Then came the time for philosophical and theological literature. As a clandestine seminarian, I was given the manual on metaphysics by Professor Kazimierz Wais of Lwów. Father Kazimierz Kłósak said, “Study this! When you’ve learnt it, you’ll take the exam.” For a few months I immersed myself in the text. I took the exam and I passed. This was a turning point in my life— a whole new world opened up before me. I began to engage with theological books. Later, during my studies in Rome, I took a deep interest in the Summa Theologiae of Saint Thomas Aquinas.
So there were two stages to my intellectual journey: In the first I moved from literature to metaphysics, while the second led me from metaphysics to phenomenology. This was the grounding for my own scholarly work. The first stage coincided initially with the Nazi occupation, when I was working in the Solvay factory and secretly studying theology at the seminary. I remember that when I presented myself to the rector, Father Jan Piwowarczyk, he said, “I will accept you, but not even your mother is to know that you are studying here.” That was the situation. But I was able to make progress all the same. Later on, Professor Father Ignacy Rózycki helped me greatly by taking me into his home and providing me with a base for my studies.
Much later, Father Rózycki suggested the topic for my habilitation thesis on Max Scheler’s book Der Formalismus in der Ethik und materiale Wertethik, which I translated into Polish as I was writing my thesis. This was another turning point. I defended the thesis in November 1953. My readers were Father Aleksander Usowicz, Stefan Źwiezawski, and theologian Father Władysław Wicher. This was the last habilitation granted by the faculty of theology at the Jagiellonian University before its suppression by the communist authorities. The faculty, as I mentioned earlier, was transferred to the Academy of Catholic Theology in Warsaw, but I was able to begin teaching at the Catholic University in Lublin in the fall of 1954, thanks to the assistance of ProfessorŹwiezawski; he became a good friend and has remained so to this day.
I was fond of Father Rózycki, whom I called Ignac, and he was equally fond of me. It was he who encouraged me to take the exam for my habilitation, and he acted as a kind of supervisor. For some years we lived together and took our meals together. Our cook was Maria Gromek. I remember my room perfectly. It was in the residence of the Wawel Cathedral Chapter at 19 Kanonicza Street, and for six years it was my home. After that I moved to number twenty-one, and finally, through the good offices of the chancellor, Father Mikołaj Kuczkowski, I moved into the episcopal palace at 3 Franciszkańska Street.
In my reading and in my studies I always tried to achieve a harmony between faith, reason, and the heart. These are not separate areas, but are profoundly interconnected, each giving life to the other. This coming together of faith, reason, and the heart is strongly influenced by our sense of wonder at the miracle of a human person—at man’s likeness to the Triune God, at the immensely profound bond between love and truth, at the mystery of mutual self-giving and the life that it generates, at our reflections on the succession of human generations.
Children and Young People
I want to dedicate a special part of these reflections to children and young people. Aside from my meetings with them during parish visitations, I always devoted great attention to students, particularly university students, because the city of Kraków is traditionally a lively center of academic study. There were many opportunities for us to meet: from lectures and debates to days of recollection and retreats. Of course, I also kept in close contact with the priests who were assigned to pastoral ministry in this area.
As the communists suppressed all Catholic youth associations, a way had to be found to remedy the situation. The Servant of God, Father Franciszek Blachnicki, came upon the scene and initiated the so-called
Oasis Movement. I became closely involved with this movement and tried to support it in every way possible. I defended it before the communist authorities, I supported it financially, and, obviously, I took part in its activities. During the summer vacation I would often visit the so-called oases, which were camps organized for the young people belonging to the movement. I would preach to them, speak with them, climb mountains with them, and sing with them around the fire. I frequently celebrated Mass for them in the open air. This all added up to a really intensive pastoral program.
During my pilgrimage to Kraków in 2002, the young people of the Oasis Movement sang this song:
Lord, you have come to the seashore,
Neither searching for the rich nor the wise,
Desiring only that I should follow.
O Lord, with your eyes set upon me,
Gently smiling, you have spoken my name,
All I longed for I have found by the water,
At your side, I will seek other shores.
I told them that this oasis song led me, in a way, from my homeland to Rome. Its profound meaning was a support to me when I had to respond to the decision reached by the conclave. And throughout my pontificate, I have never forgotten the message of this song. What is more, I am constantly reminded of it not only in Poland but in other countries of the world. Whenever I hear it, I remember those meetings I had with young people. I greatly value this wonderful experience. I brought it with me to Rome. Here too, I looked for ways to put it to good use, taking as many opportunities as I could to meet young people. In a sense, the World Youth Days could be seen as a fruit of that experience.
Another youth movement that I encountered as a bishop was the so-called Sacrosong. It was a kind of festival of religious music and song, accompanied by prayer and reflection. These gatherings took place all over Poland and attracted large numbers of young people. I often took part myself, helping with the organization and supporting them financially. I have good memories of these gatherings. I have always enjoyed singing. To tell the truth, I used to sing whenever the occasion arose, but I enjoyed singing with young people most of all. The texts were varied, depending on the occasion: Around the fire we sang folk songs and scout songs. For national feast days, the anniversary of the outbreak of war, or the Warsaw Uprising, we would sing military and patriotic songs. My favorites were “Red Poppies on Monte Cassino,” “The First Brigade,” and songs about the Polish insurrection and the resistance in general.
