matching tracksuits

Last week, Pope Benedict has authorized increased use of the traditional Tridentine Mass (i.e., Mass in Latin). There are some concerns because the traditional Latin liturgy has a prayer for all Jews to be converted.

Still, others talk about “turning back the Catholic clock,” fearing that Benedict is on a mission to turn back the now-forty-year-old reforms of the Vatican II conference.

And still, others talk about the silliness of using an ancient, dead language for Mass, a language that most parishioners and probably all visitors will find unintelligible.

What to make of all this?

For all the disadvantages of using Latin, a sense of mystery is a definite advantage. Catholic theology is filled with mysteries

• the Rosary includes meditation on “Mysteries” (their term, not mine);
• at the end of the consecration of the host, the priest and parishioners into “the Mystery of faith.”

The candles, the architecture, the liturgical music — it’s all there to invoke a sense of the mysterium tremendum. The Latin — if parishioners understand what they’re saying — can only heighten that sense.

I have limited experience with Catholic Mass, but since K is Catholic, I do have more experience than I did ten years ago. Most of my Mass-going experience was in Poland, and when I came to the States, I found it odd to hear the liturgy in English. Odd, and demystifying.

From my journal ten years ago today — my first experience with Corpus Christi, though I had no idea what it was.

I am waiting for the bus, sitting in front of a church. I went in for a moment, but decided I should probably leave – I didn’t cross myself with holy water (It appears to be stagnant water with a greasy film.) and I was getting a few looks (though there were several others who did not cross themselves either).

Suddenly the bells began ringing and eventually I caught sight of a procession coming around from behind the church. Choir boys were dinging small bells and behind them was a procession of relics. A little behind that was the priest, walking under a canopy supported by six men, preceded by a young priest waving an incense burner. The head priest was holding a staff with a gold sun in front of his face – he was led by the arms, for he certainly couldn’t see where he was going. Behind the priest was a group of loosely organized lay-persons, singing a capella. The woman beside me knelt as the group went by. A strange thing, this Christianity.

Ten years ago. Ten years. Ten years…

“If you can’t say anything good, don’t say anything at all.” So my Mom always told me, and I do try to put it in practice, hence today’s entry.

(pronounced more or less “Je-she Po-peal-oosh-ko”) was a priest killed by the Polish communist internal security forces exactly twenty years ago for his outspoken support of freedom.

Popieluszko was an associate pastor in a parish of a working-class suburb of Warsaw. He began giving a “Mass for the fatherland” at the end of every month in which he encouraged his listeners to defend their rights through rejection of violence. As word of his dynamic sermons spread, attendance for his monthly “Mass for the fatherland” swelled, and included people from not just Warsaw but all of Poland.

One can imagine the affect this had on the Communist leadership. In January of 1982, Popieluszko was asleep when, at one thirty in the morning, the buzzer for his door rang. Rather than getting out and checking the window to see who it was, Popieluszko lingered in bed a moment. It probably saved his life, for shortly after that, a brick crashed throw the window with a small explosive device attached. Part of his apartment was damaged, but Popieluszko remained unharmed.

Shortly after that, Popieluszko began receiving death threats by mail. In 1984, as Popieluszko was returning to Warsaw from Gdansk (the city Hitler attacked, thus starting the Second World War), his car was attacked and bombarded with stones. Popieluszko again survived a potentially fatal accident thanks to a professional driver from the Solidarity movement.

Exactly twenty years today, on 19 October 1984, Popieluszko went to Bydgoszcz to preach. Through a student friend, he asked another priest to substitute for him in a student Bible meeting “if [he didn’t] make it back.”

Four security officials were convicted of Popieluszko’s murder in February 1985, with the lightest sentence being fourteen years.

And he never did make it back.

On 30 October, Popieluszko’s body was dragged from an icy reservoir. He had died from choking from his own blood and vomit while being gagged and a rope had been thrown around his neck to weight his body down with a bag of stones.

At his funeral, Lech Walesa said, “Solidarity lives because you gave your life for it, Father Jerzy.”

Photo by BostonCatholic