Roman Spring

Scott Hahn once wrote a widely read book, Rome Sweet Home. Well, I feel like I can say “home sweet home,” after coming back from Rome. This is obviously not to deny the fact that, as a Catholic, Rome is my spiritual “home,” but rather a sigh of relief that the crazy week of traveling and seeing the most amazing churches and museums that I have seen in my life has come to an end. Now, I will have some time to reflect upon and soak up all of the experiences of my Holy Week in Rome!

First of all, and most importantly, our trip was a pilgrimage, to spend the holiest week of the year with the Holy Father. And did we! I went with a group of guys from Poland to the UNIV conference, a conference that has been sponsored yearly since 1968, whose focus is to provide university students from around the world a chance to meet each other, and discuss important topics facing the Church. This year’s focus was on the “Role of the Mass Media in Shaping Catholic Culture,” and was very interesting. As part of the conference, the UNIV participants are traditionally granted a special audience with the Holy Father. Ok, so I won’t be falsely humble—I GOT TO TOUCH POPE BENEDICT! I only share this because it was an amazing experience. In fact, as it turned out, it was one of the three times that I would be within one or two feet of the Holy Father, but it was the only time that I was able to shake his hand. There was definitely an outward “radiation of sanctity” which emanated from Pope John Paul II, when I was able to be near him. This charismatic gift inspired many to go out and evangelize, to “not be afraid” to “open wide the doors to Christ,” and to preach the Gospel to the ends of the earth. This radiation of sanctity from John Paul was the Holy Spirit, the gift, who then led others to make gifts of themselves to the world. What struck me when I was near Pope Benedict was his simple humanity, and the silent, peaceful longing for interiority and contemplation. In a get-together with Bishop Javier Echevarria, the Prelate of Opus Dei, aware of the Pope Benedict’s character and personality, told us that he apologized to the Holy Father that so many people were trying to touch him, and that he understood if he felt overwhelmed. To this, Pope Benedict replied that he didn’t mind, because he know that the young people were reaching out, not to him, but to Christ, who is in their midst. How true—Christ is present in such a different way in this pope. One looks upon him, and having been sent on a mission by John Paul II, he is now reminded of the need for contemplation and prayer, which is the foundation of everything. It is only through prayer, and particularly in the Liturgy, that one can meet Christ in an ever-new way, and be refreshed to participate in the modern cultural dialogue the John Paul II called us to.

Of course, I refuse to play the game of “compare the popes,” and none of these reflections are meant to somehow say one pope is better than the other. They are simply personal reflections of the differences I have noticed in their personalities, and how their personalities both show us different aspects of the Christian life that must be emphasized.

What I never cease to be amazed by the mind of our Holy Father. Before the audience, we watched a video clip of his meeting with youth, on the Thursday before Pam Sunday. In this new tradition, the Holy Father met with youth and answered their personal questions about vocation, sexuality, and the crisis of culture. I was amazed by the Holy Father’s answers, which were not prepared before hand, but improvised on the spot. Or rather, they were the fruit of years of prayer and contemplation, as well as theological study. In his usual manner, he responded with flawless paragraphs of eloquent and deep prose, and left now question unanswered from a variety of different angles. We are so blessed to have a Holy Father who is a man of incredible prayer, deep reflection, and amazing intellect and wisdom!

In addition to the audience with the Holy Father, we were able to participate in all of the Papal Liturgies of the week—the Chrism Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica, the Mass for the Institution of the Eucharist on Thursday Evening in St. John Lateran, the Good Friday Liturgy at St. Peter’s, the Papal Stations of the Cross, as well as the Easter Vigil in St. Peter’s Basilica. (Oh yeah, and the Urbi et Orbi on Sunday on St. Peter’s Square). Though we didn’t have tickets to get into anything besides the audience, thanks to my awesome Notre Dame architecture friends who just happen to “have to” study in Rome for this year, we were able to get into everything, and have great seats, as well.

The week was definitely a crazy time of commuting to and from Via Aurelia, comparable only to the Las Vegas Strip, except with the amount of Catholic hostels, instead of casinos. On every block, there are at least a few houses or hostels run by one order or another. We were able to visit all four of the major basilicas, as well as a number of the famous churches in Rome. I’m sure that I will forget some, but right now I can remember the Gesu, Santa Maria Ara Coeli, San Agostino, San Luigi Re Fracese, San Stanislao Kostka, Santa Croce in Gerusalemne, Santa Trinita dei Monte, San Andrea della Valle, Santa Magdalena, Santa Maria Sopre Minerva, the Pantheon, and many others. These are most of the churches that we visited that house the relics of great saints, such as St. Ignatius in the Gesu, Saint Catherine of Siena and Blessed Fra Angelico in Santa Maria Sopre Minerva, Saint Josemaria Escriva in Santa Maria Della Pace, and the relics of the True Cross and the cross-beam of the cross of Dismas the Good Thief in Santa Croce. I forgot to also mention Santa Presetta, the 8th century basilica that houses the pillar upon which Christ was scourged. Obviously, a lot of people argue that these relics are a fraud and that they are not the actual ones.

First of all, even if they are not “the real thing,” they are places of veneration of the Passion of Christ that have been sanctified by the prayers of pilgrims throughout the centuries. There are man miracles associated with them, so whether they are the actual relics or not, they are still places of special grace. Secondly, it is very likely that these are the actual relics from Jerusalem, since Jerusalem was under Roman control in the late period of antiquity. Thus, if an emperor, such as Constantine, who was a Christian, was in control of Jerusalem, he could have easily brought the remnants of the relics associated with the passion of Christ to Rome. Hence the reason for the existence of the Scala Santa, as well as the other “artifacts” associated with the death of Jesus.

In addition to seeing many of these famous churches, I was also able to see many cultural and historical masterpieces, both works of art and architecture. Of course, we saw the Fontana di Trevi, which shocked me with its size. I never imagined the fountain to be so huge—the figures in it were at least twice life-size. In the Villa Burghese, a museum in the former family mansion of the famous Roman aristocrat Burghese family, we saw the most famous and well-known statues by Bernini, as well as paintings by Raphael, Caravaggio, and other masters of the Italian Renaissance. Bernini’s expression was absolutely amazing, particularly in his Apollo and Daphne, and in his David. Having never seen Bernini’s David, before, I was extremely impressed, and decided that I like it better than Michelangelo’s masterpiece. Whereas Michelangelo focuses on the idealism and sheer strength of man, by portraying David as a muscular and towering force, Bernini is more focused on the tension of the moment. He captures David in the split-second before he releases the sling with which he will slay Goliath. This produces an incredible tension and expression that is visible in the tense muscles of a young man, slender and realistically built. He is about to exert all of his strength in the one chance that he has to either save his people or be killed. The strength of the human spirit, of perseverance, will, and determination are all captured in this block of marble, which has been chiseled into perfection.

Of course, the Musei Vaticani also made a huge impression on me, where I was able to stand face-to-face with pieces of art, sculptures, and masterpieces that I have been reading about in textbooks since at least high school. I realized that it is one thing to read about a sculpture, or a painting, and another thing to stand in front of something that is 2500 years old (here, I am referring to the Lacöon Group). I was struck by the way that people more than two millennia ago were already able to express their spirit by creating masterpieces of art, which have lasted until today. Perhaps modern artists could learn something from these ancient and beautiful masterpieces, which have lasted for ages and are still admired for the beauty, because of their ability to capture and explore the fundamental truths of human nature!

It was quite frustrating to see all of the “tourists” in the Vatican Museums who had absolutely no clue about history or the tradition of the Church. Until one learns the medium, or at least about the medium, through which to view these works of art, it is as if he were only looking at the tip of the iceberg. It was sad to see all of the people who had no clue about what was painted in the frescoes, such as in the room with the Triumph of Christianity (I forget the name of the room). The most frustrating thing that I encountered there, and which I also often encounter here in Krakow, is when an English tour guide who is clearly not Catholic, and really has no clue about the tradition of the Church, seeks to explain to Americans or British about the art they are looking at, and has the job simply because he can speak English. Art is a dangerous thing, and one can either leave a place, having been brainwashed and misled to believing the half-truths which are so popular these days in pop culture, or he can truly seek to learn about what a painting really portrays, and the depth and importance of its meaning. Of course, which is easier?

In addition to seeing all of the beautiful churches and the works of both ancient and Early Modern Art, I was fascinated and greatly moved by my visit to the places of importance to the Early Christians, namely, the Via Appia Antica, and the Catacombs of St. Priscilla, in northern Rome. Entering into the catacombs, I was filled with images from the book Quo Vadis, by Henryk Sienkiewicz, probably one of Poland’s best-known modern authors, and winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature. In this novel, which I think every Christian should read, he provides a fascinating account of the life of the Christians during the reign of Nero. Though the story is fictional, the book and the situations described are historical, and essentially, he was the creator of the historical novel genre.

As we descended into down the spiral staircase from the sunny courtyard, I was filled with anticipation—I would be visiting the tombs and meeting places of those who preceded us in the Christian faith by 1700 years! In this huge complex of tunnels and various levels (more than 13 km of tunnels on all levels!), we stopped at the tombs of various wealthier Christians, as well as those of the poor, who were provide graves by the Christian community. The rich and ancient heritage of our faith was here before my eyes. We saw the oldest image of Mary in Christianity, holding the child Jesus, much like in the images of Our Lady that we see today. We also saw one of the oldest images of Christ, the Good Shepherd. Accompanying the images of Christ and of Mary, we saw many images of Susanna, from the Book of Daniel, who was a symbol of the early Church. Just as she was unjustly persecuted and accused of crime, so were the early Christians persecuted and accused of many false crimes. Often, there images of the three young men, Ananias, Azarias, and Misael, also from the Book of Daniel, who, though tried by fire by the pagan king, survived due to the protection of God, present in an angel in their midst. Likewise, the fires of the pagan Roman emperors tried the early Church, but the suffering Christ accompanied them in their trials.

