Polska, Polska, Polska: Head Awake & Heart Ablaze

A blog post by Leanna Praetzel, Fall 2011

Skipping down the sidewalks of Czestachowa, Poland at 6:30 in the morning after an overnight bus ride, clapping and singing the only Polish song you know (Sto lat!) over and over again: that’s the best way to know who your true friends are.  At least… it is from my experiences, anyway.  Many students were suffering the effects of sleep deprivation—and rightfully so!  A bus is difficult enough to be comfortable on whilst passengers are awake, let alone asleep (or at least trying to be).  But with a mix of sufficient shut-eye (thanks to the semi-comfy sleeping spot I claimed on the bus’s floor) along with the Polish blood fervently pulsing through my veins, I found myself ecstatic on the streets of Czestachowa, head awake and heart ablaze.

I suppose the unveiling of the Black Madonna also contributed to my unusual alertness at such an early hour Friday morning.  A miraculous image of Mary and the infant Jesus painted by St. Luke on top of a table that Jesus built?  Yes please!  Of course I couldn’t pass up a tour given by a pleasant and quite comical German priest either; He took us around the fortress that housed the Black Madonna to see hidden chapels, statues, and even a treasure room containing the First Holy Communion veil of St. Thérèse.

From Czestachowa our bus turned its wheels toward the infamous Auschwitz—a place I was uneasy about going to.  Eighth grade history class had pounded the Holocaust into my sensitive self so forcefully, I felt sad and guilty very often.  I frequently wondered why we had to learn about the Holocaust in the first place.  Needless to say, Auschwitz was not on the top of my to-do list.  But I went anyway… and I’m glad I did.

The concentration camp existed.  It was there, where I stood, brick on brick.  It was the solid, enduring evidence of the terrible fate of many innocent people.  But the mounds of piled shoes, suitcases, and more were not placed on display to make us cry; on the contrary, they served, in my eyes, as a memorial to those who died.  Each picture and flower, building and stone had its place on the grounds of Auschwitz, reverently pointing towards the victims.  This helped me to see the Holocaust as not something that requires constant sorrow (although, as we are human, some sensitivity must indeed be felt), but rather as something that simply needs to be remembered.

Not to mention that in the dark tunnel of Auschwitz I found a surprise light—Maximilian Kolbe.  Talk about joy!  This saint took another man’s place in being sentenced to starvation, and still sang hearty praises to God.  I never imagined a concentration camp to contain a square inch of happiness, and yet, upon seeing St. Maximilian’s cell, I couldn’t help but smile.

Of course, nothing says a happy ending to our Poland trip quite like the Divine Mercy Shrine in Krakow.  One of the sisters from the shrine gave a wonderful talk reaffirming the outstanding joy that can come through suffering.  The talk also described the extreme power of Divine Mercy: during his final days of living, Nazi commander Rudolf Höss, convicted for ruthlessly murdering the lives of millions, made a 180-degree turn.  Upon finally realizing the gravity of his sin, Höss wrote Poland a profound apology letter and sincerely asked God for forgiveness.  Along with many people, I believe this man has been forgiven... What are the sands of sin in comparison to the vast ocean of God's mercy?

Our final stop, Blessed Pope John Paul II’s hometown of Wadowice, quite literally provided the icing on the cake.  Ever since he was a boy, JP II was absolutely crazy about the pastry “kremówka”.  Now, vendors in Wadowice market the delectable “Pope Cake” dessert to sweet-toothed tourists like me.  So, a plastic fork and a powdered sugar-covered scarf later, I was ready to once again roam the lovely streets of Polska, but this time the same ones that Karol Wojtyla himself roamed as a child.  I felt very fortunate, especially when I was able to touch his baptismal font!

Truthfully, I was saddened when boarding the Gaming-bound bus—Poland was so full of vibrant life!  But I knew that I will value my time spent there for decades to come.  

Life or Death: A Commentary on our Recent Pilgrimage to Poland

A blog post by Joe White, Fall 2011

  

“Before man are life and death, and whichever he chooses shall be given to him.”

– Sirach 15:17

            “Are you going to write about Poland?” my friend and co-blogger Leanna asked. “Yes. Definitely,” I responded. “I just don’t know where I would begin. How do you talk about that trip in a blog?” she asked. That is a mighty fine question. How do you write about a journey that included stops at the image of the Black Madonna, Auschwitz, Blessed John Paul II’s spot of ordination, Birkenau, the miraculous image of Divine Mercy, and JPII’s hometown? Better question: how do I write about it without making the post shallow, not giving respect to true gravity of what was experienced last weekend? I’m not totally sure, but here we go.

