Koehlers in Hustisford, Wisconsin

An autobiography by C. Philipp Koehler translated by Marcus Koch

Familiar Surroundings

Pastor Wilhelm Streissguth of Milwaukee (president of the synod at that time) called my attention to the small congregation in Hustisford, Dodge County, Wisconsin. At the time this congregation was without a minister and had approached the synod for help. Hustisford lay in the territory to which I had been assigned when I first came to Wisconsin in the fall of 1854. I took this coincidence to be God's providence and decided to go there and offer myself to the congregation.

After they had heard me, they called me, and I accepted their call in God's name. I delivered my farewell sermon in Manitowoc on the Sunday before Pentecost in the year 1867 and then with my family moved to Hustisford. Our reception there was decidedly cool. Both the behavior of the people and the condition of the parsonage made a discouraging impression on me.

I installed myself on the Monday after Pentecost, preaching a Pentecost sermon. It soon became evident that there would be much to do and much to fight against at my new post. I was not the first shepherd of this small flock. For fifteen years a goodly number of pastors had worked there, but they had proven to be a pitiable lot. These shepherds had not only misguided and misled the flock but had also scattered and orphaned it. They had misused the office of the ministry, making such a scandal that there was no confidence left in any preacher; they were all considered swindlers. The conditions in the Hustisford congregation were so deranged and hopeless that I was tempted to run away. But I know also that I had to persevere and suffer through it, and it was this latter course which became my firm resolve.

An opportunity to leave Hustisford presented itself already in my first year there when I received an enticing call. I declined it, however. Still, I doubted the possibility of making something of this small congregation. Certainly, the potential was there, and the trustees as well as some other members raised my hopes and tried to bolster my sinking spirits by painting bright prospects. But Hustisford was a very disreputable place at that time. One heard from various sources that it was a veritable Sodom. I myself discovered that Satan had a school here, many chapels, and not a few minions who served him in the spread of his domain. The Methodists, consumed with a fever for making converts, knew only too well how to come creeping into the houses, taking the unwary women captive with the ultimate aim of winning the men also. They had tried this here but had accomplished nothing. How, then, could I succeed in bringing something into being here? It was obvious that I was in a tight spot. I constantly had to fight a feeling of despair and an inner revulsion to this place.

It was during the first few weeks after I had come to Hustisford that I stumbled across a swindle by which my congregation had been hoodwinked. From my yard on Sunday afternoons I could see and hear that services were being conducted in our church. No one had mentioned anything about it to me. When I made inquiries, I was told that the Americans who lived in and about Hustisford gathered in our church on Sunday afternoons, allowing a farmhand (who had been released from the state reformatory a short time before) to shout a sermon into their ears. No one, not even the trustees, could give me a definite answer as to whether or not they had the right to do this. Our church building was thus in reality a community church, in which not only God's Word and Luther's teaching were proclaimed but also man's word and false teaching. That my dear congregation was not at all upset about this arrangement made it all the more distasteful to me. I therefore did not stop speaking against it, urging my congregation to put a stop to it. I got nowhere, however, with the members of the congregation. Not only were they completely in the dark about this matter, but it made no difference to them, and they felt helpless to do anything about it.

When the Americans, however, learned of my displeasure over this arrangement, they offered to enlighten me on this matter. From them I learned the following: By contributing to the building of the church the Americans had won the right to conduct their services there and have Sunday school. They had even signed a contract to that effect with those who had built the church. When my congregation had purchased the church building, they had taken over the contract, our trustees affixing their signatures to the document. To prove their point, they showed me the contract, but it was unsigned. When I asked to see a signed copy of the contract, I was told that it was in the possession of our congregation. My trustees, however, emphatically assured me that none of them had ever signed such a contract, nor did they even know of its existence, much less where it could be found. In this matter I intended to teach my congregation to deal honestly with the Americans.

