Interview: Abbot of Clear Creek on founding the abbey, forming monks and Pope Leo XIV

Abbot Philip Anderson is the founding abbot of Our Lady of Clear Creek Abbey in Oklahoma, a beacon of traditional Benedictine life in the United States. A convert from Protestantism, he has guided the abbey since its establishment in 1999, overseeing its growth into a flourishing community dedicated to the Rule of St Benedict and the solemn celebration of the traditional Latin liturgy.

In this exclusive interview, Abbot Anderson reflects on the foundations of Clear Creek Abbey, the appeal of the Rule of St Benedict, and the role of tradition in an unsettled modern age. He speaks with perspicacity about the balance of prayer and work that defines Benedictine life, and the challenges and joys of shepherding a young but rapidly growing monastic community.

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CH: Can you share with us the journey which led to the founding of Clear Creek Abbey in 1999?

+APA: For those who remember—or have studied—the turbulent ’60s and ’70s, it is striking that a movement of spiritual renewal could emerge from that era of campus revolution and unrest—especially in Kansas. On the face of it, there could hardly have been a less likely setting for the founding of a Benedictine monastery.

To fully appreciate this unexpected monastic journey, it is first necessary to understand the cultural context surrounding its beginnings. In the year 1971, the year I enrolled at the University of Kansas, a revolution of immense proportions, one that continues to have very real consequences even in 2025, was in full swing. Everything from politics—especially the war in Vietnam—to the length of men’s hair was a subject of fierce debate. An apex was reached in 1970 with the tragic killing of four students at Kent State University by panicked National Guard soldiers. Bob Dylan’s The Times They Are A-Changin’ captures the spirit of that time.

Against this background, something simply astonishing happened at my university the year I joined. It started with a brochure mailed to a number of high school seniors in the region. The mailing proposed a special programme for freshmen at KU, based on the reading of the Great Books and taught by three professors—John Senior, Dennis Quinn, and Franklin Nelick. These three, the brochure said, shared “a common vision of education.” The nature of this common vision was barely outlined, but nothing was hidden.

By the beginning of the autumn semester that year, about 150 students had been accepted into the inaugural class of the Integrated Humanities Program endowed by the National Endowment for the Humanities.

From the very first lecture, the character of this “experiment in tradition”, as some have called it, began to emerge. The first of the Great Books on the curriculum was Homer’s Odyssey. Students had been asked to read it before classes began. After a few reminders about the basic plot of the ancient Greek epic, a question was posed to the students on that first day: Where is the protagonist, Ulysses, going?

After a somewhat embarrassed pause—students thought a trap was being set—the simple answer came: “He is going to Ithaca; he is going home.”

Then came the unexpected. As the three professors, speaking without notes (they seemed to know the book by heart), scanned the room, one of them asked the bemused young listeners: “But where are you going?” Now that was a good question. The implication was that, while the hero of the Odyssey knew where he was from and where he was going, we university students were utterly adrift.

In the following lectures, the professors added insult to injury, claiming that we young people didn’t even know how to dress, how to walk, how to speak. We had no manners. Our bewilderment and disbelief were considerable. A nerve had been struck.

This question of finality brought us to the very heart of the matter—to the true purpose of university study. Here was a generation truly “lost in space”, without a clear sense of its own culture, which is to say, of its intellectual and spiritual home. Many in those days were dabbling in Eastern religions, or experimenting with psychedelic drugs—or firebombing the student union building as part of the campus revolution movement.

That’s how it began: the experiment in Tradition, the great conversation with the greatest authors and these three professors. There was the basic question, to which a true answer (that of Western civilisation, of Christian culture) would be given—one that would send some of us in the direction of monastic life.

The real mystery is how the professors managed to keep us interested long enough for us to begin to see what they were driving at. I think theologians call this “actual grace.” I know of no other explanation. Little did we know, but part of this “coming home”—this Grace Odyssey—would be the adventure of founding a new monastery.

The basic approach of this special programme at KU could be summarised in its motto: Nascantur in Admiratione— “Let them be born in wonder.” The lost sentiment of real wonder, not the artificial kind, was the catalyst for putting young lives back on track. Students were led away from relativism—the idea that all truth is relative—towards a state of mind described by the poet Wordsworth: “Come forth into the light of things.” In other words: realism. There is Truth, and we can know it.

Our Lord said you will know a tree by its fruits. The fruits produced by the Integrated Humanities Program were abundant. Unusual but beautiful initiatives flowed from this approach: the formal Spring Waltz, a fair, the study of Latin, calligraphy, stargazing, trips to Europe—especially Ireland. Friends and families began coming to the lectures.

