Berta Hummel was born in the small town of Massing in Bavaria, Germany, on May 21st, 1909. She was the third of six children born of Adolf and Viktoria Hummel.
The family surname, which translates into "Bumblebee," was the nickname given to Berta at birth, a name which stuck throughout her life.
Unlike her other brothers and sisters, she seldom involved herself with household chores or assisting her father in the family mercantile. No, she'd be off making fine doll clothes or sketching the neighbors and childhood fancies.
Berta's love for Our Lady blossomed early in life. She enjoyed gathering fresh flowers and placing them at the Madonna altar in the family home. She was often seen carrying floral arrangements for her cherished visits to the countryside grottos.
In 1914, war was declared between Austria and Serbia, and her father was called to serve his country. Four long years passed during which time Viktoria piously reared her six children.
Twice each year the entire Hummel family would make a pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Mercy at Altotting, a fifteen mile walk. During war time the pilgrimages were more frequent. Berta's first visit to the black- veiled Madonna was emotionally recorded by her mother. The young one prayed: "Dear Mother Mary, you must bring father home to his loved ones, to little Franzl whom he has not yet seen, and to mother who is too often sad and cries so much!"
Berta missed her father and corresponded regularly, taking great pride and pleasure in decorating the borders of the stationery. She loved drawing sketches of her brothers and sisters. These portraits were keen likenesses, especially when you consider that they were done by a six year old.
The little bumblebee attended Catholic elementary school under the School Sisters of Notre Dame. She was eager to begin her studies - for she had witnessed the joy of her older sisters at being students of this renowned institution. Berta's first two years went quite well. She gave the teaching Sisters very few problems. But in her third year she was placed under the care of an ill-tempered nun who caused the young child and her parents much anxiety and pain.
The nun would not tolerate Berta's restlessness and engrossment in the beauties of the world. She could not understand the child's temperament. Berta began to shiver each time the stern nun suggested that her mother use a hickory stick on her rather than traditional tender love. Somehow she survived her third year in school, and going into the fourth, she was very fortunate to be appointed to Sister Theresilla's class.
This nun was able to erase an entire year of torture for the young Hummel merely through her love and understanding. Sister encouraged Berta to practice her artistry. And practice she did! During recreation time it became a daily custom for the artist to sketch her schoolmates.
Word spread quickly. And the parents of the school children began to ask Berta to do profiles and portraits of their loved ones. Soon the people of Massing realized that their little bumblebee was one day going to be in demand. They'd order hand-drawn post cards, sending them across Germany with real pride. She was the brightest jewel of Massing!
At the age of 12, Berta's wish to enter the famous Simbach Institute was fulfilled. Here the Englischen Fraulein encouraged her to work most seriously at her art. They, too, recognized the uniqueness of the gift which God had given her. The century-old school now preserves two dates with utmost pride and interest: May 5th, Berta's entrance date into the Institute, (1921), and July 4th, her date of departure.
Berta was never "Little Miss Perfect." She always had a mischievous sense of humor. She loved to draw caricatures of her school teachers, which often made the children laugh. She drew such pictures for her father during the war years, and he swore that if he returned to his home and family, he'd make certain that his precious bumble would go to the famed Munich Art Institute. So proud of her was he: even in the simplest post card drawings and the pencil sketches of his other children. Imagine his pleasure in seeing her portrait of three year old Franzl!, the son he had never seen.
This promise was met in the Fall of 1927 when Adolf Hummel proudly escorted his attractive blue-eyed daughter to the beautiful city of Munich. This is where the 5' 2" eighteen year old student worked ambitiously under some of the finest artists in Europe.
Berta lodged at St. Ann's Convent in the beginning, but too soon she became distracted by the busy schedules and routines of the nuns and students of this community. She decided to move to Holy Family Convent, very close to the Church of Our Lady, the Frauenkirche, a favorite resting spot of Berta's. Daily she'd make a visit to the "Lady's" altar in this ancient House of God.
Her stay with the nuns at Holy Family was genuinely pleasing for all parties concerned. She made many friends, both secular and religious, and was always at the top of her class. It was her nature to do what she could to please everyone. This was a real virtue which people loved in the young woman.