One of the most interesting places in the catacombs was a large crypt, where the Christians would gather around the tombs of their relatives, and celebrate the Eucharist. Near it, there was a niche in the wall, with graffiti from US GI’s from the Second World War, who surely used the place as a hideout during the war. I was walking through history, but I was also touching the lives of thousands of people. Forty thousand people had once been buried in this cemetery, and thousands had come there before me, to be buried, to venerate the dead, or to seek shelter from dangers above.

In the same way, St. Peter once sought to leave the city of Rome, because of the persecution of the Christians. He believed that it would be safer for him to leave Rome and to guide his flock in safety, than to risk being killed and leave his flock abandoned. He decided to walk out of the city on the Via Appia, a seek shelter among the Christian outside the city. Here, in the midst of the green Mediterranean fields and the hot Roman sun, a bright light appeared, and Jesus stood before him—walking toward the city. “Domine, Quo Vadis?” (Lord, where are you going?), asked the shocked and dumbfounded Peter. “I am going to be with my flock,” replied Jesus, walking towards Rome. At this moment, Peter realized that he was not called to abandon his people, but that he was called to return to Rome, to suffer with them, and to die with them, should it come to this. To this day, the spot on which Jesus appeared is commemorated by the Capella Domine Quo Vadis on the Via Appia, near the catacombs of St. Sebastian. Inside, there is a rock in which are imprinted the footprints of Christ, to which faithful have come throughout the millennia, to venerate the spot which led Peter to his martyrdom for the glory of the cross.

I’ve been to this spot. It is true. This is the beauty of the antiquity of our faith. “The Church is alive,” Pope Benedict reminds us, and her liveliness comes from the centuries of Christians who have come before us, to witness to the faith and truth of Jesus Christ, and who have not been afraid to suffer and die for Him.

Krakow...From Above

Yes, Krakow has the largest market square in Europe. Pretty amazing, for not such a big city, especially when the population was around 20,000 in the Early Modern Period.

We Remember

JPII-WE LOVE YOU!

Thousands gather in front of the Metropolitan Curia's "Papal Window" in memory of John Paul the Great, who was tangibly present

The city is back to quasi-normal after an entire night of festivities and a vigil in memory of our beloved Holy Father. Last night, three of us left from our residence to go to the Stations of the Cross, which were to begin at 8:00 p.m. outside of St. Ann’s Church. Though we arrived outside of the Church around 7:40, there was absolutely no way to get to the front of the Church, were the procession was to begin. So, we decided to go straight to All Saints’ Square, in front of the “papal window,” where the procession would be ending, and Pope Benedict was to address the youth of Rome and Krakow at 9:37 p.m. Arriving at the square at around 8:15, we found the place packed full of people already. The usual pushing, shoving, and frantic scouting for a good spot accompanied the vigil—it seemed like the “Krakow version” of World Youth Day. I am not sure how many people were actually there, in the end, but the square is quite small. It probably fit nearly 20,000 people, while the others were forced to stand on the streets leading to the square.

After all the stations, beginning with the eighth station, were broadcast onto the speaker system, we eagerly awaited the end of the procession. Taking part in it were students from the various parish and campus ministries in Krakow, as well as Cardinal Dziwisz, bishops, and the Prime Minister (who actually carried the crucifix himself for the last station)! At 9:30 p.m., the procession finally made its way to our area. However, it seemed to pass in an instant.

Accompanying the lit candles, altar servers, and boy scouts, was a huge group of secret service agents, as well as soldiers, who formed a perimeter around the procession. I barely got to see over the tops of their heads, through all of the commotion. However, I finally did get to see the entire group once they ascended to the stage. The text used for the Stations of the Cross was the text that John Paul II wrote for the 2000 Good Friday procession in the Coliseum in Rome. Between each station, traditional Polish Lenten hymns were sung. Upon finally concluding the Stations of the Cross, Cardinal Dziwisz’s deep voice came over the loudspeakers, “And now, please, a few minutes of absolute silence as we remember the passing of our Holy Father.” The moment was surreal. I was overcome with emotion—I remember so vividly those last moments when the world kept watch, when he “looked for us, and we came to him.” Suddenly, the sound of applause broke out, and the thousands of people, who had gathered, celebrated and gave gratitude to the Father for the gift of this saint whom we knew and whom we cherished.

Zygmunt, the 500-year-old, eleven-ton bell in Wawel Cathedral began to toll, to remember the passing of the Holy Father from this life of suffering into eternal bliss with the One whose road to the cross he had traveled. Joining in a harmonious chorus, all of the bells in the more than one hundred churches in the old town area, and bells in churches of the entire city, began to ring their bells. The chorus was a sound of bells of sorrow, yet filled with the joy and peace of the knowledge that John Paul II is with us—and was there in a special way last night! Here, in the midst of the thousands of Poles, this family, gathered to remember him, pray to him, and pray with him, he looked down, from the “papal window,” and told us to “not be afraid.”

Immediately after the bells began to ring, the Polish applause joined that of the 100,000 gathered in Rome, who applauded for John Paul the Great, as his successor, the Vicar of Christ, Pope Benedict XVI, appeared to greet visitors and acknowledge the immensity of the occasion. He first addressed the pilgrims in Italian, mentioning that Cardinal Dziwisz was connected from Krakow live via satellite feed. After a few minutes of listening to the translation of the Italian text, he began to address the Poles in their own language. Now, I was at World Youth Day in Cologne, and Pope Benedict’s Polish was not nearly as clear. His improvement and our ability to understand him was yet another testament to this man’s great intellect and amazing mind. He reminded the faithful in Poland of the two words that can “sum up the life of our beloved Holy Father—faithfulness and complete abandonment.” He asked Poland to always remain faithful, to be “strong with the power of the faith,” citing John Paul II’s famous quote from his Krakow pilgrimage in 1979. Awaiting eagerly his pilgrimage to Poland, in the footsteps of his predecessor, the Holy Father asked Poland to always keep alive the great gifts that John Paul left behind.

I was stuck by the absolute intensity, the greatness of the occasion—the true, tangible, and real presence of John Paul, who was with us! Though he has passed to our Father’s house, he remains alive in his teaching, and through the witness of his radical life of holiness, of being open to the Holy Spirit at each moment of his life. Thousands of Poles joined over 100,000 Italians, and millions across the world, to remember the death of one man. One man who captivated, yet challenged, the heart and mind of modern man, and particularly the minds and hearts of young people. He has left to go home, and yet he is even more present universally, through the power of his intercession. People who have never seen each other before, and probably never will see each other again, united together, held hands, sang, and prayed together in the presence of a gigantic portrait of the Holy Father—the one used in Cologne in August, made of the thousands of individual pictures of people from around the world.

I recalled the Holy Father’s pilgrimage to Chile in 1982, when the atmosphere was especially tense in that country, where the Church was challenged by a repressive government that terrorized the people, and by liberation theology and Marxist movements within the Church. The power and fortitude of the Holy Spirit were physically, visibly manifest in the speech and demeanor of the Holy Father. In the front of a huge image of the Holy Face of Christ, John Paul II asked the people, “Who do we see when we look at that face? Do we see a reformer? Yes, but more. Do we see a holy man? Yes, but more. Do we see…yes, but more. Mucho mas. Mucho mas. Mucho, mucho mas! We see Life Himself!”

We can no longer see John Paul the Great the way we were so used to seeing him, and perhaps even too accustomed to. When we look at the face of John Paul, on the multitude of pictures, holy cards, books, and videos, whom do we see? We see a political figure who changed the history of Europe and the world forever, through his pressure on totalitarian systems. We see a man who sought unity among the many sad divisions among Christians throughout the world. We see a man who loved the outdoors, who felt at home, worshipping the Creator in the sanctuary of the natural world. We see a man who showed compassion for the poor and the suffering of the world, and fought for basic human rights wherever they were repressed. We see a scholar who was not afraid of pursuing the Truth through his teaching and academic pursuits. Yet, this is not all!

When we look at his face, we can see the face of Christ Himself. We see humanity in its fullness. We see the “glory of God—man fully alive.” Truly, John Paul revealed to us the true meaning of humanity, of participation in the life of the Triune God, in the Father through the Son and with the grace of the Holy Spirit. We see a man who was not afraid to say “yes” to Christ, without counting the costs or calculating the necessary sacrifices. We see a saint, somebody who was abandoned to the Will of God. His ordering his will to the Will was what led him to experience the radiant joy of Christ’s love. How can we not look to him and see the very presence of Christ emanating forth from him? Even the most secular person can see “something” in John Paul II that allowed him to be a charismatic leader and a great world figure. Christians call this “something” the “joy and peace of Christ Jesus.” And unless we heed this example of his, we will never truly know just “what” it was about the late Holy Father that was so inspiring. He revealed to the fallen world the redemptive power of the cross. He called people of all nations to live lives of radical holiness, in the midst of the world, transforming it from within.

It was just this that Pope Benedict reminded us about yesterday. We never have to be afraid to “open wide the doors to Christ,” for we know, and can see in the life of John Paul II, that Christ “takes nothing away,” and gives us gifts beyond anything that we can imagine. As we finish these final days of Lent, leading to the celebration and recollection of the great mysteries of our redemption, let us never forget what John Paul has shown us. Let us always imitate his example, and embrace the cross of Christ in our lives.

