Having muddled my way through an attempt to give the most fundamental explanation of the philosophical system proposed by Francis Bacon, I hope this week will be a little more articulate in explaining how Pope Benedict continues his reflection on the impact of this and other thinkers of Bacon’s era on the topic of faith and hope.

The Holy Father explains the consequences of this “disturbing step” taken by Bacon and his system of thinking:

up to that time, the recovery of what man had lost through the expulsion from Paradise was expected from faith in Jesus Christ: herein lay “redemption”. Now, this “redemption”, the restoration of the lost “Paradise” is no longer expected from faith, but from the newly discovered link between science and praxis. (Spe salvi, 17)

The pope then describes how this philosophy not only affects the understanding of faith, but hope as well, taking on a new form that Bacon calls “faith in progress” (ibid.) Our hope no longer lies in the faith given to us through the promises of Jesus Christ, but rather in the promises that science and technology will bring about as they propose solutions to problems that had, up to that point, been thought impossible or unexplainable.  

Francis Bacon has been recognized as saying that the “Three Great Inventions” of the Renaissance were the printing press, gunpowder, and the mariner’s compass.  The printing press enabled the more rapid expansion of knowledge and thus would make possible the faster spread of information about new inventions that would support his system.  Gunpowder marked a significant change in the ability of those who were less powerful to contend with their opponents, thus allowing for alterations to well-established power structures.  The mariner’s compass made navigation easier, and was at the service of new discoveries that could expand our understanding of a variety of topics.  These were examples of how applied knowledge and technology were capable of changing how we understand the world around us.

There is no question that the past several decades has seen remarkable growth in science and technology, especially with the growth of the Internet, medical breakthroughs, travel to space, and most recently, Artificial Intelligence.  Those who find Bacon’s philosophy attractive will be all the more convinced of its veracity given the ample evidence to support it.  The Holy Father says as much when he concludes this paragraph by writing: “[a]s the ideology of progress developed further, joy at visible advances in human potential remained a continuing confirmation of faith in progress as such.” (ibid.)

In response to philosophies that try to claim that science and technology are slowly chipping away at our need for faith, the Church has not remained idle.  I think of somebody like Father Robert Spitzer, S.J., a Jesuit who has written and spoken extensively on faith and reason, offering a sound intellectual response to support how these two fields are not opposed, and how the many advances in science do not indeed explain away the faith.  The Church is often accused of being anti-science, but such a claim is based on little awareness on how much faithful Catholics, past and present, have contributed to the development of science while maintaining the need for faith.

What more might we learn from Pope St. John Paul II regarding building around ourselves our own środowisko, a culture or environment or framework, of faith? Just to recap, we began with those first days of Fr. Wojtyła beginning to live life with young people in Krakow, showing them an external, and internal, freedom that they had never known. Before that, as a young man, it was the heartfelt prayer learned from his own father, and learned while suffering the loss of his own father, that had led him towards God’s call to be a priest and nourished him spiritually for the rest of his life. And, on top of those beautiful, and painful, periods of his early life, another characteristic that was always part of him was the simple choice to care deeply about every person around him.

Freedom lived with others. Prayer learned from others. Love given to others. 

Notice the pattern: John Paul II didn’t navigate life alone. So many times, what we emphasize about his life: his philosophical erudition, his charism and energy, his mysticism, his political adroitness, his greatness on the world stage, his love for hiking and skiing, his humility amidst the rigors of Parkinson’s … Each of those things considered on their own could sketch for us a man who was incredibly gifted from the beginning, picked by God for a sublime mission, and who ran the race before him very much on his own. 