Her art instructors firmly believed that after she secured her teacher's certificate, she'd stay on at the Munich Art Institute as an assistant to the Masters. Berta had other plans.
She had met two Franciscan nuns from the Convent at Siessen in Wurttemberg. These two women were put in Berta's charge. She was instructed to show them around Munich, the Art Institute and the Holy Family quarters. This was very much to her liking. The three became close and inseparable friends.
Berta closely observed the rigid life the two Franciscans lived. She was impressed at how they perfectly lived their religious rule, yet implemented their art ambitions with the greatest of ease. She knew that her friends were making an impression on her, but she did not know to what extent until she was approached about a teaching position at the Art Institute.
It was difficult giving up the thoughts of fame and success. And it would be painful to inform her loved ones of her decision to give up her promising career, especially since her parents struggled so hard to put her through private schools. But her decision was made. She was to enter the Motherhouse Convent of her Franciscan friends, Sisters Laura and Kostka.
Her parents were not terribly surprised about their daughter's plan, nor did they discourage her, even though Adolf worried that she was not physically strong enough for such an austere life. Viktoria assured him: "God never asks more of us than we can do." They both wondered, however, what it was that made Berta make such a drastic decision - and in such haste.
Certainly Berta was no one's fool! She was totally aware of the times in which she lived, and about the Nazis' growth in numbers and power. She knew, too, of their intent to gather-up all serious artists, and to use their talents to foster and further the corrupt causes of The Third Reich. This was a horrifying thought! The decision, too, must have had other factors: her sister's death, perhaps, as well as the friendships of the two nuns. But above all, the truest of reasons must have been the devotion and love of God which Viktoria Hummel passed on to her bumblebee through tender example and training. The decision was made. And the twenty-two year old Berta was very happy.
On the 22nd of April, 1931, Berta left her home and family to enter the Congregation of the Franciscan Sisters. She was by no means molded to be a nun. She met with difficulties just as all aspirants do. But she brought to the convent her happy, loving disposition, an asset most welcomed by this community of women.
August 22nd, 1933 arrived, and Berta - along with thirty other postulants - received the habit of the Order. And she was given the most appropriate name that the sisters could have come-up with: SISTER MARIA INNOCENTIA. Innocentia! How fitting!
During her postulancy, Berta worked steadily at her art. And on the day of investiture, the sisters proudly displayed her original works of art throughout the Motherhouse. This was the greatest source of consolation to her parents, who were already so proud of their daughter.
Post cards and Hummel designs were, by this time, spread throughout Germany and America. And the profits from sales were helping to support the apostolates of this Franciscan congregation.
On August 30, 1934, Sister Maria Innocentia Hummel consecrated herself to God through the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. It was during these early years that she spent so much of her time creating her sacred pictures. She was never morbidly pious. Her piety was pure like a child's, exactly like her art work. She was never extremely serious. She loved designing the children pieces, filled with childhood recollections, which still today melt the hearts of her faithful followers.
In the same year, Franz Goebel, from the Bavarian ceramic factory in Coberg, caught one of his employees sculpting precious images of children. He found the source of his artist's inspiration: "THE HUMMEL BOOK." Goebel carefully packaged the carved figurines and set off to meet the nun- artist.
Sister Innocentia was not overly enthusiastic about the idea of having this company copy her ideas. But after Mr. Goebel confided his situation, (that if something new and exciting didn't come along in a hurry, he'd have to lay-off most of his long-time factory workers), the soft-hearted bumblebee gave in. And she was never sorry. The only stipulation was that she was to have full control, approving each new figurine.
Undoubtedly, Franz Goebel already suspected that the Nazis would one day close all doors to American sales. But this did not discourage the dreamer. He carried on. And his Hummel statuettes would soon grow to become the factory's most triumphant artifacts.
In 1936, Sister Innocentia personally visited the large Goebel plant, and was overwhelmed at the care she found the artisans giving her subjects. She went from department to department spreading joy, and encouraging all of "her co-workers." The factory artists were so moved by her visit and charm, that they selected the eldest employee, (a man who had served the company for fifty years), to stand-up and thank the humble nun for her caring, encouragement, and for all the work that she had brought to their factory. She realized that these special artists fervently believed that she was the giver, they, the takers.
