Isn’t this the lesson we can learn from the final part of the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:34–35)? After bandaging the wounds of the victim, the
Samaritan brought him to the innkeeper and asked him to look after him. Without the innkeeper, what could he have done? It was really the innkeeper, behind the scenes, who did most of the work. We can all do as he did—carrying out our duties in a spirit of service. Directly or indirectly, every occupation provides opportunities to help the needy. This is especially true in the case of doctors, teachers, or businessmen, provided always that they keep their eyes open to the needs of others. But it is also true of employees, workers or laborers who can find plenty of opportunities to be of service to their neighbors—even if they have serious problems of their own. By faithfully carrying out our professional duties, we are already expressing our love for individuals and for society.
The bishop, for his part, is called not only to become personally involved in Christian charitable works of this kind, but also to encourage the emergence and development of further initiatives planned and directed by others in his diocese. Yet he should always be vigilant that the work is accomplished in charity and in fidelity to Christ, “pioneer and perfecter of faith” (cf. Heb. 12:2). We must go in search of the right people, but we should also be ready to allow all people of good will to take their place in the home that is the Church.
As a bishop I supported many different lay activities. They included, for example, the Apostolate to Families, the Kler-med seminars for clerics and medical students, the Institute for the Family. Before the war, Catholic Action was very active in Poland—it was divided into four groups: men, women, male youth, and female youth—and is now experiencing a revival. I was also chairman of the Commission for the Lay Apostolate in the Polish episcopate. I supported the Catholic publication, Tygodnik Powszechny, and did all I could to encourage the group who were involved with it. This was extremely necessary at that time. Editors, scholars, doctors, and artists all came to see me. As this was during the time of the communist dictatorship, they sometimes had to come secretly. We also organized conferences: the bishop’s home was nearly always occupied, full of life. And the Sisters of the Sacred Heart had to feed everybody . . .
I also supported various new initiatives in which I could sense the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Only when I came to Rome did I encounter the Neocatechumenate. The same was true of Opus Dei, which I established as a personal prelature in 1982. These two ecclesial movements call forth a great commitment from the laity. They both originated in Spain, a country that so often throughout history has been the source of providential inspirations for spiritual renewal. In October 2002 I had the joy of canonizing Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer, the founder of Opus Dei, a zealous priest, and an apostle to the laity in modern times.
During the years of my ministry in Kraków, I always felt spiritually close to the Focolare movement. I admired their intense apostolic activity, directed toward helping the Church to become ever more “the home and school of communion.” Since I was called to the See of Peter, I have often received Chiara Lubich, together with representatives of the various branches of the Focolare movement. Another movement to have emerged from the vitality of the Italian Church is Comunione e Liberazione, promoted by Monsignor Luigi Giussani.
There are many more lay initiatives that I have come to know in recent years. In France, Jean Vanier’s L’Arche and Foi et lumière come to mind. There are others, but it’s impossible to name them all. For now, I will just say that I support them, and remember them in my prayers. I have great hopes for them, and above all I wish that through them Christ’s call might be heard and answered: “You go into my vineyard too” (Matt. 20:4). I was thinking of them when I wrote this passage in the Apostolic Exhortation Christifideles laici: “The call is a concern not only of Pastors, clergy, and men and women religious. The call is addressed to everyone: lay people as well are personally called by the Lord, from whom they receive a mission on behalf of the Church and the world.”
Cooperation with Religious Orders
I have always had good relations with religious orders and worked well with them. Kraków probably has a greater concentration of religious orders, both male and female, than any other diocese in Poland. Many were founded there and many others took refuge there, including the Felician Sisters, who came from the territories of the former Kingdom of Poland. My thoughts turn to Blessed Honorat Koźmiński, who founded several female religious orders without a habit—the fruit of his zealous work in the confessional. In this regard he was a genius. The foundress of the Felician Sisters, Blessed Mother Angela Truszkowska, now buried in their church in Kraków, worked under his direction. I should emphasize that the largest religious families in Kraków are the medieval ones, such as the Franciscans and the Dominicans, as well as the sixteenth-century orders like the Jesuits and the Capuchins. These orders enjoy a reputation for good confessors, among clergy as well as laity. (The priests in Kraków often choose Capuchins as their confessors.) At the time of the partitions of Poland, many orders found themselves in the archdiocese because, not having permission to operate in the then Kingdom of Poland, they crossed the border into the Republic of Kraków, where they could enjoy relative freedom. The clearest example of my good relations with the religious orders was the episcopal nomination of Albin Małysiak of the Congregation of the Mission (Vincentian). He had been a zealous pastor in Kraków—in Nowa Wieś—and it was I who put him forward as a candidate, together with Stanisław
Smoleński, and I consecrated them both.
The religious orders never caused me any problems, and my relations with all of them were good. They were a great help to me in my mission as a bishop. My thoughts also turn to the great reserves of spiritual energy found in the contemplative orders. There are two Carmelite convents in Kraków, one on Kopernika Street and the other on Łobzowska Street. There are also the Poor Clares, the Dominican Sisters, the Visitation Sisters, and the Benedictine Sisters in Staniactki. These are great centers of prayer and penance, as well as catechesis. I remember saying once to the enclosed nuns: “May this grille join you to the world and not separate you from it. Embrace the whole world with your mantle of prayer!” I am convinced that these dear sisters all over the world are always conscious that they exist for the world and never cease to serve the universal Church through their self-giving, silence, and fervent prayer.