But the greatest fruit was conversion. Students were entering the Catholic Church. We would often find ourselves at the local parish for the baptism of this one or that one—including me. In 1972, two students, encouraged by one of the professors, went on an adventurous trip around Europe, looking for a monk to start a monastery in the wake of what was called the “crisis of the Church” after Vatican II. They were searching for a place that still had the Latin liturgy.

Their journey brought them to the Abbey of Notre-Dame de Fontgombault in France. Soon some of our group would go there to test their vocation. The conditions were extremely primitive. They arrived in the dead of winter, had to cross a river by boat, and lived in small cottages outside the abbey walls with no heating.

A few did enter the abbey. Though it was difficult to adapt to the unfamiliar setting and learn the language, some persevered, including myself. It’s hard to explain how—except again by grace. Back in Kansas, the Integrated Humanities Program was persecuted, reduced, and eventually shut down.

Meanwhile, some of us Americans in France made our professions and were ordained to the priesthood. We received a truly incomparable education in philosophy, theology, and life. To live in Europe—in that last vestige of Christendom—was to connect directly with what we had glimpsed in the Great Books of the Integrated Humanities Program. We were ready to stay there for good.

After some twenty-five years, following several exploratory visits to America by the Abbot of Fontgombault, a property was found and the American foundation was born. We arrived at Tulsa Airport on 15 September 1999, and were warmly received.

It was Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, Doctor of the Church, who said: “All is grace.” This first chapter of Clear Creek’s story is a kind of There and Back Again, to borrow from Tolkien. The spiritual, monastic Odyssey—a Grace Odyssey—was over. But a new story was just beginning. In fact, I’ve only begun to describe it. I’ve made many errors, left much out. You’ll have to come to Clear Creek, where we can continue the conversation and admire the works of God. We thank God for it all.

CH: The 1962 Roman Missal (Tridentine Mass) is central to Clear Creek’s liturgical life. Why do you think the Latin Mass is so appropriate in Clear Creek’s context?

+APA: It is simply a fact that our use of the 1962 Roman Missal has been a major attraction for vocations to our monastery. It is truly a sign of the times that cannot be ignored. We know that the Novus Ordo of 1969 can be celebrated in a more traditional manner, but there is something in this older form of the rite that, we find, harmonises better with our contemplative life as a whole.

CH: St Benedict’s Rule emphasises the balance of prayer and work (ora et labora). How is this balance lived at Clear Creek?

+APA: Indeed, an important key to the centuries-long success of the Benedictine Rule is its remarkable balance. One simple way to understand this—we are simplifying, but not betraying the spirit and letter of this way of life—is to see our day as divided into three equal parts. Three times eight: eight hours of prayer and sacred study; eight hours of work; and eight hours for sleep, meals, and recreation.

In our community, we have a vibrant group of conversi—that is, lay brothers who do not study for the priesthood, but who focus on manual labour, doing simple tasks in the garden, on the ranch, and in the workshops. This complementary combination of the choir monks (who pursue higher studies) and the brothers (who tend to the manual tasks) is also a true source of balance.

CH: Since its founding in 1999, Clear Creek Abbey has grown to over 60 monks and has seen significant physical expansion, including ongoing construction projects like the church and residential buildings. What are the deepest joys and most pressing challenges you face as abbot in shepherding this vibrant community through its growth and development?

+APA: Of course, the main purpose of a monastery is not the buildings, but the brothers—the people. The human community of men consecrating their lives to God was always our principal goal. Beginning with thirteen founders, we intended to build a community of about sixty monks. Today our monastery counts nearly seventy members, although some are helping elsewhere, and one is pursuing higher studies in Rome. It is true that the spiritual element precedes the material dimension.

However, especially in the Benedictine way of life, the particular character of the church and other buildings has a critical influence on souls. In this perspective, we are currently engaged not merely in constructing another portion of the abbey, but in completing the building of the original abbey.

It is a true blessing—and a humbling mystery of God’s providence—that I can preside as abbot over a monastic community completing an abbey. This is historic work.

CH: Recent years have seen a notable increase in conversions to Catholicism in the U.S., with many drawn to traditional practices like those at Clear Creek. How do you provide a balanced formation for the many young men who arrive at Clear Creek to try their vocation?

+APA: For one thing, this trend represents a kind of spiritual survival instinct, as young people witness the all-too-obvious decline of many institutions. The young want to see those who are consecrated to God wearing clothes that reflect their vocation. They want to see other young people around them as well.