The rhythm of the liturgical year is a further factor determining the choice of music. At Christmastime in Poland there are many songs devoted to the Lord’s Nativity, while those heard during the approach to Easter are concerned with the Passion. These old Polish hymns cover the whole range of Christian theology. They constitute a treasury of living tradition that speaks to the hearts of every generation and shapes their faith. During the months of May and October, in addition to Marian hymns, we sing the litanies and the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary. What poetic riches are contained in these popular hymns that are still sung today! As a bishop I tried to cultivate this tradition, which young people were particularly keen to maintain. I believe that we all benefited greatly from this treasury of simple and deep faith that our forefathers expressed in these hymns.
On May 18, 2003, I canonized Mother Urszula Ledóchowska, a great educator. She was born in Austria, but at the end of the nineteenth century the whole family moved to Lipnica Murowana in the diocese of Tarnów. She also lived in Kraków for a few years. Her sister Maria Teresa, known as Mother of Africa, has been beatified, and her brother, Włodzimierz, was the
Superior General of the Jesuits. The example of these brothers and sisters illustrates how the desire for holiness can develop in a remarkable way if it finds favorable surroundings in a good family. So much depends on life in the home! Saints beget and raise saints!
When I remember educators like Mother Urszula, I instinctively think of children. During my pastoral visitations in Poland, as well as those that I make here in Rome, I have always tried and I still try to find time to meet young children. I have never stopped encouraging priests to devote a generous amount of time to them in the confessional. It is very important
to form the consciences of children and young people. I have recently spoken of the importance of receiving Holy Communion worthily (Ecclesia de Eucharistia, 37). It is at the confession preceding First Communion that the proper disposition can be prepared. I daresay each of us can recall the first confession that we made as a child.
My predecessor Saint Pius X gave a touching testimony to his pastoral love for children by the changes he introduced regarding the reception of First Holy Communion. Not only did he lower the age for approaching the Eucharistic Table (I was able to take advantage of this in May 1929), but he also introduced the possibility of receiving Communion before the age of seven, if the child demonstrates sufficient understanding. This pastoral decision to bring forward the reception of Holy Communion is most commendable. It has yielded rich fruits of holiness in children and in the apostolate among the young, in addition to a flowering of priestly vocations.
I have always been convinced that without prayer, we can never succeed in bringing children up well. As a bishop I encouraged families and parish communities to develop in young children a desire to encounter God in private prayer. In this spirit I recently wrote: “To pray the rosary for children, and even more, with children, . . . is a spiritual aid which should not be underestimated.”16
The pastoral care of children must obviously be continued as they enter adolescence. Frequent confession and spiritual direction help young people to discern their vocation in life and protect them from losing their way as they enter adulthood. I remember Pope Paul VI saying to me during a private audience in November 1964: “My dear brother, today we must be very attentive toward our young students. The main focus of our pastoral care as bishops should be on priests, workers, and students.” I believe that these words came from personal experience. When he worked in the Secretariat of State, Giovanni Battista Montini was involved for many years in the pastoral care of university students in his capacity as the General Assistant of the Italian Catholic University Federation, or FUCI (Federazione Universitaria Cattolica Italiana).
Catechesis
We have been entrusted with the mission to “go and make disciples of all nations” (cf. Matt. 28:19–20). In today’s social context, we do this best through catechesis, which should be based both upon reflection on the Gospels and on our understanding of the things of this world. We need to understand the experiences of the people around us and the language they use to communicate. This is an important task for the Church. Pastors must be generous in sowing the seed, even though others will gather the harvest of their labors. “I tell you, look up and see the fields ripe for the harvest. The reaper is already receiving his payment and gathering crops for eternal life so that the sower and the reaper can rejoice together. For here the saying is verified that ‘One sows and another reaps.’ I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor; others have done the work, and you are sharing the fruits of their work” (John 4:35–38).
We fully realize that catechesis cannot rely solely on abstract concepts. Obviously they are necessary because, when we speak of supernatural realities, we cannot avoid the use of philosophical concepts. Catechesis, however, gives priority to the human person and to personal encounter through signs and symbols of faith. Catechesis is always love and responsibility, a responsibility born of love for those whom we meet on our journey.
The new Catechism of the Catholic Church, which was presented to me for approval in 1992, came to birth because of a desire to make the language of faith more accessible to people today. The image of the Good Shepherd, used as the “logo” on the cover of every edition of the Catechism, is highly significant. It is taken from a third-century Christian tombstone, found in the catacombs of Domitilla. The figure “suggests certain characteristic aspects of the Catechism: Christ, the Good Shepherd who leads and protects his faithful (the lamb) by his authority (the staff ), draws them by the melodious symphony of the truth (the panpipes) and makes them lie down in the shade of the ‘tree of life,’ his redeeming Cross which opens paradise.”17 It is an image that speaks of the Shepherd’s concern for every sheep— a concern filled with the patience needed to reach every individual in a truly personal way. It also includes the gift of tongues, that is the gift of speaking in a language understood by all the faithful. We should pray to the Holy Spirit for this gift.
