Communists, Cardinals, and Chants

Well, here I am again, after a very exciting and productive weekend. Schoolwork is beginning to pick up, as I begin all of my classes this week, at the Jagiellonian University. I am taking a class in history of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in the Early Modern period, which was a time marked by Poland’s “Golden Age,” as well as economic and political success, until the partitions of 1795. In addition to this class, I will also be taking History of the 20th Century in Central Europe, and a class in Polish language. After my Polish language class yesterday, I met Alex from Ukraine, Zofia from Hamburg, Germany, and Olga from Belarus. It was neat talking to them, and I am looking forward to talking to them. Judging by various comments, Alex and Olga seem to hold the typical stereotype about Americans—that we are all rich. It was pretty funny, since I know that the Orientation Packet that we received at Notre Dame said, “most people perceive Americans as rich…” I guess that I learned from personal experience. (They thought that I have a car and that I must live in a villa, since I told them what part of the city I live in). Now granted, it is a nicer part of the city, but I don’t think that they realize that I am a student, just like them. In fact, college education is free in Europe, so I think that there are probably many European students who have more money than American college students. But, I am looking forward to getting to know them better, as well as the other students in my class.

On Friday night, Adam, my friend from the residence, and I went to the Church of Mary, the Mother of God and Queen of Poland, in Nowa Huta. This Church is otherwise known as the “Ark of the Lord,” and was made famous church for the long battle fought by the local workers, represented by Bishop/Archbishop/Cardinal Wojtyla, who stood up to the communist authorities. Nowa Huta was to be the ideal city, built by the government as the perfect community of the model society that they sought to create (a real-life 1984). The designers of the city saw it as a “new renaissance,” and through their urban plan, they sought to create a Godless city, where the new faith would be faith in the ability of the Polish worker to work for good, for the building of a better and more ordered society. Of course, almost immediately, in 1957, the new steelworkers demanded that a church be built, and erected a steel cross on a field just outside from the new Central Square, a plaza surrounded by socio-realist buildings, trademarks of the Stalinist era. The workers faced great opposition from the government, which forced them to take down the cross. When they refused, a series of armed conflicts began in 1960, between the peaceful protesters, and the milicja, or the communist police, who shot rubber bullets at them, and hosed them down with water cannons.

It was only through the intervention of the archbishop that the cross was finally allowed to remain in place, where Mass continued to be celebrated outside, under the open skies. After many years of struggle and toil, much sacrifice, and prayer, the faith of the Poles was finally victorious, when in 1967 the government gave permission to build a new church. However, due to the lack of building materials, money, and the fact that the church was built entirely by the local workers, it would not be until ten years later that the church would be completed, and consecrated by Cardinal Wojtyla. Of course, none of the workers who grew to love their bishop because of his resilient faith and perseverance in the face of opposition knew that he would be leaving just months later, to succeed Peter as the Roman Pontiff! The steelworker’s bishop would leave to become the world’s Pope. This battle was a gigantic victory, for it showed that true freedom can only come from Christ, and that the genuine and most authentic desires of the human heart cannot be suppressed. No utopian ideology can ever take the place of the longing for true freedom that is found in man, as a result of his very nature of being created in the image and likeness of God. Since man was created to take part in the inner life of God, the voice of Truth always arises in his conscience, and in his heart, and the voice of Truth beckons him to be bold and courageous, even in the face of persecution and intolerance.