I recall one particular afternoon while in seminary in Rome texting a couple other guys to see if they wanted to go for a run. I cautioned that I wasn’t wanting to do anything crazy and we could go as slow as we wanted and just enjoy a couple miles together. Well, as we got through the first mile and had a nice long downhill I was feeling pretty good, so we (I) picked up the pace. And if you’re going at a good clip you don’t want to slow down on the flat mile in front of St. Peter’s (this was while I was in Rome). AND, if you have a pretty good time you might as well storm up the final hill at full speed… We finished our run, said a prayer together before the little grotto of Our Lady, and one of the guys turned to me: “Bro, I came out here to take it easy and have fun together, and you didn’t let us do that at all.” It was a rebuke; it was humbling. I still struggle with that today: going for a jog with others and pushing it too fast. 

But I think all of us do. 

Maybe it is not in running, but who of us does not have some area of life where we feel a little bit desperate and our temptation is to just leave somebody else behind because we are feeling the pressure to finish, fix, or figure something out. Money is tight, or I’m getting older, or the todo list is too long, or the culture isn’t what we want it to be, or we need to make a decision now, or I need to get to something else and don’t have time for you right now… Our world is constantly pressing into us the lie that “You’re not good enough.” Think about it: every advertisement, every website, most of our interactions with other people, and even just the noise and hubbub and stoplights that get in our way each day, are – down where we don’t even notice it anymore – saying “Go faster.”; “Do more.”; “It’s not enough.”

The fact is, if we are operating out of that posture – out of fear, worry, hustle, or not-good-enough-ness – we are more faithful disciples of the internet than we are disciples of Jesus.

And the consequence of the constant running, constant trying to make ends meet, constant worry about the next thing is that we will not have time for other people – at least, not real people, who aren’t perfect and who might realize that we aren’t perfect either – and that frenetic solo-ing of life is absolutely poisonous to really being rooted in God, to really living a human life. So, one more part of środowisko then is simple: “Be not afraid.” 

Such were JPII’s first words as Pope when he stepped out on the logia of St. Peter’s: Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors for Christ. To his saving power open the boundaries of States, economic and political systems, the vast fields of culture, civilization and development. Do not be afraid. Christ knows “what is in man”. He alone knows it. So often today man does not know what is within him, in the depths of his mind and heart. So often he is uncertain about the meaning of his life on this earth. He is assailed by doubt, a doubt which turns into despair. We ask you therefore, we beg you with humility and trust, let Christ speak to man. He alone has words of life, yes, of eternal life.

– Fr. Dominic was not alive when JPII was elected Pope. When Benedict was elected, he was 12 years old and first starting to serve Mass with his brother (who had just received his First Communion), and when Francis was elected, he was on break during his first year of seminary. You may find it a beautiful thing to pray about this week: How has God carried you (and the Church) through the different Popes that were part of your life? 

When I entered seminary in 2006, it was at a time when the Church in the United States was making a transition to a new set of expectations with regards to a candidate’s formation in philosophy before beginning the study of theology.  For those who already had a college degree, a time of pre-theology was required during which that necessary study of philosophy was undertaken.  For many seminaries, this involved cramming several classes in philosophy into a single year, often presented in a non-systematic way.  Seeing the problem with this, the bishops of the United States would now require that the study of philosophy would span two full years, ensuring an adequate study of this topic.  I found myself at the tail end of the one-year study of philosophy, and as a result, certain classes in that discipline were left out.  One such class that I did not have to take was Modern Philosophy.  At the time, I was grateful to not have to take the class, having heard of its reputation for being pretty difficult.  But as I read the next paragraph in Spe Salvi, my gratitude for dodging that class turned into regret, as I found myself feeling rather unequipped to appreciate the Holy Father’s reflections on the impact of modern philosophy on the topic of faith and hope.

Pope Benedict begins by asking why there has been a shift toward a “narrowly individualistic” idea of hope and a “selfish search for salvation which rejects the idea of serving others.” (Spe Salvi, 16) To begin answering that question, he turns to one of the early, key figures in modern philosophy, Francis Bacon.  Since my knowledge of this important figure in modern thought was so lacking, I decided to do a little research.  Francis Bacon has been referred to many as the father of empiricism.  A basic definition of empiricism is that it is “the philosophical theory that all knowledge comes from sensory experience. In other words, we learn and understand the world through what we see, hear, touch, taste, and smell.” (from Catholic Encyclopedia).

