| On May 1, John Paul II will become Blessed John Paul II, but in his home diocese of Krakow, the late Pontiff has long been declared something else. Nowa Huta is a small suburb outside Krakow, Poland. It was formerly a planned Soviet community, one with large, typically Soviet buildings making up long city blocks. It was a failed communist attempt to catch up to the industrial giant of the United States It was also a failed communist attempt to rid Poland of religion. When the Soviets built this town, it was to be a town "without God" -- the first known town in Poland to be built without a Church. With the encouragement of their Bishop, Karol Wojtyła, the townspeople celebrated mass every Sunday in an open field, in complete defiance of the Soviets. In 1976, the Soviets reluctantly agreed to the building of the Arka Pana, or Lord's Ark, Church in Nowa Huta. Today, the entrance of the Church is adorned with a plaque honoring Pope John Paul II as "Jan Paweł the Great."
Just as in Nowa Huta, upon arriving at 2315 West Augusta Boulevard in Chicago my entry to St. Helen Parish was greeted by an extraordinary statue of Pope John Paul II. For the parishioners, the statue stands as a constant reminder of "their Pope." His pontificate, his life, and his legacy seem embody the Polish character of Roman Catholicism. St. Helen Parish is a microcosm of the impact Pope John Paul II's beatification has on Catholics everywhere.
For pastor Waldemar Stawiarski, Karol Wojtyła not only became his Pope, but Wojtyła was also his Bishop. The movement of Nowa Huta would be formative for Stawiarski, as he grew up near Krakow. His father was "heavily involved in the Solidarity movement, was jailed a couple times as a result and banned from work for 10 years." Stawiarski, or Father Valdi as parishioners call him, was stirred by the underground Solidarność movement, one largely supported by the Catholic Church. Stawiarski remembered the priests of his childhood as ones "speaking and working for freedom and change. They inspired and influenced [him]. [He] saw the church's work for social justice as a good and noble thing, and it helped plant the idea of the priesthood in [him]." It is quite uncommon to speak to a Pole in any corner of the world who has not been touched in some way by the Solidarność movement or by Karol Wojtyła. The parishioners of St. Helen are no different. Despite living in Chicago, Illinois their person is formed, whether consciously or not, by their homeland. In this way, Poland is catholic.
This universality of Polish culture is perhaps best immortalized in the national anthem of the Republic of Poland which begins with a borrowed lyric from a battle hymn of General Jan Henryk Dąbrowski's soldiers serving in the Polish Legions of the French Revolutionary Army:
Poland has not perished yet
So long as we still live
That which alien force has seized
We at swordpoint shall retrieve.
This hymn gave hope to the Polish Legions in so much that Poland was not simply defined by its government or its borders. As papal biographer, theologian, and Church historian George Weigel explains, Poland exists, first and foremost, as a culture: "Poles came to believe that spiritual power was, over time, more efficacious in history than brute force. A nation deprived of its political autonomy could survive as a nation through its language, its literature, its music, its religion -- in a word, through its culture." This culture, as defined from the preamble of the constitution of the Republic of Poland, is understood as being "rooted in the Christian heritage of the Nation and in universal human values."
This is the culture of Karol Wojtyła. As a child, Wojtyła's friends knew him as "Lolek" the Goalkeeper, for his position as goalie in soccer games. Wojtyła's childhood was one of the outdoors and constantly being in touch with nature. Though, his childhood was one of loss. Both his mother, brother, and father passed away before he reached adolescence. His father passed away at the onset of the Nazi invasion of Poland and he was left alone. This helplessness attracted Wojtyła to a specific flavor of spirituality: mysticism. Weigel notes that Wojtyła "prayed as a means of entering God's presence so that that experience animated every aspect of his life, not merely his moments of contemplation."
As a seminarian, Wojtyła spent most of World War II studying secretly in the Archbishop's residence. As a priest, Wojtyła was one formed by his surroundings, especially the people whom he served. As an associate pastor of a Church frequented by students, Wojtyła's "primary responsibility was religious education." He was a university chaplain of sorts. The experience of mountain retreats with students molded Father Wojtyła into a man concerned with community and family. Without these formative experiences within the contemplative and intellectual life, Wojtyła may have never become John Paul II.
For the parishioners of St. Helen Parish and all Polish Catholics alike, Karol Wojtyła is an all-encompassing figure. His experience is adopted as their own, despite some never actually having lived in Poland. And so, just as with Wojtyła, the centrality of devotion and the importance of religious education are vital to understanding the Polish Catholic community.
