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.

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…

Donuts, Dogmatics, and Doctorates

February 24th, 2006

First of all, I apologize for the spelling errors and typos in the previous entries. I have usually written them in a hurry, and then forgotten to spell-check and proofread. Well, at least it’s not a paper for a class.

Here I am in my residence (where it seems that I have been writing all of my reflections recently), after studying a little bit for my class on Dogmatic Theology. As I mentioned in the previous entry, my new friend, Kasia, the director of the Tertio Millennio Institute (http://www.tertio.krakow.pl/strony/english.htm), gave me the name of a Dominican who would be teaching a great class at the Pontifical Academy. At first, I was unsure as to whether I should go to the lecture or not, since I thought that I might have too much work on my plate. But, I am glad that I decided to go, since the class was amazing! Fr. Jaroslaw Kupczak, O.P., who received his doctorate at the John Paul II Institute for Marriage and Family Life in Washington, D.C, teaches the class, whose subject is John Paul II’s anthropological theology, and particularly the Theology of the Body. He introduced the class by talking about the concept of a “gift,” in natural philosophy, human society, and theology. Quoting from Dominum et Vivificantem, he introduced the whole subject matter by talking about the concept of life in the Holy Spirit as the source of all freedom, and about the Holy Trinity as the source of all love and true self-giving. Though the class will be very difficult, I am looking forward to reading and studying Karol Wojtyla in his own language! I have never taken courses in Polish, though I am a fluent speaker, so this is a whole new experience.

This week was marked by many new experiences in this area. Besides the class on the Theology of the Body, I also had my first class on Exegesis of the Pentateuch, as well as on Theology of Marriage and Family Life. Both classes were amazing, though the Old Testament class is definitely going to be a bit drier. The class on Theology of the Family has a very expansive list of documents and encyclicals that we should read, but I am not complaining. The professor, a younger priest, began the class by talking about how one cannot study theology without turning to the documents of the Church, to the deposit of faith and the Truth that comes to us from Christ and the apostles. His first introductory lecture was about the state of the family in society today, and about why it is crucial that young theologians be well versed in this area. Since families face many, many challenges in the years ahead, it will be an even more important topic to study, since many people will turn to theologians and Catholic philosophers looking for answers to the many crises.

I think that, as an American, I had a particularly unique perspective on what the professor was saying. One of his most memorable and profound statements was, “It is the task of the Theologian to discover the Truth, to immerse himself in the Truth, and then to spread the Truth, and defend it.” He mentioned many theologians “in the west, and even some in Poland,” who seek to create their own truth, one that is pleasing to them. I’m not sure the other students in the class knew what he was talking about, since the idea of a dissenting theologian is so foreign here. “Theologian” and “faithful and in love with the Church” are two concepts that go hand in hand here. Why would one be a theologian, without accepting what the Church teaches?

He then continues by stating, “Getting to know the Truth requires true heroism, because it is hard to accept, especially in the moral and ethical sphere.” He alluded to the attacks that John Paul II often faced from “liberal” theologians in regards to divorce, contraception, and abortion. Of course, these statements reminded me of the many American “Catholic” theologians and philosophers (some of whom teach from their distinguished chairs at Notre Dame) who do place themselves above the teachings of the Magisterium, because of a skewed understanding, or a radical agenda, that leads them to “create their own truths.” Fr. Swierczek, however, reminded us of the need for young people who are confirmed in the Truth, and who are confident about it. The theologian must not say that “something is true because the Church teaches it,” but rather, that “I believe this to be true because I have searched and wrestled with it, and am convinced of it as the Truth, and because it is the Truth, that is why the Church teaches it.”

Needless to say, I left this class more convinced and not afraid of the challenges that lie ahead for young Catholics who seek to be faithful to the teachings of the Church, particularly who want to follow the radical example set by John Paul the Great. I think that the Polish Church can serve as such a good example for the west. While we are concerned about a lack of vocations to the priesthood, about young people leaving the Church, liturgical abuses, and sexual scandals, the Polish Church is producing one third of all of the vocations in Europe. Of course, the Church here is also concerned about many young people who are giving into the “passing joys and satisfactions” of the ever-increasingly consumerist and materialist culture here in Poland, but there are many, many movements and ministries for young people, as well as support groups for young families, for students, and people in every walk of life. There are enough young people committed and grounded in their faith that there is much hope that Poland will not go the way of Western Europe.

