Franz Wendelin Pfanner – 200 Years
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.
Franz Wendelin Pfanner – 200 Years Part 2
The Pastor 1846 – 1863
What Abbot Francis wrote in old age about his choice of career is not surprising: “I came to Padua (1845) undecided about what I should become. But within a month I had already decided that I would turn to the priesthood. After observing the ugly goings-on of Italian students and getting to know the corruption of city life in general, no other profession appealed to me than the celibate priesthood, and from then on, my motto was ‘Brixen,’ the seat of my bishop and the diocesan seminary.” (Unless otherwise stated, all quotes are taken from the Memoirs of Abbot Francis.)
In Brixen, candidates for the priesthood were left to fend for themselves in the first year. So, Wendelin lived in rented accommodations before entering the seminary in the fall of 1847. In 1848 he was given the tonsure and the cassock with tie, but he had to interrupt his studies in May because he had contracted meningitis. At home his mother nursed him back to health and his father allowed him to rest, while the seminary administration gave him a bigger room and lighter food upon his return. Soon he excelled again in physical exercises, for example, lifting a flagpole with one hand and without losing his balance even after weighting it down with his cassock. Another time he jumped across a mill creek and back, “just as I was, in my cassock and tall boots … for a penny per spectator.”
1848/9 was a Year of Revolution. In many European countries people took to the streets for freedom and self-government. Wendelin got used to reading the newspaper, and during his last vacation he traveled down the Rhine all the way to Cologne with money he had earned by tutoring and cutting hair. He returned to Langen at the beginning of September, full of enthusiasm and richer by many impressions and experiences. He helped making hay for the last time, competed with his twin in the Hosenlupf – they were 23 – and then entered his third year of Theology.
“The only remarkable thing happening to me that year was … a strong urge to enter the foreign missions.” But the Prince-Bishop [A prince-bishop is one who has been knighted and vested with temporal/secular powers] decided against it: “Pfanner is too weak.” Wendelin accepted that answer immediately. “I thought of nothing else anymore but the diocesan ministry. … In fact, those years at the seminary … were among the quietest in my life. We liked studying and studied a lot because we were blessed to have excellent professors and seminary directors. Fessler and Gasser were among them. The former lectured in church history and canon law and later dogmatics. … Fessler first became bishop of Feldkirch and then of St. Pölten, as well as Secretary of the First Vatican Council, and Gasser was made Prince-Bishop of Brixen. I studied pastoral theology with the saintly Stadler; and with the learned Messmer, who died too early, I did exegesis. … A year later, Rüdigier, who became famous as bishop of Linz and champion against false liberalism in Austria, joined that wonderful group of professors as rector of the seminary. Gasser and Fessler were elected to the Frankfurt Parliament in 1848. At the famous bishops’ meeting in Würzburg, Fessler was called ‘the living encyclopedia on the Church Fathers.’ Four great minds were assembled in a small town. All of them … were farmers’ sons. Fessler and Rüdigier hailed from Vorarlberg.”
In 1850 Wendelin became a deacon together with around 50 others (10 from Vorarlberg alone), and on July 28th he was ordained a priest. Farewell, Brixen! No, not yet, for he wouldn’t have been Wendelin Pfanner if he had missed out on one last “medal for bravado.” The departing theologians usually gave the employees a tip. Money was collected and distributed equally among them. But in 1850 this was considered undemocratic; the negligent were to be taught a lesson. Therefore, the tips were individually wrapped and were to be handed out by calling up each recipient and announcing the amount he received. “But nobody wanted to carry out this distribution, especially because the brother of a seminary board member received only 2.5 groschen [25 cents]. So, they turned to me, as usual, and I did it without hesitation.”
In Langen, the new priest was received with great jubilation on July 28th and he lost no time in personally inviting relatives and friends to his First Mass to be celebrated on August 9th with his priest uncle assisting him as concelebrant. “It was an unforgettable day. I was so moved that I hardly heard the brass band and the cannon salvos and saw none of the many inscriptions on the countless garlands and triumphal arches. … When I held the Blessed Sacrament in my hands for the first time, my voice failed me.” And: “On that day, my father spared no expense; even during the preparations, nothing was too much for him. It was the climax of 12 years during which my parents had made many sacrifices, and the honor of the parish.” On September 8th, Wendelin preached his first sermon and as early as the following Sunday, he entered upon his pastoral ministry at Haselstauden, a much-neglected outpost of Dornbirn. Under the circumstances, he was glad to have his sister Crescentia run the house, thereby enabling him to devote himself undisturbedly to the ministry.