At the end of 1936 Sister Hummel became ill with a simple cold, an ailment from which she never fully recovered.
During the next four years Sister Maria Inncentia and Franz Goebel shared a close partnership and special friendship, as the artist became more and more fond of her statued children and Madonnas. But in 1940 it all came to a sudden halt.
The Mother Superior of the Franciscan Order addressed her nuns: "My dear sister, the Nazis are coming to take over our home. We must leave. Go to your cells and gather whatever you need. Your families will gladly take you in until the storm is over."
The nuns were given twenty-four hours to vacate. The sick, the old, and the feeble were allowed to stay in the damp, cold basement of the massive structure. The Nazis intended to use this magnificent complex to house 2,000 refugees from Romania.
The sisters were exiled as useless members of the state, and were returned to their families. Sister Maria Innocentia was unhappy in her new secular life. Her parents were concerned and worried about her, especially since she was weak and constantly ill. A month passed, and she was granted permission to return to the Motherhouse. The elderly nuns were very pleased to receive her. And it worked out well for Goebel, as well. Sister Innocentia continued to create, and brought in needed funds to her community. Hitler had taxed convents so heavily that most of them had to close. The Hummel royalties allowed Siessen to remain open - even though they were only permitted to utilize the basement area.
Due to the dampness of the living quarters, Sister Innocentia's condition worsened, and in 1944 she was sent to a sanatorium at Isny and later at Wangen.
On August 22nd, 1945, the French took the town, and the very next day the convent was restored to the sisters with full property rights. Within twenty-four hours the occupants, numbering 1,200, had to leave. The sisters were returning, after five years, to clean up their demolished home.
The nuns returned from their places of sanctuary, and gradually, Siessen was transformed into the beautiful convent it once was.
Sister Innocentia was not present for the rededication ceremonies, but her heart was surely there. Her long term cold had turned into acute pleurisy, and later a lung infection. No antibiotics had been allowed the sisters because of the war effort. No fire wood. No coal. And very little food.
Sister Hummel knew that her days were now numbered, and her last request was that she could die at the Motherhouse of her Order. She was immediately granted this wish, and upon her return, the Franciscan House at Siessen was, once again, the happy convent of the years gone by.
Sister Innocentia was soon informed that she had tuberculosis. Her X- rays had been misread for years, and when the sisters saw how weak their bumblebee had become, they sent for her parents. They desired to have them at the death bed of their child.
The Hummels arrived, and in preparation for death, Sister Maria Innocentia asked for Extreme Unction. She lovingly turned to her parents and said, "I am happy to go home, but my heart sorely grieves for you." Both parents wept.
On November 6th, 1946, at the hour of the mid-day Angelus, the bells tolled in the convent tower. And with a lighted candle in one hand, rosary in the other, Sister Innocentia awaited her celestial escort. The sisters and her family knelt at her bedside. And while the bells tolled, Sister Maria Innocentia Hummel, thirty-seven years old, slipped into eternal slumber.
Her body was taken to the convent chapel, and midst the flowers sent by friends and admirers, she waited interment. Her face was radiant with youthful joy. Though her final years were full of pain and unending suffering, no one would have suspected it; she was now but sleeping - in total peace.
In a short span of earthly time, Sister Maria Innocentia completed a full and long life. She dreamed of bringing joy into the hearts of the suffering. She cared very little about the fame. But today, decades after she departed this world, her collectibles prove that not so very long ago there was a simple daughter of St. Francis who lived and loved. She thought so highly of her Maker that she labored endlessly during her short visit here, labored to engrave her love of life and religion, permanently, in the hearts and minds of all mankind.
Her figurines are now being collected all across the world. And today, more than ever, we can see Sister Innocentia working hard through the factory workers at Coberg - whom she loved so dearly. She is serving us more joyously in death than she ever could have in life. Let us all rejoice and be glad that Berta Hummel touched our lives so brilliantly! And let us thank God for the privilege of sharing this terrestrial beauty.
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