Aarle-Rixtel: In the quiet village of Aarle-Rixtel, an ancient convent once filled with the prayers of hundreds of Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood (CPS) has found new life as a sanctuary for families uprooted by the war in Ukraine. What was once a Mother House echoing with hymns has been reborn as a home of hope, resilience, and faith.
Across much of Europe, dwindling religious vocations have forced convents to close their doors, their sacred spaces sold or abandoned. Yet, the CPS Sisters in the Netherlands chose a different path one that honors both their founder’s vision and their century-old tradition of hospitality. Guided by the words of Abbot Francis Pfanner to “read the signs of the times,” the sisters opened their convent’s doors not to new novices but to those in desperate need of shelter.
This act of compassion is not without precedent. As far back as 1914, during the First World War, the sisters welcomed Belgian and Croatian refugees in partnership with the Red Cross. Now, more than a hundred years later, history has come full circle. Today, only 15 sisters remain in the sprawling convent, yet their mission has been rekindled through service to the displaced.
When Russia’s invasion of Ukraine began in February 2022, the sisters turned to prayer for discernment. With the support of the municipality of Laarbeek and local volunteers, they welcomed their first group of 40 Ukrainian refugees. That number has since grown, with 60 people now residing in two wings of the convent.
The sisters have been careful to ensure that dignity accompanies shelter. Each family has its own living quarters and cooking facilities, while communal spaces such as the garden have become places of healing and cooperation. Mothers assist in daily household tasks, while children and young adults are encouraged to discover their talents through art, music, cooking, and baking.
Elderly but tireless, 83-year-old Sr. Ingeborg Müller plays a crucial role in integration efforts. She teaches English to refugees, offering them the linguistic bridge they need to rebuild their lives in a new country. “It’s not easy, but many are improving,” she says, her words carrying both realism and pride. Skills training and shared responsibilities, she adds, are helping restore a sense of dignity lost in the trauma of war.
Life in the convent is far from simple. The historic building requires constant maintenance, transportation is limited, and adapting to communal life poses challenges for some families. Yet, despite the hardships, gratitude permeates the air. Refugees regularly join the sisters in prayer, lifting their voices for peace in Ukraine and for the world.
“This house, once a place of prayer, is now a place of survival and hope and also a place they now call home,” Sr. Müller reflects.
The convent’s halls, once filled with chants of the Divine Office, now carry new sounds: the laughter of children, the crackle of shared meals, and the hum of resilience. For the sisters, these sounds are no less sacred.
In a continent where many question the relevance of religious life, the CPS Sisters offer a striking answer. Their convent stands as a living testimony that mission is not defined by numbers or tradition alone, but by love in action.
By choosing to embrace the displaced rather than surrender to decline, the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood have turned a centuries-old castle into a beacon of hope proof that even in times of crisis, faith and compassion can transform walls of stone into a home of belonging.