His predecessor turned out to be the first obstacle he had to face. Although he had been removed as incompetent, certain parishioners exercised so much power over the indulgent old man that, rather than let him go, they rented lodgings for him at an inn where they could contact him at any time. That was not easy for the new pastor, “but I decided … to carry out my ministry regardless of their politics.” As expected, Pfanner was strict. He did a thorough clean-up by abolishing the abuses that had become established around baptism, marriage and burial, reinstating catechism classes for young and old, and enhancing the interior of the church. Resistance was on the rise, but Pfanner was a match for it, reacting with either leniency or severity, and winning people over with personal attention when they were in need, such as during a typhus epidemic. He did not allow himself to be intimidated, but took the incorrigible to court when he knew that the law was on his side and after having sought the advice of an experienced priest, Anton Jochum. The Jesuits and Redemptorists who preached parish missions in Vorarlberg were his role models with regard to hearing confession and preaching. Factory owners in Dornbirn got to know him as the advocate of their workers. He advised single people to sanctify their loneliness through prayer and charity. He led young women and men who were discerning their calling in life either towards marriage, the priesthood or religious life. After several years he offered to restore Maria Bildstein (Vorarlberg) and revive the pilgrimage there, but the post was given to someone else. In 1859, because of his knowledge of Italian, he volunteered to serve as a field chaplain at the Battle of Solferino (Italy), but it was over before he was sent.
Not Italy, but Croatia was to be the country of his next ministry. The 34-year-old was assigned for three years to Zagreb (Agram) as confessor to the Sisters of Mercy. In addition, he had to give them instructions on the spiritual life, preach a German sermon every Sunday and teach religious education in the girls’ boarding school. Politically, Zagreb was a hot spot; “Go home, Austria!” was the cry Pfanner heard every time he crossed the city square. However, undaunted, he continued to carry out his duties, which also took him to Lepoclava Maximum Security Prison every Lenten season. Deeply grateful for the opportunity, he wrote: “I can safely say that in my entire priestly ministry, I have never experienced so much consolation as in this prison, but perhaps I have also never gained so much insight into the hearts of people as by listening to such confessions.… My pastoral practice was enriched in many ways each time.”
Pastoral care, whether as a pastor, monk or missionary (see the following articles), had priority. Following the example of St. Paul (who from prison pleaded for the run-away slave Onesimus), Pfanner, in his old age, showed touching concern for a former schoolmate, Haitinger, a lapsed Catholic. To him he described his priestly calling as: “an unspeakable, undeserved happiness, an incomprehensible gift of grace.” Even when he was 50 years a priest, it was this thought that moved him to tears.
Franz Wendelin Pfanner 200 Years
Early Years 1928 – 1846
We are fortunate in having both handwritten (1888) and dictated (1908) Memoirs by Francis Wendelin Pfanner. They and many of his letters and occasional talks paint a picture of his early history. Other details we owe to his schoolmates.
Wendelin was born a twin on 20 (not 21) September 1825, at Bremenhub 91 in Langen, near Bregenz (Vorarlberg, Austria) as the 3rd child of Franz Anton Pfanner (1794-1856) and Anna Maria née Fink (1800-1828). He was baptized at St. Sebastian’s (Langen) and named after a paternal uncle, a priest. A slightly older sister was called Crescentia.
The boy was not granted a sunny childhood. When his mother gave birth to another girl a year after Franz Anton (Toni, 1827) had been born, not only did little Anna Maria die, but 17 days later the young mother died as well. The father threw himself into his work and left his 4 children to the care of a younger sister of his. Unfortunately, she could not handle children and quickly used physical discipline. Wendel did not like her.
After 6 years, the father (40) married 26-year-old Anna Maria Hörbuger from Sulzberg. Using her dowry, he paid off his debts and with diligence, thrift and prudence, was able to buy a neighboring farm, build a sawmill and sell timber and charcoal. He was so successful that he bought breeding bulls in the nearby Allgäu and sold them again as far as Italy. Wendelin knew his father almost only as a non-stop worker.
There were 7 children from the 2nd marriage; 2 died in childhood and a daughter at the age of 13 (1854). Altogether, Wendelin had 2 brothers, Johann and Toni, 2 half-brothers, Franz Xaver and Joseph, 1 sister (Crescentia) and 2 half-sisters. Catherine was married to Dr. Riedmann, a veterinarian in Alberschwende. She and nephew Anton supported Wendelin’s work throughout his life.