Cardinal Dziwisz blessed the gathered youth with the “reliquary cross,” the crucifix which John Paul II held in his hands one last time, during his final days on Good Friday of last year. Arturo Mari remarked that this was the “defining picture of his pontificate.” The suffering pontiff united himself with Christ, faithful unto death, on the cross that he has now entrusted to us, to be carried into the streets, workplaces, parishes, and all spheres of life in the whole world. Dziwisz reminded that the Holy Father, “both showed us how to carry the cross, and carried it for us. Now it our turn to answer his call of faithfulness to the cross.”

John Paul the Great, pray for us, and continue to teach us how to embrace the cross in our lives. Thank you for the gift of your life of radical holiness, filled with complete abandonment and faithfulness to the end. Intercede for the “John Paul II Generation.”

JPII Lives On

JP II Lives On

Mass at the Divine Mercy Shrine for the Beatification of the Servant of God John Paul II

Candles Line the Street in front of the Metropolitan Curia

JPII WE LOVE YOU!!

Cardinal Dziwisz Concludes the Rogatory Stage of the Beatification Process

JOHN PAUL THE GREAT, WE LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU! PRAY FOR US IN YOUR FATHER’S HOUSE!

Celebrations of the anniversary of the passing of the Holy Father are still going on right now. All of Poland seems to be here, as well as many people from outside of Poland. All Saint’s Square, in front of the “papal window,” at the Metropolitan Curia, is filled with flowers, candles, prayer cards, and people. Young people, old people, priests, nuns, tourists, and locals have all come and are all coming to “see” John Paul. Some come because it is interesting, and some come to pay homage to and remember the man, whom many here personally knew. In addition to the huge “Thank You JPII” picture that was also present at WYD in Cologne, a whole collection of photos has been set up along Franciszkanska Street, which has been closed to all traffic. This evening, there will be a student Mass celebrated in St. Ann’s Collegiate Church, near the tomb of St. John Cantius. After the Mass, there will be a citywide celebration of the Stations of the Cross, based on John Paul II’s Good Friday reflections from the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000.
This morning, I was among the more than ten thousand pilgrims from across the country, who came to the Shrine of Divine Mercy in order to celebrate a Mass for the Beatification of John Paul II, concelebrated by the Papal Nuncio to Poland, Cardinal Dziwisz, Cardinal Macharski, Cardinal Nagy, and other cardinals and bishops. Also in attendance was the President of the Republic of Poland, Lech Kaczynski, as well as Prime Minister Marcinkiewicz, and many other government dignitaries.
It was amazing to be at Mass in a Basilica that was dedicated less than four years ago by the Holy Father himself. Though I have never been a fan of the new basilica, which is very modern and quite plain, I was once again filled with awe and wonder at the greatness of the Holy Father. It was he who, as Bishop of Krakow, was instrumental in the spread of the Divine Mercy devotion throughout the world. Here I was, at the very back doors of the basilica, filled to capacity, looking at the portrait of John Paul II, the bronze letters on the white wall, which depicted John Paul’s Act of Entrustment of the World to the Divine Mercy, as well as the globe-shaped tabernacle. The universality of the church could be felt, since the shrine is the second most-visited shrine in Europe, and if it continues to grow at the same pace, it will soon surpass even Lourdes. The Mass began with sixteenth century polyphony, Laudate Domine, by somebody who sounded a lot like Palestrina. (There were no programs). Cardinal Dziwisz, as the homilist, focused on the words in the Holy Father’s Will in the light of this Sunday’s Gospel. “We want to see Jesus,” the Greeks told Philip. “How often our beloved Holy Father encouraged us to look at the face of Christ.” He encouraged us to look at the face of Him who suffered and died for us. It was He Who taught us the true meaning of love. Just like the “grain of wheat,” which must first die in order to produce fruit, so “John Paul II taught us that the vocation of the Christian is the vocation to sacrifice. To die to oneself in order to experience the height of love, the love of Christ on the cross.” So often, in our “complicated world, man tends to fill his life with distractions, with excuses,” with reasons to flee from Christ. Yet, John Paul Ii cried out to us, from the beginning of his pontificate, “Do not be afraid! Open wide the doors to Christ.” The saint is the one who experience the love of Christ on the cross, through death to oneself, and then is spurred on to share this love with others. This love enters into one’s life and becomes an infectious joy. Why was John Paul II, for us, such a charismatic and attractive personality? Because “a great saint lived among us. Yet, so often we became accustomed to his presence. We often overlooked his holiness.” Yet, the cardinal reminded, we “must look to him as somebody who opened wide the doors to Christ,” a saint among us who “relentlessly followed the will of God” at every moment of his life.
As if intentionally focused toward the government officials present, Cardinal Dziwisz reminded of the love that John Paul II had for his country. He was a “prophet of freedom,” who constantly reminded us “not to be afraid” to work towards a just society, a society which respects every human being, a society that is committed to serving the poor, a society that continues to be immersed in its Christian tradition. “The death of the Holy Father brought about a unity among us, a unity of prayer and love,” that we who experienced it will never forget. In his Will, John Paul wrote of the importance of always being prepared for the coming of death, to always live every moment as a gift from God. Quoting from John Paul’s Will, “serve one another through love,” (Galatians 5:13), Cardinal Dziwisz called each person to remember the true “vocation of the Christian—to love.” We must allow that unity of love and of our spirits which “we experienced in those painful moments one year ago today” to live on each day, in our lives, and in the life of our nation. More than ever, in this world of individualism, egocentrism, and chaos, we must “love one another,” which is the greatest commandment of all.
The Mass was televised live on Italian (and Polish television), and Cardinal Dziwisz also addressed the Italians who were watching in their own language. “Italy and Poland, Poland and Italy. Together we experienced those sad and tragic moments of the final hours of the Holy Father.” Yet, we knew that it was a cause for joy and for celebration, that the man who had given his entire being to Christ, the man who had responded to the graces and become “Christ Himself,” was finally at home, looking down from the “window of the Father’s house.”
More news to come…

HABEMUS CARDINALEM

Cardinal Dziwisz Processes Out after the Solemn Ingress Mass

Cardinal Dziwisz gives the Body of Christ to the concelebrating Bishops.

Christus Vincit, Christus Regnat, Christus Imperat!

With these words, Stanislaw Cardinal Dziwisz made his solemn entrance (ingress) into the Royal Cathedral on Wawel Hill, the one thousand-year-old seat of the bishops of Krakow. As a result of a very interesting and unexpected meeting with a priest, I was able to attend the ceremony, which was open only for those with invitations. The Solemn Mass was attended by the “cream of the crop,” “who’s who in Krakow and Poland,” with many government dignitaries (again, Prime Minister Marcinkiewicz), as well as Church bishops, cardinals, and other members of the hierarchy. Somehow, I was able to find a spot very near to the main nave, near the front, by the high altar. Finding this spot, I had to make sure that I would not move, since the hundreds of photographers, and cameramen from newspapers from around the world, were acting in their typical journalist manner, trying to shove through to get the best possible spot to take a picture!

After the official ingress of Cardinal Dziwisz into the cathedral, he processed around the outer naves, and then into the sacristy, where he, Cardinal Macharski, Cardinal Nagy, and other cardinals and bishops prepared to celebrate the Mass for the Beatification of the Servant of God John Paul II. Since I was near the sacristy, which is located in the front of the basilica, near the high altar, I was able to be in the front row as the procession came by. I was overcome with emotion, and the only way I can explain it is to compare it to the emotion that I felt when I was able to be about five feet away from John Paul II at World Youth Day in Toronto. I was filled with so many thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and only after the procession came by, was I able to notice that I had stopped breathing and my heart was pounding. Here, about a foot away from me, passed Cardinal Dziwisz, the humble priest from the village of Rabka Wyżna, faithful servant of the Holy Father, and now elevated to the ranks of a Prince of the Church. And here he was in front of me, in all of his humble majesty. Donning the traditional “Vestment of St. Jadwiga,” the traditional vestment of the Archbishops of Krakow, which was placed over the Metropolitan’s Pallium, as well as an eighteenth century Roman chasuble, the cardinal passed by me.

Yet, I was struck by his humility, which I am sure that his short stature emphasized. I was surprised that, unlike Cardinal Macharski, whom I was able to greet and who is over six feet tall, Cardinal Dziwisz is a very short man—only about 5’8”, or a little bit more, but definitely not taller than me. (Of course, the medieval miter he was wearing made him look taller). Though he was next to me for about two seconds as the procession came by, the moment seemed like eternity. My mind was filled with thoughts of the late Holy Father, of the fact that this holy man who was in front of me, served a modern saint for over forty years! The aura of the sanctity of John Paul radiated from his personal secretary, who passed by in front of me, and reminded the congregation of Church officials and government dignitaries that “Pope Benedict has given a great gift to the Church of Krakow, a cardinal who is in great need of prayers and recommends himself to all of the faithful of the local church, asking for prayers.” Just as Pope Benedict XVI was called by the Holy Spirit to continue the radical call to holiness left behind by his predecessor, so Cardinal Dziwisz has been called to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor, Cardinal Karol Wojtyla, to shepherd the Church of Krakow and never cease to preach the Gospel of Modernity.

