Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood

CELEBRATING 200 YEARS OF ABBOT FRANCIS PFANNER

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 Founding of Mariastern 1869 – 1880 (Part 4)

The story of Mariastern in Bosnia is well documented, but what led up to the monastery’s foundation is not so well known. Tracing it here will take the reader to the former Abbey of Mariawald in Germany, for it was from there that Fr. Francis Pfanner and Brother Zacharias Vogt were missioned on June 21, 1867 to found a new monastery somewhere in the Danube Monarchy (established just 13 days earlier).

As was customary in the order, the two pioneers were provided with only the bare necessities, which is why the prior in his letter of obedience recommended them to the “kindness of Catholic parishes and convents.” The travel fare they were given took them as far as Ulm in southern Germany where generous friends provided them with more. Br. Zacharias started on a fundraising tour and Fr. Francis went to his native Langen in Vorarlberg, Austria, where his stepmother helped him with what he needed.

The new foundation was a risky undertaking and the road to its realization was paved with stumbling blocks. The two “founding fathers” first tried their luck in Hungary, but the rundown domains there weren’t worth the purchase price. Moreover, the Primate was not in favor of a Trappist monastery. “We took that as a sign from above and went to Croatia.” (Unless otherwise stated, all quotations are taken from the Memoirs of Abbot Francis.)

In Zagreb, they received a second letter of obedience from their prior, valid for three more months, and a private letter from their highest superior, Abbot Ephrem. He summoned Brother Zacharias to Ölenberg but barred Fr. Francis from the monastery, advising him to go back to the diocesan clergy. By that point, both realized that they were regarded as misfits whose actions were to be stopped. Abbot Francis: “But we happened to be two who were not easily scared.” They had committed no crime or serious breach of the Rule; on the contrary, they had vowed lifelong stability. Therefore, Fr. Francis submitted both letters to Bishop J. Fessler, his former professor at Brixen and the authority in canon law at the time. His reply was prompt and definite: “You must appeal to Rome!”

Two more brothers, Benedict and Jakobus, were sent from Mariawald to join them and together they set out for the Eternal City where they arrived on New Year’s Day 1868. Fr. Francis was told to draft a letter of indictment and all were advised to prepare for a lengthy court case.

In 1868, Rome celebrated an important anniversary: 1800 years earlier, St. Paul, the Apostle to the Gentiles, had been beheaded at Tre Fontane outside the walls of Rome and pilgrims from all over the world were expected to visit his shrine. Therefore, the ruins of the Tre Fontane Monastery, which Pope Pius IX had entrusted to the Trappists, had to be restored – a task for which the four “buoni tedesci” [“good Germans”] were considered heaven-sent. They set to work vigorously but were no match for the Roman heat and deadly fever caused by malaria. “Br. Benedict died within four days.” The others waited desperately for the outcome of their case. Finally, after six months, Fr. Francis was summoned: “A decree authorized me to independently establish a Trappist monastery.” They sang a Te Deum and returned to Zagreb. There, new obstacles were waiting for them. Not only did Abbot Ephrem keep his defeat in court secret, but he also hushed up the news about the Bosnian foundation. Thus, kept in the dark, the Ölenberg Trappists began to speak about the pioneers as apostates; a slanderous prejudice which Brother Zacharias got to feel in places where brothers soliciting donations for Ölenberg had visited before him. Fr. Francis, meanwhile, was waiting in vain for a response to the many reports he sent to Ölenberg. He was a short-tempered man and did not shy away from confrontation, a trait which Abbot Ephrem did not appreciate.

Meanwhile, Croatia attained self-government and only the newly elected parliament could allow them to settle, but it did not convene until the end of March 1869, i.e., seven months later. Abbot Francis: “Again, it was a situation to run away from. … However, in my case, it proved necessary, because the Roman fever tormented me for precisely seven months.” (Fr. Francis had contracted malaria when the Trappists planted eucalyptus trees at Tre Fontane that dried up the marshy land to rid the area of mosquitoes. There is a plaque in commemoration of Francis Pfanner at the Sanctuary of the Virgin of the Revelation across the street from Tre Fontane.)

Neither was their predicament solved by the arrival of two choir monks from Mariawald; on the contrary, resignation began to spread among them. But then, just in the nick of time, Fr. Francis remembered a Slavonian pastor telling him that Christians had recently been allowed by law to acquire property in Turkish-ruled Bosnia. Immediately, he traveled to Altgradiska (Croatia-Slavonia) and from there, together with the pastor, by handcart across the border into Bosnia and through the wide Vrbas Valley to Banja Luka, the residence of an Austrian vice-consul. Nikolaus Dragancic was the Croatian captain of the military border and in favor of a Trappist monastery. However, Banja Luka also had a sizeable Muslim population. So, as a precaution, Fr. Francis, wore a full-length coat over his habit and posed as an Austrian landowner. He had no time to lose if his brothers were not to give up completely. “As quickly as possible, I came to an agreement with a Turk, bought a piece of land from him, and gave him 10 Austrian ducats as capara (deposit) so he couldn’t go back on the deal.”

