Artikelserie über Abt Franz

[This is the first in a series about the founder of Mariannhill Missionaries, Abbot Francis Pfanner.]

Abbot Francis Pfanner the founder of Mariannhill was a Trappist and a very dynamic missionary. If no one wants to go, I will, was his reply to a bishop in 1879 who pleaded for Trappists to help evangelize the people of South Africa. Prior Francis had struggled for nine years to establish the monastery of Mariastern in Muslim-governed Bosnia and was about to become abbot. Waiving that honor, he chose to make the Christian faith and values known to people who were generally regarded as Christ’s least brothers and sisters. Francis Pfanner set out with a band of thirty-three Trappist monks to completely unknown horizons. What they found was a merciless sun beating upon a wilderness of sand, stones and cacti. Their hearts fell, but the prior, with accustomed determination, put new hope in them: God has brought us here to found the new monastery Mary Dunbrody and he will not bandon us. Like Cortez in Mexico I swear that I will not retreat. In the spirit of ora et labora (work and pray) they went to work, trying to wrest a living from the barren ground. Their efforts were doomed: for two years the heavens remained closed. The local river did not carry enough water to run the vacuum pump, and the fine breed bull, which the bishop had bought from the stables of the Duke of Norfolk, perished. Still the pioneers plodded on. Expert agriculturalists, they cultivated the ground and carefully watched the growth of their mealies (maize) and beans – as also did the thievish monkeys in the nearby bush. No matter how much noise the brothers made to chase the predators, they still made off with the crop, and whatever they left was finished off by swarms of voracious locusts. It was a desperate battle that entered its decisive stage when the bishop declared that he could no longer maintain the Trappists. Therefore, Prior Francis, who was not willing to abandon the mission, appealed to benefactors. During the day he worked alongside his brothers, at night he wrote letters and articles. These he duplicated on a hand press and, folding the pages together, produced a simple news bulletin – FLYING LEAVES FROM MARY DUNBRODY, the forerunner of the LEAVES magazine in which this article appears. Francis Pfanner had a gifted pen. His graphic descriptions of the hardships they endured are as gripping today as they were in 1880. But while making the Trappist mission known, his reports could not turn the tables in their favor. In 1882 the monks left Dunbrody for Natal to establish a ew monastery there – Mariannhill, of which Prior Francis became the first abbot in 1885. At the request of influential chiefs Mariannhill acquired land and opened mission stations in outlying areas. These were destined to be its glory and downfall. For not only did expansion deplete the resources of the monks, but evangelization in remote areas also brought them into serious conflict with their rule. Unlike full-fledged mission societies, Trappists did not qualify for aid from Catholic associations. Therefore, Abbot Francis, now the sole provider for the monastery and its missions, had to think of other ways to support Mariannhill. When he was in Europe attending the general chapters of his order, he traveled extensively with only his breviary and an apple in his pocket. An accomplished speaker, Abbot Francis was invited to churches, clubs, and casinos. No platform was too high or humble, as long as Christ was preached! He even adressed fellow passengers on a boat. He reminded his audiences that the mission mandate is universal and that all, young and old, rich and poor, must be engaged in it as much as their means and social standing allowed. His invitation to come to Mariannhill was hard to resist. Entire families followed him. Seeing this recurring exodus, people nicknamed him The Pied Piper of Mariannhill. But others considered the fiery missionary in a monk’s cowl a rebel, apt to revolutionize the entire mission concept with his newfangled ideas and methods. Abbot Francis was unperturbed. One of his more spectacular initiatives was inviting women to work with the Trappists, arguing that just as the Mother of God took a great part in the work of our redemption, so also shall women share with us the work of evangelization; we men cannot do it alone. He was acting in response to a crying need for education and training for thousands of African youngsters. While his monks instructed the future husbands and fathers in the faith and provided vocational training in their workshops, the women volunteers (the future Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood) educated the prospective wives and mothers. Under Abbot Francis all discrimination was taboo: I cannot stand this making of distinctions, as if it mattered to God what color of skin one is. Implanting Christian values in the young would hopefully speed the growth of a viable local church in a Catholic surrounding. Mariannhill quickly became widely known in Europe and North America. The Mariannhill printing press supplied newspapers, calendars, liturgical and educational books in more than a dozen languages. Even at age 80, Abbot Francis urged new approaches to evangelization. He criticized the custom of missionary societies claiming exclusive ownership of territories as a counter-witness to Christian ideals. He proposed a new missionary society under the sole direction of Propaganda Fide. He called for a conference of missionaries to exchange experiences and ideas. For the salvation of souls he impressed on his monks and sisters the need to be what Pope John Paul II later called „contemplatives in action.“ In 1906 the sisters obtained papal approval; in 1909 Mariannhill was separated from the Trappist Order and established as a missionary congregation (CMM).

In Redemptoris Missio (1990) Pope John Paul II wrote: The missionary must be a „contemplative in action.“ He finds answers to problems in the light of God’s word and in personal and community prayer. My contact with representatives of the non-Christian spiritual traditions, particularly those of Asia, has confirmed me in the view that the future of mission work depends to a great extent on contemplation. Unless the missionary is a contemplative, he cannot proclaim Christ in a credible way. He is a witness to the experience of God, and must be able to say with the Apostles: „That which we have looked upon … concerning the word of life … we proclaim also to you“ (I Jn 1:1-3). The truth of these words is vividly brought out in the life of Abbot Francis Pfanner, Trappist contemplative and missionary. Contemplation and the greatest activity were naturally joined in him. Intimate union with God in prayer was the soul of his apostolate, which can be summarized by the Benedictine motto, Ora et Labora [pray and work], engraved above the entrance to the Mariannhill Monastery. It was the motto by which his predecessors in the Order, the Benedictine and Cistercian monks of old, evangelized Europe. Prayer that gives meaning to work made Francis Pfanner confident, courageous and committed. Perhaps the finest fruit of his contemplative life is this undaunted spirit of trust. Trust is the flowering of hope. By living beyond one’s own narrow confines, tensions are overcome, the ideal and real are reconciled, and strength and task reinforce each other. In Abbot Francis’s case the monastic and apostolic lifestyles became compatible. But this is possible only when a person is deeply rooted in Christ and focused on Christ. The abbot’s motto, Run so as to Win the Prize, illustrates his overriding passion for Christ. With St. Paul, whom he resembled in many ways, he could say, All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share His sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death … I have not yet won, but I am still running to capture the prize for which Christ Jesus captured me (Phil 3: 10-12). Abbot Francis’s contemplativemissionary life is mainly a demonstration lesson in hope against hope. His trust in Divine Providence was boundless. Like St. Paul he could have drawn up a long list of sufferings that he freely underwent in the endeavor to carry out Christ’s great commission. How often did he go penniless into a new venture! How many times left alone with his worries and cares! His foundations of Mariastern in Bosnia, Mary Dunbrody and Mariannhill in South Africa and of the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood all seemed to be doomed from the beginning. Humanly speaking, only a fool would have dared what he dared. But then he was a fool . . . for Christ. Through suffering the founder learned to cast all his cares on the Lord. It was a lesson that lent strength to his hands and wisdom to his words. Despairing of a good outcome to a good cause is the most foolish mistake of all, for God is good and will not be outdone in generosity. His indefatigable hope gave him courage and initiative for bold new ventures. He reveled in difficulties. They were the best assurance that an inspiration came from God, for the Lord tests those he loves, but the devil acts only from envy. His visions were as limitless as the desire to spread the Gospel. Nothing could deter him. Rather, courage grows with every danger bravely faced. As a youngster, he had loved to conquer the snow-capped peaks of his native Austria; later God’s grace built on this natural disposition and made him stand like a rock in the face of insurmountable obstacles. His hope and trust were strong enough to carry all that God entrusted to him. Abbot Francis practiced fortitude to a heroic degree. I can do all things in him who strengthens me (Phil 4:13). Crises did not break, but purified, him. Submission to the will of God helped him to bear his cross with patience, making him calm and mature. His example teaches a profound lesson: You can only share what you have yourself. You can spend yourself only for a cause for which you are on fire! Religious founders are considered prophets in their time. Filled with God’s creative energy, they often give new expressions to old traditions. Providence appoints them and gives them a mission so that they in turn can be heralds and agents to usher in a new springtime in the Church. They pass on to others what they have perceived in contemplating God in prayer. As God’s collaborators, they are trailblazers and pacesetters for reform. This does not mean that they are without fault. On the contrary, they have to contend with their own unruly tendencies – I must admit that I was often too impatient. In my impulsiveness I sometimes became impudent and rude (Abbot Francis). They stand as much in need of grace as anyone else. Their greatness rather lies in trustful reliance on God alone. The strength of Abbot Francis’s contemplative-missionary commitment is seen in his untiring work, especially when it earned him nothing but rejection and defamation. Suffering such unjust treatment for many years without complaint rendered his commitment heroic. He did not succumb to humiliation, even with his ill-advised removal from office. Rather, with unbroken spirit he declared, I am still the old progressive. I am for progress down to the marrow of my bones. Every fiber of me is progressive …. Steam has conquered the world, and it is time that we also apply steam to evangelization. In his eighties he wrote, I would still go to Europe today and make my voice heard from the Dnieper River [Russia] to the Thames: „Thy Kingdom come!“ May such a powerful example still inspire many Christians today to be contemplatives-in-action.