Enough about classes. Yesterday, I was able to walk around and have a “walking tour” of Krakow. On my way to the Tertio Millennio Institute (which has jumped on the opportunity to have some translations done from Polish to English by a native speaker :^), I stopped by the U.S. Consulate in order to register as a U.S. Citizen here. I learned that U.S. Citizenship does, indeed, have its benefits: instead of waiting in the line that was out the door, once I was put through a metal detector, my camera, phone, palm pilot, and ID having been promptly taken away, under the gaze of President Bush and Cheney, whose pictures hung on the wall, I was given a nametag that said, “U.S. Embassy, Warsaw: Special Guest.” I was then escorted to the back room, and told to sit down, make myself comfortable, and take my time filling out the forms. Not too bad.

When I went to the Institute to pick up the work to translate, I was informed about a conference next week that will be taking place at the Catholic University of Lublin (KUL), where Karol Wojtyla taught for many years. This year’s focus will be on the ethics, philosophy, and anthropology of Wojtyla’s early thought. I am very tempted to go, but we will see…

Once again, I eagerly tried to see as many things as possible, while I had some free time in the city. I stopped by the Carmelite convent, with a very quaint and simple nineteenth-century church. It was quite unimpressive, in the artistic sense, but did indeed have the Carmelite simplicity that draws the soul into solitude. Next, I stopped by the Church of the Resurrection, a church built at the turn of the last century, and run by the Resurrectionist priests (whose founder is a Servant of God and whose tomb is in the church’s vestibule). It was a very interesting blend of Jewish synagogue and early Christian architecture, with very vivid colors, wooden trusses, and a gigantic menorah high above the altar. It was neat to see the connection between the Old and New Covenants so vividly played out in the design of the Church.

Next, I made my way over to the Historical Museum of the City of Krakow, which housed everything from medieval scepters of various guilds, to nineteenth century revolvers used in the uprising of 1848. Perhaps one of the neatest things was to see original documents, and copies of, the original charters of the city, as well as guilds. As usual, there were plentiful Renaissance vestments and liturgical furnishings and vessels. There was a very interesting monstrance in the shape of a large bark, the Bark of Peter, weathering the storms of time. The museum also housed a replica of the monument dedicated to Tadeusz Kosciuszko in Washington, D.C.

Afterwards, I wandered north with the eventual goal of getting to St. Florian’s Church (which I later learned is a minor basilica). On the way, I discovered yet another miraculous image to Our Lady, this time “Our Lady of St. John,” whose image has been an object of devotion here in Krakow for over five hundred years. The image was located in a little Baroque church on St. John Street, run by the Sisters of the Presentation, whose founder is also a Servant of God, and also buried in the church. I love the fact that one can walk into practically any church here in Krakow, and be surprised by some blessed, saint, or Servant of God who is buried there. In this case, it was Mother Zofia, the founder of the order, and the founder of the first school for girls in Poland, all the way back in the 1630’s! As usual, while I was in the church, there was an unexpected Mass, followed by the Divine Mercy Chaplet. The church was full to the brim of mostly old ladies, but also of young businessmen, and middle-aged men. Keep in mind, though, that this was at 2:30 p.m. on a weekday! After “stopping by” this church, which ended up being spending an hour and a half there, I finally made it over to St. Florian’s Church.

St. Florian’s is where the young Fr. Karol Wojtyla first spent his two years of ministry as a parochial vicar, just after being ordained. While serving there between 1949-1951, he was in charge of the ministry to college students. When he returned in later years, as Pope John Paul, he fondly remembered his time there, and named many of the people whom he remembered working with. Though not an avid fan of the later Baroque period, with all of its chubby cherubim, golden rays, and pomp and circumstance, I have to admit that this church was very tasteful. In fact, I think that it is one of the most beautiful churches I have seen. Particularly striking was the enormous crucifix, which hung above the sanctuary, as if suspended in the air by the angels who held it.

On my way back, I walked through Kleparz, or the area just north of the old city gates. In years past, it was the sight of unruly peasant masses and merchants involved in trade and bargaining. Now, this area is a district of the city, but there is still an old square named “Old Kleparz,” on which there are a few hundred fruit and vegetable stands, as well as stands that sell everything from lingerie to Red Army medals. It reminded me of Poland in the early 1990’s, just after the fall of communism, when such street vendors could be seen selling anything to the product-starved population. Now, these vendors are less common, since the economic market has been saturated with better, higher quality goods from both new Polish factories, as well as mostly French and Western European markets. It was fun to walk around, though, and to see the raw meat, vegetables, fruit, and anything else that one can sell to make a profit on.