The Mass continued with a few opening statements from Cardinal Dziwisz, who was the homilist for the Mass. The Gospel for yesterday’s Liturgy could not have been better for the occasion. “Some in the crowd who heard these words of Jesus said, ‘This is truly the Prophet.’ Others said, ‘This is the Christ.’ But others said, ‘The Christ will not come from Galilee, will he?’” (Jn 7:40-41). Just as people could not believe that the Messiah would come from Galilee, so also people could not believe on October 16th, 1978, that the Successor of Peter, the Vicar of Christ, would come from Kraków, Poland. And yet, he came and he reached out to the entire world, drawing from his experiences of suffering, of persecution, from his Polish experience, and sharing the liberating message of Jesus Christ, of the Word Who was made flesh, in order to truly reveal man to himself. In Poland, Wojtyla was forced to deepen his understanding of man, to struggle to understand the condition of man’s fallen nature, and the depth of the liberating redemption that only Christ can offer. In Poland, he realized the true meaning of a life in the Spirit, where he saw God the Father changing the lives of young men and women during an era of repression and intolerance of religion. In the darkness, he saw the light. And then, this same Holy Spirit with Whom Karol Wojtyla was filled, chose him to share the truly liberating message of the Gospel with the entire world, to go to the very far corners of the earth and to “teach all the nations.” Cardinal Dziwisz then reflected on his humble call to service to live alongside this great saint.

Though it was hard for me to see at times, since I was pushed out of the way by a French photographer (who decided to wear jeans to the occasion, and kept asking who was who among the bishops and cardinals), I was simply caught up in the greatness and historicity of this moment. Here I was, participating in the official ingress, or “installment” as Cardinal in Krakow of a man who has been forever entered into the pages of the book of history, as he “whom served John Paul the Great,” faithful unto his death. As archbishop, he is determined to make the legacy of the Holy Father continue in Poland and in the world, and has requested for the construction of the “Be Not Afraid John Paul II Center” in Krakow. The center will combine all of the elements of John Paul II’s teaching; a hospital will serve the sick and suffering, schools will form young men and women in the light of the Gospel, a museum will ensure that the Holy Father’s cultural legacy lives on, and classrooms and auditoriums will provide a place to carry on dialogue on important social and ecumenical issues in the modern Church and society.

At the end of the Mass, which was celebrated at the High Altar of St. Stanislaw, Bishop and Martyr, the cardinal and all of the bishops processed out. Once again, the procession encountered a “traffic jam,” forcing Cardinal Dziwisz to stop right in front of me! I felt like the moment lasted forever, again, and I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to grasp the hand which cared for John Paul II, the hand which John Paul II blessed in his dying moments. Yet, I felt that all I could do was to simply bask in the presence of the glory of God and the power of the Holy Spirit. I felt like I was the only one there, with the Cardinal, who emanated such grace and humility (even though I was practically trampled by a four-foot-tall older Polish lady, who wanted to give the cardinal a bouquet of roses!)

A few minutes after the recession, the second solemn event of the evening began, with the procession of the bishops, priests, and cardinals involved in the beatification process in Krakow. Yesterday marked the 29th and last plenary session of the Rogatory Tribunal in the beatification process, which was instituted in order to help the Diocese of Rome to gather information, testimonies, and the necessary legal requirements for a speedy beatification process. The delegate judge, Bishop Tadeusz Pieronek, officially closed this first process with the announcement that an 800-page book of proceedings was complete, and now the beatification process could continue much more easily and swiftly. The official documents were signed by Cardinal Dziwisz, and then sealed in a special white container, in the presence of the notary, Fr. Andrzej Wojcik. After the documents were placed in it, the container was sealed with candle wax, stamped, and sent to the Archdiocesan archives, not to be opened in the future without specific permission of the Holy See. With the following words, the process was sent to Rome for the final stages before the Beatification can take place:

Et ego Notarius deputatus fidem facio ac testor supra relatas subscriptions, nempe illam Em.im Archiepiscopi, Iudicis, Iudicis Adiuncti, Promotoris Iustitae, Notarium Adiunctorum et Postulatoris, fuisse et esse an ipsis propiis minibus factas et sriptas in mea praesentia; atque ita testor et fidem facio hac die prima, mensis Aprilis, anno 2006.

ITA EST.

And so our beloved Holy Father is one step closer to being “officially recognize as a saint,” since “we already all know that he is in the Father’s house, looking down on us,” reminded Cardinal Dziwisz. After the official closing of the process, spontaneous applause broke out within the cathedral, acknowledging and thanking both the many, many people involved in the beatification process, but more importantly, in an act of gratitude for the great gift of John Paul to the Church.
In usual Polish fashion, the entire evening was filled with a mix of Polish patriotism and Roman Catholicism, as was evident in the closing hymn, “Boze Cos Polske,” which speaks of Divine Providence watching over Poland:

Oh Lord,
Who hast filled Poland with the splendor of Your power and glory throughout the centuries,
Who hast shielded her with the shield of Your might,
From the tragedies which were to dishearten her,
We bring before Your altars our cry:
Bless our nation with freedom, Lord.

The hymn was a solemn reminder to everybody of the necessity of living in true freedom. As John Paul II reminded in 1991, on the threshold of a new post-communist Poland, “Poland has found herself once again at an important moment, a unique moment, and perhaps even a decisive moment, which cannot be wasted for any reason whatsoever…This is a great gift from God, a kairos of our history, which has both been given, but also entrusted…I pray for you and with you for this ‘examination in freedom’ which lies before you…Dear brothers and sisters, I am one of you…I always was, and still am. I love my nation, and I was never indifferent towards its sufferings, its limitations of freedom, its plight. Now, I am not indifferent towards this new ‘trial of freedom,’ before which we all stand…I repeat to everyone: Be grateful to God, and never put out the flame of the Holy Spirit!”

Krakow Pomp and Circumstance

Just a regular Sunday (Novus Ordo Latin) Mass at St. Mary's Basilica. Note the height of that miter!! No, he's not a bishop--just a mitered prelate.

Pictures

More of my pictures can be found here.

Entry to Wawel cathedral, seat of the Metropolitan Archbishop.

Patience...

Be patient as I try to learn the ins and outs of blogging. Pictures are coming soon!

Pray for Cardinal Dziwisz today--I am attending his official installment as the Cardinal in the Wawel Cathedral; in attendence will be President Lech Kaczynski and Prime Minister Marcinkiewicz!

Slovakia

It’s funny how I always tell myself that I am going to write another reflection “within a few days,” and then another week passes by without one! Spring has definitely arrived since the last time I made an entry. In fact, there was snow on the ground even three days ago, but now, the temperature has jumped dramatically (into the 50’s), and the fresh spring air, the damp fog, and the rain have arrived. For the past two days, it has been foggy in the morning, and the birds have actively joined together in choruses of morning chirping, singing, and general noise. The air is fresh, and morning sunrises are amazing! The cloudy, foggy, humid air colors the sunrays orange and yellow, and fills the city wit golden splendor. In the early afternoons, the temperature rises, and the general tension in the air is relieved when the big drops of warm water begin to fall, for a few hours. The cold, gray, bitter winter is being quickly transformed into the green and fresh spring, full of the new life that we await eagerly as the end of Lent approaches!

Though it is spring now, it certainly wasn’t last Wednesday, when I went to Slovakia! Following a very impromptu decision, I went to Slovakia with two friends in order to pick up Fr. Maciej Zięba, OP, from his vacation spot. My friend asked me, “hey, do you want to go to Slovakia tomorrow?” Caught off guard, I first hesitated, knowing that I would miss one of my classes, but then I thought to myself, “How often to I get a chance to go to the Slovakian Tatra Mountains, get to see another country, and go swimming at some natural hot springs?” So I went, and it was amazing. The purpose of the trip was to pick up Fr. Zieba from his vacation. He is a very well known priest, a close friend of Karol Wojtyla’s, and the former two-term provincial of the Krakow/Polish Dominican Order. He is also the founder of the Tertio Millennio Institute, and is responsible for bringing thinkers such as George Weigel, Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, and Michael Novak here for the Institute’s summer programs.

Our destination was Liptovsky Mikulas, a small city in the north of Slovakia, located in a picturesque valley, nestled between the “Tall Tatras” and the “Low Tatras.” (Tatry Wysokie and Tatry Niskie). Once again, I was able to experience the Polish road system (or lack thereof)! One of the biggest mistakes, in my opinion, is that the Polish government did not build an adequate road system after the fall of communism. (This problem dates back to the communists, who also did not focus on the road system). Unlike in places such as former East Germany, where the West Germans connected and built all of the freeways (autobahns) all the way to their borders, the Polish governments did not focus on the road and transportation infrastructure. Perhaps this negligence has to do with problems with the healthcare system, and economic problems in general, which forced the government to focus on what was more pressing at the time. Now, though, there is a situation in which the amount of cars on the road has doubled (at least—probably even tripled in the last twenty years), yet most of the roads are two to three lane highways. Admittedly, there are a few freeways in Poland, mostly toll roads, and these serve well, but they are only located on minimal stretches. For example, there is no freeway that joins Krakow to Warsaw, but only a three lane road, on which one can often find four lanes of traffic—the people drive much too fast for the conditions of the roads, given the cars that they have, causing a lot of accidents.

We found ourselves on E66, the international highway from Gdansk in the north of Poland, to at least Budapest, Hungary, in the south. The road was basically an old, winding, country road that had been paved, and some parts of it had horse-drawn buggies driving on it, surely local farmers. About thirty miles outside of Krakow, the road turned to this, and remained like this until the Slovakian border.

Once on the border, we were able to exchange our currency to the Slovak Korona (crown), which is about 1/10 of the value of each Zloty, so we all ended up with about 500 koronas, making us feel rich. Of course, this is a lot of money in Slovakia, because the country is very poor. Upon crossing the border, I immediately sensed that we were in a different country. First of all, the road improved. One thing that the communists did in Czechoslovakia was to build an infrastructure of transportation, in the early years after World War II. The most striking thing, though, was the change in scenery.