Mariannhill’s founder, Abbot Francis, was imbued with a fervent missionary spirit. He was very conscious of being sent and equally eager to follow God’s call. His missionary engagement stemmed from a personal gift or charism, an endowment of the Holy Spirit that is not under human control. It aims at salvation in Christ for oneself and others. The Trappist founder/monk who enriched the Church with two monasteries, an extensive mission network and the Congregation of the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood in the 19th century was a charismatic leader. This is evidenced by the fact that his love of God and his sense of justice did not allow him to comply with rules that obstructed God’s call. His charism led him to strengthen the Church in Bosnia and to take the Gospel to the local people of South Africa Abbot Francis called contemplatives to active evangelization and invited lay people to heed Christ’s great commission. It is fascinating to see how his organizing genius planned to send sisters as flying squads to countries where Christians suffered persecution: Lebanon, the Cameroons, Sudan, China, Australia and Russia. His missionary zeal, stirring first in the seminary, matured fully as he trod his way to Calvary, working tirelessly, fighting nerve-wracking lawsuits, suffering sickness, disappointments, rejection, isolation and condemnation. The meaning of his trials becomes clearer now in the perspective of a hundred years. When Abbot Francis died, 28 out of the 49 mission stations between the Cape of Good Hope and the Zambezi River in southern Africa, were founded by Mariannhill. This is a record unique in modern mission history, considering the fact that the missionaries were contemplative monks and that there was only one Catholic mission for local people when they started. In 1909 Mariannhill Trappists and sisters were evangelizing in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe), Mozambique, Tanzania, Kenya and the Congo. The efforts they made were tremendous and the results impressive. With good reason did Thomas Merton call Mariannhill a phenomenon. He wrote: „Here was an astounding spectacle of a Trappist mission where contemplative monks achieved in a few years a spectacular success, far greater than any active orders ever dared to dream of. Jesuit missionaries came from the Lower Zambezi to Mariannhill to seek advice on missionary methods.“ Abbot Francis’s venture was audacious and possible only in faith. He faced public opposition and hostility. In a letter to the Natal Mercury, he strongly rejected the view that silent monks should not take on pastoral work. He reminded the readers of their own Christian history: „St. Augustine came from Rome – I came from Bosnia. He was sent by Pope St. Gregory the Great – I received my mandate from [Blessed] Pope Pius IX. He landed in England with 40 monks – I landed in the Cape with only 30.“ Abbot Francis pointed out that the first missionaries in Europe were all monks, engaged in building monasteries … and evangelization. Like them, he too was convinced that a viable Church required stable social structures. Better fields – better homes – better hearts, the motto of one of his most outstanding sons of faith, Bernard Huss, reflects Abbot Francis’s own approach to evangelization. The view of evangelization held by Abbot Francis was further marked by an open-door policy that made everyone feel welcome, regardless of ethnic origin, color or social status. He did not listen to objections from Boers or Englishmen in this regard: „All boys in our institute receive free bed, board and instruction, regardless of whether they are pagan, Muslim, Protestant or Catholic, white, black or colored, English, Dutch, German, Italian, Indian or local African.“ Under Abbot Francis everything was harnessed to attract people to the faith. The silent example of his hard-working prayerful brothers was perhaps the most powerful sermon. But the founder also „staged“ colorful baptisms and processions and had an ox slaughtered after the service to give the converts an opportunity to celebrate their newly found faith in good African fashion. Being a trailblazer in various fields, as early as 1887 Abbot Francis sent the first young men to Rome to study for the priesthood. The first Zulu priest came from Mariannhill. In his efforts to expand the mission so as to make the local church more viable, Abbot Francis, as God’s Trumpeter, traveled abroad to solicit support and vocations. No missionary since Bernard of Clairvaux received as many postulants as Abbot Francis. Mission at that time generally referred to America or China. Africa was the Dark Continent, unknown to most. Abbot Francis made mission appeals in countless public appearances and, above all, in the Mariannhill magazines and calendars. 100,000 copies of the first Mariannhill almanac, each 180 pages, were printed. The paper had to be brought in from Durban by oxcart and work continued around the clock for four months. The printed products were then shipped to Europe and, from there, distributed in North America and Australia. It was a risk for Abbot Francis, but nothing was too big or too difficult for him. He once said, „Heights challenge [His home village was surrounded by mountains.] Courage and energy increase with every danger faced fearlessly.“ After he was removed from the office of abbot, his missiona1y zeal became all the more fervent through suffering during 15 long years. Ten months before he died, at the age of 84, he wrote from Emaus, the last station he founded: „The sisters seem to be most needed in China now … Before going there, it is necessary to know where the future railway and river steamers will pass. In such a vast empire easy connections are paramount, otherwise travel will swallow up the mission funds and much precious time … “ „The pity is that I am not just 30. If I were, it would be my pleasure to go ahead of you to explore suitable sites for new missions … “ „Sometimes when I cannot sleep, visions such as these take on gigantic proportions before my inner eye. Trust me, it is hard for me to believe that they should all come to nothing.“ They did not, although the founder did not live to see his visions come true.

The Bible’s teaching on suffering may be summarized in the words No cross, no crown. Abbot Francis, the founder of Mariannhill, pursued the crown of holiness, fully aware that he could not attain it without suffering. He had a full share of human misery in its different forms – physical and spiritual. He suffered sickness, loss, disappointment, defamation, rejection, isolation, and loneliness. He carried his cross courageously, his love and faith keeping him from being crushed by it. Some crosses stemmed from his tendency toward frail health and from natural temperament, but most of his sufferings were inflicted on him by others. Their sheer multitude and intensity compel our greatest respect for a man who, in spite of all, accomplished so much. According to his Memoirs, his first serious encounter with sickness was a severe case of pneumonia and meningitis in the seminary. He had to interrupt his studies for three months and in his final year was judged unsuited to work in the American missions, as had been his wish. In his second year of parish ministry he suffered from general weakness, accompanied by persistent coughing. He took whey-diet treatments for seven years, but proneness to colds and hoarseness and colic spells remained. His physician gave him only three more years to live, after becoming seriously ill several times between 1859 and 1863. Upon this diagnosis he decided to become a Trappist in order to prepare for death. Before entering, he made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land; he fell seasick and picked up an intestinal inflammation. Once in the monastery, his condition improved unexpectedly. Only bursitis of the knee from prolonged kneeling confined him to the infirmary for three months. During a nine-months stay in Rome he contracted malaria, a sickness that marked his physical condition for life. Before leaving his monastery of Mariastern to go to South Africa, he was bedridden for three months but would not call a doctor. People in Munich rumored that he had died. When he recovered, his feet became swollen with water, a sign of cardiac insufficiency, and he could hardly walk. On the boat he was the only one to suffer from severe seasickness, probably due to his overall weak condition and hypersensitive stomach. He wrote: „I lay for many days on two crates under the staircase …. I lived only on fresh air and … became as lean as a rake …. I saw only the sky and the ocean that tortured my half-dead body …. “ But he was not deterred from making the round trip four more times. Traveling along the east coast of Africa, he had dysentery and was forced to return to South Africa. However, an outbreak of smallpox, a severe storm and a flood did not allow him to disembark at any port of call. At age sixty-five he suffered severe stomach pain, which he interpreted as cancer. Three months later he recovered, after the sisters and brothers had held a novena to the Sacred Heart for his recovery. Nine months later he embarked again for Europe and became so seasick that he „only longed for land or for death … even in apparent danger feeling no desire to pray.“ His only consolation was that on the high sea he could shorten the pains of his future purgatory. During his return trip he could say Mass only once in four weeks. On arrival, he fell sick (typhoid?) and recovered only after many months. One would think that he had enough of traveling, but no, he said,“ I would gladly be seasick many times over if I could save one immortal soul.“ When he turned seventy at Emaus, his place of retirement, his superior wrote, „Abbot Francis is suffering from dropsy and it seems that death is slowly approaching.“ At age eighty he began to suffer from arteriosclerosis. His voice was too feeble to preach or give counsel in confession, and he also required assistance for dressing himself and for saying Mass. During the last three years of his life his eyes were too dim and his hands too shaky to celebrate Mass at all. Finally, he was but a bundle of misery and pain, yet mentally he remained alert until death. Two men were crucified with Jesus. One believed in Him and died in peace, the other clung to his despair. Peter denied Him and wept tears of repentance, Judas betrayed Him and hanged himself. Whether suffering is a means of growth and happiness depends very much on the attitude taken towards it. It is a great grace to be able to suffer with the suffering Savior. Jesus transformed suffering by willingly taking it upon Himself in obedience to the Father and for love of us. Suffering is unbearable only when it is meaningless; for believers it is the touchstone of faith. It was Abbot Francis’s deep faith, nourished by prayer and sacrifice, from which he derived the strength to suffer without succumbing. He neither complained about pain nor did he use it as an excuse for shirking duties. Rather, he was distressed that sickness kept him from work and from reaching his goals. Neither was it masochism that made him long for more suffering, but the conviction that suffering in this world is necessary for our maturing and that we are called „to share in Christ’s suffering so as to share his glory“ (Rom 8:17). With St. Paul he rejoiced over the sufferings in his own body by which he could make up all „that was still to be undergone by Christ for the sake of his body, the Church“ (Col 1:24). It was from this attitude that he could say on his eightieth birthday, „Do not pray that my sufferings may be mitigated … pray rather for the grace of a happy death“ and, „God sends us sufferings and adversities for our own good.“ During the last months of his life he suffered immensely, but even then without complaint. Thus he testified that, in union with Christ, suffering can indeed be a blessing for all.