The stepmother took the freckled red-haired Wendelin to heart. She made the best omelettes, clapped for him when he defeated both brothers in the “Hosenlupf” – a wrestling match in which one contestant pulled the other up by his pants, put him down and did not let go of him until he pleaded for mercy – and willingly mended the pants he tore. No challenger was too big for Wendelin. When once the village grocer’s stocky son teased him in the church square on account of his red hair, he held him down so mercilessly that bystanders feared: “That little imp won’t eat him up, will he?” (Unless otherwise stated, all quotes are taken from the Memoirs of Abbot Francis).
Wendelin could be brash. When the woman (Stasl) who led the Rosary at a wake kept adding one Our Father after another for various intentions, he interjected: “And now, one Our Father for Stasl!” That was the end of the wake. No one took him to task, not even his mother. But in his old age, Abbot Francis remembered the incident and wrote that it would have been better if his mother had given him a beating to correct him, because “later on my fearlessness and daringness sometimes turned into impudence.” He had to struggle with it his whole life.
Wendelin stubbornly pursued his goal, no matter what the cost. At the age of 13, he milked 10 cows twice a day “as quickly as any of the hired hands,” just to get the fur cap he longed for. Even as a youngster he displayed that unyielding determination which was not only to help him face difficult situations but also made it difficult for others to get along with him. “It is a trait that I inherited from my dad,” he wrote, “it was ingrained in me. … Just nodding your head doesn’t get you very far and certainly not to the bottom of a matter.”
The parents set an example of piety and good manners. The children knew their catechism and were well prepared for their First Holy Communion and Confirmation. After elementary school, Mr. Pfanner decided on the future path for his sons. Twin Johann who had the stronger muscles had to take over the farm. “And you,” he turned to Wendelin, “you study!” That suited the gifted boy. In preparation for his admission to Feldkirch Secondary School (1838), a neighboring priest tutored him in Latin and his priest uncle signed as guardian. Leaving him to the care of the rector, his father said to him: “‘Pray hard and study well, Wendel.’ Then he pressed 20 pennies into my hand and said: ‘Be sure to save!’”
Studying was easy for the bright lad. He got the best grades, excelled in mathematics and physics, and had what it takes to be an engineer. His uncle persuaded his father to let him enroll with the Jesuits in Innsbruck (1843), the university where Wendelin’s character emerged. A much-appreciated friend, he was usually cheerful, but also serious and conscientious. He attended Mass every morning and recommended himself to all the saints. “Oh, you saints of God” is the prayer ascribed to him as a student. Innsbruck left its mark on him, but when at age 38 he wondered which religious order he should join, he chose the Trappists, not the Jesuits: “I would rather die working than study to death.” His father was his role model: “How often have I thanked my late father for urging me to work so hard and also teaching me how to work profitably.”
“Ora et labora” and plenty of exercise in the fresh mountain air, that was the secret of the long eventful life of Francis Wendelin Pfanner. Next to wrestling he loved mountain climbing. “Every height challenges me!” he admitted. Once he and his comrades were caught in a snowstorm high up in the mountains. It was already getting dark and visibility so poor that they had nothing but a narrow waterfall for bearings. “But the half-blind Faist was shaking all over with fear. So, what were we to do with him? I simply grabbed him and with him under my arm like a sheaf of wheat I groped my way down the slippery bank.” A comrade added: “Yes, Pfanner had muscles like steel.”
After his First Year of Philosophy, Wendelin and three fellow students wanted to continue their studies in Padua. They were ready to travel (November 1845), but he had neither permission, a traveling pass, nor money. However, “quick as lightning,” as was his way, he found a solution. He borrowed money from a man who came from Langen but worked in Innsbruck and did business with his father, gave him a short letter for his father, checked in his luggage and marched out of the gate with the others. The journey nearly cost him his last penny. What should he do? He cunningly wrote to his priest uncle for help, but in such a way as to create the impression that he had already sent him a previous letter with all the news. The unsuspecting uncle regretted the loss of the “certainly very interesting descriptions,” congratulated his protegee and appeased the father.
Padua badly disillusioned the four adventurers. Though city and country had their charm, life at the university was disappointing. Most students were upper-class society and just wasted away their time. Wendelin was disgusted. They could not engage anyone in a proper conversation and worse, there were no mountains. So, they took their exams early and returned home just under a year but richer in experience. In Padua, Wendelin dropped engineering – even though he was still fascinated by everything technical – and decided to become a priest.
At home, he got off lightly. His father listened to his stories with undisguised admiration, but after 3 days he handed him a pitchfork, and Wendelin worked hard to show himself grateful, until on September 29th (1846), he entered the seminary at Brixen. After all, “my father had always hoped that his Wendel would one day become a priest.”