Every bishop can find great support in them. I experienced this many times when, faced with a difficult problem, I would ask certain contemplative orders for the support of their prayers. I felt the power of their intercession and I would thank those sisters gathered in their Upper Rooms of prayer for helping me to overcome situations that, humanly speaking, seemed hopeless.
The Ursuline Sisters ran a boarding school in Kraków and Mother Angela Kurpisz always invited me to meet with the students during their retreat. I often visited the Gray Ursulines in Jaszczurówka (Zakopane) and took advantage of their hospitality each year. A tradition arose that every New Year’s Eve at midnight I would celebrate Mass with the Franciscans in Kraków and in the morning I would go to stay with the Ursulines in Zakopane for some skiing (there was usually enough snow at that time). I normally stayed with them until January sixth, when I would leave during the afternoon so as to be back in time to celebrate the six o’clock Mass at the Cathedral in Kraków. Afterward, we would gather in Wawel and sing Christmas carols. I remember that on one occasion I had gone skiing, probably with Father Józef Rozwadowski (who later became bishop of Łódź), and we got lost somewhere around the Chochołowska valley. So we had to rush like madmen, as the saying goes, in order to get back in time.
For my days of recollection I would often go to the Albertine Sisters at Czerwony Pracdnik, where I felt very much at home, and also to Rzacska just outside Kraków. I was also on good terms with the Little Sisters of Charles de Foucauld and sometimes worked with them.
As I mentioned earlier, I us
ed to spend a great deal of time at the Benedictine Abbey of Tyniec, where I made my retreats. I knew Father Piotr Rostworowski well and often made my confession to him. I also knew Father Augustyn Jankowski, a biblical scholar and a teaching colleague of mine. He always sends me his latest books. For my days of recollection I would go to Tyniec or to the Camaldolese Fathers in Bielany. As a young priest I led a retreat in Bielany for university students from Saint Florian’s parish. I remember that on one occasion I went down to the church late at night and, to my great surprise, found the students praying there. I then discovered that they were planning to take turns to pray there throughout the night.
Religious orders serve both the Church and the bishop. How can one fail to admire their witness of faith based on the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, and their manner of life inspired by the Rule drawn up by their founder! Thanks to such fidelity, the various religious families can maintain their original charism and draw fruit from it in successive generations. Nor can one forget the example of fraternal charity at the heart of every religious community. It’s only human that problems can arise from time to time, but a solution can always be found, provided that the bishop is able to listen attentively to the community, respecting its legitimate autonomy, and provided that the community, for its part, duly acknowledges the bishop’s ultimate responsibility for pastoral oversight of the whole diocese.
The Presbyterate
There were always a good many vocations in the Archdiocese of Kraków, and in some years the number was exceptionally high. After October 1956, for example, the applications to the seminary increased significantly, and the same thing happened ten years later, during the millennium of Polish Christianity. This seems to be the rule: after a great event there are more vocations. They issue from the ordinary daily life of the People of God. Cardinal Sapieha used to say that the seminary is the pupilla oculi, the pupil of a bishop’s eye, just as the novitiate is for the religious superior. This is easy to understand: Vocations are the future of a diocese, and of a religious order, and ultimately the future of the Church. I personally devoted particular attention to seminaries. Every day, now, I pray for the Roman Seminary and for all the seminaries in Rome, throughout Italy, in Poland, and all over the world.
I pray especially for the seminary in Kraków, where I received my own formation, and in this way I wish to pay my debt of gratitude. When I was the bishop of Kraków, I showed a special interest in following vocations. At the end of June, I would ask how many applicants there were for the following year. Later, once they had been admitted, I would meet each one individually, ask about his family, and together we would try to discern his vocation. I would invite seminarians for morning Mass in my chapel and then offer them breakfast. This was an excellent way to get to know them. I joined them for dinner on Christmas Eve at the seminary or I invited the seminarians to join me in Franciszkańska Street. They didn’t return to their families for the big feasts, so I wanted somehow to compensate them for this sacrifice. All these things I was able to do when I was in Kraków. In Rome it is more difficult because there are so many seminaries. Nonetheless, I have personally visited all of them, and when I’ve had the opportunity, I have invited the rectors to the Vatican.
No bishop should fail to challenge young people with the great ideal of the priesthood. A young heart can understand the reckless love that is needed for total self-giving. There is no greater love than Love with a capital “L.” On May 3, 2003, in Madrid, during my last pilgrimage to Spain, I confided in the young people: “I was ordained a priest at the age of twenty-six. Fifty-six years have passed since then. Looking back, and remembering those years of my life, I can assure you that it is worth dedicating yourselves to the cause of Christ, and for love of Him, dedicating yourselves to the service of others. It is worth giving your lives for the Gospel and for your brothers and sisters!” The young people understood the message and echoed my words by chanting over and over again: “It’s worth it! It’s worth it!”
