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In every corner of Minnesota, there are good stories waiting to be told of places that make our state great and people who in Walt Whitman’s words “contribute a verse” each day. MPR News sent longtime reporter Dan Gunderson on a mission to capture those stories as part of a series called “Wander & Wonder: Exploring Minnesota’s unexpected places.”
Tom Klein didn’t need spiritual awakening when he first entered Pacem in Terris, a hermitage in the Isanti County woods. At the time, he was struggling to teach school, coach hockey and care for his wife as she battled cancer. He needed sleep.
“I got to the cabin about 8 p.m.” and fell into the bed fully clothed, Klein recalled. He awoke 13 hours later confused but refreshed. In the 25 years since, he’s logged 109 visits at Pacem in Terris, where he serves on the board and is known affectionately as the center’s “frequent friar.”
“Pacem truly is a place of rest,” said Klein. “Just physically — that need to get sleep — it really works.”
For decades, Pacem’s rustic cabins scattered through more than 200 acres of woods and prairie have offered visitors the promise of silence, solitude and simplicity. Some people have profound spiritual experiences. Some struggle with the silence. Others simply crash and sleep for hours.
In a world that feels gripped by chaos daily, Pacem in Terris’ stewards say their refuge is needed now more than ever.
‘Alone with God’
About an hour north of downtown St. Paul, Pacem in Terris opened three small cabins to visitors 37 years ago. Pacem in Terris means "Peace on Earth" in Latin.
"It was simply to provide a place where people could come and be alone with God," said Tim Drake, who has come to the hermitage for 20 years and is now its executive director.
Today, 19 rustic cabins are scattered across 240 acres. Trails wind around the property, connecting the cabins to a central building that houses offices, a small chapel, showers and a handful of rooms for guests who can’t physically get to a cabin. Each cabin is named for a Catholic saint.
They are intentionally austere. There's a single bed and a rocking chair but no electricity or running water. An outhouse is nearby. A small propane burner is used to heat water for coffee or tea. There’s a propane lamp for light to read.
Another rocking chair draws guests to a small screened porch.
"During the nice times of year, this is where you'll find a lot of people," said Drake.
The founder was a woman named Shirley Wanchena who had a vision for a place based on silence, solitude and simplicity.
"Silence, freedom from noise, solitude, freedom from social interaction, and simplicity, which would be freedom from distraction," explained Drake.
More than 1,000 people come here each year, most stay for a couple of nights.
People pay what they choose. The suggested donation is $140 per night.
Each visitor gets a supply of water and a food basket to take to the cabin — two loaves of bread baked on site, a date nut bran muffin, a chunk of Wisconsin cheddar cheese, two apples, two oranges and two bananas.
This retreat center is grounded in the Catholic faith, but Drake said many visitors follow other faiths or no faith at all.
‘We all have our burdens and our wounds’
Many visitors share their experiences with Drake, and for those accustomed to a busy world, silence and solitude can be a radical change.
"You're out there alone, which makes a lot of people uncomfortable, because you're confronted with your own shortcomings and your own weaknesses," he said.
"I remember a young woman who came, she was in her 20s, and after her first night, she said, ‘I need to leave.’ She said ‘I have never had this much silence in my entire life,’” recalled Drake. “It kind of hit me in the chest, like wow, your life has been filled with that much noise, I just thought, how tragic."
Others tell him about life-altering insights they find simply sitting in a rocking chair staring out the window or spending time in meditation.
Trails wind through the woods and prairie. Signs remind guests to respect silence while hiking. Boardwalks provide access to a small shallow lake where ducks and trumpeter swans are regular visitors.
A simple wooden cross erected on the edge of a clearing has rocks and bits of paper around its base. “To Jesus, love AJ,” reads one. Someone left a small crown shaped piece of jewelry.
"I think people come here for every reason you can possibly imagine,” said Drake. "What happens in the hermitage is very personal. We all have our burdens and our wounds and that's what a lot of people are bringing here."
Drake hopes they find peace in the silence and solitude of a tiny cabin in the woods.
"I don't think we would describe the world as a very peaceful place right now,” he said. “How do we create peace in our families or in our workplaces? By going out into the cabin it forces you to try to find that peace within your own heart. And it is from there that we can be beacons of peace to others."
Tom Klein still sleeps very well at Pacem in Terris, but he’s also come to find spiritual insights in the contemplative solitude. “It's consistent and it deepens,” he said of his many visits. “I find that every retreat is unique unto itself.”
Correction (May 19, 2025): An earlier version of this story said Pacem in Terris was supported by the Franciscan lay community. It is independent of the Franciscans.
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