He Walked with God, and Left Footprints of Grace
In 1825, a visionary leader and devout priest was born in Vorarlberg, Austria: Wendelin Francis Pfanner. As we commemorate the 200th anniversary of his birth, we reflect on the life, legacy, and profound impact of this remarkable individual. Abbot Francis Pfanner’s journey – from his early years in Austria to the establishment of Mariannhill Monastery in South Africa and the founding of the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood (CPS) – stands as a testimony to his rootedness in God, unwavering dedication to serving others and spreading the message of hope, love, faith, compassion, hard-work and inclusivity.
We invite you all to walk with us through his remarkable story. Each month, we’ll share a chapter of his journey in this special 12-part series. Let the life of Abbot Francis Pfanner inspire yours. This is where the journey begins.
The Trappist 1863- 1909 (Part 3)
In 1862, we find Fr. Pfanner at a beatification (The Japanese Martyrs, 24 September) in Rome. At the tombs of the Apostles Peter and Paul he prayed for clarity for the remaining journey of his life. “Afterwards,” writes Abbot Francis, “I went back to Croatia, but I was not willing to stay there forever. … The constant national agitation … made it scary for me to stay among such a people.” In addition, his three years of service in Zagreb had expired, but “something inexplicable kept me from going back to Haselstauden.” (Unless otherwise stated, all quotes are taken from the Memoirs of Abbot Francis.)
His state of health also caused him problems. “Because of my predisposition to tuberculosis, the doctor had prescribed rest and whey cures,” but “every spring [since 1851!] my weakness returned; … my lungs were very delicate, and I was prone to colds and hoarseness, … so that I spent my entire salary on my ailing body. … In Agram [Zagreb] I was ill several times, a few times dangerously … and therefore did not expect to live long.”
Because of these circumstances, Pfanner decided to enter a religious community as a kind of preparation for death. The only question was which one. “Definitely not one where the rule is no longer observed.” Discipline and strictness were the deciding factors. So, to the Jesuits? “Not really, because I didn’t want to study myself to death.” A new Franciscan mission in Central Africa appealed to him, “but I didn’t want to become a Franciscan.” God finally sent him the answer: “While I was still wrestling with my decision, … two Trappist brothers from Belgium came to Zagreb to solicit funds. That was towards the end of 1862.” Pfanner listened to them with interest and “it struck me like lightning: ‘This is for you!’ I thought: Even if it is strict, it is just right.” Yes, 13 years earlier, in Brixen, he had reacted in the same way when he “became filled with great zeal for prayer, combined with an extraordinary desire for external renunciations,” and concluded: “If I had known about Trappists, perhaps I would have become one even then.” The Trappist was simply in him! This time he immediately wrote to his bishop for dispensation and to the only German Trappist monastery, Mariawald, for admission. Bishop Gasser took his time, and Pfanner used it for a pilgrimage to the Holy Land (March-April 1863), during which he also consulted a learned spiritual director. “He strongly advised me not to become a Trappist, but I felt something inside me that irresistibly urged me to do so.”
So, what was the decisive factor? He writes: “In my dealings with the sisters [in Zagreb] and through the spiritual instructions that I gave them, I increasingly came to the realization … that it is much more perfect to live in obedience than according to one’s own will. Who knows, I thought, whether I myself know how to obey, since I have never been subject to obedience and from the first day of my pastoral life, I have had to command others as a superior.” And he adds: “My travels contributed so much to the fact that I became more and more fed up with the world and the world’s goings-on,” while “every step I took in the holy places was a new invitation to unite myself more closely with God and not to give up on my plan.” (To Bishop Fessler, August 18, 1864)
Learning to obey. How thoroughly must Pfanner have listened to God’s guidance to come to this realization and live entirely by obedience! This happened around Easter 1863. He was 38.