Concern for vocations is also manifested in the care taken over the selection of candidates for the priest-hood. The bishop entrusts many aspects of this process to his collaborators, the seminary formation team, but he himself bears the final responsibility for the formation of priests. During the rite of ordination, it is the bishop who definitively chooses and calls the candidates in Christ’s name when he says: “We rely on the help of the Lord God and our Savior Jesus Christ, and we choose these men, our brothers, for priesthood in the presbyteral order.”18It is a great responsibility. Saint Paul warns Timothy: “Do not lay hands too readily on anyone” (cf. 1 Tim. 5:22). It is not a question of severity, but rather a sense of responsibility for the immensely precious gift that has been placed in our hands. It is for the sake of the gift and the mystery of salvation that such stringent demands are made in connection with the priesthood.
Here I would like to mention Saint Józef Sebastian Pelczar (1842–1924), bishop of the diocese of Przemyśl, whom I had the privilege of canonizing on my eighty-third birthday, together with Mother Urszula Ledochówska, of whom I spoke earlier. This holy bishop was widely known in Poland for his writings, among which I would like to single out his book Meditations on the Life of a Priest: Priestly Asceticism. The book was published in Kraków while he was still a professor at the Jagiellonian University. (A new edition of the book appeared a few months ago.) It was the fruit of his rich interior life and it had a profound influence on whole generations of Polish priests, especially during my time. My own priesthood too was in some way formed by this ascetical work.
Tarnów and nearby Przemyśl are among the dioceses with the greatest number of vocations in the world. Archbishop Jerzy Ablewicz of Tarnów was a good friend of mine. He came from Przemyśl, so he was heir to the spiritual heritage of Saint Józef Pelczar. They were very demanding pastors, firstly with themselves and then with their priests and seminarians. I believe that this was the key to the large number of vocations in their dioceses. Challenges and high ideals are attractive to the young.
The unity of the presbyterate has always been close to my heart. In order to facilitate my contact with the priests, I set up a presbyteral council in 1968, just after the Council, as a forum in which to discuss programs for the priests’ pastoral activity. At regular intervals throughout the year, meetings were organized in different regions of the archdiocese that would address specific issues raised by the priests themselves.
By his manner of life, a bishop demonstrates that the Christ as “Model” lives on and still speaks to us today. One could say that a diocese reflects the manner of life of its bishop. His virtues—chastity, a spirit of poverty and prayer, simplicity, sensitivity of conscience—will, as it were, be written into the hearts of his priests. They, in their turn, will convey these values to the faithful entrusted to their care, and in this way young people can be led to a make a generous response to Christ’s call.
In considering our priests, we must not overlook those who have left the active ministry. The bishop cannot forget them. They too have a right to his paternal concern. Their stories sometimes indicate failures in priestly formation, which has to include courageous fraternal correction when it is called for. A priest, for his part, has to be ready to accept such correction. Christ said to his disciples: “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother” (Matt. 18:15).
The Bishop’s Residence
My opportunities to meet the people came not only during pastoral visitations and other public events. The door of my residence at 3 Franciszkańska Street was always open to everyone. A bishop is a shepherd; so he should be with the people, for the people, and at the service of the people. Everyone had direct access to me at all times. All were welcome to my home.
All kinds of meetings and scholarly gatherings took place there, including the Studium for the Family. There was a special family consulting room. Those were times when the aut
horities looked upon any large gathering of laity as antigovernment activity. The bishop’s residence became a place of refuge. I invited all sorts of people: scholars, philosophers, humanists. I also held regular meetings with priests, and the parlor was frequently used for lectures, for example by the Institute for the Family and by Kler-med. You might say that the residence was throbbing with life.
The episcopal residence in Kraków is filled with memories associated with my great predecessor, remembered by generations of priests in Kraków as an incomparable example of the paternal quality called for in a bishop. Cardinal Adam Stefan Sapieha was popularly known as the Indomitable Prince throughout the war and the occupation. He undoubtedly holds a special place in the story of my own vocation. It was he who encouraged me from the very beginning, as I have recounted in my book Gift and Mystery.
Prince Cardinal Sapieha was a Polish aristocrat in the true sense of the word. He was born in Krasiczyn near Przemyśl. I once made a special trip there just to see the castle in which he was born. He was ordained a priest for the diocese of Lviv. He worked in the Vatican during the pontificate of Pius X, acting as assistant secret chamberlain. He did a great deal of good for the Polish cause at that time. In 1912 he was named a bishop and was ordained by Saint Pius X himself for the see of Kraków. He took possession of the see that same year, just before the First World War, in other words. After the outbreak of hostilities, he established the Bishop’s Committee for War Victims, commonly known as the Prince-Bishop’s Committee, in Kraków. In due course the Committee expanded its activities to include the whole country. The archbishop was extraordinarily active during the war years and for this he was greatly respected all over Poland. He became a cardinal only after the Second World War. Since the days of Cardinal Oleśnicki, a number of archbishops of Kraków had been cardinals before him, including Dunajewski and Puzyna, but it was Sapieha who earned the title of “Indomitable Prince.”
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