Thursday, May 26, 2011

Personal Memories of Mother Fidelis Weninger




Time passes quickly and there are younger members of the Congregation for whom this long time General Superior is a name on a death certificate and in the parenthesis of the Office of the Dead.

I “met” Mother Fidelia Weninger before I saw her and when the title alluded to her office as provincial superior of North East Brazil. It happened that I was living in Frankfurt, Germany and my superior had to sisters who were both living and working in the two provinces of Brazil. Both came for their home visit during my time there. It was Sister Aquinata Eibel who spoke English, had paid a short visit to the United States with Mother Kostka and told wonderful tales of the dynamic life of the FDCs in Brazil. She spoke of cooperation with a renewing church and familiarity with several bishops who often visited their convents and were welcomed as friends by the provincial and communities.

After my return to my home in the US, I became excited hearing that the General Chapter had elected this person who was told by the moderator to change her name from Fidelia to Fidelis. One of her first visitations was to our three provinces and, because she and I both spoke German I was assigned to care for her room and needs. I was also asked to interview her for our fledgling province publication. What follows is from the memories of that interview.


While walking with her mother in Vienna the young girl saw some sisters and laughed at the very strange habit they wore. Some weeks later her mother announced that they were going to Vienna again to the profession (?) ceremony of a relative. In response to where and who her mother told her it was with the sisters of the “funny” habit.

It was at that ceremony that she heard her own call and to that very congregation. Her mother objected to exactly this choice saying, “I don’t want you to go to Brazil”. She relented, however, and at her reception her daughter received the name “Fidelia” after the great missionary of Europe. Soon after Hitler took over Austria and it became necessary for educated sisters to flee the country. They told the novice, “Ask your mother to come and tell her you are going to Brazil.” In shock she wondered and prayed how to tell her mother that the dark intuition had come true. Soon Sister Fidelia was on a ship and came to the strange land where she soon fell ill and did not have the vocabulary to ask for a glass of water.

Very quickly Mother Fidelis learned English. She arrived in October and in January gave the first talk to the community in our own language. During the times I brought her coffee or cared for her room she told of the bishops who were guiding the church of Brazil toward the “preferential option for the poor”. She told of private tuition based schools opening their facilities at night for the poor. She proudly told of our own sisters who were pioneering in parishes without priests, bringing people the Gospel and the Eucharist in prayer services. The Spanish Club at St. Joseph Hill raised funds to pay for a jeep in Salvador, Bahia and many years later I was able to see there the trunk in which we had sent baby clothes for poor mothers.

Mother Fidelis excited us about the Second Vatican Council and helped us bring our own constitutions in line with its mandates. She found priest teachers for us and encouraged us to examine the Documents of Vatican II and how to read, discuss and understand Encyclicals of successors to St. Peter.

During another visitation she was in San Diego when the news came of the attempted assassination of John Paul II. Since my scheduled allowed it, we went to a special Mass arranged in the cathedral. As she always did, we went in the front row and this resulted in a large photo on the front page of the New York Times, captioned, “Nuns pray for the wounded Pope”. Mother Fidelis was known for front pews and front pages.

To this day, her special gift to me was an enduring love for and loyalty to the universal Church and the Successor to St. Peter. It was in her time that the Congregation studied its charism and adopted the beautiful emblem of the Holy Trinity, the basic mystery of Christianity. Mother Fidelis shepherded us through the very difficult post Vatican years, may her intercession now lead us into a blessed future.

Sister M. Caroline Bachmann, FDC

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Grandmother faces the machine gunner












It was a tiny peasant farmhouse in a small village near the French border but she had worked hard on the small farm and in the dirt-floored house had raised her large family. During the hardships of World War II she still managed to feed widowed children and grandchildren. Widowed, she prayed daily for peace so that she could learn the whearabouts of those sons and daughters who had emigrated to New York before the outbreak of hostilities. Everyone knew that the war would end soon and that Germany would lose and be devestated although there was still a death sentance for anyone who even whispered that thought.



French were crossing the nearbye border and tension was high when she heard a noise. Genevieve Schweizer went out armed with her broom. On the roof of her house she saw a young German soldier set up his ugly machine gun. He was getting ready for the futile attempt to "save his Fatherland", but Genevieve was also ready to save her little farmhouse. "Get down from there she shouted as she waved her broom. You have lost the war and now you want to draw fire so I lose my house also." The young man was ready to face the French army but he was no match for my Grandmother and so skeedadled down and set up his gun somewhere else. She lived a long time in her little home and saw some of her children return from America to modernize and live in the little house that her courage saved.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

A thank you note....