On September 9, 1863, Pfanner left Zagreb to enter Mariawald. The monastery in the Eifel (a mountain range extending partly across western Germany) originally dates back to the veneration of a statue of a Pieta (1470) and to the Cistercians, who settled on the Kermeter Hill in 1486 and were expelled in 1795. In 1863, it was a ruin that had been resettled a year earlier by Trappists from Ölenberg (Alsace).
On October 9, Prior Bonifatius Bieger gave the newcomer the Trappist habit and the name Franziskus (Francis). From then on, he had to adhere to the strict rules of Armand Jean Le Bouthillier de Rancé (reformer of the Cistercians of la Trappe, 1664) regarding prayer, penance, work and silence. He was no longer his own master; instead, the “Book of Customs” prescribed what he was allowed to wear, eat and drink and the exact times for sleep, prayer and work. Everything was regulated down to the smallest detail and the changeover of Pfanner’s lifestyle was complete.
In his letter quoted above, he paints a vivid picture of his new surroundings: “Ivy has long been winding up the half-standing walls of the formerly beautiful Gothic church.” Everything was dilapidated. Nevertheless, candidates applied, so that “the most necessary rooms, some of which have served as cow and horse stables, have to be restored. … The fields are mostly overgrown and stony, while the house lacks any furnishings. … In a word, the whole thing is splendidly suited to doing a proper novitiate because you are not spoiled; the deprivation of so many necessary things, the rough and heaped work really takes its toll on the softness.” Pfanner asks the bishop to excuse his “zigzag writing” because “the first time I came from splitting wood, the second time from chopping kohlrabi and the third time from tying sheaves, and after that my hand trembles like that of an old woman.” On November 21, 1864, Fr. Francis took the simple vows of poverty and obedience. Far more than a formula, they were a felt reality. He regained his strength and attributed this to the regular work outdoors, the meatless diet and his freedom from worries. “I felt like I was born again and was able to throw away the cat fur that I had been wearing on my stomach and belly for 10 years because of aches.” In order to at least have something to endure, he kept guard over his eyes and also never warmed himself by the common stove. What he missed was the pastoral ministry, but he told himself that he was surely not wasting away the day.
He would have liked to give his fellow monks a taste of his athletic skills, but that was completely against the rules. Once in Zagreb he had climbed onto the roof with buckets of water when a room at the sisters’ convent caught fire, but in Mariawald he was not even allowed to shake nuts from the tree because “only those who [in the opinion of the master of work] could do so, were allowed.” It was the old “tapeworm of vanity whose head,” as he writes, “had to be cut off.” In other words: a true Trappist strove for the complete dispossession and surrender of himself to God, which according to St. Bernard, could only be justified by the example and advice of Jesus.
Due to his experience and abilities, Fr. Francis was soon promoted to subprior, novice master, director of the brothers and head of works. But the older priests did not forgive him his straightforward manner, and during General Superior Abbot Ephrem’s visitation in 1865, also accused him of preaching too often during the prior’s absence. The abbot frowned on the “Austrian corporal’s stick,” as he referred to his manner of governing, and forbade him to act independently. The brothers, on the other hand, welcomed his zeal and clear course of direction, and so a division of opinion slowly but surely began to emerge and was bound to lead to a dangerous polarization. Fr. Francis was removed from office by Prior Bonifatius and reinstated by his successor, Eduard Scheby, who needed a capable subprior. Then the brothers who hauled timber to Mariawald for the new church caused a public scandal by stopping at inns without necessity (1866/7). Their director (Fr. Francis) punished them, but Prior Eduard defended them and sent Fr. Francis to chop wood.
The other brothers, led by Brother Zacharias Vogt (1819-82), were outraged and threatened to report the matter “to the highest authorities in Rome,” but were ready for a compromise “if they were allowed to make a new foundation.” Abbot Ephrem agreed and instructed Prior Eduard to immediately issue Fr. Francis and Br. Zacharias with the appropriate letters of obedience (decrees). Both left Mariawald on that same day (June 21, 1867) to look for a suitable place for a new foundation “somewhere in the Danube Monarchy.”
Fr. Francis’s life as a Trappist continued to unfold in many unforeseen ways.
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