Abbot Francis tells us that he found mental and spiritual sufferings harder to bear than physical pain and sickness. He was given a good share of both, psychological suffering certainly aggravating his ill health. He lost his mother when he was age three. As a teenager he was constantly teased about his red hair, which was commonly associated with deviousness of character. His first parish resented his appointment as pastor and gave him an icy reception. His highest superior in the order, though accepting his vow of stability, illegally dismissed him after five years. Fr. Francis appealed against this action and won the case. However, the order delayed his solemn profession of vows for three years, and relations between him and the order remained permanently strained. Fr. Francis founded Mariastern in Bosnia and, after ten years of labor and nerve-racking opposition from hostile officials, waived the prospect of becoming its first abbot and went instead to do mission work in Africa. The farewell was hard: „I can honestly say that, if ever I made a sacrifice in my life, it was leaving my beloved Mariastern.“ The first foundation in Africa was a failure, partly because of serious misunderstandings with the bishop; however, the second one, Mariannhill, flourished. But the bishop still had an account to settle. Seven years later he demanded that Mariannhill pay him, with interest, money which the bishop had regarded as a loan, but which Abbot Francis had understood to be a gift to pay off debts he had incurred for Mariastern that he did not wish to leave to his successor. Rome decided in the bishop’s favor. Abbot Francis was deeply hurt. Another time an anonymous person in Rome wrongly accused him and there was little he could do to defend himself. What offended his keen sense of justice far more than anything else was his suspension from office for one year in 1892, again without the right to appeal. After only seven months the suspension was, in essence, changed into dismissal. He was asked to come to Rome, but he had to decline for health reasons. He was isolated from the monks and from the sisters he had founded. This humiliation before all the world – a Trappist abbot is normally elected for life – grieved him to the end of his life. Great disappointment came to the aging founder when he realized that the very things for which he had been penalized were practiced freely under his successor. He could not protest, even when there were efforts to turn the sisters meant for mission work into Trappistine nuns. Only in 1903 at a conference that discussed their future did he insist on having a say as their founder. As a result he was branded a troublemaker and excluded from the last crucial sessions. He stated in a letter, „I have positive proof that there are some among my sons E who can’t wait until I die.“ Abbot Francis felt isolated and ignored. The hopes he had placed in the administrator, who was appointed after the third abbot of Mariannhill had resigned, were dashed with regard to better governance and a revival of the old spirit. There was no one to whom Abbot Francis could unburden himself. He pleaded: „I haven’t had a chance to go to confession for three months…. For many thousands of people I have provided priests and I myself must die of hunger. If only I could get a confessor once a month …. “ The administrator reacted by tightening the censorship of his letters and admonishing him when he thought Abbot Francis did not obey. That hurt him beyond telling. He wrote, „Never in my life did a man disappoint me as much as this man.“ No less painful than the personal trials and misfortunes were the worries and anxieties Abbott Francis had concerning the success of his undertakings. No sooner had he been authorized by the Church to found a monastery in Bosnia, local officials refused to grant him the necessary licenses. His patience was tried to the limit of endurance when after an endless waiting time their replies were negative. During the first winter in Bosnia almost all his fellow monks left him, so that on New Year’s Eve he was left with only three novices, one of whom died shortly afterwards. At the height of the Bosnian revolt his monastery would have been destroyed, except for Our Lady’s powerful intervention. Arriving two years later in South Africa, he experienced serious disappointment when, instead of a fine site for a monastery and mission, he found only sand and thistles and a bishop who soon declared bankruptcy. The same bishop had him removed as prior, and it was only after great internal difficulties that he was able to found Mariannhill. This was a success in many ways, but not without anguish about its continuation and future. His removal from office made him look on helplessly as monks and missionaries, Trappists all, fought each other and threatened to tear his work to pieces. Yet, ultimately it is not the trial which is decisive, but the way it is suffered. Abbot Francis occasionally sought consolation from his confreres, but he spent much more time reflecting on the meaning of his humiliations and praying for the grace to be able to unite them with the sufferings of the Lord. His examples were St. Athanasius and St. Alphonsus. With his own hands he erected an impressive Way of the Cross on the Mount of Calvary in Emmaus and he climbed its 174 steps every day. The humiliating circumstances of the last 15 years of his life were the subject of his meditations. Under Mary’s guidance Abbot Francis learned to resign himself without bitterness: „We should … look at the Silent Cross Bearer. But alas, we are ill-disposed, make a long face and are resentful towards those who stepped on our toes …. It is necessary to act like Jesus did.“ Abbot Francis, pray for us.

When Jesus commissioned His Twelve Apostles, He said, „Remember, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves; so be cunning as serpents and yet as harmless as doves“ (Mt 10:16). Abbot Francis was a Trappist who burned to bring the Gospel to people who did not yet know Christ. Like St. Paul, he was a chosen instrument in God’s hands. Endowed with rare gifts of intellect, will, imagination and sheer inexhaustible energy, he worked tirelessly to spread God’s Kingdom. He could be as cunning as a serpent when a man-made law threatened to prevent him from achieving this purpose. The 10 years he labored in Bosnia were marked by endless troubles with neighboring Muslims and members of the schismatic Orthodox Church who objected to the monks‘ presence. This was the time of the Ottoman Empire when Catholics were treated like serfs. Only with the help of clandestine Franciscan friars was he finally able to make a new foundation. But extreme care had to be exercised so that no one found out that Mariastern was in fact a Trappist monastery. The local pasha would not give him permission to construct a stone building with as many rooms as a Turkish nobleman had. So Prior Francis went to Istanbul to appeal to the grand vizier (chief minister to the sultan), well aware that the pasha was conspiring to have him killed along the way. To outwit him, Prior Francis traveled by train and steamer rather than on horseback. He dressed like a Turkish magistrate and actually posed in this colorful outfit for a street painter. This portrait was later discovered, painted over with a crucifix. Prior Francis succeeded in obtaining a license for a house with sixty rooms. Bells were forbidden, but what was a monastery without a bell? This time the brothers found a solution. They smuggled two bells past the border patrol by fitting them into empty wine kegs, sealed them and brought them undetected to Mariastern. There they rang them, only to call an enraged pasha to the scene, demanding that the monks take them down. Prior Francis was summoned to court where judge and jurors alike were already eagerly awaiting baksheesh (bribe), but he would not give them a single ducat. As a landowner, he had the right to call his workers together. „But why do the ropes of your bells end in your prayer room?“ they asked. „Because that is where we keep the clock that tells us when to ring,“ he replied. They asked again, „And why do you ring two different bells?“ He told them that one called his servants (brothers) and the other his hired laborers. That settled the case. Prior Francis had won a substantial increase in freedom for the Catholic Church in Bosnia. The early days of the Trappist pioneers in South Africa in 1880 were difficult. Not only did they suffer from unfavorable conditions, but also from disagreements over who had the final responsibility for them – Prior Francis or the bishop. The prior had handpicked the brothers from his monastery of Mariastern, most of whom he had admitted to religious life. But he was a thorn in the bishop’s side. Eventually the bishop succeeded in having the self-determined founder removed and would have had a French prior appointed, but he had not reckoned with the brothers‘ attachment to their prior. Fr. Francis was in Rome at the time and in a tight spot. He had to obey orders without, however, disappointing his brothers. So, as was his custom, he prayed over the matter and discovered a way out of the dilemma. He wrote to his brothers in the form of an ultimatum: „You either stay in Dunbrody but without me, or you return to Mariastern where I will still be your lawful superior. If you move to Natal, I will join you there and together we will make a new foundation.“ The brothers opted for the third choice and Fr. Francis acted immediately. „With the letter of dismissal in my right and their reply in my left, I hurried to the Roman office just in time to prevent the decree from going into effect.“ The bishop of Natal welcomed the Trappists, and on 26 December 1882 Mariannhill was founded. In Natal the bishop wanted only French sisters for his vicariate. But since this did not suit Abbot Francis, he used a clever strategy. He called laywomen, not sisters, to Mariannhill to teach the local girls. He gave them attractive red skirts and white blouses to remind them of the Precious Blood and of the need to spread joy. The next time the bishop visited Mariannhill, he introduced the laywomen as his mission helpers. Only later when these women decided to take vows, did he need to consult the bishop again. By that time there were no more objections, and eventually the Church approved Abbot Francis’s Red Sisters as the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood. In 1893 news reached Abbot Francis of 12 fine farms to be auctioned off in Griqualand (Eastern Cape). The prospect of acquiring a new mission station in those exclusively Protestant areas was irresistible. He consulted with Br. Nivard Streicher, architect and builder, and dispatched him on the fastest horse to explore the area. Scouting around, Nivard fell in love with the snowcapped mountains and full-flowing rivers. But they had to hatch a plan to acquire the land. Br. Nivard was to join the auction, disguised as a typical English gentleman, with beard trimmed and face half covered under a broad cap. He succeeded perfectly. Before the out-bidden settlers could think, he had already sped away. A year later feelings were calmed down and it was safe for the Trappists to drive up on their ox carts and found the mission – Mariazell, so named after the famous Marian shrine in Austria. Again, Abbot Francis had not allowed a human law to frustrate what he recognized was God’s will for Africa.