Sometimes a bishop can more easily establish a rapport with adults by blessing their children and giving them some of his time. This is worth more than a long discourse on respect for the weak and defenseless. Today much imagination is needed if we are to learn how to speak about the faith and about life’s most important questions. It requires people who know how to love and how to think, because the imagination lives on love and on thought, as well as nourishing our thinking and enkindling our love.
Caritas
One of a pastor’s duties is concern for the least, as that word is understood in the Gospels. In the Acts of the Apostles and the Letters of Saint Paul, we read about collections organized by the Apostles to provide for the needs of the poor. I should like to mention here the example of Saint Nicholas, bishop of Myra in Asia Minor during the fourth century. At that time, the Christians of the East and the West were not yet divided, and both traditions are represented in the devotion to this saint. In fact, he is equally venerated in both East and West. His person, though shrouded in many legends, continues to exert a certain fascination, especially on account of his goodness. Children in particular turn to him with deep trust.
How many of our problems can be resolved when we begin with confident prayer! As children we all waited for Saint Nicholas to bring us presents. The communists wanted to deprive him of his sanctity, so they invented Grandfather Frost. Unfortunately, in the West, Nicholas has now become popular in the context of consumerism. Nowadays people seem to have forgotten that his goodness and generosity were, first and foremost, the measure of his holiness. He distinguished himself as a bishop by his great concern for the poor and needy. I remember that as a child I had a personal devotion to him. Naturally, like every other child, I looked forward to the gifts he would bring me on December sixth. But this expectation had a religious dimension too. Like my peers, I felt a certain veneration toward this saint who unselfishly lavished gifts upon the people, thereby demonstrating his loving concern for them.
In the Church today, the part once played by Saint Nicholas in providing for the needs of the least has been assumed by the institute known as Caritas. In Poland, the communist authorities suppressed this organization, whose protector after the war had been Cardinal Sapieha. As his successor I tried to revive it and support its activities. Monsignor Ferdynand Machay, archpriest of the Basilica of the Assumption in Kraków, helped me greatly in this. Through him I came to know the Servant of God, Hanna Chrzanowska, whom I mentioned earlier, daughter of the distinguished professor Ignacy Chrzanowski, who was arrested at the beginning of the war. I remember him clearly, even though I never had the opportunity to get to know him well. Thanks to the efforts of Hanna Chrzanowska, the apostolate among the sick emerged and started to take shape in the archdiocese. There were many different activities including retreats for the sick in Trzebinia, particularly significant occasions involving many people, among them numerous young volunteers.
In my Apostolic Letter written for the beginning of the new millennium, I reminded everyone of the need for even greater resourcefulness in this area. “Now is the time for a new ‘creativity’ in charity” (Novo millennio ineunte, 50). How could I fail to mention, in this context, that great Missionary of Charity, Mother Teresa of Calcutta?
In the days immediately following my election to the See of Peter, I met this great little missionary sister, who from then on would often visit me to tell me where and when she had succeeded in opening new houses to provide a home for the poorest. After the fall of the communist party in Albania, I was able to visit that country. Mother Teresa was also there. Albania, of course, was her native land. I met her on many other occasions, and every t
ime I was able to witness new signs of her passionate commitment to care for the poorest of the poor. Mother Teresa died in Calcutta, warmly remembered for her wonderful work, which her great multitude of spiritual daughters would continue. During her lifetime many people already regarded her as a saint, and when she died, her sanctity was universally recognized. I thank God that I was privileged to beatify her on October 19, 2003, around the time of the twenty-fifth anniversary of my pontificate. I said then, “The witness of Mother Teresa’s life reminds us all that the Church’s evangelizing mission is achieved through charity and is nourished through prayer and attentive listening to the Word of God. This missionary style is eloquently expressed by the image of Blessed Teresa clasping the hand of a child while fingering her rosary beads with her other hand. Contemplation and action, evangelization and respect for the human person: Mother Teresa proclaims the Gospel through her life of total dedication to the poor and total dedication to prayer.”
This is the mystery of evangelization through love of neighbor springing from love for God. This is the essence of that caritas, which should inspire everything a bishop says and does.
THE FATHERHOOD OF A BISHOP
“I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name” (Eph. 3:14–15)
Cooperation with the Laity
The laity can accomplish their proper vocation in the world and attain holiness not only through their active involvement in helping the poor and needy, but also by imbuing society with a Christian spirit as they carry out their professional duties and offer an example of Christian family life. Here I am thinking not only of leaders in public life but also of the many people who can transform their daily life into prayer, placing Christ at the center of their activity. He will draw them all to Himself and satisfy their hunger and thirst for righteousness (cf. Matt. 5:6).
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