Last night, we celebrated “Fat Thursday,” the Polish equivalent of Mardi Gras, although the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday (Mardi Gras) is a day of celebration as well (why not throw more parties, if you can?). We had paczki, or the Polish equivalent of American donuts, though the Polish ones are fried, and not baked, and usually have a filling made from rose petal preserves. I must say, that, with a cup of tea, was very satisfying after a long day. Speaking of food and drink, it’s time for obiad, or dinner, which is eaten here at 2:00-3:00 p.m., so I will go enjoy my food. Until next time…do zobaczenia!

ora, labora, et despera

February 20th, 2006
Barbakan Residence

I never would have thought that so much can happen during the weekend! Yet, in a city that is both as small as Krakow, and also as filled with so many activities, I guess that it is perfectly plausible that the weekend would seemingly disappear! Saturday began with a much-needed post-jetlag sleeping in, although not too long, since I am still having some trouble sleeping in the mornings. After all, when I get up at 7:15, it is only about 1:15 in Notre Dame, or the time that I would normally be going to be on a school night!

After having Mass and breakfast with my friends here at the residence, I set out to see something. Since there are so many things to see and things to do here, I wan’t sure where to start, but I knew that the Prince Czartoryski Museum would be a good palce to start. The museum is famous for its collection of art, as well as historical Polish artifacts and treasures. As I walked in, one of the first things that greeted me (besides the quite unpleasant lady who promptly reminded me that if I wanted to take pictures, I would have to pay an extra fee of 20 zlotys) was the sword of King Stefan Batory, who was elected as king of Poland in 1576. As I walked further inside, I came upon tents and Persian rugs captured by King Jan III Sobieski at the Battle of Vienna in 1683. I felt very weird. Here, in front of me, was something that had survived so many years, so many centuries, probably hidden in storage somewhere during the world wars—and it had been captured from the Turks, when Europe was on the verge of invasion until a coalition of forces led by the Polish king expelled the Turkish threat from Europe for the last time. The rest of this floor of the museum also housed such treasures as priests’ chasubles and vestments from the 16th century, along with liturgical vessels. Of note were also the many suits of armor of Polish hussar fighters, whose armor is easily distinguished because of its gigantic feather wings, and who were known for their ferocity in battle. As Sienkiewicz described in The Deluge, “God, what power! They ran through the smoke and the sound was like that of a thousand blacksmiths beating with a thousand hammers. We saw it…. Jezus Maria! The elite's lances bent forward like stalks of rye, driven by a great storm, bent on glory! The fire of the guns before them glitters! They rush on to the Swedes! They crash into the Swedish…Overwhelm them! They crash into the second regiment - Overwhelmed! Resistance collapses, dissolves, they move forward as easily as if they were parading on a grand boulevard. They sliced without effort through the whole army already!” (see http://www.kismeta.com/diGrasse/HowHussarFought.htm for more information on the Hussars).

Upstairs, the museum houses the Czartoryski collection of art, known mostly for the single da Vinci piece found in Poland, one of Leonardo’s female portraits, Lady with an Ermine (http://www.krakow-info.com/dama.htm). In addition to this piece, and a fram of a Raphael which was stolen by the Germans during the Second World War and is missing to this day, there were numerous works of Gothic and realist art, by both Polish and western artists. The armory of the museum houses the Ancient Greco-Roman and Egyptian collection, including two real Egyptian mummies. It was amazing to look at the sarcophagi, to see the x-rays of the human skeletons inside, and to think about who the person inside must have been. I had never seen a mummy in my life, and when I actually did, I have to admit, it was quite discomforting. It was hard to cope with the fact, that here, ten inches in front of my face, was a dead human being, that had been like that for about 2,500 years! In the same exhibit, I was also especially amazed by the early Christian tombstones from Rome, depicting various eschatological scenes of Christ from the Gospels.

After meandering around the ancient art exhibit for quite a while, and returning to the mummy several times (quasi-awaiting for it to rise up and start walking, like they all do in the horror movies), I met with Professor Aneta Gawkowska, a professor of sociology from the University of Warsaw, whom I met at Notre Dame in the fall semester. She had come to Notre Dame through the Nanovic Institue fro one semester, and taught a course on New Feminism, with a deep regard and interest in the teachings of John Paul II in the area of the dignity and vocation of women. It was wonderful to meet with her, and to be able to talk about our common experiences at Notre Dame from the previous semester, as well as to update her about the status of the campus debate on academic freedom and the future of performances such as the V-Monologues.