The Mother of Jesus is sometimes called the First Missionary. When she visited Elizabeth, it was to share the Good News she had received with someone who was ready to acknowledge the mercy God showed His people and rejoice with her. Without Mary the Gospel would not have been written, but without apostles and missionaries it would also not be proclaimed. Francis Pfanner was chosen by God to be a messenger of the Good News, first as a parish priest and later as a missionary. It was the time of Marian renewal in the Church. In 1854 Pope Pius IX proclaimed the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, followed in 1858 by Mary’s apparitions under the same title in Lourdes. With Mary’s help Fr. Pfanner enabled people to rejoice in the salvation Christ won for them. Before entering the seminary, he dedicated himself to Mary at her shrine in Einsiedeln, Switzerland. Not only was she his guide to Jesus, but also to the hearts of the people to whom he ministered. This was evident in the nine years he served as parish priest in his native Austria (1850-59). It was a difficult ministry, but through prayer and constant solicitude for his flock Fr. Pfanner was able to transform a lukewarm parish into a vibrantly active one. He had stained glass windows of the Annunciation and Visitation installed in his church, a novelty at that time. He also enrolled the youth in The Living Rosary Movement, guiding them to be close to Mary. Fr. Pfanner was grieved by the sight of a neglected shrine in the neighborhood and offered to renovate it and revive the once popular pilgrimages. He did not get that appointment, perhaps because he remarked that he did not especially qualify for the position, „but more likely,“ he wrote, „because Our Lady wanted him to renovate himself first,“ so as to qualify even better for the work God planned for him. In 1863 Fr. Pfanner joined the Reformed Cistercians (Trappists), sons of Saint Bernard- „Minstrel of Our Lady“ and author of the Memorare. The monks honored Mary as the Queen of Citeaux. They sang her praises, signed with her name, dedicated all their houses to her and endeavored to imitate her virtues. Father Francis, as he was now called, developed a deeply Marian spirituality. Mary taught him to „do whatever he tells you“ (Jn 2:5). She led him in unexpected ways. He was asked to establish a new monastery and on Sept. 8, 1869, founded Mariastern [Mary Star] in Bosnia. A seer in Wittelsheim in Alsace, Germany, though ignorant of his identity, told him that she saw the Mother of God blessing him with a star and holding a most beautiful crown above his head. He immediately understood that Mary was blessing Mariastern and inviting him to strive for the crown she offered. Fr. Pfanner stated, „It seemed as if I had heard for the first time that our future reward will be a glorious crown. My resolution – never to spare myself but give even my blood – became like iron and steel.“ In the pursuit of this crown, Fr. Francis endured untold hardships, deprivations, trials and sufferings. Mary led him deeper and deeper into the mystery and joy of salvation, inflaming his heart with love for the souls her Son had redeemed. She also gave him signs of her motherly care. This was particularly evident on the Feast of her Assumption in 1878. Bosnian Serbs were staging an insurrection against the Turkish government. The Trappists found themselves between the insurgents in the forests nearby and the Austrian squads advancing to crush the uprising. In their great need they turned to Mary. „Our hearts were filled with fear,“ wrote Prior Francis, „but never did we implore Mary with greater confidence. When the danger was past and we were safe, we thanked her and St. Joseph from the bottom of our hearts.“ In 1879 a missionary bishop asked the Trappists to establish a mission in South Africa. Prior Francis, though about to be made an abbot, spontaneously led a band of 30 brothers to Cape Province. They were very disappointed by the bleak prospects. In his sermon for the Assumption (1880), Prior Francis consecrated himself, his brothers and the mission to Mary. He said that they were fulfilling the prophecy Mary made in her Magnificat: „We call her blessed in this deserted place that we could fittingly call Maria in Deserto. … I shall try to explain as vividly as possible … what a powerful Patroness and Advocate we have in Mary.“ Thus, he gave his brothers new courage. The Trappists gave all they had but could not make the mission viable. Two years later they founded Mariannhill in Natal Province. The new venture was visibly blessed, developing rapidly into the largest monastery of the Order. Fr. Francis became abbot in 1885. Under his energetic leadership mission stations were opened to serve the local people. Each station was dedicated to Our Lady under a different title. Her spiritual sons taught the first African converts to turn to her with confidence. The Salve Regina, chanted by the brothers as they filed home from work in the evening, was probably the first Christian hymn African children heard, and the Angelus the first prayer they were taught to say when the bell rang. In 1892 tension between the monastic and missionary vocation of the Mariannhill Trappists reached a critical stage. Abbot Francis was removed from office. In the mission church of Einsiedeln he gave his cross and ring to Mary and retired to a remote place that he called Emaus. There, deprived of contact with his brothers and sisters, he spent the remainder of his life. Valiantly he stood with Mary under the Cross for the salvation of souls. And Mary called him home on May 24, 1909, the Feast of Mary Help of Christians. He found his last resting place in Mariannhill.

The Church has always held St. Joseph in high regard, yet the Gospels do not record a single word spoken by St. Joseph. His silence is striking. Many saints have reflected on it in order to imitate his virtue. Most recently it was John Paul II who wrote about Joseph in Redemptoris Custos (St. Joseph in the Life of Christ and of the Church) (1989). Abbot Francis is well known for his devotion to the holy foster father. In his sermons he spoke about Joseph as the just one, the faithful helper in times of need, the reliable pilot and the missionary who traveled to Egypt. He also composed a litany in his honor, confessing that he never called on his heavenly benefactor in vain. He engaged him as treasurer and novice master. The following passages summarize some of his reflections on Joseph the Silent. The story of the Egyptian Joseph gives us a perfect example of the ways of Divine Providence. Joseph recognized that God, not his brothers, sent him to Egypt and made him ruler over the (royal) house for their sake. The same can be said of Joseph of Nazareth: God placed him as head over the Holy Family. He also sent him among people who were far from God. How did St. Joseph support his family? He was a carpenter and probably too poor to own land. Earning a living by trade or business would have been against his quiet, retiring nature. He was also too „just“ and noble-of David’s royal blood-to beg, so he relied on the work of his hands. Thus he is an example to all who labor to earn their living. Joseph’s occupation would also suggest a simple lifestyle, for he could not afford luxury and he was too socialminded to deprive the poor by having things he did not need. What a powerful lesson! If we feel marginalized, St. Joseph can sympathize with us from personal experience. But when will the world recognize that, for better times to come, we must return to simplicity! Just waiting for things to improve is foolish because it keeps us from doing what is required to initiate change. We see Joseph living among unbelievers in Egypt. How fervently would he have prayed for them in words similar to those Zechariah spoke: „Give light to those who live in darkness and the shadow of death.“ Who knows if by their isolated, prayerful life the Holy Family did not perhaps lay the foundation for religious life in Egypt, cradle of western monasticism. From Joseph we learn that we can evangelize anywhere and in all circumstances. The establishment of a great work often requires a sponsor or patron. Now the Church is the greatest establishment on earth and St. Joseph its patron (proclaimed by Pius IX in 1870). From this fact alone we can tell his greatness. It explains why the Church dedicated an entire month (March) to his honor and invokes him in a litany by the most exalted titles. To these I would like to add „Joseph the Silent.“ His silence greatly increased his holiness. Let us examine it, for it reveals admirable virtues. When Joseph could not explain Mary’s pregnancy, he decided to dismiss her „silently.“ Once enlightened by God, he took her into his house „silently.“ But this is not how most people act when they discover anything strange or mysterious in others. They draw attention to it, arouse curiosity and suspicion, and pass premature judgement: „What do you think? Surely, this person is suspicious. Better keep an eye on him.“ Joseph, for his part, had good reason to criticize the census. Instead, he kept silent and quietly went with Mary to Bethlehem. Such silent submission is rare nowadays. Since government officials have turned away from the faith, subjects in turn have lost faith in them. Next we see that innkeepers in Bethlehem had no room for the Holy Family. At this point Joseph surely could have complained to God. After all, he knew that the child to be born was God’s Son. Why then did God not take better care of them? But he silently acknowledged God’s Providence in the imperial order and the reception he got in his own town. When Mary bedded the Child on straw, he fell on his knees to silently adore. The angels sang. The shepherds related their story. The Wise Men brought gifts. But Joseph kept silent. He could have told them about greater marvels than they had seen. He could have boasted with the high position God himself had given him. In short, he could have created quite a stir! But subsequent events prove that he was absolutely right in keeping silent. He kept his integrity and saved the Child. Oh, how often do souls receive great, hidden graces from God, but they spoil and lose everything again by their vain talkativeness and talkative vanity. Joseph commands our greatest respect when, in the night the angel told him to get up and flee to Egypt, he obeyed istantly and silently and did so again when the angel warned him not to return to Judea. Come to think of it Joseph would have been an excellent Evangelist of the Hidden Life. Joseph teaches us a good sort of silence. There would be much less misery in the world if people learned to keep silent. After all, the heaviest crosses are those we make ourselves by talking too much about our own persons and slandering others. Keeping silent about one’s own virtue is holiness. Joseph was not born the powerful patron he is, rather he became so influential through years of self-forgetful, silent service. Precisely because God gave him responsibility for the two holiest persons ever, Joseph is able to take care of the entire Church. He became so great because he remained humble. St. Joseph, pray for us!

