Mission Monks
The Monks of St. Gregory Reinvent Themselves
Words by Breena Kerr
Among the food trucks at the Oklahoma State Fair in September, one stood out from the rest. It wasn’t because of the menu, or even the sign that said “No one will be turned away for lack of funds.” Rather, it was the food truck employees, several of whom were wearing 6th-century hooded robes and looking out on the frenetic surroundings as though the modern world was as unfamiliar to them as they were to it.
“It was a mixed experience,” says Fr. Simeon Spitz, one of three monks staffing the Mission Monks food truck. “It was good outreach. But we monks are sensitive, and we like our quiet. I found myself sitting in the window waiting to receive the next customers and looking all ‘monk-like’ to attract business, while looking out at people walking by and praying for them.”
The Benedictine order, of which Spitz is a part, is especially focused on prayer, contemplation, and work at the abbey. Therefore, it’s known to attract those who are inclined toward solitude and spirituality—perhaps the opposite of someone who might normally gravitate toward a busy food service job.
Mission Monks is the Shawnee-based food truck owned by the Benedictine monks of St. Gregory’s Abbey. The Abbey itself is home to 19 monks and 1,500 acres of ranchland. It is open to visitors of any (or no) faith. The monks rarely venture far, but come time for special events like the State Fair, a few of them pile into the food truck and hawk bowls of steak and potatoes, a Puerto Rican drink called Coquito, cookies, and jars of honey. Their sign reads, “Our monk-tastic beef will leave you chanting for more.”
The Mission Monks food truck is less of a money-maker in itself and more of a way to raise awareness about the Abbey’s main venture, premium beef, which is sold direct to consumers. And, Spitz added, it’s also a way to introduce people to the monks and their anomalous way of life.
At the fair, the monks and their floor-length robes became a spectacle any time they stepped out of the food truck. “People came up to ask us, ‘Why are you wearing this?’ Because seeing someone who looks like us isn’t just a little weird, it’s really weird,” says Spitz, who is the Abbey’s Prior. “Then we’d usually get to talking more deeply, and we’d explain that we give up family and jobs and those sorts of things—you know, no money, no sex … And in a culture that’s very focused on money, sex, and pleasure, well, that rattles brains, especially when people see that we’re not miserable. In fact, we’re actually happy.”
Despite being somewhat unknown, the Benedictine monks have been in Oklahoma since 1875. And over the course of nearly a century and a half, the monks farmed and ran schools. Farming is still important to St. Gregory’s today, thanks to active beef and honey production, but the abbey’s Catholic university, which was its main source of outreach and income for decades, closed in late 2017 due to financial struggles. It appeared as though St. Gregory’s would have to do some reinventing.
Around the same time, Chef William “Willy” Fontanez Jr. found himself going through a crisis as well. Fontanez, a veteran and a former youth minister, had been running two food trucks with his wife—he cooked in the back, she took orders at the window. But in 2019, a spinal injury from his time in the military flared up. Suddenly, Fontanez wasn’t able to lift the heavy kitchen pots. He was forced to give up the business and sell the trucks. He even lost his house. Fontanez knew the monks because he was in the process of becoming a Benedictine oblate—a person who is not a monk, but who lives and works alongside them. One day, he confessed his troubles to Spitz.
Over the following weeks, the pair created a plan that they hoped would help them all: a food truck that would raise awareness about the abbey and market its premium beef. The abbey bought back the truck Fontanez had previously owned, and Mission Monks was born. It is a modern twist on a centuries-old mode—traditionally Catholic monasteries supported their operations with farming, hospitality, education, or food production.
The monks have been growing their herd over the last five years in what represents a revival of the way the abbey used to farm and ranch decades ago. It’s a business that is reasonably easy to maintain, given that the majority of monks are over 50 and many had never ranched before. “I’m a farm boy, but when we started, it was me and a bunch of city monks,” Spitz says. “Cows are low-maintenance compared to some animals,” Fontanez notes. “Even a 70-year-old monk can get on a UTV and chase a cow.”
You don’t have to track down the food truck to get a taste of the monks’ beef or honey. They sell both at the Monk’s Marketplace retail store at the abbey, along with crafts like cutting boards and rosaries. The beef is also sold in “quarters” or “halves,” enough to keep a couple or a family of four well-stocked for a full year. “Our customers get beef that is much cheaper than they would at the grocery store, and of a much higher quality,” Spitz says.
Along with the cows, the monastery manages approximately 400 beehives, located on farms around the county. The monks are also turning the former university campus into a retreat center. And there are long-term plans to raise chickens and pigs that they hope will become a part of keeping the abbey sustainable for the future, Fontanez said. It will take years for all of their plans to come together, but Fontanez said that Benedictines think in terms that are a bit different from what most people are used to.
“The funny thing about monks—and I try to follow the rule, too—is that we don’t think in years or decades. We think in centuries,” Fontanez says. “We want to make sure that everything we build is lasting. So we take our time.”
Currently, the Abbey is hoping to sell more of its beef direct-to-consumers. Customers can purchase the beef in person, by email, phone, or snail mail. The monks have also assured us that a new website is underway.
Monks’ Marketplace, 1900 W. MacArthur St., Shawnee (north of the church under the clock tower), (405) 878-5491 or call Fr. Simeon at (405) 878-5427 for beef pricing information, monksok.org