It was amazing to be at this church. Though I must say that the church is one of ugliest that I have seen, I refrain from complaining and criticizing it too much, because of the captivating story and history of its coming into existence. I think that two factors may have to do with why it is built the way it is. First of all, the complete lack of materials contributed to a very limited design, designed more for pure functionality and simplicity, rather than for form and beauty. It is made mostly of rock, concrete, steel, and class, in the shape of Noah’s Ark, supplemented inside with a gigantic modern bronze sculpture of the crucified Christ. Though it isn’t too beautiful and doesn’t raise one’s mind to God with ease, the church still has Eucharistic Adoration, as well as the usual Polish dose of daily Masses, or about six to eight each day.
Secondly, the church is simply another example of a Catholic architecture that gave into the modernist spirit of the 1960’s, which, surprisingly, also existed in Poland. However, the majority of the architecture was the massive, heavy, block architecture of the Stalinist era, so perhaps a modernist edifice brought to mind the spirit of the West, and the freedom enjoyed there. Now we may look back upon these buildings, and ask, “What were these people thinking?” However, I think that at the time, perhaps this western design might have brought hope to the people, and helped to remind them that the communist reality was not going to last for long. It was a way for the Poles to seek to also progress forward in the modern world, though the country seemed to be stuck in a downward spiral, as the totalitarian regime, the “utopia,” began to spiral downwards at an ever faster pace. Nobody questioned if the communism would fall; everyone knew it would. The question was a matter of when, and perhaps drawing upon western influences, which we can judge more objectively in hindsight, was at the time a way to look forward to a brighter future.

Either way, it was amazing to be at the church, and to think of all of the suffering, all of the struggle that occurred on the very spot that I was standing. Of course, then the church was in the middle of a field. Now, it is on a suburban street, surrounded by communist-era apartments, which may have been built there as a result of the proximity of the church. After hearing the bells ring the Angelus, and attending Mass, we headed back to our trolley, walking briskly along the cold and gray streets of this communist dream. Some utopia, I thought.
Closer to utopia, or perhaps an “ideal communism,” was the one thousand-year-old Benedictine Abbey at Tyniec that I visited on Saturday. Located about eight miles outside of Krakow, on the other side of the Vistula River, the monastery sits on the top of a granite cliff, overlooking the surrounding countryside, and facing the Camaldolese Monastery on the other side of the river. On my way to the monastery, I found out that the busses only run there about every forty-five minutes to an hour, so I decided to stroll around the area where I was waiting for the bus. I found myself in a district of Krakow named “Debniki,” on the southern bank of the river and just across from Wawel Castle. I had always been fascinated by the tall concrete tower that always seemed to dominate the skyline, so I trekked over across the ice-covered streets (they didn’t seem to plow the road on this side of Krakow). I seemed to be walking into the Krakow of the 1930’s, since the streets were very quiet. I could hear the birds chirping (a sign of the Spring that is coming upon us), and see the old ladies, wrapped up in their “babushka” scarves, walking along the streets with their groceries, while mothers pushed strollers with their little babies. In a few minutes, I found myself in front of St. Stanislaus Kostka Church, run by the Salesian priests. Inside, I ran into a priest, who showed me the painting of Our Lady in front of which young Karol Wojtyla used to pray when he attended Mass at this parish, as a student. I also learned that this was the parish in which he offered his first official Mass. He lived just down the street, in a little house on the bank of the Vistula. I was able to see this house later, which is also the house in which his father died. Until he was ordained, he lived in the house, and walked to the university, to work at the Solvay factory, as well as to Mass at the parish. It was amazing thinking about it. Here I was, in the middle of Krakow, in the year 2006, walking the same streets, and seeing the same things that Karol saw when he was a student, like I am now. I wondered about where he ate, where exactly he would walk. Did he walk across the same bridge as I did, or did he walk a different way? Did the church look the same when he went there? All of these questions filled my mind. I could definitely feel his presence near me, encouraging me in my studies, and encouraging me to stay close to God in the midst of my activities here. Ironically, my next route was also a route that he often traveled: to the monastery.

Soon after I got on the bus, which finally arrived, the sight of open snow-covered fields, and small country farmhouses greeted me. Twenty minutes later, I was standing in the main street of the little town of Tyniec, where everybody greeted each other on the streets, and old ladies walked with their shopping, the treasures of their “long excursion” to the city. I found Benedictine Street, and then proceeded to walk toward the hill, upon which towered a huge two-towered church, and a large abbey. After walking up the hill, and finding myself high above the Vistula River below, I entered through the first gate into a courtyard. Then, I had to walk through to another courtyard, where I saw an ancient well, as well as the Baroque façade of the ancient Romanesque church. I entered the church, and saw the typical monastic simplicity (can Baroque be simple?) However, it was a very mild Baroque, which kept in mind the strict and simple spirituality of the followers of St. Benedict. After strolling around the church (which is named after the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul), I entered the gift shop (of course), and met one of the monks.