These days we witness strange and sometimes unheard of developments in society and in the Church. One of these concerns the Kosovo Albanians. Of them the new bishop of Prizren in Croatia, Dode Gjergji, recently (2007) said that many Muslims return to their Christian roots: „Delegations come every day from the villages to ask us for baptism.“ The conversion of these people points to the special history shared by many Muslims in Bosnia, where Abbot Francis spent eleven years to strengthen the Christian Faith. In Bosnia the Trappist monks were faced with a very complex religious diversity, consisting mainly of Muslims, Orthodox and a remnant of Catholics. A part of Dalmatia in St. Paul’s times, Bosnia is one of the oldest Christian countries in Europe. In the sixth century it had already four dioceses, but during the Migration of Peoples (from about AD 300-700), Christianity practically disappeared, to be revived only five hundred years later. When in 1463 Bosnia became a province of the Turkish Ottoman Empire, mosques were built to replace churches. Christian business people who had betrayed their own people to Turkey turned Muslim in great numbers. In the 16th century the Turks brought in Orthodox settlers from Serbia whose animosity against Catholics had been strengthened during the time the Crusaders occupied Constantinople (1204-1261). Many Orthodox churches in Bosnia were built on the ruins of they were so interesting, we have asked Catholic churches and monasteries. When the Trappists entered Bosnia in 1869, the Orthodox clergy far outnumbered Catholic priests, the majority of whom were Franciscans. The Sultan had given the Franciscans the exclusive right of Catholic ministry across almost all the Balkan Peninsula. As for the Orthodox, during the first 200 years they had helped the Turks wage their wars, but when they began to crave land of their own, they were also treated like Rajahs (deprived Catholics who had preserved their faith and been forced to become tenants of their Muslim overlords under whom they experienced bitter oppression). The 500 Orthodox parish priests were as poor as their Franciscan counterparts. Extortion and exploitation thrived. The parishes paid the taxes owed to the Sultan. However, the Orthodox were not tenants subject to aristocratic landlords. They paid one gold ducat a year, not the heavy fines under which the Catholics groaned. The Orthodox priests memorized their Mass texts because they were largely illiterate. Ignorance and superstition among ordinary people flourished in Bosnia. The Rajahs were totally dependent on the landlords and the immigrant Turks who served the Sultan as army officers. Many Catholics were pressured into Orthodoxy by Serbian clergy. The ex-Christian Muslims and Orthodox were a military, but landless, aristocracy. Rajahs faced severe trials of faith from them. Many were tortured to death together with their Franciscan priests. In the long run Turkish oppression thrived on the religious hatred between Orthodox and Catholics. Faced with this system of injustice and oppression, Fr. Francis felt challenged to do whatever he could to strengthen the Christian Faith. At Mariastern he not only became pastor once again but also active missionary. The Feast of Corpus Christi offered him a welcome chance. The monastery had a population of some 60 people, brothers and Catholic building workers from Croatia and Italy, enough to hold a procession, perhaps the first in 400 years! In his Letters from the Vrbas River, Fr. Francis described what they did at Mariastern: „At sunrise our neighbors were already busy in meadows and fields to pick flowers for a joyful offering to the feast. As they had never experienced anything like this before, they wondered what we would do with the flowers. Not so our Catholic workers and artisans. They stripped basketfuls of leaves from oaks and beeches to strew on the road that the procession would take. We marched forth in orderly fashion, led by the cross that was carried in full view of friends and foes of the Crucified alike. Then followed our hired hands and tradesmen, each holding a burning candle and wearing a European [not Turkish] suit. The brothers and priests with candles and censer walked in front of the Holy of Holies, over which two masons, dressed in the gray costumes of their native Tyrol, held a canopy. Bosnian Catholics, some wearing shoes, others barefoot, walked behind the Sanctissimum, all praying their Oce nas [Our Fathers] with great devotion and visible joy. The nightingales from the nearby edge of the wood accompanied us with soaring scales of majestic chorales and the larks warbled their merry morning hymns in harmony. These songsters seemed to know what Bosnia ignored: it was the Lord of Hosts, the Son of Man Himself who most royally walked our streets! – Only the sound of bells was missing. But this should be blamed neither on the Turks nor on us, for all we lack is the metal to make them.“ As it turned out, Mariastern soon got its bells and the Christians their freedom, when seven years later Austria occupied Bosnia.

In 1869 under the leadership of Fr. Francis Pfanner, the Trappists founded the monastery of Mariastern in Bosnia, when that country had been under Turkish rule for 400 years. Mariastern became a bulwark of the Christian Faith and over the years inspired the few remaining Catholics with new life and hope. Recognizing his missionary vocation, Prior Francis thought of ways to gain them greater recognition and better living conditions. He started with Eucharistic devotion. A Corpus Christi procession was held again after it had been lost in oblivion for generations. The effect on the people was so satisfying that he wrote about it in his Letters from the Vrbas River. These Letters describe daily life in Bosnia and hold up the example of the strong faith of the Christian minority there. They were published by a priest friend in Austria in a paper he founded to promote the Catholic cause. Prior Franz asked the readers to come forward to donate a bell to Mariastern to boost the Catholic morale in the midst of a dominantly Muslim and Greek Orthodox society. The bell „will have the honorable and important task of ringing out the Christian message every day across the wide Vrbas Valley. It will knock on the ears of the Muezzin on his minaret long before he calls the Muslims to prayer“ and even more often, thereby demonstrating that „Christians pray more than Muslims.“ His appeal was taken up. In 1871 the housekeeper of his priest friend and publisher donated a small bell, the first for Bosnia in centuries. However, bells were prohibited. To overcome this obstacle, the brothers devised a plan to smuggle it into the country. The year 1871 happened to be a wine year for two of Bosnia’s bordering countries, Croatia and Slavonia (today a province of Croatia), through which the bell had to pass. Therefore, wine being cheap, the brothers bought an empty keg, put the bell in it, and filled it up with wine. When they came to the border, they paid customs for the wine but not for the submerged bell. „Well,“ said the founder, „we paid for it,“ so for the first time the monks got wine to drink. The carpenter made a small contraption on the monastery roof and the bell was fixed in place. That done, Prior Francis ordered to ring it, softly at first and only during the early morning hours to call the monks to Matins. But when the expected protests did not happen, it was rung more boldly and after some time also in broad daylight – „even as we pleased.“ After this small success the prior had only one more bell installed out of a total of six offered. This one had come by boat as far as the border and had then been tucked among other wares, ferried across the river and hidden in a pile of hay on a wagon a brother was driving home. Thanks to a language problem, it had not been detected: „The brother, who spoke only German, actually declared the bell, but the official did not understand him, nor was the brother aware that bells were declared contraband. In holy ignorance he had transported it home without paying duty or penalty.“ Realizing that people were pleased to donate for their oppressed fellow Christians, Prior Francis donated one to the Catholic parish at Banja Luka, where it was rung to the enjoyment of the Catholic population there without rousing Turkish opposition. However, in due time, Mariastern’s own neighbours did make trouble. Abbot Francis relates: „Though fortunate, thank God, in getting the bells into Bosnia without further ado, we did run into our share of problems with the pasha when it came to installing them.“ The prior’s account gives a vivid picture of conditions as they prevailed in the small Balkan country at that time. One day a Sapdia (policeman) handed me an Ukas (official note), summoning me to the Konak (court) … I had been reported to the pasha for importing and ringing bells … The Koran does not legislate for bells … for the Muezzin’s blood-curdling voice is supposed to substitute for the bells‘ sweet chiming. The entire council was present because no one wanted to miss the spectacle of the prior defending himself in a bell affair. The Pasha grunted at me like a bear: „How dare you install a bell on top of your house and molest everybody with its ringing?“ I: „As a landowner I have many hired men, so I need a bell to call them to work and meals, as is the custom in my home country.“ „Jok! Jok! Why does the rope of the bell lead to your prayer room?“ I: „We have our clock there, and according to our rule the one who rings the bell must stand near the clock in order to ring the bell as soon as it strikes …. “ „Jok! Jok! You also have another bell under the roof?“ I: „I do because I need two bells for, as you know, I employ two types of workers, my own servants [brothers] and Bosnian casuals. However, they do not eat or work together. Therefore, I need a separate bell for each …. “ „Jok! Jok! You can call the workers with trumpets.“ I: „I do not want to play trumpets …. „Finally, the sentence was pronounced (not recorded): „The bells must come down!? I protested vehemently, explaining the material loss I would incur if I could not ring the bells and pointing out the injustice if I, paying heavy tithe, suffered an infringement of my economic profits and rights, etc. But I could as well have saved my breath. The pasha simply insisted: „The bells must come down!“ Only the Banja Luka bell escaped the stern judgment. There the bell had been installed in the presence of the Austrian vice-consul and was therefore regarded as an imperial bell, i.e., untouchable for a Turk.

Under the leadership of Fr. Francis Pfanner, the Trappists founded the monastery of Mariastern in Bosnia in 1869, when that country had been under Turkish rule for 400 years. They suffered mainly from the neo-Muslims, original Catholics, whose conversion to Islam when that religion had first been brought to Bosnia was without parallel. Muslims lived mostly in towns and had charge of the administration. Though the new-Turks were less given to polygamy and known for their proverbial hospitality, polygamy was the rule and stately harems a common sight. Education was only for boys and of the most basic kind. The Medressen (seminaries) were the seed ground of fundamentalism, understood as the political union of all Muslims and their direct responsibility to the Caliph in Istanbul, as successor and representative of Mohammed. Any attempt at adapting the social conditions to western models was considered a criminal interference with the traditional teaching of the Koran. This then was the situation the Trappists found when they settled in Bosnia. Only trust in God and a lively faith in his vocation enabled Fr. Francis to deal with the many vexations of the system. His missionary spirit was challenged and strengthened in the process. The first part of this article on bells related how he tried to hoodwink officialdom by smuggling bells into the country and ringing them in broad daylight, thereby provoking bitter opposition. He was ready to face it. In Letters from the Vrbas River we read that the most recent restriction on bell ringing „caused much sadness, for without bells people felt poorer than on Good Friday. I felt sorry for the Catholics in our neighborhood, for some had told me that, as soon as the bell called us monks to Matins, they also got up and prayed. . .. The poor peasants had never heard the hour strike from a steeple, nor could they call a pocket watch or wall clock their own. They told time by the sun, but when they did not see the sun during the night or in the fog, snow and rain, they, like the poor souls in purgatory, did not know at all what hour of day it was.“ Biding his time for several months, the intrepid prior decided to try the bells again, this time striking them with a hammer rather than ringing them, but still bolder and louder as the days passed by. As was to be expected, he was sued again. Meanwhile he had learned how to deal with the little local despots. He tells us that the secret was „not to yield! Since no minutes were kept, one was free to construe one’s own arguments for following orders that had meanwhile been forgotten.“ In 1872 the weather came to his rescue. „Bosnia experienced a devastating drought, and Turks, [Orthodox] Greeks and Catholics held processions for rain, each religion their own. This gave me the idea to ring the bells again. Without summons I entered the Konak [ city council]. The custom was for any person of standing — count, landed gentry, official — to enter without appointment or knocking. … So, I also entered in my capacity as a landowner of considerable wealth, sat down on one of the empty chairs … and declared, ‚We have decided to help you pray for rain.“‚The Turks had come to respect the Trappists during the three years they had been in Bosnia. They thought highly not only of their prayer but also of the medical help they gave to people in the form of natural cures. Prior Francis writes: „I had already cured hundreds of sick people, including many a Turk. When I passed through the monastery to inspect the sick, inquire about their complaints and look in my books for a cure, they said, ‚Look, now the Gospodin [Lord] prays!‘ They believed that our prayers healed them. „Seeing that the Pasha was pleased at our offer, I told him and his council that we needed to ring our bells again in order to pray with more confidence and to achieve better results. They listened and put their heads together to deliberate. The verdict was, ‚You can ring the bells but only until it rains; afterwards you must stop again.‘ I thanked the Pasha and rode home. I had achieved what I wanted, regardless of whether it rained or not. If it did, it would also rain on our fields; if not, we could still continue ringing. Perhaps my brothers did not pray for the right intention, because the rains delayed for a very long time and, when they did come, we just continued ringing. Apparently, the Turks had got tired of the case and ignored us.“ He was mistaken. Mariastern’s Turkish neighbours insisted the bells be removed by the Austrian vice-consul of Banja Luka personally. The provincial governor and the Austrian consul in Sarajevo were involved in the case, and so was the Austrian ambassador, who in 1873 submitted the issue to the Sublime Porte in Constantinople. The charge was that the bells competed‘ with the Muezzin, but much more seriously, that they caused barrenness in the harems. The Trappist bells had become a national issue. For the next year Mariastern used hand bells to call its monks to prayer and the hired hands to work. However, the delay was not only due to the Founder’s illegal actions and the general strained relations, but also to changes in Sarajevo that had six governors in four years. Corruption flourished with business remaining unattended and documents getting misplaced. A bribe in the right place would have produced results, but since Prior Francis would not stoop to Turkish officialdom, nothing happened. After a year he had the bells rung again, without license. The opposition bided their time, while the prior learned endurance and perseverance: „Not to give up when life gets tough but to cling to a just cause in the sure hope that God helps those who help themselves.“