In southern Poland (podhale), the “gorale,” the local shepherds and “mountain men,” were very patriotic, and the communists were never really able to convince them about Marxist and socialist philosophy. Known for its hardiness and independence, neither was the region was affected so much by the farm collectives, nor by the focus on hard industry. On the whole, the local architecture remained, and the local way of life was preserved. This was obviously NOT true in Slovakia.

The deeper we drove into the mountains, the more beautiful it became. The road entered into the valley of the Orava River, a large mountain river fed by snow runoff and small streams. Above us rose the mountain peaks, some rocky, some wooded. The tallest ones were covered in a blanket of white snow. Looking around, one would think he is in a fairy tale. Every few kilometers, a Slovak village accompanied this picturesque view, with wooden huts (still occupied) that lined the streets, with barns filled with cows, horses, and chickens in the background. At one point in the valley, a sheer cliff jutted out from above the river, crowned with a 12th century intact castle. Apparently, this castle was unconquerable, the reason for its perfectly preserved state. The castle was gigantic—an entire village of towers rose above its walls, which were crowned with a huge battle fortress-like tower at the top of the cliff. The only way to access the castle, now a museum, is to climb a trail that must be at least at a thirty-degree angle.

Now for the TRUE beauty, though. Thanks to the communist focus on heavy industry in Slovakia, not one of these villages was without a factory. Imagine a fairy-tale setting, with a nice big cement factory right in the middle of the valley. The rule I noticed was, basically, if the village had a church tower, then it also had a smokestack. Upon crossing the border and entering into these beautiful valleys, the most striking thing was the change in architecture. The wooden, A-frame Polish mountain homes turned into social-realist cement block homes, each perfectly identical with the next, save maybe the colors, which would have been changed in the last fifteen years. In the middle of these valleys, it was not uncommon to see (and impossible to miss!) the nice fifteen to twenty story cement apartment building. The typical view was a beautiful steep, forested mountain, with a huge clear cut of trees down the middle, with a nice power plant in the front, next to the workers’ cement apartment buildings. Anybody who claims that communism is a good thing should be sent to this area of Slovakia—to see how beautiful the lasting effects of communism are. These villages and towns, the scenery, has been changed forever by these paper factories, power plants, cement factories, and minor factories, as well as the apartment buildings, more akin to those found in Warsaw or Gdansk, than in a scene from Lord of the Rings. What was visible more than anything was the degree of the communist system here in the former Czechoslovakia—a degree that the Polish model was never able to reach.

Another striking thing to see, like a scene straight from Orwell’s “1984,” were the megaphones located in each little village (I am informed that before 1989, they were topped with nice red stars, as a reminder of the true authority). The megaphones would play a riveting Soviet march in the morning, to wake people up, and then the speaker would announce the day’s work schedule. “Street A, today you will be working in field 6.” For me, as an American, but even as a Pole, familiar with the totalitarianism of Polish communism, it was still shocking to see the reality and extent of the aftermath in Slovakia. One can read about the system, perhaps sometimes even with a little bit of cynicism, but until one sees the reality, he does not understand the true human tragedy of epic proportions. The local traditions, the local culture, the local age-old customs were destroyed by fifty years of repression and indoctrination. What quite possibly could have been a flourishing area, similar to Bavaria or Switzerland, if it had been free to develop after World War II, is now left with the decrepit old factories, which will fall apart sooner, rather than later. It is left with a society and culture of people who have been destroyed—ethically, morally, and psychologically. The youth often despair, and don’t understand the reason for the “backwardness” of their regions, or countries; the generations that lived under the iron fist do not want to remember it. The shocking thing, though, is that some look back with nostalgia, since the current economic situation and daily life is very demanding and unstable. The region is now undergoing a transformation. Tourism is developing, for people like us three who went, and ski resorts, as well as other attractions are beginning to open. However, many of the old factory buildings sit empty, decaying away at an astonishing pace, a silent and eerie tribute to an era that one cannot forget, yet does not want to remember. Those factories deemed worthy to keep open have mostly been bought out by foreign companies (such as an Italian paper mill), and are operating on a limited scale. (Some of the factories were only half-functional, with one half operating and renovated, while the other half was empty and abandoned). However, the overall impression that I had was a very uneasy and depressed feeling. I could not help to wonder what will happen within the next twenty years, when many of these cement apartment buildings begin to fall apart, and there will be a mass shortage of housing (which is also a problem that will have to be dealt with in all of the communist-built buildings, such as Nowa Huta in Krakow).

Arriving at Tatralandia, the hot springs, I was greeted by an American flag, as well as a western fort, or “movie town.” It turned out that Tatralandia was an all-year resort, complete with room for 700 people to spend the night, in apartments, cabins, and rooms. Some of the attractions include thermal hot pools, saunas, water slides, a lazy river, the western town, and various shows and productions. It was clearly built within the last ten years, and is a very good example of a modern revival of the region. I was very impressed by the high standards of cleanliness and service, and the fact that everything is written in Polish, Slovakian, and English shows that they must have many tourists from both Poland and Western Europe. After picking up Fr. Zieba and taking a dive in the hot pools, we decided to drive back the same way that we came, and ended up seeing the beautiful remnants of the past era yet again…oh joy.

Back in Poland (after a short shopping stop for Slovakian beer, which happens to be very good, and costs about 60 cents per liter!), we stopped at an amazing Polish restaurant, called “Siwy Dym,” or “white smoke.” It was similar to the one we had gone to a few weeks ago after skiing. The interior was decorated with the traditional mountain wood and stone, with large, long, wooden tables and benches to sit on. We each ordered one dinner plate, but were shocked when we saw the size. I had pierogies (of course), which were very filling. My friend Lukasz had a plate of meats, with potatoes and three types of cabbage salad. We all gasped when we saw the size of his meal—which he did not finish, even after we helped him. I love to go to restaurants such as this one, because they highlight the traditional mountain culture, and also preserve it for the future, as well as share it in a very real way with westerners. I found it funny that, during the meal, the CEO of Polish National Television called Fr. Zieba to ask his advice on when to air Mel Gibson’s “The Passion” on TV. It was quite fun to think that we were having dinner with a Dominican who is known all over Poland. It was a very real way of showing me the humility of the man—here we were, a group of college students, eating at some mountain restaurant in southern Poland, with a man who wines and dines with the Pope, Weigel, and many other famous and well-known Catholics, both in and outside of Poland. He shared with us many stories from his life; only in his fifties, it is amazing to hear what Fr. Zieba has lived through. He told us about the dossier that he now has, but was formerly kept by the Polish UB, who kept detailed records of his activities during communist times. (Recently, a new book was published, which reveals the government agents in the Metropolitan Curia who spied on Bishop Wojtyła when he was here.)

There is so much more to say, and to write, such as my “insider’s view” of the 13th century Franciscan monastery, as well as my visit to Wawel Castle and my interesting meeting there with a priest I randomly ran into. But, those stories will have to wait. I’m off to lead a discussion, in English, for some of my Polish friends who want to practice their English skills. We will be discussing the role of the Church in the Polish government. Then, Tuesday night pizza….

Theology and Go Karts

It’s back to a Lent-as-usual after the most glorious and splendid feast of St. Joseph, husband of Mary! Here in the residence, we celebrated the feast in most fitting fashion—for dinner, I entered the dining room, only to find an amazing three course dinner! Sitting down at the table, clad with white tablecloth and flower-decorated napkins, I was pleased to find pork roast, potatoes, and olive hors d’oeuvres. Accompanying all of this was a fine French wine. For dessert, we had an amazing coffee and chocolate torte, filled with vanilla crème, peaches, and topped with grapes—quite amazing. All this, of course, was after I had come back from a long and tiring day, making it all the tastier!

Most Mondays are quite busy and tiring. I am trying to check out a few books from the famous Jagiellonian Library, but I am beginning to think that they are not famous for their manuscripts, the medieval collection, and for their building, but for the most possible bureaucracy that there could be in one place at the same time! Last week, my program, the Interdisciplinary Program in the Humanities and Social Sciences, was supposed to send a list of their students to the library, so that we could receive library cards that enable us to check out books and other materials. So, after waiting for half an hour in line, I came to the counter, where I was kindly informed that I couldn’t receive a library card, since I am not on any list that they have. Quite frustrating, considering that I have to check out a few history books and write a paper on them! Unfortunately, I am not surprised by the fact that it is so hard for me to get anything “taken care of.” The word for “taken care of,” zalatwic, probably only exists in the Polish language with the connotation, which it implies: a way of “taking care of things” somehow, though it seems impossible with all of the bureaucracy and obstacles. We use this word to talk about “taking care” of paperwork, or bureaucracy somewhere, or to “take care of someone” (in the negative sense, like getting rid of them, or preventing them from getting in my way). Anyway, the word is probably closely linked to the other Polish saying, “Polak potrawi,” which means that a “Pole is always able to.” This refers, cynically, to something completely absurd that somebody did, or it refers to the often-ingenious ways that people are able to get something done, despite all of the difficulties. Sorry for the slight tangent. What I WAS saying, is that it is not surprising that it is sometimes hard to deal with getting basic things done here, because there are still many remnants of the old communist system. Many public institutions (such as the Jagiellonian Library) have not yet out-grown the old mentality of slow, inefficient, sluggish functioning. The library collection is not yet centrally catalogued (anything before 1990 has to be looked up in an index file), and the efficiency of the workers there is less than admirable. But, hopefully as the new generation grows up in a country and society free from the scourge of communism, the way that things function will slowly change. However, knowing how American bureaucracies function sometimes, I am not too hopeful, and also cannot blame the people here too much. I won’t even get into how “fun” it was to change my major at Notre Dame…

My classes are going well, and I am enjoying them a lot. I have started teaching English, as a private tutor, to two students. One man is a contractor, who will be going to the United States in a month, and has never taken English. He wants to learn the basic skills needed to communicate. My other student is my friend Kasia, a doctoral student and the director of the Tertio Millennio Institute. She is one of the last of the generation that was required to study Russian in schools, so she never learned English formally. I will also be leading a “Native Speaker Discussion” here in the house on Tuesdays, providing an opportunity for those who know English to practice it.

