Meeting Bruder Klaus

On our third day in Switzerland, guide and driver Tony … took us into the rural hamlet of Flüeli, near the town of Sachseln, to visit the home of St. Nicholas von Flüe. I had no idea who this man was. How had I never heard of him?

Part I

A mysterious experience, and perhaps the most meaningful pilgrimage of my life, began in January of 2006. An advertisement in the local diocesan newspaper jumped out to me with that feeling I’d come to associate with lectio Divina – highlighting words that seemed to be meant specifically for me, a request from the Holy Spirit to pay particular attention.

Miraculous Journeys, a group from Omaha, Nebraska under the direction of a woman named Leona Kavan, was planning a trip to Roman Catholic shrines in Switzerland, Germany, and Austria the following October.

I’d long dreamed about visiting this part of Europe because so many of my ancestors had come from that Alpine region. My mother’s four grandparents emigrated to the United States from the Swiss Cantons of Bern and Basel.

So, I called Leona to ask for more information. We both felt an instant affinity in that first telephone conversation, and I told her I wanted to pray about it. I’d get back to her if I was interested.

As I entered the Perpetual Adoration chapel in my parish, a lay Carmelite friend I often joined for First Friday and First Saturday vigils, was praying in the rear pew. She beckoned me over, and whispered, “I understand you’ve just been talking to my friend Leona in Omaha.”

The signs continued. After I formally registered, making my own airline reservations because I would be flying out of Des Moines on American Airlines rather than from Omaha on KLM with the group, it transpired that Leona had a request.

Sister Frances, an Oblate Sister of Mary Immaculate from the National Shrine of Our Lady of the Snows in Belleville, Illinois, had received a large donation of American Airline miles from a patron of the shrine, as a gift for her retirement. She wanted to use them for this trip.

Sister Juanita, a younger vowed sister of the same order, had been assigned by their superior to accompany and assist, because Sister Frances would still be in the latter phase of recovery from knee surgery at the time this pilgrimage would take place.

We were all using the same airline. Would I please meet the sisters at Zurich airport and help them find the group when we arrived?

My original itinerary on American had routed me through Chicago, and their international transfer hub was going to be Dallas-Fort Worth. I’d never flown to Zurich and had no idea what that airport even looked like. I decided to change my ticket and meet them in the Dallas-Fort Worth airport, where I had at least some experience.

We, too, found immediate fellowship when I met Sister Frances and Sister Juanita at our international departure gate. Once we landed in Zurich, it required two trains and my best Canadian French to find out where the Omaha group had arrived – as it turned out, in a completely different terminal, invisible to us, on the other side of major construction.

But fortunately, nuns stay together in one place when you ask them, and the Holy Spirit was looking after us all. Sister Frances and Sister Juanita were waiting patiently where I left them when I returned with a map showing the correct location, and a safe route around the construction zone.

On our third day in Switzerland, guide and driver Tony, a former member of the Pontifical Swiss Guard, took us into the rural hamlet of Flüeli, near the town of Sachseln, to visit the home of St. Nicholas von Flüe.

I had no idea who this man was, and I had been a voracious reader about the saints since I joined the Church in 1989. How had I never heard of him?

Through our Omaha translator, who was fluent in German and carefully translated Tony’s exact words, it became apparent that he regarded this shrine as holier than even Engelberg Abbey, one of the greatest Benedictine houses of the high Middle Ages, and felt that our visit to Flüeli was the most sacred honor he could bestow on us during our visit.

Sister Frances, Sister Juanita, and I all looked at each other, and shook our heads. They’d never heard of this St. Nicholas, either.

The historic log chalet in front of us looked pretty rustic, and the pathway down to what our guide called “The Ranft,” on the banks of a rushing river, could only be described as treacherously steep. At least, we observed to each other, it was paved.

We composed ourselves with appropriate reverence and disembarked. Our driver pulled out Sister Frances’ foldable wheelchair from the belly of the bus, and Sister Juanita put on her game face.

We were about to learn how a 15^th century farmer, soldier, hermit, and visionary became the patron saint of Switzerland, how he changed human history in his own time and for ours, and why his fellow countrymen call him simply Bruder Klaus, with great affection, to this very day.

Stay tuned for Part II next month.

Peace.