            The whole pilgrimage was, for me, a face-to-face encounter with reality. A while back on main campus Father Dominic gave a talk on faith and reality. “People like to use the Karl Marx quote, ‘religion is the opiate of the masses.’ And that quote is true if it’s bad religion. Real faith puts you in reality, in your world. It does not dull you to, but ought to spark you to live in and make it better.”[1] The talk had a very profound effect on me and ever since then I try to live in this reality with the faith

            Anyway, our first stop in the journey was in Czestochowa to venerate the Black Madonna, Our Lady of Czestochowa. To make a long story short, this miraculous image has saved the Polish people numerous times because of their faith. Reading the stories of her intercession in battles certainly fascinated me; however, it was the wall of canes, crutches, and other assorted tools for the disabled that hit me with the reality of prayer. These crutches were left behind by people who were healed by the Blessed Mother’s intercession—right there in the chapel before the image. As the apostles left their nets and followed the Christ, so too did the healed leave baggage behind to and step into their new found freedom. And who could discount these physical examples of the supernatural? This was a fifteen-foot wall adorned with crutches. Did the religious at the monastery hang them up to manipulate religious fervor? That many canes? There is no way. Were the people who hung them there faking it? There is no doubt in my mind that miracles happen at Czestochowa.

            On to Auschwitz: there I stood against the Death Wall, eyes fixed in front of me where hardly 70 years before hate-filled men fired away at victims who did not deserve what they received, listening to the same calm, creepy wind rustle the leaves in the trees behind me. What was once a multiple choice question on an exam, a black-and-white photo in a textbook, or an abridged non-fiction novel for my German III class, was now a glaring, draining reality. What we saw was hell. People were led in to work and die and treated so inhumanely. Few of us were gushing with emotion throughout the tour; rather, I felt flat and numb. Here I saw one side of the polarity of free will: we can choose death and exterminate one million human beings.

           

Or we can choose life. We can choose the love and mercy of Christ and transform ourselves and the world. In a free gift of self to the Lord and a free choice to love, our humanity is transformed. St. Faustina gave herself to Christ and for that reason was able to give to humanity an image and the chaplet of his Divine Mercy.[2] A meek and humble religious sister—cloistered at that—and yet she chose to allow Christ to transform her so that he could transform others—not only during her lifetime, but a century later and years beyond. With our free choice, indeed we can choose to love—to love as Karol Wojtyla did and the main saints before him.

 By far my favorite part of the trip was our two-and-a half hours in Wadowice, Wojtyla’s home town. It appeared to be just a quiet, small, unassuming town, a town where a boy grew up. The Catholic Church in the middle of town was not as splendid and ornate as the other churches we’ve visited. Nevertheless, having attended Latin mass that morning I reflected on how much I appreciate vernacular masses. And yet in this town, a child went to Latin mass in this (relatively) small church, faced with death and pain, and yet he became Blessed John Paul II, “the Great”.

I was hit with so much peace in this town that a boy was formed here. He wasn’t pope or priest—just a boy. And yet he loved and chose God and chose life. And as a sister told us this weekend, God’s secret is that he doesn’t want to give you little, he wants to give you much. Karol Wojtyla chose to let God do this for him—give him much. And through that choice, his humanity was transformed into a life-giving force—a force that continues to change lives.

           

Before man are life and death, and whichever he chooses shall be given to him. Which one do you want?

---

[1] Heavily paraphrased, he said it far better than I ever could.

[2] Twas truly a beautiful, beautiful experience to receive reconciliation in the Divine Mercy Chapel in Krakow and then do penance before the miraculous image of Divine Mercy. 

On Pilgrimage to Poland

A blog post by Brandon Otto, Spring 2011

Classes have been continuing strongly in Austria: mid-terms are this week, and so studies are getting much more intense. That doesn’t mean we don’t have amazing travel times too, though.

Two weeks ago, the school set up a bus ride to Prague (Praha), and I hopped on-board. My friends and I went on a bus tour throughout much of Prague, ending up at the castle. After seeing the castle, the residence of the president of the Czech Republic, we journeyed around the town, seeing St. Nicholas Church, a gorgeous baroque church, and the Church of Our Lady Victorious, where the Infant of Prague is located. We also ate at a café that entirely played Beatles music (I seem to have a habit of finding European restaurants that play music in English). After wandering throughout much more of Prague, we ended up eating at an Italian restaurant (not Czech, I know). Then we headed back to campus for a Sunday and another week of classes.