We can begin to see a problem with this type of philosophy, because it discounts or discredits anything not based on sensory experience, including faith and divine revelation, which are essential for the Christian world-view.  Recall the definition of faith given in the Letter to the Hebrews: “Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.” (Heb. 11:1) My guess is that Fracis Bacon, and the system he promoted, would have seen this passage as foolish.  If it cannot be seen or experienced, it cannot be verified and it must not be true.  Now, given that I am lacking in my understanding of modern philosophy, perhaps my conclusion is a bit too black and white, and that the position of empiricism is a little more nuanced.  But nevertheless, I think we can begin to see how such a way of thinking can lead to trouble for a worldview rooted in faith.

In the conclusion of this paragraph, Pope Benedict notes that this way of thinking proposed by Bacon “would mean that the dominion over creation —given to man by God and lost through original sin—would be reestablished” (Spe Salvi, 16) Original sin has the effect of darkening our intellect, and thus our relationship to creation has been damaged.  Instead of relying on faith and grace to overcome this deficit, Bacon is proposing that science and progress can bring about a reestablishment of what had been lost.

What comes to mind is a term I heard many years ago, in which humanity claims a sort of “intellectual pride” over previous generations.  They did not know as much as we do now, thus their reliance on things like faith to explain what they could not understand.  But now, being more advanced, we are much smarter and better equipped to answer those questions to where faith is no longer necessary.  The more we tap into science and technology, there is no problem we cannot solve, thus eliminating just about any need for faith.  

Perhaps that is a bit of a stretch, and there is likely much more nuance to this position, but I think we can begin to see the danger of this way of thinking, and how necessary it is for us to have an adequate response to it, which, thanks be to God, the Church does.

The word “środowisko”, you’ll recall, is tricky to translate. Milieu or environment captures something of it, but community or circle add a necessary human/relational quality that certainly is part of how Fr. Karol Wojtyła used the word. It comes from the root word “środek” meaning center, and the suffix “-isko” which adds the connotation of location or context. Środowisko is something we all have, it is the relationships, activities, and outlook that locate and center us, that support and solidify us. I say we all have this, but certainly the quality of our srodowisko can vary a lot! A few questions that might help to dig into this: 

• Who do you call if you have a flat tire? 
• Does anyone else know the heaviest cross you’re carrying right now? 
• When is the last time you laughed, or danced, or played, or hiked with abandon? 
• Do you ever pray with someone else? 

Take these as simple, gentle, questions that probe the depth of the relationships and friendships that you have around you right now – a sketch of your środowisko. They’re just the questions that come to the top of my mind, certainly incomplete, probably prompted by my own experience of community. I think all of us may want more here, perhaps a lot more. Maybe you’re thinking that you don’t have anybody around you right now. Take a deep breath, God has plans for your good, your joy, and it includes providing the entire środowisko that you’ll need to become a saint (and He has a splendid środowisko that He is readying for you in eternity). AND, keep in mind the heartbroken young Karol who, it seemed, had lost everyone that he loved at twenty, or several years later as a young priest when (1st) he was reassigned from his first parish after only a few months or (2nd) when he was asked to begin doctoral studies just as all his student ministry was starting to flower – God had plans for him just as he does for you. 

Ok. That reaffirmed, let’s look at Fr. Karol Wojtyła’s life for a first step we can all take in the right direction. A few anecdotes that I think point towards a simple theme: When playing soccer as a youngster, he noticed that the Jewish boys often joined together on one team and did not have a goalie. Little Lolek did not hesitate to jump in as their keeper to balance the sides. As a seminarian, while boarding the train he saw a bedraggled girl freezing on the platform. He brought her some food and tea, carried her onto the train, and wrapped his own cloak around her. She was Edith Zierer, 13 years old, escaped from the labor camp near Czestochowa, 