Thank you St. Philip,

In the gospel of John 14th chapter there is a beautiful dialogue between the Apostle Philip and Jesus: Philip said to him, “Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us.” Jesus said to hij, “Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father…”

The disciples of Jesus lived with him every day and watched him eat and speak and sleep and do all the ordinary human things. Then there were the glimpses of unexplained actions—the healings, the walking on water. They whispered among themselves… is he or isn’t he…. Who is he? It was the forthright Philip who came right out and asked. So we who have not seen or touched or heard the human Jesus can believe that he really is God. We can trust everything he said and so we can believe that what we see as bread and wine is Jesus and therefore we have an encounter with God himself in our neighborhood church and in our hearts when we receive the Eucharist. The greatest miracle the world has ever known is right down the street and occurs every day all around the world. We are not orphans, God lives with us in an intimate, tangible way. Thank you St. Philip for asking that wonderful question..

Saturday, April 30, 2011

FRANZISKA NOTES May 2011

Franziska Notes
No.8/5 May 2011

The entire world has recently witnessed the pomp and circumstance of the royal wedding in England. The carefully choreographed and rehearsed pageantry was a pleasure to watch and appropriate for the occasion. This is not where we live our daily lives however. So it is comforting to remember that our inspiration, Mother Franziska Lechner, began her life in a very small Bavarian village and a farm house. The many people and animals, as well as the capriciousness of the weather and national events demanded a spontaneity and creativity to master the unforeseen events. We can feel comfortable with Franziska Lechner. She would understand the young mother who feels frustrated with the behavior of her small children at Sunday Mass. She would understand the worry of the caregiver who suffers with a loved one descending into dementia. The month of May lets us see how God, the creator, loves the spontaneous. One day everything is dreary and cold and the tiny leaf buds are hunkered so tight it seems there is no hope of life at all. Then comes the first warm, sunny day and the loveliest flowers and tender young leaves appear as a lovely surprise. In our world we can go to the internet and order flowers to be carefully arranged and sent to celebrate loved ones who are miles away. There is also the sudden thought of picking a few violets by the way and bringing them home or pointing them out to a child. They cost us nothing but easily rival the happiness brought by the costly arrangement. As we look forward to the Feast of Pentecost let us ask the Holy Spirit, the God of surprises, for the gift of awareness and readiness to do the little things that bring joy. How sad if we wasted our lives thinking of the great heroic deeds that we never have occasion to perform, while all around are people, including ourselves, who need to be cheered by little unexpected kindness, gifts and visions of beauty.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

The Legend of the Larkspur

The friends of Jesus were very sad. They did not understand that Jesus died on the cross for all people so that they could have their sins forgiven and go to live forever with him in heaven.

They sadly placed his body in a tomb that was like a cave and put a big rock in front of it. Then they went away. But a little bunny hopped onto their path and tried to stop them. “Don’t go away,” he tried to say. “Don’t you remember that Jesus said he would rise again and live forever?” The people could not hear the little bunny so they continued on their way. Now he was all alone in the dark with only sleeping soldiers guarding the tomb. It was cold and he was lonely and a little scared but he would not go away. He knew that Jesus would be alive again because he believed what he said. Then, just before the sun came up the stone in front of the tomb started to glow and then rolled away. There was a great light and in the middle was Jesus, all alive and beautiful. The little bunny hopped up to him with a happy heart. “You really kept your promise to rise again. I knew you would!” He said to Jesus. Jesus smiled at the little bunny and blessed him. “You have great faith in believing my words. I will reward you and let people remember your faith forever.” Jesus showed the bunny the little blue flower that was growing there. “This flower will always have your face in the middle so that people for all time will have the courage to believe in my word.” Now, whenever we see the little bunny in the Larkspur flower we must remember that we can trust what Jesus says.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Memories of a Summer in Hochstrass

Memories of a Summer in Hochstrass

It was January of 1961 and a few of us teachers were eating our lunch in the cramped little closet by the school cafeteria. Sister Fidelis our Provincial came in and said that she wanted to see me after I finished my lunch. The five string beans on my plate turned to stone. I said that my lunch was finisned because I could no longer swallow. She looked around and decided it really wasn’t confidential and told me that they had many American children in the nursery in Frankfurt, Germany and wanted an American sister. Since I already knew German she would give me the first chance but I was not obliged. I responded immediately that I would go. When she said I could take my time to think about it I said that I had been thinking about it since I was on the Holy Year trip with my Father the year before. At the Eucharistic Congress in Munich, after spending a week with some Brazilian Sisters and meeting the Sisters in Edling, I made up my mind to grasp any opportunity to live the FDC life internationally.

On May 7, the day of the German Surrender in World War II and after Sputnik and the meeting of President Kennedy with Krucschev in Vienna, I landed in Frankfurt. I was twenty-five years old and everyone I met in that community was “very old”. In spite of the warm greeting, I cried the entire night. “What had I done. I left behind everything familiar and every one I depended on”. The parish church bells woke me as did the superior, Sister Inviolata Eibel. “I am so sorry that I have to wake you, but it is Sunday, I am sure you want to go to Mass.”

I got used to the routine of the house, which in those days was very similar to that of Arrochar, Staten Island. I was given a group of four-year-olds, mixed German and American children. I learned German songs and how to tell American parents what “gookamal” and “stuehlehoch” means.

One day, at lunch which was dinner, I announced that I would have to make my final vows. Normally I should have presented that fact in a humble request, but it was accepted. The superior immediately made plans to send me to Vienna for the “preparation”.