At the end of the week was the pilgrimage to Poland. Poland was amazing. Although I’d been there before, and I’d previously seen Kraków and Auschwitz-Birkenau, it was still an amazing trip. On the long way there, we watched the 2005 miniseries Karol: A Man Who Became Popeto prepare us to see John Paul II’s home country. The bus ride ended at 5:45 in the morning in Częstochowa, where we sprinted up the icy hill of Jasna Góra to see the unveiling of the icon of Our Lady of Częstochowa, complete with trumpet blasts. Jasna Góra is an absolutely beautiful shrine that, in addition to containing the icon, it has a set of the Stations of the Cross, by Polish artist Jerzy Duda-Gracz, that show Christ suffering alongside the modern Polish people. They are striking and powerful in their portrayal of His suffering. One example is in the Station of the Crucifixion, where all the Polish saints, including St. Maximilian Kolbe, St. Hedwig (Jadwiga), and Venerable (soon to be Blessed) John Paul II, stand alongside Christ on the Cross. The next Station depicts Our Lady of Częstochowa holding Christ’s body, with His head taking the place of where the Infant is in the original icon. These Stations are just stunning: they probably rank as my favorite Stations of the Cross that I’ve ever seen. After viewing these Stations, some other students and I offered our petitions to Our Lady of Częstochowa, which involved moving around the entire shrine to reach the wall behind the icon. Did I mention that this is entirely done on one’s knees? It’s definitely a prayerful act, and penitential too. Following an English Mass and a little more free time (where yet another Mass was held: Masses are literally constant in Jasna Góra), we headed off to see Auschwitz and Birkenau (the second part of Auschwitz).

The following day involved a tour of Kraków, along with free time to explore all the many shops, cafés, churches, museums, and open-air shopping. My favorite part of Kraków on this visit was my favorite part from the last visit as well: the Wawel Cathedral. I sometimes jokingly refer to it as the “ADD Cathedral,” because there was a total of five or six different architectural styles used in the building of this cathedral as it was added on to throughout the centuries. From the outside, it very much looks like an odd conglomeration of different styles without any particular order. The inside of the cathedral is beautiful though, full of chapels to different Polish devotions, including Our Lady of Częstochowa and the Divine Mercy, tombs of royalty, tapestries, and relics, including the relics of the 11^th-century saint Stanisław (Stanislaus) and the 14^th-century saint Jadwiga (Hedwig). John Paul II loved this cathedral: he actually celebrated his first Mass as a priest there. Exploration of Kraków included eating at a café, seeing remnants of the medieval fortifications, and finding a bakery whose owners share the last name of one of my friends.

We left Kraków in the middle of the day to head to the Shrine of Divine Mercy, where the relics of St. Faustina Kowalska are located. The Shrine is very interestingly shaped: some people say it resembles a spaceship. The convent chapel, where St. Faustina’s relics are housed, was a much more traditional shape: it included the original Divine Mercy image. There we prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet in Polish, with some bits of English and French interspersed as well. We heard a talk on St. Faustina and Divine Mercy from a sister there, and we celebrated Mass in the Basilica. Shortly thereafter, we returned to Kraków. A group of us went out to celebrate a friend’s birthday at a nice restaurant, where the food included Borscht (beetroot soup) and fruit pierogies served with sweetened sour cream.

The final day in Poland began with a Latin Novus Ordo Mass at Wawel Cathedral in front of the relics of St. Stanisław (which I was a big fan of, since that might be my favorite cathedral I’ve ever been to). A group of us then went to Nowa Huta, a town on the outskirts of Kraków founded to be a communist utopia. They had a long struggle to eventually get a church in the town, including many lives lost defending a six-foot-tall wooden cross marking consecrated land. Another aspect of Nowa Huta is that the workers at the steel mill there made a giant cross at the mill after hours (illegally, of course), and they used it when Karol Wojtyła, then bishop of Kraków, would celebrate Christmas Eve Mass every year. Now there are two churches in Nowa Huta, one at the spot of the wooden cross, and one built on a cornerstone from St. Peter’s Basilica, blessed by Pope Paul VI, that Karol Wojtyła brought from Rome specifically to be a cornerstone. After seeing these two churches, we returned to Kraków for about an hour before heading to Wadowice, the hometown of John Paul II.