starving, infested with lice, and credits Karol with saving her life. She wrote to him when he became pope and visited him at the Vatican, and they kept up a written correspondence until he died. Jerzy Ciesielski would become one of the coordinators of the many outdoor expeditions of Środowisko, was the one who taught Karol how to kayak, and was also an engineer. Fr. Wojtyła would spend hours letting the young man lecture him on mathematics and breakthroughs in engineering, perhaps not the first inclination for a want to be actor and philologist, but he never cut Jerzy’s ramblings off. (Actually, when writing an article for a Catholic magazine in 1957 about his ministry in the mountains, Fr. Karol asked Jerzy to be a co-author with him). For his entire time in Krakow, including as Bishop, whenever one of his students was expecting he gave a personal day of recollection for the mother. From Witness to Hope by George Weigel: “He always had time,” Teresa Malecka recalled. “He understood that to baptize means to come home, to be with the family, to bless the baby sleeping in the bed. We didn’t have to ask him to do this; he wanted to do it.” 

A final story (from John Paul the Great, His Five Loves by Jason Evert): During an ad limina visit to Rome, Bishop Robert Brom was surprised when Pope John Paul II looked at him and said, “I think we have met before.” Brom, certain they hadn’t, politely disagreed. The Pope persisted, and days later, his secretary, Monsignor Stanisław Dziwisz, told Brom, “Don’t argue with the Pope, he remembers when he met you.” The meeting had taken place in November 1963 (decades before), outside the Church of the Gesù in Rome. Brom, then a seminarian at the North American College during the Second Vatican Council, had briefly crossed paths with Bishop Karol Wojtyła, the auxiliary bishop of Kraków, as they entered and exited the church with their respective groups. The moment had slipped Brom’s mind, but not Wojtyła’s. When Brom asked how the Pope could remember such an encounter, Dziwisz replied, “For John Paul, to meet another person is to encounter God.” Years later, near the end of the Pope’s life, John Paul brought it up again: “How many times have we met, and when was the first time?” This time, Brom got it right. John Paul slapped his desk, smiled, and said, “Finally you remember!” 

And so the takeaway: JPII cared about everyone that he met. He had all the time in the world for them and never let the next thing take his concern away from them. What if you or I did the same? This is not a super-power, but it is something that requires grace! The fact is we don’t have enough love for everyone if we’re trying to do so under our own steam, BUT what if we began each day simply asking the Lord to love each person through us? What if God provided the love? 

It might be a step towards the środowisko God wants for you! 

Fr. Dominic 

Alleluia!  He is Risen!  One of the more beautiful parts of the liturgy on Easter morning is the proclamation of the Easter Sequence, sung right before the Gospel.  This hymn dates back roughly 1000 years, and the Church has required its use on Easter Sunday since 1570.  Suffice it to say that it has stood the test of time!

In the middle of the hymn, the attention turns to St. Mary Madgalene, who was the first witness of the Resurrection of Jesus.  The hymn asks: “Speak, Mary, declaring, what you saw, wayfaring.”  Her response follows:

The tomb of Christ, who is living,
The glory of Jesus’ resurrection;
bright angels attesting,
The shroud and napkin resting.
Yes, Christ my hope is arisen;
to Galilee he goes before you.

During this Jubilee Year, as we are invited to be pilgrims of hope, we find in St. Mary Magdalene a model for us to imitate.  Recall that she was present when Jesus died on the Cross.  But even in the sadness of that dark moment, she still possessed hope.  It was hope that brought her to the tomb early Easter morning, and when she sees the Risen Christ, she is overjoyed as her hopes are fulfilled.  We then read in John’s Gospel:

Jesus said to her, “Stop holding on to me,^* for I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”ⁱ18Mary of Magdala went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and what he told her. (Jn 20:17-18)

Mary Magdelene, having had her hope fulfilled, now goes out to share that message of hope with others, not content to keep it to herself.  She becomes a pilgrim of hope, or in the words of Pope Francis, she becomes an “Apostle to the Apostles.”  The message of great hope that Christ is Risen begins to spread, thanks to Mary’s witness of hope.

