In those years many of us caught malaria and I had to be ‘physician-cum-nurse’. When Fridolin was laid to rest I also was the one to climb down in his grave to pull his hood over his face – the first Trappist for whom I did this favour. In my eyes, but not only mine, Fridolin was a saint, even a martyr, on account of all the smoke which he inhaled in our primitive kitchen.”
Letter-Writer – Beggar – Health Practitioner
Despite setbacks such as the defection of his monks life at Mariastern continued. Abandoned, snowbound and completely cut off from the outside world, Fr. Franz decided to use the enforced leisure of the long dark winter months to make Mariastern known. Making himself a beggar, he wrote to friends and relatives and also composed interesting articles for newspapers and weeklies. Some of his writings found entry into a school reader; others were bound in book form and printed under the title “Letters from the Vrbas”. Today, these form part of Bosnia’s 19th century cultural heritage.
The idea of “mission” weaves like a red thread through the Prior’s writings. His description of the first public Corpus Christi procession at Mariastern in 1871 is an example. The procession was followed by eight hours of Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, for the explicit purpose of calling down God’s blessings on Bosnia and its citizens. When word reached Banjaluka that “the foreigners at the monastery” had actually asked their God to send favourable weather to the whole of the country the Pasha was for once favourably impressed.
Fr. Franz was never idle. Besides writing to promote Mariastern he improved his knowledge of home remedies and natural medicine. He admired people who cured infirmities with simple means. Learning from them he became known for his own expertise. People who suffered from all kinds of diseases and infirmities flocked to Mariastern to consult him.
Abbot Francis:
“It is said that Trappists eat the most unbalanced diet. But this is not true! Most People in Bosnia do not eat half as well as we do. Their staple food is unleavened maize bread. As a result their bellies become distended and they are left with little or no energy. Children and youngsters of fourteen are pale, potbellied and apathetic. Horrified at these symptoms, I decided to help them to improve their eating habits.”
The “doctor of Mariastern”, although dispensing only natural remedies, cured hundreds of patients, especially those who suffered from worms and malaria. In an effort to stop the clandestine brewing of the popular prune brandy (slivovitz) he sometimes purchased a whole wagonload of plums and dried them. People admired the Trappists for their versatility, inventiveness and diligence. But when they saw the Prior working with his own hands they objected: “Effendi (sir), you work? A big lord living in a mansion like you must not work!”
A Digression:
Death and Burial of a Trappist
When a Trappist is about to die, someone knocks with a wooden hammer on a hollow board. As soon as this sound is heard the monks hurry from everywhere to the dying man’s cell to pray for him. If he wants to say farewell, make a request or exhort them in some way he is given permission to do so. Then it is seen how the Brothers love each other, even though they may not have said a word to one another for twenty years or more. Good-byes on the threshold of eternity are deeply moving. They give eloquent proof of the truth that brotherhood and love do not reside in the tongue!
When death has occurred, the deceased is dressed in his habit, wooden shoes are put on his feet and his body is laid on a board, with his head raised on a straw pillow. While this is done the community chants the Miserere (Psalm 50), the Our Father and various other psalms a hundred times over. Then the “coffin” is brought in front of the altar and the Mass for the Deceased is celebrated for the repose of the dead Brother’s soul. Afterwards, it is taken to the cemetery and lowered into a grave. A Brother goes down after it, pulls the hood over the dead one’s face, crosses his arms, incenses his body a last time and finally pours the burning coals from the censer alongside his board. When that is done, the body is covered with soil, starting at the foot end. The community returns to the church, and, prostrating before the Blessed Sacrament, prays the 7 Penitential Psalms. Each monk says a Psalter (150) of the Miserere and each priest celebrates three Holy Masses for the deceased Brother.
Francis Pfanner, “Letters from the Vrbas”. 1871 – 1874.
Seeing or, more often, hearing the monks pray shortly after midnight or at the most unearthly hour of the day was something that took their breath away: Why on earth should anyone get up so early? Had piety gone to their heads? And why did they never speak? Why did they live such a primitive life when they could afford a better one? It was all too much for them. But some reflected and came to the conclusion that it must be the love of God and fellow men that drove the Trappists to live as they did. It explained why they were moderate, simple, ascetic and, yes, celibate. Gradually, their outlook changed. The silent witness of the Trappists was not in vein. It had a profound missionary dimension and was bound to bear fruit for the good of Muslim-Orthodox Bosnia and beyond.
Serious and Funny
By Francis Pfanner OCR
What matters is common sense. Without it, diligent study and a sharp mind are of little avail.
When the devil gets his toe stepped on, he utters the selfsame groan, no matter where.
I was such a hothead when I was young that if I had had to create the world, I would have done it in one day rather than six. Thus I would have come to blows even with the Good Lord himself.
If nothing else can spur us on to work more diligently for the salvation of souls, then let us at least be ashamed at the zeal Satan displays! The idlers of this world are his followers. While we rock ourselves in our hammocks with not a care in the world, he holds the key to the powder magazine and is lying in wait to blow us up when his hour comes.
VI.
Daily Cares. Soliciting Vocations and Support
A Capable Man Grows Wings
When in the spring of 1871 warmer weather returned to Bosnia, most of Mariastern’s fugitives returned – remorsefully. Each had a story to tell. Fr. Gallus was the first. He had fallen prey to robbers who left him half naked by the roadside. Fr. Bernard wrote from the Monastery of St. Maria du Mont in France where his blood brother had entered. He asked for re-admission to Mariastern but fell ill before he could realize his wish and died. A third, Br. Jacob, the smith, had wandered high and low, until he found employment as a menial at the Austrian Hospice in Jerusalem. One day, someone found him half dead on the road. He returned to Mariastern. Even Fr. Robert, instigator and ringleader, came back after trying his luck in various monasteries, only to discover that none was as good as his own in Bosnia.
With the snow melting, work on the new monastery was resumed. The stable was completed and so was the threshing floor. Stones were quarried in a rocky gorge and a road built with them to enable more stones to be transported to other sites. Bosnian labourers worked under Fr. Franz’s supervision. He had to show them everything, for they had never seen, leave alone handled even a simple tool such as a pick ax or shovel:
“We blasted away rocks that were in the way and built bridges across the gorges. To do so we had to uproot giant oak trees, make them fall in position across the brooks and use their roots and faggots to fill in the spaces between them.”
Then there was the bell affair. Mariastern needed a bell to call the monks together for the various exercises of the day, but the Pasha would not allow it. What to do? Never short of an idea, Fr. Franz asked Austrian benefactors to donate a bell. They did and more than one. These were shipped to the border and received by a Brother who drove up with a beer cask on his cart, big enough to hold a bell. Once he had the bell fitted in the cask he filled it with beer and put the lid back on.
At Mariastern the bell was hung on a primitive belfry and rung. The Pasha was infuriated but had to realize that he was no match for the man from Vorarlberg. Franz silenced the bells until feelings had calmed down and then had them rung again. People living in the vicinity got used to them, complaints stopped and the