I was struck by one realization while talking to her, and to one of her friends, also a professor, but a physicist (who happened to just have a cute baby, Ania, four months ago, and is an amazing father)! The serious intellectuals here in Poland are quite familiar with things such as the Vagina Monologues, since performances of them are not lacking even in Poland, where the 1960’s feminism of the United States, combined with post-modern philosophy is beginning to take hold in small but very vocal factions of society. However, honest academics here have the audacity and the integrity to realize that this “play” is simply a ideologically-driven tool that corrupts the Polish culture and morality of the young people of this very, at least traditionally, Catholic country. There is no debate among those who call themselves Catholic, because every serious and intelligent Catholic knows that the performance of this “play,” and the mentality that drives it, is simply, in the words of the physicist, “dishonest and ideological intellectualism, and such ‘knowledge’ can never be understood as such, but rather, it is something false and unreal.” Unlike the modern American intellectual establishment, and most likely western European as well, a true and honest Polish academic seems to known right from wrong, because the principles of the unity and confidence in the Truth that John Paul II discusses in Fides et Ratio are firmly grounded in the academic intellect. Not only is the Truth grounded in his intellect, but it is also lived in his heart—hence the participation of many professors and students in the multitude of movements in the Church, such as the Neo-Catechumenate Way, the Focolare Movement, Opus Dei, Light and Life, Nazarean Families, and the many other movements that are often found at the local parishes.

Professor Gawkowska was in Krakow to meet with a group of young women who are seeking to establish a new group to promote and study New Feminism. The meeting was held at the Capuchin Friary in Krakow. She also informed me that recently, the president of Poland, President Kaczynski, established a new John Paul II Institute in Warsaw. Clearly, there is a rising interest in the Holy Father’s thought and writings. Surprisingly, teachings of his such as Theology of the Body are not yet as widespread as they are in the United States. In groups of the “John Paul II Genereration” of Catholics in the United States, most people are at least familiar with his Theology of the Body, whereas here, it is only now being studied and spread.
I attended Sunday Mass yesterday at the Dominican Abbey, because a few ofmy new friends at our residence asked me to come with them. The Mass was a Mass that is sponsored once a month by the Tertio Millennio Institute, an institute dedicated to studying John Paul’s social thought. They organize a three week long seminar every summer, at which famous Catholic figures, such as George Weigel, Fr. Richard Nieuhaus, and Michael Novak, are lecturers. The once a month Mass is the “papal Mass,” and a guest presider is invited, who then gives a homily on some aspect of John Paul II’s thought. Yesterday, Fr. Jan Malinski (not sure about last name) presided. After Mass, a group of us went with my new friend, Luke, who works for the Institute, for coffee to their headquarters. Since I was expecting a large social, I was surprised when I enetered and found myself seated at a nice dining table with six other students, and Fr. Jan. After short introductions and small talk, our discussion turned to topics such as the Polish society and the difficulties of raising a family due to the economic situation, the beatification process of Pope John Paul, as well as me sharing about the Catholic Church in the United States, as well as the state of our culture. Fr. Jan works for the Metropolitan Curia, and is in charge of the John Paul II Archives, so we all listened with fascination as he told us about his work with the personal notes of the Holy Father, as well as many handwritten manuscripts (he has also read and often looked over the personal notes that the Pope’s secretary, Bishop Dziwisz (now the Metropolitan Archbishop of Krakow) was to burn, but never did).

At the meeting, I met with a young student who also studies at the Pontifical Academy of Theology, and is working on her Licentiate in Theology, with an interet in the theological anthropology of John Paul II. When I heard this, I immediately thought to myself, “wow, this is not a coincidence, since that’s exactly what I’m interested in.” It turned out that she is working on her thesis on the Theology of the Body! She gave me the name of a young Dominican friar who teaches at the Academy, after earning a degree at the John Paul II Institute for Marriage and Family Life in our very own Washington, D.C. I am excited to meet him on Wednesday, as well as to be able to talk to him about the possibilities of starting some sort of study of John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, as well as being able to talk to him about the great things that are happening with regards to pro-life and pro-chastity initiatives at Notre Dame.