On first hearing this hymn, people might confuse the mention of the name Mary to be that of our Blessed Mother.  And although this is not the Mary it is referring to, nevertheless we can turn to Mary, the Mother of God, on this day as well.  For she too was at the foot of the Cross when her Son died.  Although she would have suffered greater anguish than Mary Magdelene, her hope was far greater.  Therefore we can turn to her as well on this Easter morning, asking her to pray for us who look forward in hope to the Lord’s return in glory.  I share a portion of the final paragraph of Pope Benedict’s document on hope, Spe salvi, in which he reflects on Mary as a great model of hope, especially in the light of this great feast we celebrate today:

In this faith, which even in the darkness of Holy Saturday bore the certitude of hope, you made your way towards Easter morning. The joy of the Resurrection touched your heart and united you in a new way to the disciples, destined to become the family of Jesus through faith. In this way you were in the midst of the community of believers, who in the days following the Ascension prayed with one voice for the gift of the Holy Spirit (cf. Acts 1:14) and then received that gift on the day of Pentecost. The “Kingdom” of Jesus was not as might have been imagined. It began in that hour, and of this “Kingdom” there will be no end. Thus you remain in the midst of the disciples as their Mother, as the Mother of hope. Holy Mary, Mother of God, our Mother, teach us to believe, to hope, to love with you. Show us the way to his Kingdom! Star of the Sea, shine upon us and guide us on our way! (SS 50)

It was a bitterly cold February day in 1941 when Karol Wojtyła returned from his labors at the Zakrzówek quarry. He walked back, as usual, with a coworker and friend Juliusz Kydryński, whose mother gave Karol some dinner to take back for him and his father. When Karol entered his father’s room at the end of their dark hallway, he found his bedridden father slumped over, and when he tried to lift him up, discovered that during that day he had died. They had nicknamed their drafty and dark apartment “the catacomb.” That evening it was heart-wrenchingly apropos. “I was not at my mother’s death, I was not at my brother’s death, I was not at my father’s death. At twenty, I had already lost all the people I loved.” The distraught son ran for a priest from St. Satanisław’s to give his father the Last Rites (they can be given when there is doubt about whether the person is dead) and all that night he stayed kneeling by his father’s side. Juliusz came to be with him, though Karol ever after said that he had never felt so alone. 

My friends, this week we have stayed with Christ as he approached His death for our sake, spending time at Jesus’ cross and tomb, watching Him win for us the grace to make us saints. It is a tremendous gift to be with Him! We will all face our share of catacombs, crosses, or calvaries too. Perhaps right now for you that is an interior place of suffering or temptation, or a loss in your family or brokenness in a relationship, or maybe it is the burdens and fears that are just part of being human. Holy Week reminds us that in every suffering we are with Our Lord. 

But there is more in the cross than that! 

The Kydryńska’s invited Karol to come live with them for a time, intense prayer continuing to pour from his heart. “He went to Mass every day, he prayed a lot in his room, and he lay prostrate” they remembered of him, practices would mark the rest of his life. We do not get to see the grace at work within him but about a year later Karol chose to enter the underground seminary (the Nazi’s still occupying Poland, and most of Europe). It was not the obvious choice for a man with many young friends, fervently engaged in theatre and acting, and wanting to finish a degree in philology, BUT it makes sense if he took that year to pray like his recently-passed father. In Crossing the Threshold of Hope, JPII recalls from his childhood: “… after my mother’s death, [my father’s] life became one of constant prayer. Sometimes I would wake up during the night and find my father on his knees, just as I would always see him kneeling in the parish church. We never spoke about a vocation to the priesthood, but his example was in a way my first seminary, a kind of domestic seminary.” 

