End of an Era
KC Marrin
When a young Michael Roske put his hat in the ring for a position at Abbey Woodworking, little did he know about the road that would lie ahead or who would lead the way…but isn’t this how life’s journey often goes?
Michael joined Abbey Woodworking back in the fall of 1983 when Br. Hubert Schneider was already more than halfway into his 60-year tenure in the woodshop. Despite his age, Br. Hubert would be the one to guide Michael in the initial ways of the craft, and also humility, as he knew more about the subject than most, including the many theologians on campus. You see, younger monks were purposely sent to the shop to see if a bit of Br. Hubert’s monastic life experience might rub off. Older monks too would migrate in and out, lingering amidst the rhythm of a predictable routine and the smell of home-cut red oak. And Michael, know it or not, was about begin a full, 8-credit, graduate course in the subject.
Humility is appropriately woven into the search for perfection that motivates a novice craftsman to-be. In every clean, tight dovetail, strong mortise and smooth corner, the holy, well-measured life of Br. Hubert set a tone that still hangs in the air of the Abbey’s turn-of-the-century shop. In his hands, a plane or chisel became an instrument of kindness and respect. A Shaker artisan would be quite at home. Ask around. This is not romantic nostalgia.
But what of the study of humility? Do craftsmen ever stand to a take a bow? Well, yes, occasionally, but that is never the heart of it. Their work is the work of skilled hands that instinctively know the lay of the grain on the board they hold. Read Chapter 7 of Saint Benedict’s Rule, then look around campus. Michael’s work is everywhere speaking to his skill and mastery as a woodworker. A bed here, a table there, perhaps the chair you are sitting on right now in the refectory. What more could you expect? He learned from a master.
Michael concluded his 8-credit course years ago, summa cum laude. Now a master craftsman like Br. Hubert, he retires after decades of cutting, measuring, sanding and shaping, at first with hesitation, now with humble confidence. Those who know Michael share in his always-generous spirit, his sense of humor, a willingness to talk and the ability to find a solution to get the job done. He is known by almost everyone on campus as someone they call to get something built, fixed, picked up or delivered, and even where to find ice cream and a candle for a surprise birthday cupcake.
But beneath it all, especially his legacy work, is a gentle, generous man, a husband and father, a man shaped by a monk in whom the spirit of the Benedictine life unfolded so beautifully, conferring countless blessings on this deserving student. Michael lucked out. He walked through a door at just the right time. But those of us who know him, we lucked out, too. His life at Saint John’s is a gift and an inspiration to what we all aspire to be. We are grateful.
Best of everything to you, Michael. May blessings and good health abound. You may now stand and take a short but well-deserved bow.
