The frenzy of a week without Pope John Paul II is drawing to a peaceful close. A silence has draped over Krakow, enveloping her into the somberness, giving her a place to cry. Walking through the streets this week, the subtle chaos of a drowning world pervades, bringing people into the mood of desolation and absolute despair. There is a certain strangeness, a certain wind blowing about disrupted the air, the people in the streets, and I too seemed to have been caught up in it.

Last Saturday, at 9:37pm local time, Poland fell to her knees and wept at the passing of John Paul II, their Pope, the Pole. The Zygmunt Bell of Wawel Castle alerted people carrying on a vigil outside the churches that Pope John Paul II’s life had finally elapsed. When the news had reached me, at home, tucked away, I too didn’t know what this would mean for Poland or how she would take the news. I will have to say, in this moment, she really showed her true colors.

One expected tears, a deep and engulfing despair to take over the people. A 98% Catholic country, where doctrine and faith have become so important since the fall of communism, can be criticized for its homogeneity, for its seeming unwillingness to diversify. Poland is a country where you can visit but you can never truly belong. The challenge for the outsider becomes ‘go native or go home.’ You can mistrust this, criticize it, and even look at the xenophobic tendencies, but in the end, Polish nationalism inextricably bound to Catholicism may have saved her spirit this week.

Last Sunday, after the news of the Pope’s death had been announced, we took a stroll through the streets of Krakow. Before Karol Wojtyla became Pope, he was Cardinal Archbishop of Krakow; Krakow was his second home next to Wadowice. As we walked through the streets, the ordinariness of any Sunday had been destroyed. Those things that you come to count on, expect to be constants such as trams had been upset. The entirety of the Rynek had been closed off to traffic, leaving it only to pedestrians. People streamed in both directions, on their way to church, on their way back to church. Poland was in mourning, and the only thing she knew to do was pray.

We continue on to Mariacki Church where a large picture of the Pope had been placed. Beneath it, candles of varying sizes and descriptions, and flowers had been laid in his honor. As we walked on to the Archbishop’s residence, we could hear the sounds of a choir before we could see what was happening. As we drew closer, and the voices drew louder, we were met by hundreds of people standing outside listening to an open air Mass. Candles, flowers, and scarves of the Pope’s favorite soccer team stretched all about, placed on anything that would stand still long enough. People were transfixed on the apartment above the door, where Cardinal Archbishop Karol Wojtyla would wave to the crowds. Instead of the smiling face that Poles remember, a cross draped with a stole, a light shining upon it. As the last bit of the mass finished, a familiar prayer could be heard whispered about. People seemed to look out beyond it, to express only a profound grief, but still, the reflex was still there. As we walked away to let them complete their prayers, the whispers and subtle movements of mouth couldn’t begin to express the feeling that encompassed the people.

As the week progressed, Poland was not herself. The chaos of people adjusting to this new life without Pope John Paul II was echoed in the chaos of people trying to reach their destinations with a disrupted transportation network. Polish national flags and Vatican flags flew across town: draped out of windows, off buildings, outside churches, all of them with black tassels tied to their tops in mourning of Poland’s native son. In shops across town, photos of John Paul II appeared in windows with black ribbons accompanying. Taxis and even ordinary cars had tied black ribbons to their antennas. People walked about town with buttons of Krakow’s flag with a black line through it in mourning, and as Thursday approached, those black ribbons changed to white.

Vigils had been held since the Pope fell ill this last time. The final vigil was planned for last night, to await the funeral. Yesterday afternoon, tens of thousands of people gathered in the Rynek for the Marsz Bialy, the White March, to march from Mariacki Church to the Blonie (a park), where the Pope’s funeral was to be displayed on a big screen. I too had come out for this event, hoping to capture a glimpse at this unusual but amazing display. This Pope, attributed with bringing down communism, would be honored by the march, as a similar one was done in the early 80s as part of the Solidarity movement in protest to Martial Law and communism.

People had moved into the Rynek well before the 5pm start time. All around me, people were dressed in white, carrying flowers and candles, anxiously waiting. There was no moving to be had, it seemed everyone in Krakow was there for the event. When 5pm had arrived, the ringing of the bell at Mariacki church drew everyone into silence. For an hour, the bell would toll and people would look around at a sea of white, of Polish and Vatican flags, of banners announcing love for the Pope. The devoted would march their way to the Blonie and spend the night in a vigil waiting for the funeral.

There were 800,000 people in the Blonie to watch the funeral, and 2 million Poles traveled to Rome (approximately 5% of the population). The televised funeral showed a sea of Polish flags in Rome, with banners announcing a desire to have the former Pope beatified. Something that would be all too dangerous for Poland. The Pope’s beatification could mean a cult-like Catholicism in Poland. One of Jaime’s students had said, “I know when I’m saying ‘Our Father’ I know who I’m talking to now.” Where Polish nationalism and Catholicism seem to be one in the same, it would be a monumental mistake to beatify Pope John Paul II at the present time.

Some say that Poland is mourning her loss of status. The Pope, the Polish Pope, was the one thing that Poland had to boast about. Poland appeared to the world from behind the Iron Curtain because of Pope John Paul II and her prominence in world affairs has had quite a bit to do with that. As such, many are saying that Poles are now trying to deal with a world where Poland is simply another country. It is feared that she’ll lose her place in politics, that her problems will not be heard. Some say, that Poland is mourning her place in the world.

Regardless, the outpouring of support and emotion for the Pope was incredible. Krakow lay silent, no cars rushing past, shops were closed, people prayed and cried. The city wept today, she fell down to her knees to cry tears that have been cried countless times over the past week.

QUOTE FOR THE WEEK:
“Nie lekajcie sie.” (Don’t be afraid) –Pope John Paul II

LINKS:

Poles bid Pope emotional farewell
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/4423905.stm

Polish triplets named after Pope
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/4423335.stm

Rzeczpospolita Online (Nice Photo Tribute)
http://www.rzeczpospolita.pl/

Gazeta (Great Photo)
http://www.gazeta.pl/0,0.html