After some time the contract was found in the possession of a man who had been a member and a trustee at one time but who now lived in Woodland. When I then confronted my trustees with the document, they had to admit that they had indeed affixed their signatures to it, admitting that when they had purchased the church, they had signed another document in addition to the deed, but had not read it and had no idea that it was this contract. It was now clear to me that the Americans had duped my congregation. Still, I let the Americans know that we were willing to deal with them. They, however, preferred to let the matter ride lest their crooked deal be further exposed to the light of day.

This affair made me realize again what a sad little group my congregation was. The Americans retreated with grumbling and scolding, but we now had our church to ourselves. No heretical preacher could enter my pulpit and misuse it from that time on, although the Americans tried again to regain the church several times, but each time their request was denied.

The Unity of the Spirit

During my first years in Hustisford, years of labor and contention, my association with a neighboring pastor whose name was Multanowsky was a source of comfort and peace. He belonged to the Missouri Synod, serving a congregation in Hubbard, between Hustisford and Woodland. To be sure, Pastor Multanowsky was a typical Missourian. He could not credit a fellow pastor who belonged to the Wisconsin Synod with anything good, for at that time Missouri did not recognize Wisconsin as orthodox. And yet he sought me out, though, it seemed to me, his aim was to get me on the right track. But even as I learned to know and honor him more and more as a conscientious brother who was well grounded in God's Word, so he, too, became increasingly convinced that he did not first of all have to get me straightened out as to my orthodoxy.

We had weekly get-togethers and in order that our hours together might be occupied more profitably, we did scriptural exegesis. It was a joy to both of us to see that, through God's grace, we were one in spirit. This made it all the more painful for us that our respective synods were on a war footing. We therefore promised each other to work in our own synod to bring about a better relationship, and it is evident at this time that God blessed our efforts.

I was blessed in having Pastor Multanowsky as my neighbor for almost two years. He was the first Missourian with whom I could get along well and whom I learned to regard highly. How happy I would have been to enjoy him as my neighbor even longer, for I was now discovering that Luther was right when he included under the blessings of daily bread, good friends and faithful neighbors.

There were, of course, other pastors in the neighborhood, but in none of them could I place the confidence I had in this man. No matter from which angle I got to know him, whether in the pulpit, in the school room, in the study, or at home with his family, I entertained the highest regard for him and could (and did) learn many a lesson from him.

When he was called away, I got to know his congregation better. They asked me to serve them as a filiale (dual parish). This was a congregation to which I had been assigned by the mission house in Barmen. When I had first come to Milwaukee, it was this congregation I had first looked up in order to offer them my services. At that time they had not taken me up on my offer, having been served the fourteen years since then by pastors of the Missouri Synod. I assumed that this congregation would be in good shape, grounded in the truth and accustomed to Christian discipline and order. For that reason I almost hesitated to accept their call. I soon discovered, however, that such was not the case. A haughty, pharisaical attitude held sway there, which spirit I had constantly to contend with and which caused me much sorrow.

While I was serving this congregation as well as the one in Hustisford, I also received a call from the Woodland congregation. This congregation had been gathered after Pastor Multanowsky's departure and had its own church building. No one expected (I, least of all) that this congregation would call a pastor who was orthodox because the members were mostly of the type of whom you would not expect that they would submit themselves to God's Word. Because ... [here the autobiography we now possess it ends.]

Postscript

It was only some two years after the completion of the new church in Hustisford (built in 1893) that, in the counsel of God, Pastor Koehler was permitted to preach. In August 1895 he took sick with blood poisoning in his feet. On September 2, 1895, he had to be operated on and died already on the evening of September 4. During his entire sickness, he was comforted and joyful in his God. He entered the joy of his Lord.

The funeral service took place on September 7 with many in attendance. Pastor J. Kilian, a friend of the departed for many years, officiated at the house service. Pastor (later Professor) August Pieper delivered the funeral sermon, and Pastor Edward Hoyer officiated at the grace and read the obituary of the deceased.

Pastor Koehler was 66 years, ten months, and 27 days old when he died and had served as pastor (Seelsorger) of the congregation in Hustisford for 28 years and three months. During his many years as pastor, the congregation not only grew externally but also became accustomed to Lutheran order and practice.