As I was about to leave, the monk, Father Jerzy, stopped me, “Wait, I have some spare time. Let me show you something.” As the door swung open, I was looking at 15th century frescoes in the courtyard of the cloistered area. There, he led me around, and showed me artifacts from the most ancient parts of the abbey. Stopping at a small door, he said, “Look, there were even vandals then.” I looked closer, and there were a person’s initials, engraved in the door in 1591, as well as some from the 17th century! I guess human nature and its quest for mindless destruction has always been the same. I always wondered about those people who deny original sin… Also on this door, there were many deep, long engravings. He explained to me that these were the results of medieval knights, who would scrape their swords on the doorframes of sacred places, as a sort of “vow” to return safely to the place. I thought about the people who must have made these marks. Who were they? What battles were they off to fight? Wow. Next, he took me to a room with amazing frescoes, and an icon of Our Lady that is painted on the wall. He explained to me that the icon used to be on the opposite wall, but when they had to move the wall, the icon was transferred using modern techniques and chemicals onto the opposite wall. After showing me all of these treasures, he led me back to the gift shop and said that he had to go. So, I walked over to the church, since I saw that Vespers would be celebrated at 3:00 p.m. It was about 2:40, and upon entering, I discovered a funeral Mass that was ending. There is always something going on these churches!! At 3:00, just after the funeral Mass, the monks entered in their typical Benedictine habits, and began to chant the psalms, in Latin! It was amazing to hear them, and to pray with them, since it was like listening to a Gregorian chant c.d., except it was live, and I was taking part in it! My soul and mind having been elevated, I headed back to catch the noisy and rickety old bus back to the city.

Sunday was filled with rest, as it should be. I can’t say that the day was as eventful as the rest, but I was able to attend Sunday Mass in St. Mary’s Basilica, the gigantic church that Krakow is famous for. Though I had usually been overwhelmed when entering it, attending Mass there allowed me to settle down, and to only observe and look at small parts of the church at a time. There are so many colors, so many stained glass windows, so much iconography, that one is overwhelmed if he tries to take it all in at once. Sitting in the front, near the high altar, in a choir stall, I was able to slowly take in the splendor and glory of this church. I guess I don’t blame all the tourists who want to see the church, and make it a noisy place, with all of the hustle and bustle of walking in and out constantly. At least they have to buy a ticket to go in. Or, wait, is it a good thing to charge to enter a church? But what do you do, when people don’t treat it as a holy place, but as a place to go and admire the artwork? (Wow, I’m already speaking like a local…)

Sunday night, I attended a Mozart concert, featuring three of his piano concertos, performed by professors of the Krakow Academy of Music. The concert was in what looked like an eighteenth century palace of some Polish nobleman. The room was decorated with Italian marble, crystal chandeliers, and red velvet curtains. Such an atmosphere was perfect to be listening to Mozart’s music, which is to me perhaps one of the most sublime and uplifting experiences. His ability to move the human soul is amazing, which makes it difficult for me to buy some of the theories that are out there, like the one in Amadeus, which I watched with some of my friends on Friday night. I tend to think that he was very close to God, if not always faithful to the life that a son of God is called to. I did read, recently, however, (from the Vatican News Service), that Mozart did have a conversion before he died, and that he received the last rites. Either way, it was a wonderful concert, and I am looking forward to take advantage of more cultural opportunities while I am here.

I am off to my classes now, so I better end this reflection. We will see what awaits me this week. As Lent approaches, I hope to take part in many of the uniquely Polish devotions and preparations for the coming of Easter. In the meantime, today is ostatki, meaning “leftovers,” meaning…let’s go eat as much as we can before Lent. So, as usual, it’s pizza and beer night with the guys. Better enjoy it while I can, before the ashes are scattered, and the resolutions are gathered…