Apr 15, 2009
Living and working for a time in Krakow -- the city that John Paul the Second loved -- I have been struck with numerous lessons regarding music, the arts, aesthetics, and the American Catholic Church. Poland gave the Church one of her greatest Popes, a man fiercely attuned to the merits, failings, and needs of the world and its Church. It comes as no surprise to me that aesthetics figured centrally in his thoughts. "Does the Church need art?" he asked. Indeed "does art need the Church?"
It was a particularly vivid recent service at the Franciscan Basilica in Krakow that led me to begin writing this article. I stood near the back of an ancient chapel bearing a faithful reproduction of the Turin Shroud. This chapel -- along with the great Cathedral that lay beyond it -- was filled with people of all ages, gathered together to celebrate an ancient Lenten rite. For a time, images of a Church in crisis were driven far from my mind by the sight of throngs of faithful Catholics, all rapt in their participation with grand tradition. This Church, across the street from the window at which John Paul II would great the faithful on his trips home, still resonated powerfully with his aesthetic lessons.
We were participating in the "gorzke zale" -- the ancient practice of singing sorrowful songs and seeking repentance during the time of Lent. After an initial hymn, the "Brotherhood of Our Lady of Sorrows" processed into the Chapel in black robes and hoods that also covered their faces. Each bore a staff bearing a symbol relating to the individual Stations of the Cross. The procession first went before the Eucharist, where the monks dropped loudly to the stone floor, prostrating themselves before Christ while the first sorrowful songs were sung. In the front of the procession was an ancient square box, bearing dark yet vibrant paintings on all sides, each image commemorating a scene from Christ's Passion. There were Gospel readings, hymns from the congregation, and a stark and harsh chant repeated by the monks. As the readings and prayers changed their subject, the box was rotated to show the faithful a corresponding image from the Passion. I was not only witnessing an ancient ceremony, but also likely one of the first multimedia presentations in the history of the Western world.
The procession later passed into the main Church, where people kneeled as songs commemorating the pain of the Mother of God were sung. This was followed by a spoken Lenten recollection. The procession then passed into the normally private side areas of the Church.