In one of his newspaper articles dating from 1877, Prior Francis paints a whimsical picture of the annual potato harvest at Mariastern. The Trappists were the first to introduce this vegetable to northern Bosnia, where it is still known as the Krummbirne (German: crooked pear). The writer begins by describing the „goose walk“ of the Trappists to the potato field: „First comes the prior. The choir monks and brothers follow according to age and, bringing up the rear, there comes the novice master. Hoods over the heads and armed with rakes, baskets and sacks, they march silently to the potato field. Accompanying us today are our Bosnian casual workers, for the most part wearing no shoes but their shirts over their pants and a leather belt around their waists. This year we are also joined by some of our Turkish guards who, bayonets strapped to their hips, have been posted at the monastery to protect us [from marauding Serbians, who from nearby caves were agitating for independence from Turkey]. All in all, we white and brown Trappists, Bosnians and soldiers must present a very rare spectacle. „When an occasion warrants it, I have made it my habit to address a few words to the brothers. This time I take one of the soldiers working alongside us as an example. ‚Take a look at this guard,‘ I say. ‚He has been picking potatoes with us since early morning. As you can see, he does not mind to bend down, but you will not see him kneel. Why? It is because of his pants because, if they get soiled, he cannot buy himself another pair. Since early morning he has been fasting, nor will he eat anything before nightfall, intent only on keeping his fast. He also denies himself all other pleasures, does not eat nor drink, smoke nor snuff, until sunset. Thus, he works all day long on an empty stomach, hoping only for a few cents extra pay. But what does he eat when the work is done? Certainly, no meat! If he can get himself a few beans, onions, cabbage leaves and perhaps a loaf of maize bread, he is more than content. As you can see, he also does his own cooking, making do with an earthenware pot in lieu of a stove to cook whatever is available. If the embers of last night’s fire are still glowing, he buries his maize dough in the glow and covers it with ashes. Then he sits down by the fire, crosses his legs and waits for his bread to cook. This hour the Turk loves best- smoking his pipe and drinking black coffee by the faint light of the embers. Once he has had his beans and bread, he will go without food for another day and continue working without complaint. “ ‚The life of our Turkish guard speaks of service. He will go through thick and thin, even fire, but not complain. It’s been three years now that our guards received their last wages, and who hears them rebel? … When I asked one of them whether he was still willing to go on serving, he simply replied, „Of course.“ „‚Prior Francis had an important lesson to teach. He continued: „As you know, our Turkish guard is also our postman, the fastest and most reliable. There has been no incidence of neglect of duty in two years. The other day when I had the post ready to take to Banja Luka, it so happened that it was time for him to eat after a day’s fast. All the other guards were already straining to hear the cannon shots in town, the sign for them to go for their steaming bean pots. Just that moment I came along with the postbag. ‚Haide, posta ide!‘ – Up, the post is leaving! Immediately our postman jumped to his feet. ‚Evo mi!‘ – Here I am, send me! And as if that were not enough sacrifice, it had also started raining cats and dogs! But without the slightest hesitation he took the bag and ran to town – carbine, stiletto and all – to return two hours later, dripping wet. Only then he sat down to his bowl of cold beans, ate them with relish and was happy to have earned an extra penny.“ What lessons could the monks learn from their Turkish guard? Prior Francis was quick to point out two. „The guard works and protects us to earn a dish of the plainest food and a few coins. We on our part work and undergo troubles to gain heaven which 1. s assured us if we have served our Lord faithfully. He fasts every day for a month for the sake of religion; should we not keep our religious fast with a conviction at least as strong as his?“ Another time Prior Francis brought the poor tattered child of one of the workmen into the monastery courtyard to show the brothers how deprived the Bosnian people were and to elicit their sympathy. A novice immediately ran to bring out a clean shirt, while the prior himself fed the child before sending him back to his parents. After that he had no more need to convince his community about the need for an orphanage. For the newspaper he added: „I wish we had the strength and means to gather together as many of these children as possible in order to keep them from hunger and, above all, from Islam and the vices to which Christians fall prey! To bring up an orphan costs forty-fifty francs a year for bed, board and clothing. The boys also learn to read, write and do sums, besides being instructed in Religion and one or more trades. Once a fellow has absorbed all this he may be considered brought up and self-reliant.“ Trappist mission under Prior Francis! His monks were to strive not only for personal perfection, but by their leader’s express wish also for the salvation of immortal souls redeemed by the Precious Blood of Christ.

Abbot Francis had a lifelong devotion to St. Joseph. The foster father of Jesus was his protector, treasurer and guide in the spiritual life. He relates several incidents when he and his monks received help by praying to St. Joseph. The following is an excerpt from his reminiscences of Mariastern, Bosnia (1869-1880): One Sunday evening in Advent our covered wagon was going to Alt-Gradiska with three brothers on board. They had to take the bridge over the seething Vrbas River. Some hours after they had left and the monastery bell was just about to ring for night rest, one of the brothers who had been watching the bridge from a window came rushing towards my cell with an ear-rending shriek. It was the time of the great night silence, so he gesticulated to me to follow him to the window. I spied a light floating down the river and immediately knew what was happening. Our bridge was only a primitive float of planks strapped across two boats that were roped together and to each bank. The ropes had snapped, setting the brothers adrift down the raging river. My heart sank as I sent them my absolution. Then I cried as loud as I could: „Run! Anyone who can! Save our drowning brothers!“ We had already experienced a similar accident, when our bridge had been shattered on the cliffs with Fr. Gallus trapped on a mill weir and killed. The Vrbas had many submerged cliffs, the closest only ten miles away; these cliffs and the rocks, rising steep above the water, as well as countless weirs and sandbanks made travel by boat a fatal undertaking. But it was our only connection with the outside world. The three brothers, indispensable all of them, hardly stood a chance; unless a miracle occurred, they would be buried in the angry waters. As several brothers ran out with lanterns, rakes and ropes, sleet began to fall from the pitch-dark sky. After a while there was only silence, as I wearily watched the lamp on the river disappear. In utter despair I said to my brothers, „Let us commend them to St. Joseph; there is nothing more we can do.“ In chapel each one prayed from his heart for about an hour. Then we retired. I still listened into the night, but as everything remained silent, I also went to sleep from sheer exhaustion. At midnight the bell rang. From my window I could hear the rescue team: „They are alive! Afloat on the river!“What relief! Old Jacob, hearing the news that his son Joseph was alive in Egypt, could not have been happier than I. The brothers quickly put a raft together and in thick darkness drove the 90 minutes back to the scene of the accident to haul their shipwrecked fellows back to safety. At the monastery we offered up our two o’clock Matins and the Holy Masses at daybreak for their success. We remained without news until noon. The wait was ago nizing. Though there was really not much hope, I had a room heated and warm blankets and drinks prepared, just in case. Finally, at 2:00 p.m. two of the shipwrecked brothers returned. No, they did not want anything to eat or drink, not even a warm bed, but had only one wish – to give me their story. They said that the ferry had hardly reached mid-river, when the steel ropes snapped and set them afloat. They had quickly untied the horses so as to cling to their tails when they were going to be thrown overboard. But the youngest had offered to swim ashore and was waiting for the ferry to pass the bank at close range. Then he had thrown himself – boots, habit and all – into the water and swum for the bank. They had heard him splashabout but could not tell if he had managed to get a foothold. At that moment the wind had blown out their lantern and torn at the railing until it had sunk. Meanwhile they stood astride the ferry as it crashed over cliffs, sandbanks and floating islands, fearing to be shattered to pieces any minute. But suddenly a change had occurred. „The boats got caught and we came to an abrupt halt. The horses jumped off and we decided to bed down in the hay with the snow for cover. Only much later did we hear voices from the riverbank. We burnt a little hay to make light and could see our rescuers! But it was too risky to haul us ashore, because the pull could jerk our ferry out of its jam and set us afloat again. So the brothers fetched a boat from further down the river and so brought us ashore.“ Deo Gratias! In the evening the younger brother also arrived, hungry and cold, and still in the habit he had worn jumping into the river. His tale was one of heroism. After he had climbed on top of the bank, he had run across the fields to the highway, caught up with some wagoner and pulled the reins out of his hands. Then he had driven those horses in a mad gallop to the next bridge, expecting to stop the ill-fated ferry there. But when he could not see it, he had decided to return along the opposite bank, disappointed and hopeless. We discovered that the bridge had swept headlong on to a weir where the boats had got stuck. Except for the broken railing, the ferry was intact. After one week we had it dislodged and fixed in its proper place. It occurred to us that this had not been just one miracle but a whole string of miracles. I published the story in honor of St. Joseph. God, through the intercession of this powerful saint, continued watching over Mariastern with special care, otherwise we would have perished there many times. Our praise and thanks to St. Joseph!