Crosses, losses, sufferings, these do not just make us more like Jesus, they incorporate us into His saving the world! St. Paul says to the Colossians, “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church.” Paul is not saying that carrying his cross adds something to Jesus’ or completes something Jesus neglected to do on calvary. Rather, the phrase means that Paul carrying his cross – because he has been bonded with Christ by baptism – is in fact carrying Christ’s cross, or better yet, Christ is carrying His cross through Paul. My friends, when you pick up your cross – 

whatever it is – Jesus’ perfect act of obedience, and love, and trust – the act that saved the world – happens through your heart, your hands, your will, your body. Do not underestimate your cross! 

In 1946 (the Communists now in charge) Karol was ordained a priest on All Saints day and celebrated three ‘first’ Masses the following day (as priests are allowed to do on All Souls Day). He wore black vestments, and offered one Mass for his deceased mother, one for his decesaed brother, and one for his deceased father. One might think it was a somber day. It was not. 

It is a hard truth that there is no way to Easter except by Calvary, no way to the Father except through Christ. But the thing is that resurrection is not a gift if redemption has not happened yet. Going and eating from the tree of life is a terrible eternity if the hurt and separation from the tree of knolwedge has not yet been remedied! To be alive forever, but stuck in sin, would be hell – it is hell. BUT, when we carry our cross through, with, and in Jesus, then the gift of eternal life bursts into our lives now. When Fr. Wojtyła raised the consecrated host – and whenever we receive the Eucharist while carrying our own crosses – not only are we brought back to Holy Week, and not only are our crosses transfigured into His, but the resurrection is also renewed in us. Angels decend, Christ steps into our midst, forgiveness and joy are poured forth, and we are sent out with news of the greatest come back in history. 

And we aren’t bystanders! That Good News is part of our crosses too. 

In the previous article, we confronted the critique of a hope that is predominantly individualistic, excluding a sense of being a part of a community and seeing salvation as something private.  In this next paragraph, Pope Benedict offers a few different sources which support the consistent view that our hope is necessarily social in nature.  He writes the following:

Consistently with this view, sin is understood by the Fathers as the destruction of the unity of the human race, as fragmentation and division. Babel, the place where languages were confused, the place of separation, is seen to be an expression of what sin fundamentally is. Hence “redemption” appears as the reestablishment of unity, in which we come together once more in a union that begins to take shape in the world community of believers. (SS 14)

As Christians, we must always avoid the temptation to fall into a sense of isolation, believing that this journey of faith is a solo enterprise.  From the beginning of Creation, the Lord said: “it is not good for man to be alone.” (Gen 2:18) Since God Himself is a community of persons in the Trinity, and given that we are made in His likeness, then we too are called to see our identity as necessarily social in nature.   

In the quote above, the pope mentions how sin works against the unity of the human race.  There is a danger in considering this on too universal of a level.  We should take this to heart as we consider our own individual sins.  Perhaps we think that some of our sins are really only hurting ourselves.  But every sin that we commit, no matter how private, always affects the rest of the community.  As St. Paul writes: “If one member suffers, all suffer together.” (1 Cor 12:26) With that in mind, we should be very eager to repent of our sins as quickly as possible, not just for our good, but for the good of the entire body, for our being reconciled with God affects the strength of the body.  By avoiding being reconciled to God, avoiding His mercy, perhaps under the mindset that our sins are just that, our own personal sins, then we deprive the rest of the body from flourishing and making progress toward our common goal of Eternal Life.

As we enter into Holy Week, let us be very aware of our union with our brothers and sisters throughout the world and throughout time.  We are all united in the fact that “all have sinned” (Rom 3:23), and therefore we all should feel responsible for contributing to the sufferings that Jesus underwent.  But, thanks be to God, through His Passion that He underwent for all sinners, ourselves included, He has made possible our being reunited as brothers and sisters through the grace of His Resurrection.  His victory strengthens our identity as His Chosen People, delivered from slavery, and destined for the new Promised Land that awaits us in Heaven.