This small town was a great place to visit. We saw the baptismal font where Karol Wojtyła was baptized and the icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help where he first heard the call to the priesthood. We also saw a museum featuring many photographs and artifacts from John Paul II’s early life. At a souvenir shop in town, my friends and I met a Polish woman who lived in Chicago for a few years…and coincidentally, she knew the bakery owned by the grandparents of one of my friends! Talk about coincidences!

After only a few hours in Wadowice, we headed off on our long journey back the Kartause, listening to many people recount amazing experiences from over the weekend. Overall, the weekend in Poland was an absolutely amazing weekend, one that I would consider the highlight of the Austria experience so far.

This past week has been all studying as we prepare for mid-terms next week and then the 10-day pilgrimage to Rome and Assisi after that. I’ll write another post when we return from that pilgrimage. Until next time, God bless! Auf wiedersehen!

Poland: At Home in Mercy

A blog post by Dan McNally, Spring 2011

After a week of study which seemed to last forever, Thursday night we boarded the buses for Poland. We prayed for a safe trip, and started the movie Karol: The Man Who Became Pope. I had seen it before, but in preparation not only to see the places where he grew up, became a priest, and became a cardinal, but also in preparation for the horrors of the concentration camps, the movie provided a powerful perspective which stayed with me the whole weekend. The movie was very long, however, and on a bus ride into the morning, few people got adequate sleep. Before we realized it, it was 5:45 A.M., and we were sprinting to the shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa to be present for the unveiling of the image kept there. Tradition holds that the icon of our lady of Czestochowa was painted by St. Luke the Evangelist on a table that Christ built for his mother. We made it on time, and with trumpet blasts and drum rolls, the image appeared. It was beautiful, and such a powerful connection to the early church. Not only that, but with Mary as queen of Poland, our connection to the sufferings and joys of the Polish people and heritage began the moment we set foot in their country.

After a morning of reflection and prayer, we prepared ourselves for the journey into the mouth of hell at Auschwitz. The weather could not have been more fitting. It was very cold, and the sky was an intimidating and oppressive heavy gray. Walking on that ground, I pictured the thousands and thousands of feet that had trod in that very spot, many of them walking unwittingly to their deaths. We saw things I'd rather not repeat; we saw things no one should see, much less of which to fall victim. In the emotionless state in which I found myself after just a short time, the thought occurred to me that this was not just murder. I had always seen the holocaust as a horror and a terrible event of evil and malice, but being there, walking those paths, hearing how many died every day seeing where they died, seeing how people had become statistics, how the Nazis made up for lack of killing resources and time by expanding their daily operations, I saw that it truly was a universal extermination: Hitler had a goal, a quota, and given more time and resources, he would have met it. It was utterly “efficient” depravity. Romans 5:20 tells us “...where sin increased, grace abounded all the more...” The palpable darkness of this atrocity underscored and highlighted the virtues of the just who gave their lives, and showed that love is more powerful than death. Standing in front of Maximilian Kolbe's cell, one could not deny that the grace of God's love living through Him was infinitely more potent than the poison that was pulsating through their captor’s veins.

Saturday was spent in Krakow. In the afternoon, we ventured to the Shrine of Divine Mercy. We venerated the relics of St. Faustina, and in the chapel there, prayed a Divine Mercy chaplet in five languages, the unity of which brought happiness to my heart. This joy continued and grew all weekend. It continued at the Shrine, where we celebrated the Mass. Going up to communion in this place of mercy, after a few days of darkness and doubt of God's love, I looked up at the image of the loving merciful Christ above me, I felt a sense of peace I could not shake. I was reminded of the advice of a priest and friend back home, who had encouraged me to pray for Christ's Divine Mercy every day, and I felt at home once more. That night when we returned to the hotel, I stayed alone in my room and prayed, and found such peace in the Divine Mercy, it's difficult to describe or relay, but all I can say is pray to Jesus, realize his love and mercy, and put your trust in Him. He is with you at all times.

The next morning we celebrated a Polish-Latin Mass at JPII's cathedral in Krakow. I was struck by the first mark of the Church, that of unity and oneness. Though the language was completely foreign to me, I always knew what was being prayed, and I softly spoke the prayers in English to myself. Though it was in a foreign country and language, it was the same liturgy, the same Mass, as if I hadn't left my home parish. After Mass, we visited Nowa Huta, the town made for Communism and Atheism, and saw how Christianity could not be kept out, and saw where many died defending the cross against the oppressive regime of the time. At the conclusion of our time, we visited Wadowice, John Paul II's hometown. We walked through his parish, saw Mass being celebrated and entered into the timeless universal sacrifice, as he did so many times there. One could feel the quiet holiness of this humble place.

