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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 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.

Early Years – 1825 – 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 3^rd 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.”