He remained active into old age. As the father of the town twinning with St. Marcellin. As organizer of the Grafinger ecumenical evenings. As a scientist when it came to the Order of Antoniter. As a critic, when his church needed to be reminded that it is for the man and not the man for the institution. Despite all his presence, he preferred to leave the limelight to others – and that’s exactly why he became so credible. On Wednesday evening, the honorary citizen of Grafingen, Adalbert Mischlewski, died at the age of 103.
The fact that he was able to live this life the way he lived it has mainly to do with coincidences. With coincidences that a German life can bring with it when it begins in November 1919. And which were necessary to be one of the very few who survived the full six years of World War II.
“That’s when I realized that there must be something why I’m in the world.”
First he is on the road as an occupation soldier in France in an off-road vehicle. Because it’s getting cold in the evening, he stops and latches the doors again. A few kilometers later, a Resistance mine exploded. The door is broken, Mischlewski is not. Later, already on German soil, he throws himself on the ground with his comrades. A sergeant who knows Mischlewski pulls him a few meters further. Suddenly an explosion, very close. “Where we were, everyone was dead or horribly wounded. Someone was looking after me. That’s when I realized that there must be something why I’m in the world.”
It is also a coincidence that Mischlewski does not spend years in captivity. Instead of handing him over to the Soviet Union in what is now the Czech Republic at the beginning of May 1945, the Americans say: anyone who can show an address in the American zone of occupation will receive the discharge papers immediately. “They didn’t know at all how they should have fed us hundreds of thousands.” He knows the address of a friend in Memmingen. The poker goes up. Dismissal papers in May 1945, what incredible luck!
Great honor for a great citizen: District Administrator Robert Niedergesäß, the then Mayor of Grafing Angelika Obermayr and even the town band congratulated him on his 100th birthday.
(Photo: Peter Hinz-Rosin)
Once there, he hears about the Order of Antoniter. Its task was to treat people suffering from the fire of St. Anthony, a type of ergot poisoning that was widespread in the Middle Ages. At the beginning of the 13th century, the order spread a whole network of branches across Europe. For him, the commitment of the order is a matter of humanity, even of peace. “That really fascinated me.” What if you could still learn something from it today, so soon after the Holocaust, war and millions of deaths.
Mischlewski wants to find out more. But he finds little because the order was hardly researched in the 1940s. So he starts himself. And enrolled in Munich first for history and modern philology. Later, theology was added as a third subject, in which he finally did his doctorate. Unlike many things in life so far, the topic is no coincidence. Of course it’s about the Antonites.
In order to be able to marry his wife, Mischlewski resigns from the priesthood
After being ordained to the priesthood, he taught Catholic theology and history at the Marktoberdorf grammar school. It is the place where he met his future wife Johanna. In order to be able to marry her, Mischlewski has himself restored to lay status. Both move to Grafing, both teach at the Gymnasium.
When Mischlewski retired in the 1980s, he literally threw himself into Antonite research. This brings him regularly to Saint-Antoine-l’Abbaye in the Dauphiné in southern France, to the ancestral monastery of the order. Overnight in the next town, St. Marcellin. Again and again he drives to the monastery, he keeps combing through libraries. In order to bundle everything, Mischlewski founded the Antoniter Forum in 1993. He drums up experts on the subject and experts, a tight-knit circle spread around the globe. Until recently, the booklet of the same name on current research and documentation of the Order was published once a year. In the professional world, it quickly acquires a considerable reputation.
At some point it will be St. Marcellin: the German is back. A pharmacist wants to know if he doesn’t know of a small German town that would be interested in a town twinning in France. Mischlewski makes an appointment with the then Mayor of Grafing, Alois Kleinmeier. This is how the two cities can celebrate two decades of town twinning in the summer of 2014. And generations of Grafinger high school students get to know the partner city through a student exchange. “Those who know each other don’t shoot at each other.” Another aspect of peace that was decisive when the city council appointed him the only honorary citizen of Grafing at the time in the summer of 2013. Mischlewski accepts the award with humility.
Transfer back to the laity or not – Mischlewski remained faithful to the church throughout his life. Not as a good sheep. But as a critical member. As one that rubs against the institution. One that does not simply accept the theological interpretation of the superiors. As one that repeatedly warns of caution in debates: of supposedly simple answers to difficult questions.
The attitude is also reflected in the choice of topics for the ecumenical evenings, which Mischlewski organized and moderated to the end. When Mischlewski invites, professors in the city library step into each other’s hands. Then it’s about pleas for saying goodbye to the Church of the Estates. About euthanasia. About reformation and tolerance. Or about the role of the church in the Third Reich. “Finally space for a real discussion,” he blurted out in anticipation.
Adalbert Mischlewski – practically blind in the end – was always reluctant to judge the issues morally. Humans can’t. “Only God can do that.”
The funeral service will take place on Wednesday, January 25, at 11 a.m. in the Grafing parish church, followed by burial in the forest cemetery.