However, the court, which had to confirm the purchase, knew nothing of the new regulation. So, a telegram was sent to Sarajevo, and when after eight days the authorities there didn’t respond, a second one was sent to Constantinople, while “in Zagreb some of my men began to make their own plans.” When a reply was finally received, it was too late. “The Turk no longer dared to let me buy his land because a public riot had been instigated against him if he were to be the first to sell land to a Giaur [an infidel in Islamic view].” Therefore, Fr. Francis quickly struck a deal with a Serbian merchant, a member of the Greek Orthodoxcommunity, whose property was located on a wooded slope facing the Vrbas River, an hour’s distance from the city and near the village of Delibasino Selo. Abbot Francis writes in his Memoirs: “Immediately, in the pre sence of witnesses, I marked the boundaries and, on the advice of other landowners and the consul, bargained down the purchase price for a ‘few thousand yokes’ [approximately 300 acres] … and that same night paid the owner – in exchange for a tapie (title deed) – the money which Brother Zacharias had collected ‘as busy as a bee.’” The next morning, Fr. Francis telegraphed the brothers in Zagreb to come. Two powerful Styrian grey horses and a large box cart, built by Brother Jakobus, were ready. The founding team included the monks already mentioned plus two postulants. The journey proved extremely risky because there were hardly any passable roads or bridges. But then, with the greatest effort, they made it to Delibasino where a calf stable was waiting to accommodate them. “A calf stable was the only splendor to which I could introduce my brothers. … The day on which we were finally able to lay down our weary heads on our own soil was the unforgettable Saint Aloysius Day [June 21] 1869, two years to the day after we had left Mariawald.”

Fr. Francis named the new foundation Mariastern in gratitude to the nuns of Mariastern Monastery in Upper Lusatia/Germany (then the retirement home of his former prior in Mariawald, Eduard Scheby!), who had contributed the lion’s share towards the purchase price.

With the move into the calf stable, the prehistory of Mariastern ends and its well-documented and easily accessible story begins. It, too, consists of a string of challenges and adventures even while it testifies to the monks’ unbroken spirit of enterprise and uncountable blessings.

The Pasha of Banja Luka was an unpredictable despot who thwarted all of Fr. Franz’s plans. ( Fr. Franz was the name he was given in Bosnia.) One still seems to hear the Pasha’s “jok! jok!” (“no! no!”) from the pages of the Memoirs as the aging founder recalls the ruler’s interference with his projects: the construction of the monastery, reforestation, and, as was forbidden by Islamic law, the ringing of bells. Tensions also arose among the monks and were usually sparked by differences in the interpretation of the Rule. At Christmas 1871, for example, most of the pioneer Trappists deserted Mariastern, leaving Fr. Francis with only three novices in the half-finished building. The runaways returned in the spring, but other incidents like border disputes, the fatal drowning of three of his ablest men, and the treacherous breach of the peace by itinerant people and partisans followed to test his stamina. He witnessed the brutalization of helpless tenants by corrupt feudal lords, even as he had to recognize his own powerlessness when challenged by despotic politicians and widespread ignorance.

Nevertheless – or perhaps because of these challenges? – Mariastern developed into a stronghold of culture, humanity and the Christian faith. On December 15, 1872, Fr. Francis was appointed prior and the monastery was affiliated to the Abbey of Port du Salut in western France. It developed rapidly and became known far and wide for its innovative industries – a success which inspired Fr. Francis to consider establishing a second monastery, Maria-Anna Berg. However, opposition from the Franciscans, who had been in charge of the pastoral ministry in Bosnia for 400 years and now feared competition, was so fierce that he dropped the plan. He was maligned, labeled a perpetuum mobile (restless person) and sued in Rome. Deeply hurt, he countered by filing well-founded petitions to the respective authorities asking them to intervene. He also wrote vivid reports about Bosnia and its inhabitants which catapulted the country into the limelight of public interest and accelerated the long overdue reorganization of its ecclesiastical and social institutions which under the Franciscan monopoly had been neglected.

In 1878, the Congress of Berlin decided that Bosnia was to remain Turkish but become occupied by Austria-Hungary and administered by its Finance Ministry (Article 25 of the Peace of Berlin, July 13, 1878). The occupation began on July 29, 1878 and in many places sparked fatal clashes with the population, which only surrendered to superior force after three months. Prior Francis recruited German farmers and was instrumental in the establishment of the villages of Windhorst (Nova Topola) and Rudolfstal (Aleksandrovac). However, in 1880, he entrusted the settlers to his most capable assistant, Fr. Beda von Vesteneck, while he himself accepted an invitation from a bishop of South Africa to develop his mission farm. Prior Francis left Bosnia for South Africa with 33 monks and became a – foreign missionary.

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 28^th and he lost no time in personally inviting relatives and friends to his First Mass to be celebrated on August 9^th 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.