local fare of restaurants, it looked like Ann Arbor.
With a whimsical smile of a man, “in this world, but not of it”, Br. Benedict would chuckle at my typical routine of getting young desk clerks to tell me more than they should about rates, best clients, and ADR. “You sure see many things I would have no idea to look for!”
I suppose so.
Learnings from Monastic Life
What I saw in Br. Benedict was faith in action, financial realities, and an openness to the world, oftentimes the cause of his profession. His gentle brilliance is that he takes it all in and judges none, laughs out loud at goofy consultants, and saves souls with nowhere else to turn. I share what hotels can learn:
- Contemplating what is happening three times a day is a good thing.
- Faith is a matter for each to their own.
- Striving for perfection is a journey, even if never reached.
- Laughing at the absurdities of our world, even Monks do it!
- Discipline is its own reward.
- A profit, even if a small one, makes the mission—possible.
As I stepped to my rental car, escorted by Brother Benedict, he offered, “Do you think I could call you? Especially if I get stuck on something about hotels, I just don’t understand?”
Sure, anytime. No charge.