Our LEAVES magazine bears a name with a very long and interesting history in the annals of Mariannhill. Abbot Francis was not only a charismatic speaker but also a versatile writer. He had recognized the power of the pen already in Bosnia, where he maintained a growing correspondence with benefactors and friends and wrote promotional articles for various newspapers. But because such writing was time-consuming, he begged Uncle Ludwig, printer and well-known benefactor in Germany, for a used hand press. In a letter of February 1880 he disclosed his plans: „We have a small printing press at Mariastern. As soon as we get the license, we will begin issuing monthly FLYING LEAVES to our kind supporters free of charge.“ The name of the bulletin was Prior Francis‘ own brainchild, but the publications did not see the light of day. In his Memoirs he explains: „Certain influential Croat gentlemen in the provincial government did not want the double eagle which adorned its title page and which was framed by the motto of the noble Emperor Franz Joseph [benefactor of Mariastern], Vzribus Unitis [With Combined Effort], to take to the air.“ Jealousy of the flourishing monastery, and the fact that both emblem and inscription offended the Croats who were seeking independence from the dual monarchy of Austria-Hungary, thwarted the publication of FLYING LEAVES OF MARIASTERN. The Prier’s application for a license was vetoed. But he did not give up. Setting his eyes on the missions, Prior Francis saw the need for a regular bulletin even more keenly. In the same February letter quoted earlier and written in the midst of preparations for Africa, he told a German gentleman, agent to Bishop Ricards of Grahamstown in Eastern Cape, to prevail on His Lordship to buy a hand press in London: I consider this acquisition necessary, if we don’t want to be forgotten at the Cape, for nothing is truer than „Out of sight, out of mind.“ While His Lordship keeps up the interest in our work in England and Ireland, I wish to do so in Austria and Germany. I can do very little by correspondence. I wish to circulate several of my letters and write firsthand reports about the country and people, and this little hand press would help me. My idea is to publish a few pages of light reading and interesting reports twice a month. We could add a few photos made by our brother and this would keep alive the interest at home, so necessary to obtain novices. If the novices don’t come from Europe … we are lost. But … how can novices want to go to the Cape, if they do not hear anything about it? I have abundant experience, believe me! The little press would also serve to print pamphlets as well as smaller books for our Order, because to ship these from Europe would cost much freight and duty. I hope His Lordship will not object to this additional expense and approve of it; it is also in His Lordship’s interest if Austria and Germany take a warm interest [in his foundation of Dunbrody], particularly as this kind of publicity work will be necessary for many years to come. Five months later Prior Francis and a band of Trappists set out for Africa. The bishop had turned down his request as too expensive, but the Prior was not defeated. He took the used hand press (preserved to this day) with him and also a printer who had trained with Don Bosco in Turin. The FLYING LEAVES were to be given new life in Africa. The noble double eagle went with the traveling Trappists to the Cape of Good Hope, from there to go on a return flight to the friendly and blessed regions of the Rhine and Danube to greet our dear friends and by chance offer a „Good Day!‘ or „No Offense!“ to the one or other Croat. Prior Francis expressed regrets about the plain exterior of the paper, four pages folio format: „We did not have the means to give our FLYING LEAVES OF MARIA DUNBRODY a more appealing look, its poor garb already costing us dearly.“ But proudly he explained the remaining symbols on its cover: „The small crosses with stars on either side were originally meant to symbolize ‚Mariastern‘ [Maria Star], but when that name no longer applied … we did not wish to remove the sign which simply represents the faith and hope of a Catholic Christian, showing everyone at first sight what spirit we are born of: In Cruce Salus [Salvation is in the Cross].“ The first number of the Dunbrody LEAVES is dated Sunday, 15 December 1880, just four months after the Trappist arrival on the edge of the Little Karoo. The paper’s mission was: „To reduce the volume of correspondence with the friends and benefactors of ‚Mariastern‘ and ‚Maria Dunbrody,‘ … to serve as a news bulletin for a wider readership, to inform readers about the mission country South Africa and win new friends for the Trappist mission.“ Notwithstanding Dunbrody’s slow and painful development, the Prior kept up his faith in LEAVES: „Wherever the need is greatest, help is closest. We will probably have nothing much left to laugh about, but that will not rob us of our trust in God; on the contrary, that trust is steadily growing stronger.“ If some readers were upset by the Prior’s frank reports about conditions at Dunbrody, others loved LEAVES because of them and for its vivid descriptions. Never denying his own humble background, Fr. Francis wrote in a style ordinary people appreciated. His descriptions of hitherto unknown places captured the imagination of young and old. On 15 January 1881 a second issue of LEAVES flew across the Atlantic, and after that three more, until the Trappists transferred to Natal. As FLYING LEAVES FROM MARIANNHILL, the paper continued for another year, but in 1885 it could no longer contain all the news the then-Abbot Francis wanted to share, and it was merged with a monthly magazine.

Watch a tree during a windstorm. See how it sways, its crown shaking, its limbs aching. Leaves are flying everywhere. Branches – big ones, too – break and come flying through the air. Telephone and utility poles fall, and live electrical wires crackle and snap on the sidewalk. Hissing angrily, the wind tears and heaves away at the tree and you expect it to crash any minute through your car roof or housetop. If felled, its roots would tear up your pavement. You watch and tremble at nature’s raw force. But, O wonder! The storm subsides and the tree stands straight. It shows the scars of battle, but it stands – silent and erect. What strength there is in such a tree! Psalm One compares a just man to „a tree planted near running water, that yields its fruit in due season, whose leaves never fade.“ Men and women of this caliber are also knocked about; they bear the scars of battle, but they keep their stand. Francis Pfanner was one of them. What battles did he not fight, what storms did he not weather! He was often bent by the weight of responsibility and the onslaught of opposition, but he did not break or get uprooted. Advice originally by Francis de Sales, which he gave to others, sounds like his own life’s motto: „Happy are the pliable hearts for they will never break.“ Being firmly rooted in his vocation as a Trappist and missionary allowed him not only to endure opposition but also to welcome it: „By just nodding one’s head, one does not achieve much and certainly not clarity of purpose.“ And in a similar vein: „The more forceful the arguments, the clearer the issue.“ Francis Pfanner did not think along purely human lines. God was always involved and, because God was, he could be daring to the point of recklessness. He said, „Reluctance to dare something betrays little trust in God.“ Just like the tree buffeted about in the storm but standing its ground, Fr. Francis was unyielding in difficulties. This fortitude came from a clear conscience and living an upright life. At one time he had his papers examined by a border police when the officer was called away. He looked suspiciously at the monk: Would he escape? Fr. Francis assured him that he would still be there when he returned. He was not an escapist: „It was never my habit to run away.“ But he needed greater courage than that. Hardly finished with his novitiate, he fell from grace with his Prior for preaching more than was the custom and insisting on stricter observance of the rule. Someone less rooted would have left the order, but not Francis Pfanner. Even when some time later his highest superior suggested that he had better return to parish ministry, he did not waver in his vocation. On account of his outright manner and unaccustomed interpretation of the rule, the monk Francis was a thorn in the side for most of his superiors. Their rejection of his personality was perhaps his biggest cross, but he bore it heroically. „One enters religious life for God’s sake, not to please people.“ And: „I never look left or right and certainly not behind, but always straight ahead.“ His founding activities brought him in close contact with various church authorities. While they admired him for his initiative and great love of souls, they did not readily support his requests or projects. He was made to wait endlessly, and his proposals were not taken seriously. He was accused of insubordination by two bishops and several abbots, and every time he lost the case. However, despite undeserved treatment and flagrant injustice, he remained loyal to the Church, bowing to its judgment: „The initiative must be taken by Rome, like all great things in the Catholic Church.“ Like the tree in the Psalm, Francis Pfanner was „planted by running water and his leaves never faded.“ His roots reached deep, right into the Heart of Christ. His wellspring was an insatiable thirst for God’s will to be done in his life and for the Gospel to be spread far and wide. Of this thirst Pope Benedict XVI said in his Lenten message for 2007: „In all truth, only the love that unites the free gift of oneself with the impassioned desire for reciprocity instills a joy which eases the heaviest of burdens …. We need to respond to such love and devote ourselves to communicating it to others. Christ ‚draws me to himself‘ in order to unite himself to me, so that I learn to love the brothers with his own love.“ A strong tree can survive winter. In the bleak time of the year when nothing speaks of life, the roots guard and nourish the hope of spring. But they have to be very deep and firmly embedded. From what roots did Francis Pfanner draw his strength? We can tell from his guiding principles. One has to do with spiritual equilibrium: „‚Not a single hair falls from our head without God’s knowledge“ – at this thought one does not easily lose one’s balance.“ Ecology tells us that a tree grows in close interaction with its root bed and environment. Abbot Francis recognized the need of a similar relationship between the human being and his Maker. „We must not watch idly nor run away from difficulties. God helps us always but many times not without our co-operation. We may hardly expect from God what we can do ourselves.“ And: „Nothing is more foolish than to despair.“ Rather: „One must wind himself up again and again like a clock and try not to lose his balance.“ Towards the end of his life he was more and more configured to Christ: „All for you, fairest Lord Jesus. Elf a person offers himself completely to God, giving Him what is dearest to him, God gives Himself completely in return.“

