MONASTIC GARDENS: CULTIVATING THE SOUL THROUGH THE CENTURIES

Since the dawn of monasticism in the 6th century, gardens have been an integral part of monastic life. Far more than simple plots to grow food, these sacred spaces have nourished both body and soul for countless monks, nuns, and pilgrims through the ages.

The tradition of monastic gardening first took root with the Benedictines, whose Rule emphasised the importance of ora et labora - prayer and work. Manual labour in the garden was seen as a way to cultivate humility, strengthen the body, and attune the mind to the rhythms of God's creation.

As monasteries spread across Europe in the Middle Ages, so too did their gardens, becoming oases of beauty, knowledge and contemplation.

The story of monastic gardens begins in 6th century Italy, with a man who would shape Western monasticism for centuries to come. Born around 480 AD, Benedict of Nursia founded twelve monasteries before penning his famous Rule at Monte Cassino abbey. This guide for monastic life, with its emphasis on prayer, work, and self-sufficiency, would lay the groundwork for medieval monastery gardens across Europe.

For early Benedictine monks, gardening was both a practical necessity and a spiritual exercise. The Rule instructed monasteries to grow their own food if possible, making the garden an essential part of cloistered life. But tilling the earth was also a form of prayer, a way to contemplate God's creation and one's own mortality.

As monasticism spread in the early Middle Ages, so too did this tradition of the garden as a sacred space for labour and reflection.

Perhaps no document captures the ideal of the early medieval monastery garden better than the Plan of St. Gall. Dating to around 820 AD, this detailed blueprint depicts a self-contained monastic city, complete with a church, cloister, houses, workshops, and extensive gardens. Though never built, the Plan offers a fascinating glimpse into the Carolingian vision of monastic life.

At the heart of the St. Gall complex lies the cloister garden, a square courtyard divided by paths into four lush quadrants.

The Plan of St. Gall also reveals the diverse roles of the monastic garden. To the south of the infirmary lies the physic garden, a small plot divided into sixteen beds for growing medicinal herbs. Monasteries were centres of healing in the Middle Ages, and many developed extensive knowledge of herbal remedies. The physic garden thus exemplified the Benedictine marriage of the practical and spiritual, providing medicine for the body and a beautiful space to soothe the soul.

Indeed, gardens were an integral part of the ora et labora (pray and work) rhythm of monastic life. Monks and nuns spent hours in the garden engaged in quiet manual labour, an embodied form of meditation and devotion to God. Whether pruning vines in the vineyard or contemplating the ephemeral beauty of a rose, they sought to cultivate inner peace and virtue through horticultural practice. In this way, the garden became a bridge between heaven and earth, a place where the sacred and the mundane intertwined.

At the heart of every monastery lies the cloister, a covered walkway surrounding an open courtyard. And at the centre of this space, one often finds the hortus conclusus - the enclosed garden. This ancient design, with roots in Persian paradise gardens and the Song of Solomon, became a defining feature of medieval monastic life.

Bounded by walls or arcades, the hortus conclusus created a secluded oasis, a place of beauty and contemplation set apart from the world. The garden's inward focus and limited access made it a potent symbol of the Virgin Mary, whose purity and sanctity were likened to a "garden enclosed." Monks and nuns would stroll or sit in this cloistered paradise, meditating on Scripture, copying manuscripts, or simply drinking in tranquillity.

But the monastic garden was not merely ornamental. Medicinal herbs were a key feature, reflecting the monastery's role as a centre of healing and charity. From the physic garden of St. Gall to Hildegard von Bingen's extensive writings on herbal remedies, monastics cultivated a deep knowledge of plants and their curative properties.

Herbs like sage, rue, and hyssop were grown for their ability to treat ailments ranging from digestive issues to headaches. Many of these plants also held symbolic meaning, such as rosemary for remembrance or lavender for purity. By tending and harvesting these herbs, monks and nuns participated in Christ's ministry of healing, offering physical and spiritual succour to the sick and suffering.

Beyond the cloister walls, monasteries often maintained extensive orchards and vineyards. These productive landscapes provided fruit for the table and wine for the chalice, as well as a space for manual labour and meditation. Apples, pears, plums, and other fruit trees were common, along with nut trees like chestnuts and walnuts.

The orchard also served a symbolic function, with fruit trees representing the virtues and the cycle of life. The blossoming of spring, the fruitfulness of summer, the harvest of autumn, and the dormancy of winter all found parallels in spiritual life. Tending the orchard thus became a metaphor for cultivating the soul, pruning vice and nurturing virtue.

Water and Life

No garden can thrive without water, and monastic gardens were no exception. From the earliest days of monasticism, water played a central role in the life of the cloister. Monks and nuns constructed elaborate irrigation systems, including aqueducts, fountains, and cisterns, to ensure a steady supply for their crops and flowers.

But water was more than a practical necessity - it was a powerful spiritual symbol. The cloister fountain, often located at the centre of the hortus conclusus, represented the fountain of life, the source of eternal refreshment. The sound of running water also served as a reminder of the living water of baptism and the cleansing power of God's grace.

Monastic cemeteries, too, often incorporated water features, with springs or wells symbolising the promise of resurrection. These burial grounds were not morbid places but serene gardens, where the dead were laid to rest amidst fruit trees and flowers - a foretaste of the paradise to come.

The Rule of St. Benedict exhorted monks to engage in manual labour as a way to combat idleness and contribute to their community. But this work was also seen as a way of participating in God's own creative activity and a way to cultivate humility and reverence for the natural world.

In the garden, monks and nuns found endless opportunities for this sacred labour. From planting and pruning to weeding and harvesting, each task became an act of devotion, a chance to work in harmony with the Creator. The rhythms of the garden - the daily round of watering and tending, the seasonal cycles of growth and decay - mirrored the rhythms of the liturgy, the ongoing opus Dei or "work of God."

Celestial Cycles

Monastic gardeners also looked to the heavens for guidance, using astronomical observations to plan their planting and harvesting. The movements of the sun, moon, and stars marked the passing of seasons and the timing of agricultural tasks. Monks and nuns studied ancient texts on astronomy and natural philosophy, seeking to understand the cosmic order and its effects on earthly life.

One of the most famous monastic astronomers was Walahfrid Strabo, a 9th-century Benedictine abbot who wrote extensively on the subject. In his poem Hortulus, he describes the joys and challenges of gardening, interweaving practical advice with spiritual reflections. Strabo saw the garden as a microcosm of the universe, a place where the divine order was manifest in the growth of plants and the turning of the seasons.

Tools of the Trade

To tend their gardens, monastic horticulturalists relied on a range of traditional tools, many of which would be familiar to gardeners today. Spades, hoes, rakes, and pruning knives were all common implements, often handcrafted by the monks and nuns themselves. Wheelbarrows and watering cans made transporting materials and irrigating crops easier, while more specialised tools like grafting knives and dibbers were used for propagation and planting.

But, again, these tools also held symbolic significance. The spade, for example, was associated with the labour of Adam after the Fall, a reminder of the toil and sweat required to cultivate the earth. The pruning knife, meanwhile, symbolises the need to cut away vice and excess, both in the garden and in the soul. By using these tools mindfully, monastics sought to infuse their physical work with spiritual meaning.

A Garden of Symbols