It all started with her vision
There are moments when I walk through the halls of the Benedictine Center and the Monastery common rooms early in the morning—before retreatants wake, before conversations begin, while the Monastery is quietly keeping watch in prayer—and I find myself wondering about those who walked these same halls before me (well, at least these halls since 2009 … and before that in our former monastery building). Every director of the Benedictine Center has received something precious that we did not create. We inherit a vision. We become stewards of a ministry entrusted to us for a time, knowing it will one day be entrusted to someone else.
As the current Director of the Benedictine Center, I often feel the weight—and the gift—of that legacy. At the beginning of that story stands Sister Veronica Novotny, OSB, whose imagination, faith, and Benedictine spirit gave birth to what has now become a ministry that has welcomed thousands seeking silence, renewal, friendship, and a deeper relationship with God.
The Benedictine Center officially opened on August 15, 1983, with Sister Veronica serving as its first director. Her vision was beautifully simple: that the monastic environment would be available to all who came, living faithfully the ancient words of the Rule of Saint Benedict, “Let all guests who arrive be received as Christ.” That conviction continues to shape every retreat, every spiritual conversation, every shared meal, and every quiet hour of prayer offered within these walls.
Sister Veronica seemed uniquely prepared for such a ministry. Over the course of her life she served as a teacher, librarian, religious educator, member of the Formation Team, director of Sisters in Temporary Vows, founder of the St. John’s Prayer Center, and later the founding director of the Benedictine Center before continuing her ministry at Good Counsel Education Center. She also trained in spiritual direction through the Cenacle Sisters and became a leader in the BeFriender ministry, helping others accompany people with compassion and presence.
The Woman She Became
Those who knew Sister Veronica remember much more than the positions she held. They remember the woman she became.
Friends and parishioners consistently described someone who loved life deeply, delighted in simple joys, and possessed an unwavering trust in God even while suffering. They spoke of her ability to see the person before the task, her quiet wisdom, and her remarkable capacity to accompany others with patience and hope. One colleague reflected that “it’s the people that matter rather than the task,” while another remembered how she continued to find joy in life’s simplest moments, even during the final months of her illness.
That same spirit profoundly shaped her ministry at the Church of the Risen Savior in Burnsville, where she served in pastoral care. Parishioners remembered not only what she taught them, but how she lived. Even as illness gradually limited her strength, she continued to model gratitude, vulnerability, and faith. Perhaps one of her greatest lessons came not while serving others, but in allowing herself to be served. Those who cared for her discovered that her humility became an invitation for their own growth, reminding everyone around her that receiving love can be just as holy as giving it.
I met recently (over Zoom) with Sister Virginia Matter, OSB, a classmate of Sister Veronica’s, who offered an even more personal glimpse into Sister Veronica. She remembers a woman who loved nature, delighted in learning, painted, appreciated liturgy and dance, and possessed a natural gift for teaching. Hospitality was not simply something Sister Veronica practiced; it was who she was. Discernment guided her daily life. She listened carefully—to God, to others, and to the movements of the Holy Spirit. Sister Virginia describes her as a visionary, an organizer, and someone who remained peaceful even in suffering because she trusted God’s leading until the very end.
The Benedictine Center, Our Welcome
Perhaps that is why the Benedictine Center continues to flourish more than forty years after its founding. Buildings alone do not create ministries. Programs do not sustain them. What endures is a way of living. 
Sister Veronica understood that the Benedictine life begins with listening. It grows through hospitality. It matures in discernment. It finds its fulfillment in community and in helping others encounter the living God. Those same values remain at the heart of the Benedictine Center today. Every retreat guest who discovers a place of rest, every individual who joins the Sisters for prayer, every conversation that opens someone’s heart a little wider to God’s presence is, in some small way, part of Sister Veronica’s continuing legacy.
Near the end of my conversation with Sister Virginia, I asked what she thought Sister Veronica would think if she could see the Benedictine Center today. Her response has stayed with me ever since: “I think she’d be delighted that the Benedictine Center is still an active ministry of the Monastery. She would be proud of the directors—each for bringing their own gifts and skills as directors. And that centering practice is flourishing here.”
I hope that is true. I was only 17 when Sister Veronica died and never knew her. What I’ve learned about her in preparing this reflection shows me a woman who celebrated giftedness in others and knew the spiritual journey would take the Monastery along a deep and experienced path leading us to this moment today.
More importantly, I hope we continue to embody the spirit that first inspired Sister Veronica’s vision. In a world that often prizes speed over stillness and productivity over presence, the Benedictine way remains a quiet witness that another way is possible. We can choose to welcome each person as Christ. We can cultivate lives of prayer, discernment, and hospitality. We can create places where people encounter not only peace, but the God who is its source.
That may be Sister Veronica Novotny’s greatest legacy. She did not simply establish a retreat center. She helped create an oasis where generations of people could discover the contemplative heart of the Benedictine tradition—and, through it, discover the gracious presence of God waiting to welcome them home.
