Audio Slide Show: The monks of Heiligenkreuz: Paradise and ping-pong

Their discs of Gregorian chant may be rocketing up the charts, but there's more to life in a monastic community than prayer. Guardian photographer David Levene captures the sights and sounds of Stift Heiligenkreuz, Austria.
it is short but very soothing

Accompanying Article:

Strut your monky stuff

These men now outsell Sugababes. As they release a festive album, Stephen Moss spends a day in their world

o Stephen Moss
o The Guardian, Monday 22 December 2008

It's five in the morning, and I'm crossing the courtyard of Stift Heiligenkreuz, a Cistercian monastery in the Austrian woods that dates back to 1133. I've had a brief night's sleep in a spartan cell. Mass is at 5.15, lasts for two hours, and is attended by 40 monks, three pilgrims and me. We will be back for a further three services.

I have not come to Heiligenkreuz because of a sudden spasm of religious fervour, however, but to witness a musical phenomenon. In May, the monks released a disc of Gregorian chant that has sold more than 800,000 copies worldwide, reached No 1 in the UK classical charts, No 7 in the UK pop charts, and has proved one of Universal Music's bestselling albums of the year, outselling Kanye West, Sugababes, Portishead and the Fratellis. Now a double CD has been released for Christmas, with extra advent chants. God moves in mysterious - and highly profitable - ways.

The architect of this success is Father Karl Wallner, dean of the monastery's theological school and a monk here for almost 30 years. Father Karl puts his slim mobile on the table at which we sit - his ringtone is a track from the album - and calls my battered old non-digital tape recorder "prehistoric". To be called prehistoric by a monk certainly gives pause for thought lol

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A Jewish woman finds pure joy while visiting an Irish abbey.
By Margie Goldsmith

from the December 26, 2008 edition

The 20 robe-clad monks of Glenstal Abbey, a Benedictine monastery in County Limerick, Ireland, stared at me from behind the altar. Everyone else had gotten up to take communion, and I was the only one still in the pew. I wanted to hold up a sign that read, "No offense, I'm Jewish."

I stared up at the modern stained-glass windows. The organ had bright blue and green pipes, the walls were magenta, and the ceiling was red and green – not at all what I had expected for the monastic life. The rest of the complex looked like a 12th-century castle.

I'd come here as a retreat from my stressful, overprogrammed Manhattan lifestyle, hoping for a few days of no e-mail, no phone, and no deadlines. My plan was to do nothing but wander the 500 acres of woodland paths and listen to the monks chant.

Since 1927, Benedictine monks have lived here, assembling five times a day for prayer and chanting. They claim that this 7,500-year-old area has kept its relationship with the divine and that this can be felt the moment you walk through the gates – something I would do many times because I was staying in a small bed-and-breakfast outside the back gate. And every time I entered the grounds, my thoughts slowed down.

The one-mile walk from the gate to the abbey was lined with blooming rhododendrons, towering trees, and a grazing donkey family. Whenever I walked by, the baby donkey seemed to smile, especially if I sang, which I usually did; and because I was in a religious setting, I always sang the Hallelujah chorus from Handel's "Messiah," wondering if the donkeys knew that hallelujah is a Hebrew word.

I hadn't planned on attending so many church services, but I was drawn to the beautiful chanting. I would have breakfast and then walk to the church, arriving just as the bells chimed. I'd choose a pew, then drift into my almost-not-a-thought-in-my-head mode. A few times I nodded off, not from exhaustion, but from my relaxed state. The only sounds were church bells, wind rustling through the trees, and birds.

It took a while to get used to being alone and doing nothing. Even though the abbey was only 12 miles from Limerick City, it felt like a million miles from civilization.

In the beginning, I wondered what I was going to do for three full days with no one to talk to except donkeys. It was raining hard the first day, so I took shelter in the gift shop, where I recognized Nóirín Ní Riain. This famous Irish singer makes recordings with the monks and has sung for the Dalai Lama and performed with Paul Winter and Sinéad O'Connor. She's also the only woman allowed to live at Glenstal Abbey, and teaches chanting workshops.

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