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.