I would highly encourage you to consider joining us for as much of the Pascal Triduum as you can, for immersing ourselves in these most sacred mysteries of our salvation along with our fellow pilgrims, we will be renewed in our awareness of the blessing of being members of the same body, and rejoice with the words of the Psalmist: “Blessed the People whose God is the Lord” (Ps 144:15)

It was April 19^th, 1952, the Saturday after Easter that year, and a group of college students in Kraków were intent on escaping the drab, communist-controlled, city for a weekend trip to the Zakopane mountains. Five of the girls dormed together at the convent of the Sisters of Nazareth on Warszawska street and were that evening stealing across town to catch their late-night train south. Several of the men studying at the Kraków Polytechnic whom they had gotten to know through the Catholic chaplaincy in the city were going to meet them at the train station and they were going to spend Sunday hiking and taking in the splendid crocuses that were just then beginning to bloom. When they got to the station, news arrived that the guys’ exam had been moved up so they would miss the trip, instead a man in battered clothes stepped forward to join them for the trip. 

Their uncertainty was only slightly relieved when the recognized their college chaplain, Fr. Karol Wojtyła, whom they had gotten to know when attending Mass at St. Florian’s just outside of Kraków’s old town center where he was also one of the vicars. They had never seen him not wearing his cassock, and furthermore it was absolutely forbidden by the communist authorities for a priest to work with groups of young people. They could go to St. Florian’s without too much trouble, but traveling on a train with a priest could get them, and him, in very hot water. Poland was a country under the heel of Soviet Communism. Countless cities had only recently been rebuilt in the aftermath of WWII, during which millions of Poles had been sent to concentration camps and never returned. Millions more had returned, or been forcibly resettled into a newly redrawn Poland within the borders of the USSR. Countless priests and religious and other leaders had been killed during the war, and thousands more by the communists after, and the beatings and disappearings were still commonplace. 

Their Catholic faith was one of the few lights amid the darkness and anchors that the Poles still tenaciously held onto in those difficult days. But still … the train pulled to a stop … they glanced at their priest not knowing what to do … “Let’s get in” he simply said, and so they did, and so began an epic tale of taking on an evil empire from the inside.

It is a story I look forward to telling over these next weeks. Yes, about Fr. Wojtyła, many years before he was Pope St. John Paul II, and his teaching and investing and engaging and praying for this group of young people. But also, to come to know those ordinary university students – that night six young women: Danuta, Ola, Wanda, Elśbieta, Teresa, and (another) Danuta – who risked much (and gained much) by stepping into authentic Christian community. This was one of the many little groups that would come together over the next few years to form what John Paul would call “my środowisko.” That polish word has a range and depth of meanings something like “environment” or “mileau”, and it helpfully captures both the wide variety of different people who would choose to join the fledgling band coalescing around this thoughtful young curate and the sheer quantity of life they would share together. But I think that pronoun “my” adds the essential personal element that was always there when you were with Fr. Wojtyła. These were never just a “congregation” or anonymous members of his chaplaincy, they were a community,  friends, companions, fellow explorers and actors in the drama of human life, and yes, fellow combatants for a life of freedom, and truth, and authenticity, within a culture-of-death that sought to erase all that from their hearts.

Far away from the secret police wandering the foothills of the Zakopane mountains, the students slowly warmed up to their incognito chaplain, but as they headed back to the train station for their return journey something of the reality back in the city began to sink back in. “What should we call you on the train?” Danuta shyly asked. Their priest grinned and quoted the most famous line from a trilogy of iconic novels about polish history and identity, “Call me Uncle” he said. It was the term ‘Wujek’ in Polish, a nickname they would fondly call him by for the rest of his life.

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– Fr. Dominic will return to Kraków next week. Just one thought to tie things together. Notice that Jesus also will be “incognito” in a different fashion when taking on the empire of Satan. He does not come with thunderbolts and heavenly hosts, He comes on a donkey, and takes up the weapon of the cross. Our fight will most likely be more like theirs’s than what we find in comic books and epic showdowns.