I end this already lengthy journal entry with the constant amazement of God’s presence in this city. I knew that Krakow was referred to as the “little Rome” (and the Archdiocese of Krakow does have more parishes than Rome), but I am learning constantly about how present and vibrant the faith is, here in this medieval city. Everyday, I run into a new roadside chapel, a little shrine, or am able to discover the tomb of a new saint or blessed. Today, I had the pleasant surprise of walking into a Mass at the Church of Saint Bernardine, the first Bernardine Friary in Poland. The Bernardines are an order of Reformed Franciscans, present only under this name in Poland, and were founded in Krakow by St. John Capistrano. The “flying friar” came to Krakow in 1454 to preach on the market square (in Latin, I assume, since he did not speak Polish), and thus attracted a following large enough to begin a new friary here. One of the first to follow St. John was Simon of Lipnica, a student at the Jagiellonian University. He was beatified on February 24th, 1685, and declared one of the patrons of Krakow, as well as of university students. Since he was known for his powerful preaching, one of his brother friars asked him what one must do in order to reach his level of perfection. Simon answered, “ora, labora, et despera.” Prayer, work and despair? Why one must despair in order to be a good preacher? What Simon meant was that one must lose hope in himself, and trust completely in God, to realize that without Him, nothing is possible.

In today’s Gospel (Mk. 9:14-29), the father of the possessed son comes to Christ in faith, having lost all hope in himself, and despairing of any other means of healing, says:

“But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.”
Jesus said to him,
“‘If you can!’ Everything is possible to one who has faith.”
Then the boy’s father cried out, “I do believe, help my unbelief!”

And so it is here in Krakow. I am slowly learning what it means to completely rely on God, to “despair” of myself, to lose hope in anything I can do, and to abandon myself in faith to what He can do through me. Perhaps we can all learn a lesson from Blessed Simon, who remained strong and faithful to God, and merited the graces of beatification. Until next time, ora, labora, et despera.