Poland is a country of great culture, history, suffering, and resurrection. The Polish people are a rock of faith, and they are proud of their history, their pain, and their renewal in Christ. It was an honor to be a guest to their wonderful part of the world. We keep Divine Mercy in mind as we prepare for midterms this week!

John Paul the Great, pray for us. Jesu Ufam Tobie.

Poland: A Life-Enriching Experience

Poland was never one of those countries I dreamed of visiting. It never struck a deep cord with me or made me aspire to fly across the ocean. I prayed I would go to Ireland and Italy but never Poland. It wasn’t out of dislike for the country; I was simply indifferent to it as a whole. However, when the school presented a pilgrimage to Poland, I was more than ready to accept. They claimed it was one of the best trips they offered and, given the chance, I wanted to see different European shrines. Now, having gone to Poland for three short and wonderful days, I can say it is a country I would gladly return to.

My initial experience of Poland was the Our Lady of Czestochowa shrine. Honestly, I would have gone to Poland simply to be at that shrine. The peace felt there was incredible. In order to see the image of Our Lady of Czestochowa, it is almost necessary to experience part of the Mass. One of my favorite parts was kneeling around the outside of the sanctuary and going around behind the altar. At first I felt odd doing it since Mass was being celebrated at the time but later I was grateful for the opportunity. As I was kneeling, waiting for the line to move, I found myself nearly directly in line with the altar during the consecration. The Mass wasn’t in English but as the host and chalice were elevated, it made no difference. The same Jesus was present and I was mere feet from His altar. It was beautiful to be so near Our Lord as he became present and to see the reverence of the priests. Feeling incredibly blessed to have just experienced the consecration so closely, the line moved around the corner. I saw students lean their heads against a stone in the wall and pray for a few moments with their eyes closed. Although I was unsure of the exact reason I discerned that the stone was directly behind the altar and below the image of Our Lady.

Following suit, I leaned my head against the stone and was amazed when a peace settled in my heart. Prayers of petition formed but the prayers in the forefront of my mind were of thanksgiving for being able to experience such beauty in such an unexpected way. I was so close to Jesus and Mary and growing in love for them both.

The rest of the time we spent at the shrine merely increased my love for it. The adoration chapel was a quiet haven for time with Jesus but the whole shrine seemed to permeate a sense of devotion and reverence. Crutches and braces on the walls showed the power of Marian intercession and what great faith can accomplish. Mass was being celebrated nearly continually, a wonderful testament to the purpose and meaning of the shrine. After only a few hours at the shrine, I came to understand, at least partially, why the Poles love Our Lady of Czestochowa so ardently. Despite being nearly unacquainted with her before, I fell in love with Our Lady of Czestochowa during our brief visit.

Some cathedrals and churches that I have visited in Europe have left me with disappointment that Jesus isn’t the focus of the devotion but merely worthy of a side chapel that is often overlooked or even neglected altogether. Our Lady of Czestochowa’s shrine was the perfect example of elegant beauty and piety blended together. Perhaps it is largely due to the fact that it is more of a pilgrimage location as opposed to a tourist attraction. I wouldn’t say the weekend was life-changing exactly but rather life-enriching. The Polish people have Our Lady as their patron and they have run to her repeatedly throughout history. Such devotion is something that is needed in other parts of the world as well. They have suffered very much over time yet that has helped shape who they are today. Pope John Paul II was an apostle of the gospel of love and he arose from the nation in the midst of her suffering. The saints the nation has produced are also witnesses to their religious fervor. With that in mind, we ask the Lady of the Polish people to intercede for us—Our Lady of Czestochowa, pray for us.

Post written by Trish Irivne

Unforgettable Poland Impressions

Just returned from a 9 day trip to Armenia so the blog will be updated regularly going forward.

I’d like to offer a few thoughts about this past weekend’s pilgrimage to Poland, but I hardly know where to begin; it was a time that is as difficult to describe as it was to experience. I suppose I will just begin with what we did and then work in my own impressions, thoughts, emotions, etc.