A few classes ago, we had fun in my Polish class by talking about various crazy things in the Polish language. For example, people always complain about how many consonants are found in a row in Polish words. Well, here’s the word that has the most consonants in a row: wszczniesz, which is a way of saying “beginning.” Also, the longest grammatically possible word is: Konstantynopolitanczykiewiczowna, which would be a “young woman whose father’s last name derives its name from the city of Constantinople.” Weird.

I am also enjoying my theology courses a lot. Last week, I was the “highlight” of one of my lectures, and felt like a specimen to be observed and questioned at a freak show. No, seriously now. Father Kupczak, the Dominican professor of my Theology of the Body course had asked me to prepare a short (fifteen minute) presentation on the state of marriage and the family in the United States. He asked me to present my thoughts for the reasons that marriages and families are falling apart, and to also explain why I think that the Theology of the Body is the solution to these problems. Of course, this being one of my favorite topics and my passion, I jumped on the idea, and prepared a short presentation, discussing the problems, as well as presenting some statistics. My presentation went well (ended up being about 20 minutes), but then the floor was opened for questions. Before we knew it, the ENTIRE lecture was over, and I ended up being in front of the class for an hour an a half, answering questions about the United States, the Church in the US, as well as listening to thoughts of the Polish students about the state of the local culture here. The class was very fruitful, and concluded by Fr. Kupczak saying, “Now, I’m not going to hide it from you all. My goal is to begin an institute, or some sort of organization of groups that are devoted to spreading the Theology of the Body throughout Poland.” He praised the United States a lot for the serious discussion and reflection that is being carried out in our country “about what went wrong, and how we can fix it.”

Particularly interesting and enlightening was Fr. Kupczak’s discussion of consumerist materialism. Having received his doctorate at the John Paul II Institute for Marriage and Family Life Studies in Washington, D.C., he is quite familiar with our cultural situation. When some of the student’s questioned the real impact of “materialism and consumerism” on the make-up of families and family life, and asked about how it could have such a profound effect, Father explained the huge difference between American consumerism and Polish consumerism. Particularly interesting was his criticism of some clergy in Poland who constantly attack materialism as the source of evil. Sometimes, in Poland, those who are deemed “materialists” are simply those people who want to ensure a decent standard of life for themselves, which, given the cultural climate, is very hard and requires very much work. Thus, always criticizing materialism in Poland may not be the solution to the culture’s problems, since there is maybe about one percent of the population that is actually rich enough to spend freely. Otherwise, most people must struggle very much to make ends meet. The constant spending and “having” mentality of the majority of Americans is hard to understand for many Poles. For example, it often happens (I know this from personal experience), that the poor in the US would rather go without food than a cell phone, trendy clothing, or a nice car. It is a matter of priorities. We live in a culture that is so entrenched in a spending and “acquiring mentality,” that often people are willing to forego basic necessities in order to “fit in.” In Poland, it is a struggle to even make enough money for the basic necessities, and if somebody might have a car or two, a nice apartment, and a comfortable life, then there might be more of a tendency to dub such a person a “materialist,” even though he is simply living a basically comfortable life, below that of American standards of a “comfortable life.” Given his distinction between the “Polish materialism,” and “American consumerism,” I think many of the students were better able to see how American materialism breaks up families—from the very first years of a child’s life.

The presentation was very productive, I think, since man students were able to have questions about the “state of Theology in the United States” answered, as well as basic ideas about the culture, and how it pertains to marriage and the family. One thing that I have noticed is that Poles are much more closed than Americans. When asked about how one can “bring these intellectual concepts to the level of a basic ‘soccer fan’ in the streets,” I explained that many people in the United States give personal testimonies. Many speakers will often appeal to youth by telling their own stories of pain, betrayal, and conversion. This way, people can identify with the person speaking to them, who provides a good example and hope for the future (I am thinking in particular of speakers such as Dave Sloan, or Christopher West). However, the American “openness” seems to be a cultural trait that is lacking here. It would be very rare for somebody to write a book such as “Rome Sweet Home” by Scott Hahn, in the hopes of inspiring people with their personal story. There is a tendency to be more closed here, which is definitely a new concept to me, who am used to being among the “Notre Dame Family,” where everybody seems to know everything about everybody else (which can also not always be a good thing!) Overall, the class day was very encouraging, exciting, and we will have to see what comes of it in the future. Who knows—maybe somehow, I will be involved in the spread of the Theology of the Body in Poland, which is actually less known here than it is in the United States. As George Weigel said in Witness to Hope, “The Theology of the Body is a theological time bomb that will explode sometime in the beginning of the third millennium,” and it will change the way that we look at virtually every aspect of our faith!

As should be apparent by now, my time here is not only filled with classes and intellectual discussions. On Thursday last week, two of my friends from the residence and I went go-carting. It was a lot of fun, though quite scary, since I had never been on a “professional” go-cart. We paid to go for ten minutes, which seemed like a rip-off, and like not a lot of time at all, however, after the ten-minute race, I got up sweaty, tense, and my muscles ached! It is amazing how concentrated one has to be when going forty miles an hour, a few inches off of the ground, and around 180 degree turns. My arms were killing me from all of the vibrations on the steering column. It was very fun, however, and I am now prepared to go next time, with the knowledge of what to expect.

Last Friday evening proved a to be a very nice evening, since I went to the “marathon” of the above-described Lenten devotions at the Franciscan Basilica. Afterwards, a few of my new friends and I went to grab a quick coffee, and then…off to the Krakow Symphony for Schumann and Beethoven. The symphony is located right downtown, and of course, young Karol Wojtyla frequented the building as student. On October 15th, 1938, he took part in his first poetry reading in the building, which was the “Catholic House of Culture” before the war. There, he recited a few of his early poetic works, and won acclaim from many Cracovian families. Immediately after the war, the building also housed classes for the seminary for a few months, which Karol Wojtyla attended as a seminarian. It is amazing to think about all of the places here in Krakow that he visited, frequented, and was a part of. The thing that never ceases to amaze me is to think about all of the history that the buildings, themselves, have been witnesses to! There are entire books written within the stones, the bricks, the walls of these silent stone witnesses, immune to the tides of politics, war, and turmoil. Amazing.

On Saturday, I went to the Tertio Millennio Institute to a discussion on Pope Benedict’s encyclical, Deus Caritas Est. Though I could write a whole essay on my thoughts from the discussion, I won’t, for the sake of time! There were about eleven of us, and the topic of the discussion (which turned into a debate, at times!) was “Love: A gift, or a duty?” It was great to be able to hear the various perspectives and interpretations of the encyclical, from people ranging from theology professors to sociology students.

On Sunday, I attended another event at the Institute (which seems to be sucking me into more and more activities!) It was time for the monthly “papal Mass,” with a guest celebrant, this week, Fr. Nencek, the spokesman for the Metropolitan Curia of Krakow. After Holy Mass, four of us were able to have coffee with him, and informally talk to him about his job, and about diocesan events being planned. When Cardinal Dziwisz was elevated to the office of Cardinal, the Curia received 103 phone calls from world leaders, ambassadors, and others offering words of congratulations and best wishes. Afterwards, he put the phones off the hook! His job must be very stressful, involving constant travel, interviews, and requiring a spotless memory. He told us about the importance of having to remember “what he said where,” so that there could be no contradictory statements, causing controversy. What a job, and in a diocese like Krakow! He also told us about AMAZING plans for the commemoration of the death of our Holy Father, John Paul II, which will be remembered in a very special way here in Krakow. But, as to the details, I will wait to report on them when they happen—let’s just say: city-wide stations of the cross, and a live feed and address from Pope Benedict at 9:37 p.m. I’m excited to be here, and know that I am very blessed to be here during this special time!

Enough for now! I am going, as usual, out to pizza and (no) beer, since it’s Lent. Until next time, I’ll keep my eyes open for interesting and unusual things.

Lent Continues...

Where do I even start today? So much has happened in the past week-and-a-half, that it is almost impossible to explain all of my experiences, activities, and thoughts. I guess I will start with the classic conversation starter. The weather here is still snowy and cold, although signs of spring are in the air. This is evident by the increasing amount of birds singing each morning, the longer days, as well as the freshness in the cold air. Krakow’s weather is quite unique, since the city itself is in a little depression, a valley of sorts, in the surrounding hills. The temperature tends to be warmer down here, and there tends to be less snow than in the surrounding hills, even a few miles away. Over the weekend, however, I was about fifty-five kilometers east of Warsaw, where the country is still seeped in the winter stillness, and about a foot and a half of snow covers the ground. From what I have been told, the winter this year is unusually long, and usually by this time, the weather tends to be warmer, with clear buds on the trees, and the first signs of flowers coming up. Not yet, though. Everything is at a standstill, the days seem to get longer and longer, and yet the cold refuses to leave, and in fact, it snowed a little bit yesterday morning. Which, I guess is a good thing, since I would like to go skiing again.