Of Dominicans and Franciscans

February 17th, 2006
Barbakan Residence

Wow, what an intense time it has been over here already. I can’t believe that I have already been here for four days. They seem to have flown by as if nothing had happened, and yet I already feel as if I could write a book about all of the things that have taken place.
I was picked up at the airport by Fr. Adam Maczka, OFM, a friend of ours and the vice-rector and archivist of the Franciscan monastery in Krakow. Then, I arrived at the place where I am staying, called the Barbakan Residence. Immediately, I was able to meet a few of the guys here, who are all very nice and very interested about life in the US. After dropping off my stuff (and no, I didn't sleep), I met up with my cousin, who happened to be visiting here from Warsaw, since colleges and universities are on break right now. We went to a Georgian (as in the country, not the state) restaurant and met some of her friends. After dinner with them, they went to a coffee shop before their train left to go back, and I began to walk back to the residence. On the way, I wanted to see if I could go to Mass somewhere, so I stopped at St. Adalbert's church, a little tiny structure in the middle of the market square, and the oldest church in Krakow (from the 10th century). As I walked in, I happily found a group of older ladies reciting the Divine Mercy chaplet, so I decided to stay. Halfway through, a sister (wearing habit, of course) walked out from the sacristy and prepared the altar for Mass, so I was able to stay, which was such a consolation, since the reality that I am now in Krakow finally began to hit me. Then, I walked back to the residence, where I finished unpacking.
I have a nice room, with a quaint view out the window. The room has a private bathroom, desk, bed, bookshelf, and closet for clothing and shoes. With regards to my living accommodations, I have no right to complain, since we also have three (and a half) meals a day, with laundry service. There is also an oratory here, so I can pray in front of the tabernacle whenever I want! Last night, we had pizza and wine, since it was a special day, as February 14th is not only St. Valentine's Day, but also the anniversary of the founding of the women's branch of Opus Dei, as well as the Priestly Society of the Holy Cross (I am living in a residence run by Opus Dei).
On Wednesday, I had to go take care a lot of the organizational things that accompany the beginning of the semester, like getting a student ID, a transportation pass, and going to meet with the director of the program that I am part of (the Interdisciplinary Program in the Humanities and Social Sciences at the Jagiellonian University--IPHSS). I am not exactly sure what classes I will be taking yet, but I know that I will have Polish Language, 20th Century Polish History, as well as History and Customs of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. I am also thinking about sitting in on some classes in Philosophy.
While walking around on Wednesday, I wanted to attend daily Mass. Of course, I couldn't find one at 12:00 p.m., since most are either in the morning or in the evening (with each church having an average of seven to eight daily Masses). I finally looked at the Dominican Abbey (the Basilica of the Holy Trinity) (http://www.krakow.dominikanie.pl/), where I found out there was a conventual Mass at noon. The Dominican Abbey also happens to be the location of the Tertio Millennio Institute, a program for international and Polish students interested in the New Evangelization, which was began by George Weigel and Michael Novak, among others. So, I showed up ten minutes before noon, only to find all of the pews PACKED, and people sitting on the floor, on the steps of the confessionals (yes, confessionals that are twenty feet tall and Gothic wood carved do have steps into them ;), as well as people standing. There were probably about 400 people there. Before Mass began, the Dominicans came out in their black capes, and chanted the Angelus. Then, ring, ring, ring, and the Mass began. Looking over to the sacristy, I was shocked when out processed not one, not two, not five, but NINETEEN priests and two deacons to concelebrate DAILY Mass. I 've been to big Masses before, like Ash Wednesday at Notre Dame, but nineteen priests concelebrating daily Mass is a bit shocking, even to me.
Yesterday, one of the guys here, named Adam, and I went to Kopiec Kosciuszki (the “Kosciuszko Mound.”) This monument was built in honor of Tadeusz Kosciuszko, the Polish hero who fought in both Poland and in the American Revolution. From the mound, there is usually a beautiful view of almost one hundred miles, where one can see the Tatra Mountains to the south, the Benedictine and Camaldolese monasteries to the west, and Nowa Huta and the communist destruction of the countryside surrounding Krakow, to the east. Directly below, lies the Vistula River, as well as the common green (Krakowskie Blonie), where John Paul II would celebrate Mass on his visits to Krakow. About four kilometers away, one can see the main market square and the towering St. Mary’s Church, as well as Wawel castle a little to the south. Yesterday the clouds and the fog that settled in impeded the view, and in the afternoon, it started to snow pretty heavily.
In the evening, I attended Mass at St. Stephen’s Church, an unimposing modern-looking church on Casimir the Great Street, about five minutes away from my residence. Much to my surprise, as I walked into the unimpressive church (or so I thought), I was greeted by the sound of people praying the Rosary (which I have found out is usually recited at any hour at any given church, all day in Krakow). My eyes were also filled with a splendid mixture of blues, greens, reds, yellows, and a myriad of other colors, which filled the walls and ceiling of the church. One of the main striking features was the gigantic ambo that was located on the left side of the church, and hung on the wall with a porch-like balcony, next to a picture of St. Jadwiga, Queen of Poland, and Pope John Paul.
The real treasure of the church lay to the left of the sanctuary though, in the miraculous image of Our Lady of Good Counsel. The image is a very large painting, and has undergone a coronation ceremony, as is clear from the gold crown on Mary’s head. After Mass, at 18:30 each day (as I soon learned), there is a solemn covering of the image for the night, much like in Czestochowa. The organ plays a very ornate piece, and while the congregation is kneeling and singing farewell to Our Lady, the priest presses a button and a screen rises to cover the image of Our Lady. On the screen, there is a beautiful painting of a scene of the Annunciation to Mary.
This morning, I began the day by planning to go to Nowa Huta to see the famous church that is shaped like Noah’s Ark, over the building of which Bishop Wojtyla fought the communist authorities. However, I decided that it would be better to take care of some administrative issues, and I set out to the Historical Institute at the Jagiellonian. Afterwards, desirous of taking classes in Theology, yet knowing that the UJ does not offer any, due to the closure of their department by the communists, I went to the PAT (The Pontifical Academy of Theology, founded by Pope John Paul, as a way for Theology students in Krakow to continue their studies, even without a department at the UJ). Upon entering, I met with a priest in the Office of the Dean, and before I knew it, I found myself a student of a Pontifical University, where I will now betaking Theology of the Family and Theology of the Old Testament. I can’t believe that it was so easy. In the United States, one has to fill out paperwork, register on computers, and pay a lot of money. Here, I handwrote an application to the Dean, asking for admission, and was then allowed to take classes for free, because of the fact that I am both a student at the Jagiellonian University, and also from the University of Notre Dame, a well-known American University.
So, as this reflection gets rather lengthy, I must end. I realize that there is so much more that I have not written about yet, such as the people I am living with, and the interest they have in the state of American politics and the “culture wars,” which are not as drastic here in Poland. But, there is a time and place for everything, and now supper beckons, as well as the simple fact that I have been on the computer for too long, so for now, I bid everybody dobranoc!