We drove all through the night and arrived Friday morning at the shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa in time to see the unveiling of the Black Madonna image (done every morning at 6am with trumpets and drums and gongs). The devotion of the Polish people to Our Lady of Czestochowa I can only compare to what I experienced several years ago at the shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe - grown men weep and the elderly and crippled fall to their knees before this sacred image, so much a part of their heritage and faith. Visitors circle past the image on their knees and the marble floor is worn smooth in two tracks by centuries of pilgrims doing this same, reverential gesture.


I felt moved to tears by the devotion I witnessed - the peace within the walls of the shrine and the utter abandon of the pilgrims to their mother - the Black Madonna. The holiest and simplest of men have prayed there (Pope John Paul II being one of them) and you can feel it in the walls, in the air - see it in the eyes of the people around you. It is a beautiful, humbling thing to behold. And there, sitting mere feet from the image that has survived so much so miraculously, we celebrated Mass: how does one describe that? Only as heavenly, I suppose.




Our next journey was very different, though - in the afternoon we went to Auschwitz-Birkenau. The emotions there ran no less deep, but in such a striking, aching way, I'm sure you realize. Silence was the only proper response as we walked through gas chambers and blocks and rooms where prisoners were tortured, experimented upon, sterilized, raped, robbed of any scrap of dignity to which they had managed to hold. The inhumanity of it all disgusts you when you look at piles of human hair - waiting to be sold, made into nets or lampshades. As you look at rooms of shoes, no larger than your little finger, once belonging to the children who were the immediate victims of the gas chambers because they were not useful - not able to slave and mine and work and starve to a skeletal state before their deaths.



One block is filled with pictures of prisoners and the basic information the Nazis gathered at first - occupation, date of arrival, date of death - before they stopped keeping records altogether. You walk past, looking into the eyes of each, knowing they are dead long before you do the subtraction - 1 month, 1 week, a few days, a year or two for the luckiest...but the luckiest, you start to think, are the ones that died right away - who didn’t suffer this inhumanity, this horror for longer than a few weeks. You start to hope that the dates will be close together - that the man or woman whose picture you are looking at died quickly. It mixes up the soul to see such things.



But the stories of the heroes help - they restore your faith in humanity, remind you what each life is worth, of the dignity even the Nazis possessed because it is the dignity of personhood - a mystery and a gift, in my eyes. For I saw the starvation cell where St. Maximilian Kolbe spent his last days and I knew then that it is true what Holocaust survivor Victor Frankl wrote in his book Man's Search for Meaning: "Love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire...The salvation of man is through love and in love..." And as for mankind - I understood, at last, what he meant when he wrote: "Our generation is realistic, for we have come to know man as he really is. After all, man is that being who invented the gas chambers of Auschwitz; however, he is also that being who entered those gas chambers upright, with the Lord's Prayer or the Shema Yisrael on his lips." It changes you for the better and demands you change the world.



A friend of mine said to me as we watched a car drive by the camp: "Imagine driving past this every day on your way to work." I said: "I can hardly imagine." But I can, can't I? In America, we drive past abortion clinics and think so little of the fact that we are treating humans the same as the Nazis. We are no better than Nazis if we imagine for one moment that human life can be rationalized away – the Nazis reasoned that for the good of the German people, the Jews must die; and we reason that for the good of the mother, the child must die. But doesn't this scream of un-truth? Love is the only answer;l we are too blinded (by culture, by politics, by our own ideas) to try.



Our next visit was to the Shrine of Divine Mercy and Sister Faustina's convent. How do I even start to explain that peace? There is no way to do so. It is a home for Love, itself. The grace and forgiveness and mercy there are tangible - they touch your heart and lift it out of your chest and wring it out. Then you sit back and soak in joy and love like you've never felt before.



All the while I was reminded of our last festival of praise when the FOP leader told us a quote from a saint who in a state of ecstasy asked Jesus what He did with Judas and to whom Jesus replied: "If the world knew what I did with Judas, they would abuse my mercy." Being there at the Shrine of Divine Mercy, located just miles away from Auschwitz (coincidence? - no way!) put everything back in order for me - I felt like I could understand how God can forgive and love mankind even after all we have done, and all the evil that remains in the world. It was an intensely emotional weekend – a pilgrimage that demanded much of us pilgrims – yet for many students it was the highlight of the semester so far, and I am sure I speak for all who went to Poland when I say that what we experienced there will remain with us and in us for the rest of our lives. Difficult to explain and describe, but no less life-changing for that – the Poland pilgrimage was truly all grace and blessing and I am sincerely grateful for the entire experience.



Blog post written by Cara Weiss, Fall 2009