Perhaps the most recognizable source of devotion for Polish Catholics resides in a Pauline monastery in Częstochowa. The Jasna Góra monastery houses Poland's holiest relic and one of the country's most important national symbols: the icon of the Black Madonna of Częstochowa. The icon depicts the Virgin Mary as the Hodegetria, or "She who shows the way." Here, the Blessed Mother gestures with her hand toward Jesus as an indication of the source of salvation. The icon would be a significant source of devotion for the Pauline monks of the Jasna Góra when it was founded in 1382. Nearly 300 years later, the icon would be credited with miraculously saving the monastery from foreign invaders. In November of 1655, the Deluge, a series of wars stemming from the Swedish invasion of Poland, reached the Jasna Góra monastery. Many areas surrounding the monastery had already surrendered to Swedish occupation, but the monastery would become a fortress and a symbol of Polish resistance. For a month, the small band of monks led by their Prior Augustyn Kordecki resisted the capture of the monastery.
Kordecki credited the icon for the miraculous success of the resistance. One year after the failed siege of Jasna Góra, King Jan Kazimierz crowned "Our Lady of Częstochowa" as Queen and Protector of Poland. Since then the monastery has become a site of pilgrimage for Polish Catholics from all over the world. The icon stirs all sorts of emotion and spiritual reflecting for Poles. Non-Catholic Poles are reminded of the resistance of Swedish invasion and Catholics are, of course, reminded of the Virgin Mary and her miraculous impact on their faith. On the left side of the altar at St. Helen, a replica of the icon hangs on the wall. Numerous devotional candles are below it and all of them were lit at the time of my visit.
Marek and Ana have been to Częstochowa and have venerated the Black Madonna icon. They have been parishioners at St. Helen for 13 years. St. Helen is where they were married and where their two children have been baptized. Marek was born in Wadowice, also the birthplace of John Paul II. "Wadowice is a quaint, small town. It's really a family town where faith is it." For the residents of Wadowice, going to the Basilica every Sunday became a "community activity." Often times, Marek remembered, the Rosary was said in unison prior to mass starting -- a devotional prayer, but also a community act. Personal meditation and reflection is an important component of worship for Marek: "During the communist time, we had nothing else but private prayer." Marek prayed in Polish, and with a smirk quipped, "not that dirty Russian!"
Language is often a defining characteristic of culture. "Ana and I made an important decision early on in raising our children. We wanted them to know Polish as well as English." Piotr, 15, is fluent in English and Polish. He worships with his family at St. Helen's 10:30 a.m. Polish mass, but prays privately in English. Here, the family deliberately parallels worship with language -- where being Polish is being Catholic, and vice-versa. It was especially important for their children not to lose language or faith.
Any future loss of faith by the younger generation seems to be headed off by Agnieszka Brandys, the Director of Religious Education at St. Helen. Brandys's goal is to help the children of St. Helen "develop a lifelong relationship with the Lord." The emphasis on a deep, devotional relationship with God is "everywhere in our classes." The children of St. Helen Parish know that "God is with them and loves them." Brandys notes that the stressing of a personal relationship with God is a way "to teach the faith of John Paul II." At the mention of John Paul II, Brandys smiled and added, "our Pope."
As I concluded my visit to St. Helen, I stopped to once again stand before the statue of John Paul II. There, in the middle of the afternoon, I found an elderly woman placing a bouquet of flowers, a candle, and a picture at the foot of the statue. I first asked her why she was doing this and she responded in a thick Polish accent, "This is Jan Paweł. Why not?" I smiled and nodded as to agree, and then knelt to see what picture she had placed with the flowers and candle. It was a picture of President Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul II.
As soon as she noticed I was looking at the picture, she did not hesitate to tell me that her son had given her that picture on one anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. She told me that it was because of the sincere "friendship" of the two men that the Berlin Wall no longer stands: "I owe them a lot for what they did." After our brief conversation and before leaving the statue, she looked up at the face of the statue once more, made the sign of the Cross, and walked towards her car.
The experience of the end of the Cold War is sentimental to Poles, especially when discussing the impact of President Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul II. The elderly woman was right: the two men did share a bond that seemed to bring about the end of the Soviet Union.
Since watching the Pope's visit to Poland in 1979, Reagan knew Polish Catholics were going to be the ones to splinter the Soviet bloc -- he wanted to aid them in any way he could. As Paul Kengor explains, "Reagan and the Pope translated their divine mission into a practical mission to maintain Solidarity." Even a close Cardinal to the Pope admitted that "the Holy Father and the President committed themselves and the institutions of the church and America to such a goal." The paralleled missions of the United States and the Church had finally been revealed to the two leaders in their first meeting. George Weigel describes the two men as having "a common purpose born of a set of shared convictions."
The convictions shared by Ronald Reagan and John Paul II also seem to be shared by most Polish parishioners of St. Helen -- at least those who are old enough to remember the impact of the President and the Pope. This is the solidarity -- solidarność -- of St. Helen and all Polish Catholics.
John Paul the Great's beatification is just one step in recognizing his global impact.
Nicholas G. Hahn III. 30 April 2011
Nicholas G. Hahn III is assistant editor for RealClearPolitics and a graduate of Political Science and Catholic Studies from DePaul University.
| 