Soil—good soil—where plants can live and grow, must have, as we all know, a certain chemical consistency, characterised by what is known as the pH factor. Soil with a pH less than 5, for example, is too acidic and will not support plant life. Lime must be added to correct it. On the other end of the spectrum, a pH above 7.5, where the soil is too alkaline, likewise proves unfit for growth. The ideal pH of 7 is not strictly necessary, but there must be a minimum of balance.

Likewise, for a monastic vocation to thrive, the postulant must encounter in the novitiate an environment that is not too “acidic”, so to speak—marked by excessive severity, as one might have found in the days of Jansenism or in certain 19th-century Trappist communities.

On the other hand, and for equally serious reasons, the postulant who finds himself—or herself—in a community where there is too little monastic observance, and too little sense of belonging to a well-defined rule of life, generally loses his vocation. Most of us have seen this phenomenon.

The last fifty years or so have been characterised by a lack of observance, by too much laxity—by cultural “soil” that is overly alkaline. In the end, there is a need both for a certain rigour and for mercy.

CH: For those newly entering the Catholic faith, particularly those inspired by the abbey’s traditional liturgy and Benedictine spirituality, what specific spiritual practices would you recommend to help them deepen their faith and integrate into the Church’s life?

+APA: Those who do not have a vocation to enter the monastery can nonetheless belong to some form of Third Order (first devised by Saint Francis). For such people, we have what we call secular oblates. They take no public vows, but make a special promise after a year of probation. We help them learn about practices such as lectio divina and participation in the liturgy.

CH: In an era marked by distractions, secularism, and rapid cultural change, what are the most significant obstacles young men face when entering monastic life at Clear Creek? 

+APA: The obstacles are considerable—more so in our time, no doubt, than in past ages. However, the young are surprisingly able to adapt to even the harshest realities, especially in their prime youth.

The monastery provides the time and the environment they need to shed unwanted cultural baggage and bad habits.

Our formation process is typical of most Benedictine monasteries: one year of postulancy; one year of novitiate; three years of simple (temporal) profession; and finally, solemn perpetual vows after approximately five years of religious formation. In a monastic family—as opposed to a common novitiate shared by all houses, as in some orders—the young are able to witness monks of all ages, including elders, who play an important role in their growth.

Above all, there is a special sort of divine providence for each epoch. The young of our day will benefit from God’s loving plan. The Church will go on. New saints will be born.

CH: Reflecting on Pope Leo XIV’s first 100 days as pontiff, marked by gestures like wearing traditional vestments, what are your hopes for his approach to the TLM and his general pontificate for the coming years?

+APA: Indeed, there have been signs from the moment the Holy Father walked out onto the balcony of Saint Peter’s that the approach of the new Pope will be more “classic,” if you will—or rather, more traditional. The fact that this Pope is a good Latinist and musician, not to mention his grasp of canon law and doctrinal matters, makes me think he will be fair and balanced in his approach to the delicate matter of the more traditional form of the rite and to Gregorian chant. As an American, I cannot but put great hope in Pope Leo XIV.

CH: As Clear Creek Abbey celebrated its 25th anniversary, how do you envision its role in the Church and the world over the next 25 years? How might the abbey continue in an increasingly secular yet tradition-hungry society?

+APA: The building of stone walls and timbered roofs, the careful populating of cloisters with monks, is not an end unto itself. This endeavour is not meant for the mere personal satisfaction of those involved, nor does it exist as a kind of enclosed good reserved for a small circle of like-minded individuals. To use a phrase beloved by modern analysts, this is not a “self-referential project.” Rather, the very nature of the Good—so the philosophers and theologians teach us—is to give of itself, to diffuse itself outward in love and truth: bonum diffusivum sui.

A monastery that would shut itself off from the world, that would hoard the blessings it has received, would ultimately be of little use to God or to mankind. We must, therefore, share the good we have been given; we must share the vision. This “sharing of the vision” can take on many forms. Sometimes it is as simple and direct as sending monks to assist other communities in need—whether temporarily or for more extended periods.

At other times, it manifests in the founding of a new monastery: a band of monks carrying the spark of their monastic home into new lands, that the fire of contemplative life might take hold elsewhere.

CH: Thank you for your time Fr. Abbot. 

If you would like to learn more about the work of Clear Creak, particularly to support the building of the Abbey, please visit: future.clearcreekmonks.org

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Photo credit: Clear Creak Abbey