Two weekends ago, I went skiing to a little “resort,” which consisted of five rope tows, along the length of one big run. It was an interesting experience. Having grown up in Utah, I have been skiing all of my life, and I was not expecting anything good at all. I was surprised, though, when I found the run quite long, about eight hundred feet in vertical rise, and about ¾ of a mile long. Four of us from the residence drove there, to a little village called Laskowa, about an hour southeast of Krakow. On the drive over, I was especially skeptical about the place, since it seemed that, the further we went, there were more patches of mud, and less snow. It wasn’t until we arrived in the hills that the snow cover changed, but hardly enough to be good enough to ski on. However, when we crossed over a ridge to the little valley that the run was in, all of the sudden, the rainy, warm weather changed to a small winter storm. The temperature was about 28 degrees Fahrenheit, and the snowflakes in the air made the surrounding hills look as if they were in a completely different world than the one which we had just come from.

Upon arrival, I rented some of the top-of-the-line Rossignol racing skis, figuring that I had the chance to try whatever kind of ski I wanted. Of course, I didn’t know what the conditions were going to be like. The snow was quite icy, and there were very many people, so in the end, it was very good that I had rented these skis, since they had very sharp edges, and allowed me to maneuver easily and dodge all of the people. So, it was an interesting first experience. Rather than chair lifts, like in all of our Utah resorts, the lifts where rope tows, which pulled skiers up the hill at a rather grueling pace.

After skiing, Kuba, one of the guys we went with, who happens to be from the area we were skiing in, drove us to a little traditional restaurant that he knew about. There, I was able to have some authentic Polish country food. I had some “Zurek,” which is also known as “white barszcz,” a type of sour soup, with eggs, potatoes, and kielbasa in it. It was very delicious, complete with homemade kielbasa. For the main dish, I was served “Hunter’s Pierogies,” filled with meat, and topped with mushroom sauce and melted sheep’s cheese. Needless to say, it was all very delicious! The restaurant was new, though built of wood and stone in the traditional mountain style, a typical example of the many “inns” that have come into existence since the fall of communism. They are usually located on pieces of property that people have owned for a long time, which they have decide to develop, and contribute to both the preservation of the traditional culture, but also to share it with tourists. The very idea that somebody could to this, of course, had been completely foreign in the communist world of centralized farming cooperatives, and generic “Restaurants.”

So, overall, our ski trip was very educational and rewarding. We got some physical exercise, I got to see a part of Poland that I had never been in, and I was able to simply get away from the chaos that accompanies life in a busy city. In fact, it was my first trip outside of Krakow during my whole time here (not counting the monastery, which is only 8 kilometers from here). Sunday of the same weekend was also very interesting.

I was able to go to Mass at the Franciscan Basilica, which dates back to the 13th century, when the Franciscans entered Poland only a few years after the death of St. Francis. In the evening, I was able to attend the “bitter laments,” or “bitter passions,” a traditional Polish Lenten devotion. The devotion is very beautiful, and dates back to the eighteenth century, when the Missionaries of St. Vincent de Paul began the devotion in Warsaw at the Church of the Holy Cross (now a minor basilica). The devotion is comprised of three parts, and consists of texts that are spoken and sung, introduced by prayers, and carried out in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, exposed in a monstrance on the altar. Most people kneel for the entire devotion (which last about 45 minutes to an hour)! The texts are very beautiful, pious texts which focus on the Lord’s suffering and passion, and include the “soul’s conversation with the Lord,” as well as texts that focus on the suffering that Mary faced as she watched her Son give Himself out of love on the cross. “Dear and elect Son, share your wounds with your mother. It is I, dear Son, whom have carried you in my heart, who have served you faithfully. Speak to your mother, that she may be consoled, for already you leave me, oh my dear hope.” The sung texts are then interrupted by a Lenten homily, given by a priest of friar, and then conclude with Benediction. Needless to say, in a country like Poland, the church is packed, with people kneeling, sitting, and standing, wherever they can find a free spot.

Of course, another Lenten devotion worthy of mention, and unique to Krakow, is the Lenten devotion of the Archbrotherhood of the Passion of the Lord. This organization of laymen dates back to the sixteenth century, when the archbrotherhood was founded by one of the bishops of Krakow. Their solemn service is a reminder of man’s mortality and depraved state without Christ, and a very striking reminder to repent. The service takes place in the Chapel of the Passion, which is the chapel of the archbrotherhood that is now administered by the Franciscans. It is attached to the side of the basilica of St. Francis. Entering into the chapel from the rear, the members of the archbrotherhood, donning black, hooded cloaks, process in, chanting, “Memento homo mori,” or “remember death, oh man.” Now, when I say “black hooded cloaks,” I mean KKK style, complete with long, pointed hoods with slits for the eyes. The symbolism, of course, is that these are the clothes that executioners wore, clearly evident by the fact that the members of the archbrotherhood process in carrying stakes. Two of the stakes are crowned with human skulls, and the rest resemble the instruments of Christ’s passion, such as the spear with the sponge soaked in hyssop.

The members of the archbrotherhood chant this phrase repeatedly, and then alternate with the priest, who kneels at the altar, in front of the Blessed Sacrament, and prays in reparation for all of the sins of mankind, for the sins of the country, and for all of the individual sins for which Christ chose to suffer and die. In the middle of the chapel, lies a huge crucifix, before which members of the archbrotherhood prostrate themselves completely, lying on the floor in the shape of a cross. This, of course, visibly expresses the depraved state of man, and the power of redemption—that God the Father, in His great love for mankind, chose not to condemn men, and allow them to justly suffer what they deserve, but rather, that He chose to “send His only begotten Son,” who endured the pain and suffering of all of the individual sins of all people throughout all of the ages.

At the end of the devotions in the side chapel, the black-hooded men lead the faithful in a Eucharistic procession. The presiding priest carries the monstrance under a canopy, through the main basilica and into the Franciscan monastery courtyard. There, young boys and girls join the procession, carrying banners depicting various saints, as well as images of Mary. The procession sets out through the courtyard, where one is surrounded by huge portraits of medieval (and modern) bishops of Krakow, which gradually fade as the incense from the thurible fills the dark hallways. Then, Franciscan friars begin the solemn singing, in Latin, of the traditional Marian sequence, the Stabat Mater. Processing in this fashion, the few hundred people enter into the basilica, and the procession ends at the high altar of St. Francis, in the front of the basilica. The members of the archbrotherhood process out, and the priest concludes with benediction and reposition.

Ultimately, one could definitely say that all of these beautiful Lenten devotions are every Protestant’s nightmare, and would be very uncomfortable for many American Catholics. They illustrate, in a very graphic way indeed, that the “liturgical renewal” of the Second Vatican Council did not “do away with devotions,” like many western Catholic claim. In fact, these devotions gain their strength and find their source in the Liturgy—are they not all focused around the presence of the Lord in the Eucharist?

They are present in Poland as a result of traditions that date back many centuries, of severe penance and fasting during the time of preparation for the coming of the Lord. In the middle ages and the period of the Renaissance, many people in Poland would fast on bread, water, and dried fish for the entirety of Lent. Perhaps such extreme fasts are not called for in the modern day, and may not even be recommended as the appropriate penance for Lent (and are certainly not practiced anymore), there is still a sense of serious preparation. Lines in the confessionals, attendance at Mass, and the amount of Lenten devotions all increase. The above devotions are only two examples of what takes place at one parish here. There are hundreds of churches, and each church has many, many Lenten days of recollection, organized by the so-called “movements.” For example, the Neo-Catechumenate Way at the Franciscan Basilica is hosting a catechetical series on Deus Caritas Est, in preparation for Easter, and most especially for the coming of the Holy Father in May.

So perhaps the gray, cold, dreary weather right now, here in Krakow, is a very fitting reminder of this time of year. The purpose of Lent, as we can see from these various devotions, is to prepare ourselves for the rising of the Divine Sun. Unlike the sun, which may or may not come out soon, we know that we have a Son who will rise, and has redeemed us from our wretched condition. Though our present life is marked with suffering, and trial; though it is marked with hard work and weariness, we look forward to the day when “all things will be made new,” and when the hard work, sacrifice, and weariness of this life will be exchanged for eternal splendor, glory, and rest. Until then, we must continue on this road, aware of our historical reality, and conscious of our final destination. Perhaps we can make this time of Lent, this travel through the cold, gray, and unrewarding, an intense time of preparation for the day when the Son will rise and reveal the beauty of creation and a redeemed humanity to us. The words of the archbrotherhood resound in my ears, though, and serve as a conscious reminder of the purpose of these forty days: Memento homo mori.

Poland and the EU

Wow, we are already well into March, and I haven’t even begun to journal. It has been a crazy past week, with many, many activities, and the constant awareness of, “I need to write a reflection,” but I simply haven’t been able to do it.