I was put on a train that necessitated a change of trains in Salzburg, but I made the transition successfully. I went to the Mother House. I had been there the year before with my father, but now I belonged. The sisters were wonderful and I met my companions for the “preparation” who told me that we would be going to a wonderful place called Hochstrass because one of our group, Sister Helene., was a teacher there and could not get away because the school term was still on. Later I learned of my good fortune. The “preparation” was usually spent in Vienna where the tasks consisted of scrubbing out huge cooking pots in the kitchen. In Hochstrass we served on little wooden stools in the sunshine, picking chamomile blossoms to be used as buckets of tea for sick cows.

Soon Sister Elenara our “mistress” and the postulants who were also in her charge took a train into “lower Austria” the low mountains and great fresh air. When we got to St. Polten, a horse wagon picked us up. This was just great, we were not only going far but also back into time.

The three of us were given a room that overlooked the chapel wing and the beautiful mountains. Each night we slept with the large window opened to air as fresh as my lungs had ever breathed. One night we discovered the stars and went outside on a hill to lie in the grass and see creation as its Lord had intended. The milky way was a blanket that seemed to come down and cover us.

Hochstrass, the Convent of our Sorrowful Mother, was an agricultural school for girls and a working farm. We went across the dirt road to the cheese house where Sister Elenara slept with the postulants and there we had our daily spiritual readings. This always ended with huge slices of the bread baked on site with the fresh cottage cheese and huge glasses of real buttermilk. Sister Amabilis confessed that she expected me to be dark and from South Brazil, for there had not been anyone from North America in living memory. Sister Mathea was from Breitenfurt, and with Sister Helena that was our group. Amabilis had a charming Viennese accent and undertook to help me pronounce the vow formula in German.

Each day we left the cheese house and went into the fields to pick our blossoms. There we met Sister Karola who told us about the farm. Later she rewarded us with fresh garlic for our cottage cheese bread. It was delicious but I was not familiar with the consquences. We had confessions once and I wonder about the priest… I know he came back because he treasured his weekly reward of Hochstrass bread. One time she asked us to help carry huge baskets of cherries. She had a wonderful solution if we found the basket too heavy. “Sit down and eat a few.”

At another time she introduced us to the donuts and hard apple cider which was the customary snack for field workers. She took us to a barn where there were barrels from “1947, 48, 49 etc.” and we had to sample each one. Strange, but prayers that evening provoked a lot of giggles so that Sister Elenara whispered that we should finish the Office prayers outside.

One day they awakened us even earlier… maybe four or even before. A Sister had had a heart attack and we would be saying office for her that morning. Sister was laid out in one of the rooms, lovingly prepared at home by her sisters. The house carpenter made a simple casket that was lined with paper doily made for the purpose. The funeral was held on a beautiful summer day. The school students were in their Sunday uniform, the Sisters in their best habit all forming a procession behind the beautifully decorated with wreaths of white flowers and evergreens oxcart. The oxen were used because it was sister’s duty to care for them. Slowly, prayerfully, we walked up the narrow road to the Sisters’ cemetery high on a hill where she was laid to rest with her community. There followed a repast that included real coffee and homemade cake. I forgot Sister’s name, but not the circumstances and I felt very close to Mother Franziska who had still planned this place before she died.

There was also an exhibition of the students’ work and I saw some of the finest handicrafts of another time. Each girl made for herself an authentic “dirndle” with the patented school patterns. She also had a complete layette of children’s clothes and household linens to take into her future life.

The happy days came to an end as all things must, but the blessing they bring to our hearts can remain forever if we keep them in grateful prayer. Since Hochstrass I have not been afraid to go and live anywhere. I realized what my Uncle Karl told me, “You will find good people everywhere.” He was right and the greatest blessing of my life is the maybe hundreds of Daughters of Divine Charity I have come to meet from all over the world. How grateful I am to have been exposed to the living charism and to the graces of that summer in Hochstrass.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Holy Week Meditation









The Tale of the Eternal Wood



I pulled and pushed and it seemed that there was no way that I could budge the huge log. After moving it just a few inches I had to leave and rest but I was determined to come back and finish the job. It was a task I had set for myself and I would not give up. Each day I returned and pushed and pulled to move the heavy load.










I did not realize that someone whom I supposed to be the gardener was watching my daily efforts.



Finally, after watching me for many days he asked me why this seemed so important. "I cannot just leave this here," I said, "I can't let this be forgotten. These are all the many times I hurt people and couldn't explain and the many times they hurt me and wouldn't or couldn't tell me they were sorry. I can't let go. I suffered so much because of all these things... they cannot just be forgotten. If I don't hold on to them no one will ever know."


The one I thought was a gardener smiled and said, "Don't you know that I long ago carried all those things for you and for many others? I saw it all and felt your pain and your regret. I treasured your courage and bravery while others thought you were just superficial and a failure. You can leave this load and go on in joy and freedom because I remember it all and will store it for you until the time when all is clear and fair."