Abbot Francis had a charism for winning people of every walk of life, women as well as men, to dedicate their lives to spreading the Gospel. He himself had heard Christ’s appeal: „I have come to cast fire on the earth … “ (Lk. 12:49), and from that time onward he was burning to serve Him. Thanks to his many writings on the subject of vocations, we know how he was able to staff his two foundations, Mariastern and Mariannhill, the largest monasteries of his Order. He also appealed to women. In Bosnia and Natal he established a total of four sisters‘ congregations, the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood being his very own foundation. His promotional letters, sermons and periodic articles testify to a man obsessed with Christ. In this he resembled his Cistercian founder, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, on whose feast he published a promotional brochure, Are you a Chimney Sweep? 1874). Writing such as this had never come out of a religious house before and certainly not from a Trappist. Prior Francis writes from practice and for practice not only of religious observance, but also, and foremost, of the two main commandments: love of God and love of neighbor. His style is engrossing and witty, even caustic when he castigates people whom he considers the heretics of his day – Kulturkämpfer (those promoting the culture struggle), freemasons and people with a bent too liberal for his liking. The Chimney Sweep went through several editions and was read by high and low alike, including Count Andrassy, the famous Austrian Minister of Foreign Affairs, who exclaimed: „That scoundrel! I must meet him!“ Despite his weak lungs and frequent malarial attacks, not to mention his many cares and the rejection he endured at the hands of his own Trappist superiors, Prior Francis not only did not give up his own vocation, but he also won many new members for his Order. His letter of February 1877 is a good example of how he approached potential candidates. He had recuperated at a Tyrol health resort and found warm hospitality there. Afterwards he wrote an open letter to the Tiroler Volksblatt (The Tyrol People’s Paper) a frank appeal for vocations. He related that he had not returned to Mariastern alone. „I took with me two postulants from Brixen, but the three from southern Tyrol…did not report…. However, ten more candidates were waiting for me in Agram [Croatia], and so I returned with twelve men …. They are all still holding out.“ He then asks the editor to „inform all those who would like to follow the twelve that their boat departs the river port every Thursday and that, if they announce their arrival ahead of time, Mariastern will send a carriage to Alt-Gradiska to meet them.“ It seems that some candidates hesitated on account of the guerrilla warfare just then being waged in Bosnia by Serbian insurgents. But Prior Francis put them at ease because the terrorists had their hideouts at a safe distance from Mariastern. In particular he wants jobless journeymen to „take heart and come to us. We have work for all of you and our wages are much better than what you usually get, because they will be paid in incorruptible currency and the paymaster is the One who said, ‚Whatever you have done to the least of my brothers you have done it to me.“‚ He was disappointed that „the Tyrolians and Vorarlbergers have not taken my bait. Why don’t they? Do my own countrymen not wish to distinguish themselves as pioneers of the genuine culture Trappists spread? Or do brave souls only show spirit in the safety of their mountains? Become homesick for their mountains? Let me tell you: The mountains of Bosnia far exceed the beauty and grandeur of any you know.“ Using an image from marksmanship, he wrote: „I hope I have been a good shot and hit at least a few rings. Or did I miss my target altogether? Vedremo – we shall see!“ The founder used earthy language sprung fresh from Vorarlberg soil. A style chosen and polished was foreign to him. His approach was reminiscent of the legendary Abraham of Santa Clara (1644-1709), who so effectively held up a mirror to the society of his time. In 1881 Prior Francis published The Trappist in South Africa, an account of Trappist life and work in the missions. But not content with writing, he decided to meet people personally. Though suffering severely from seasickness, this Drummer of God (A.L. Balling, CMM) could not be deterred from traveling to Europe several times. Speaking from the pulpits of 19th century Germany and Austria, he fascinated his listeners. Though his message was unusual and the life at a Trappist monastery in uncongenial surroundings was not enticing, young men were touched by the love of God and immortal souls he spoke about. Life in Turkish Bosnia demanded sacrifice, but the South African missions, where evangelization was only just beginning, called for high courage and generosity from men and women alike. But the vision of an austere monk’s life set them on fire. Abbot Francis made a rich catch every time, yet the numbers he took back seemed never enough to fill the growing needs of Mariannhill’s missions. In an 1888 article he addressed a fictitious Council of Europe thus: „If you say, ‚We are unable to relate to the people of Africa,‘ and excuse yourselves from helping me, it leaves me with sisters only. Of sisters I have enough, for anytime I call, ten times more respond. They are willing to go wherever I send them. But where are the men? Did not the Kulturkampf also produce the kind of men that are now needed?“ It was by urging the people in the markets of Catholic Europe to enter the Lord’s vineyard that Mariannhill was able to lay the foundation of systematic evangelization among the local people of South Africa.

Just as the woman Mary took a major part in the redemptive work of her Son, so the sisters share in the work of evangelization. We men cannot manage it alone – Francis Pfanner. From a spirit of deep faith and zeal for the spreading of God’s Kingdom on earth, the Trappist Francis Pfanner established the Mercy Sisters (1874) and the Sisters Adorers of the Most Precious Blood of Saint Maria de Mattias (1879) in Banja Luka, Bosnia, and the Holy Cross Sisters of Menzingen, Switzerland (1883), in Eastern Cape Province, South Africa. He would have also called the Franciscan Sisters of Kaufbeuren, Germany, to South Africa (1883), had his plans not been frustrated. Lastly, he founded the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood (1885), whom he fondly called his „Red Sisters.“ It was the founder’s charism (special gift) to set up something new in the world by practically stamping centers of prayer and evangelization out of the ground, leaving the consolidation of these foundations to those who possessed neither the skill nor the courage for totally new beginnings. The Mercy Sisters and Adorers provided schools for the children of the poor and an orphanage for homeless children. As always, when it was a matter of gaining territory and souls for Christ, he acted as „quick as lightning.“ He wrote, „Six weeks ago the little makeshift convent did not exist at all … birds were still chirping on the oak trees from which our brothers cut the wood for the roof tiles. Six weeks ago … twenty sisters (expelled from Baden during the Kulturkampf) have moved in to open a girls“ boarding school and orphanage. A permanent convent will be built for them when spring is around, provided money comes in from I don’t know where. So here is an opportunity for valiant girls, brave singles and God-fearing ladies to sacrifice themselves for Bosnia. Needed are teachers and women skilled in domestic work.“ In old age the founder congratulated himself on his accomplishment. „Within six years three different religious communities had been planted. So much good can come out of a single idea when it is taken up and promptly acted upon. Thus when Brother Zachariah first suggested that we build a Trappist monastery in Austria [the dual monarchy Austria-Hungary], I took up the idea, and with the support of hundreds of people, this ’seed fell on good ground,‘ grew and cast its branches all the way to Africa [ a band of Trappists left Bosnia for South Africa under his leadership] where it still grows luxuriantly. All honor and praise to God, because he has turned everything to good account and obviously willed it thus, otherwise it would not have come about. Although the former bishop of Bosnia accused me in Rome as being a perpetuum mobile quad nunquam habet requies [someone always in motion and never at rest], the present bishop of Banja Luka will not feel uncomfortable residing among three religious communities.“ The need for women religious was even greater in Africa than in Bosnia. But it was not easy for 19th century women to leave family and homeland for an unknown continent. While many women emigrated to the Americas and Australia, Africa was for most people the Dark Continent, synonymous with extreme hardship and death. Ignorance, fear and superstition kept ordinary people away. It was only the daring and mission-driven men and women willing to serve a goal higher than unaided human nature would normally attain who followed a call to Africa and stayed there. When Prior Francis needed sisters in Mariannhill, he seems to have first approached the Adorers, but they declined. Moreover, the bishop of Natal had promised his French nuns that he would not introduce other sisters into his vicariate. Thus the founder (consecrated abbot in December 1885) had to devise another strategy. Again „quick as lightning,“ he advertised for women volunteers to come and help the Trappists with the education of local African girls. Five German women responded, and with them he laid the foundation of the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood in September 1885. Their purpose was „to introduce girls and women to Christian faith and culture by instructing them in domestic and agricultural skills, besides giving them formal education and catechism classes. They were to look upon their work as their normal penance and means of self-sanctification.“ Abbot Francis wrote that „after some time the bishop assured himself of the religious spirit and discipline of Mariannhill’s helpers, and when he saw how successfully they worked among the local people, he willingly granted their request to form a religious community. He had no further worries because our monastery took care of all the spiritual and temporal needs of its sisters.“ Abbot Francis was an eminently practical man. Endowed with deep faith and an indomitable, even audacious, trust in God, yet he did not forget that grace builds on nature. To a friend he wrote, „The preference for anything practical, which I owe to my father, has helped me in all situations. I was able to tell every brother and priest, „This is the way it’s done.“ And it also helped me with getting my sisters established.“ The founder had high aims for his sisters. They were to dedicate themselves exclusively to the missions, not only alongside the Trappists but also worldwide. In his letters he mentions Australia as a place where they are needed, but with even greater emphasis he speaks of Korea and Japan. He wanted to send them to Turkey and Russia, to Sudan and Tierra del Fuego in the extreme south of Argentina. Little could he guess that from the one seed he had planted there came a rich harvest of seven African daughter congregations, all formed by his „Red Sisters.“ Moreover, what is often overlooked is the fact that Mariannhill owes its own existence to a sister. It was the Augustinian nun Silesia who persuaded Bishop Jolivet to accept the Trappists into his vicariate, when he had already decided against them.