Lent began with a trip to the Benedictine Monastery at Tyniec, where I had been about two weeks ago. I liked it so much, and I decided that, in the spirit of Lenten penitence and sacrifice, I would make a pilgrimage there to attend Ash Wednesday Mass. The liturgy was amazing. Though the church is only about eight miles away, it takes about an hour to get to, since there is no easy mass transit route to get there. From my residence, I have to first take a trolley to the old part of Krakow, then I have to walk across a bridge on the Vistula, and only then do I board a bus, and ride it for about forty five minutes to get to the Abbey of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul. The abbey church also serves as the local parish church, and I was lucky to get there early enough to get a seat, since the church was so full that there were even people sitting on the steps of the Baroque ambo. The abbot of the monastery, donning miter and crosier, celebrated the Mass, assisted by about fifteen to twenty concelebrants. After the Mass, Fr. Jerzy (see above entry) stopped me, and asked me to wait. He took me inside the courtyard area of the cloister, and gave me a small book with pictures entitled, “Protect the Good,” a series of pictures from the life of the monastery, intertwined with John Paul II’s letter to mark the 950th anniversary of the founding of the abbey. Let me quote from the letter:

“There are forces today that have a powerful means at their disposal and the spirit of Christian Europe is inconvenient, is a stumbling block for them. Therefore they want to destroy it by all possible means. But can we go so far as to be deprived of this great heritage? Can we renounce it so easily—as Europeans and Poles? What other foundation can secure support and survival for us?”

These words, though spoken twelve years ago, seem to be even more important today than they were then. For truly, Europe, and Poland to a lesser extent, faces a true challenge: what will become of its Christian heritage, its very cultural and social foundation? Already in Western Europe, we are seeing the growing problems of strong non-Christian minorities, and the consequential rise of new nationalist movements. Already, we can see the effects of the rejection of Christian morality and standards, such as the high rate of divorce, cohabitation, children born out of wedlock, and the falling birth rate. Indeed, some of these problems are apparent in Poland now as well. Simply put, Poland is dying. Everyday, there are less and less Poles, since the birth rate is about 1.68, well below replacement level. What does this mean? In Western Europe, it means a growing and rapid influx of laborers from Islamic countries, coming to fill badly needed jobs that are not being filled by the local population. In Poland, it means strains on the economy, on the healthcare system, and on Poland’s future as an influential nation in the European Union, since the population is aging, and there are less and less young people to fill jobs, to provide for the elderly, and to rise to positions of power and influence. In reality, the situation is very similar to that of Western Europe. There are major differences, however.

In my humble opinion, I think that Western Europe’s chances of regaining a large Christian majority, not of those who call themselves Christians, but of those who actually live their faith, are fairly low, at least in the next century. Though there are young groups of faithful Catholics, and some evangelical Protestants, it will be along time before they are able to actually have an influence on the culture, on society, and on politics. As it is, a sort of “spirit of indifference” has taken hold of the people; the culture has adopted a post-modernist mentality, where everybody is entitled to their opinion, and as long as they have a set worldview, then everything is ok. The most important thing these days is to be educated, and to stand for something, be it gay rights, the environment, or cage-free chickens. God forbid that anybody should propose that there is an objective truth though. There truly is a “dictatorship of relativism,” as Pope Benedict observed. As long as one stands for something, some modern idea that will serve for “progress,” then everything is fine. “Progress” has become the goal in Brussels, be it progress in space technology (the EU plans to join efforts with Russia to send a manned craft into orbit soon), or progress in “human rights,” such as homosexual marriage, which each member country “must” adopt. Of course, then there is the question of what laws from the Euro-Parliament are binding, and which are not, since technically the member countries have autonomous constitutions, and are entitled to their own laws, yet if these constitutions contradict the European constitution, then its laws must be followed. Thus, the European constitution itself is contradictory (and sort of a lame-duck, since it has not been ratified due to France’s rejection of it last summer, and nobody really knows what to do with it). The funny thing is, though, that after it was signed, the original copy was launched into space, as a sign of victory, of new beginnings, of a quasi-divine document to guarantee freedom and progress. The only place that the original is located now, is in the heavens above this New Continental Order. Except that it was a failure. And as the constitution looks down upon Europe from its orbit in space, Europe seems to be paralyzed, with a growing split between the poor and rich countries, and a rising sense of a loss of identity among member states.

The difference between Poland and the West is that in Poland, there is a spirit of optimism, and hope. The lukewarm, lazy, and nonchalant attitude of Western Europe is not present here at all, possibly for a few reasons. First of all, Poles have always been very political. Looking at the history of Poland, and especially at the exceptional rights of the nobility in the early modern period, one can see an avid interest in politics, quarreling, and a genuine concern about the welfare of the Polish state (intermingled with trying to assure personal gains, of course). The Polish nobility enjoyed unprecedented freedoms, compared to Western Europe, and were always able to have a say in the direction of their country, as is evident in the three hundred years of electoral kings. Yet, the elections were always characterized by bitter argument, quarreling, and debate as to who should be king. Many times, there were even two kings elected, and whoever could come to be crowned first would end up the king. Perhaps these elections were the origin of the saying, “where there are two Poles, there are three opinions.” Either way, this spirit of quarrel, debate, and interest in politics has remained to this day, and so Poles are actively involved in daily debates about the government, about the EU, and about the future of Poland.

Secondly, I would say that communism, for all it was worth, might have at least been an indirect cause of optimism. While the West was going through the sexual revolution, the change in worldviews of the 1960’s, the Polish people and the eastern communist states were suffering under the persecution of totalitarianism, repressed and persecuted. Now that communism is gone, Poles can finally actually have a chance to take part in politics, and in the political process. Compared to the United States, even, it is very easy for an ordinary person, like a school teacher, to be elected to the Polish Sejm, the legislative body. What requires money in the United States requires good wits, rational argument, and optimism in Poland. Thus, while Western Europe stagnates and faces a general apathy for life and culture, Poland grows in optimism, which the last presidential elections show. The post-communist SLD party, after having nearly 70% support when it came to power in 1995, lost the last election, and gained a support of 4%. The new president, Lech Kaczynski, belongs to the Law and Justice party, a party that prides itself on preserving Polish national identity through an embracing of Poland’s cultural, religious, and historical heritage. Prime Minister Marcinkiewicz enjoys a popular support of 70%! Why? Because the new government has awakened in Poles the spirit of pride in their country, and in their culture. They have reflected upon the sacrifices the previous generations made, such as in the Warsaw Uprising, which has sort of become a political symbol of the “new Poland.” They have resisted the homosexual agenda, for which Western Europe, and especially France, hates Poland. As President of Warsaw, Kaczynski banned a gay parade in the city, in which about a few hundred Poles from around the country wanted to participate, joined by delegates sent here by the EU from Germany and Denmark. Though the media and the EU try to heavily push the liberal agenda on Poland, their efforts have been fruitless so far, as shown by the presence of a few hundred activists from a country of thirty eight million people. The Polish people and government resist.

Which brings me to reason number three that distinguishes Poland from the rest of the EU. Faith. The faith of the Poles has undergone trial and persecution for centuries, and yet has continued in strength. The “blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church,” and as Fr. Jerzy Popieluszko, who was brutally murdered by the communist authorities for preaching freedom, said in 1984, “If one were take a handful of Polish soil, and squeeze it, the blood of Polish martyrs would trickle out onto his hand.” Indeed, Poland has probably had more unnamed martyrs than any other country, be it during the bloody Cossack uprisings of the 17th century, the Austrian, Russian, and Prussian partitions of the eighteenth century, which wiped Poland off the map of Europe until 1918, or during the 20th century, when Poland was the battleground of three wars, only to end up under the influence of the Soviets, largely due to the concessions of Roosevelt. Throughout all of this, the Church stood strongly and resisted, be it through the strong leaders such as Karol Wojtyla, or Cardinal Wyszinski, or the saints whose acts of love were only visible to God, such as the “martyr of charity,” St. Maximilian Kolbe, or the messenger of Divine Mercy, St. Faustyna. In the face of repression, the Poles had to place their hope in God, who was so often their only hope in the face of terrible darkness and suffering. This faith of the Poles remains today. For example, Poland currently produces one third of Europe’s vocations. While the West wonders what to do with its churches, and places like Amsterdam are converting church buildings into bars, nightclubs, and brothels, the Polish churches are full, and new shrines are being continuously built. An example is the new Shrine of Divine Providence, being built in Warsaw, or the Shrine to Our Lady of Lichen, a new shrine that was built, and is the seventh largest church in the world (as far as I remember). Why, then, are the divorce rates rising, the birth rates falling, and the population dying?

“Nobody can lead a life free from temptation,” St. Augustine once said. Perhaps more people have lost their faith in Poland in the last fifteen years than in all of the years of communism. The western materialist culture and consumerist outlook on life is taking hold of the country. When the market was starved, western companies saw it as the perfect opportunity to make big money, and came with their French “hypermarkets,” German pornography, and American restaurants and investments. Many people have fallen prey to the power of money. The Church has become an obstacle to their consciences, an inconvenience that tells them what they “have to do.” The problem in the Church is not the “spirit of dissent,” so often present in the U.S., but rather, a spirit of complacency. People are baptized, they go to Church a few times a year, and “God is fine with it.” There are, however, many, many so-called “movements” which are active in many parishes, especially here in Krakow, and also in the entire country. Perhaps Poland will be spared, to an extent, from the “mustard seed” model of the Church, which Cardinal Ratzinger suggested a number of years ago. Whereas in the West, the faith is now found in small, scattered groups, that are strong in their faith, here in Poland, that model is not yet in place. Perhaps it never will be. The younger generation, like in the United States, is very split in their opinions and beliefs, but those who understand their cultural heritage are very actively fighting to defend it, and will not give in to the utilitarian and materialistic approach to life in the West. They understand and have taken to heart John Paul’s message at Tyniec, as well as his universal teachings. Truly, Poland cannot “go so far as to be deprived of this great heritage. Can we renounce it so easily—as Europeans and Poles? What other foundation can secure support and survival for us?”

On that note, I leave to go to my Polish Language class, which makes almost six hours of lectures on Mondays!! I will have to write about my weekend skiing excursion next time.