Jerzy Popiełuszko
Władysław and Marianna Kalinowska Popiełuszko were the parents of five children in the farm town of Okopy in Poland. Jazdia was the first but died on Christmas Eve before her second birthday. The second child was Teresa and the first son was Jozef, who was destined to take over the farm for his father. Marianna was pregnant for the fourth time in early 1947 when monks arrived and mentioned a mission of one week at Sts. Peter and Paul Church in Suchowola. She attended every evening, and though the Nazis were gone, matters appeared grimmer. She prayed the rosary, promising God that one of her children would be a priest. The child born on September 14, 1947, was sickly and named Alfons after his uncle. He did survive, wasn’t meant to be a farmer and chose books over games. Stanislaw followed as the fifth child. They all helped out on the farm.
From the age of seven, Alfons served the Mass at Sts. Peter and Paul at 6:30 am. He didn’t like the name so he told others to call him Alek. Some called him Alexander and he never complained. Just after he started school, the students were to be immunized against smallpox. The sight of the needle resulted in crying by the children but he got the shot without any fuss. A few months after that Alfons had to use a nail for chestnut carving. He was careless and it came out the other side of his hand. The blood didn’t bother him but his teacher almost passed out. She took him to the nurse where the nail was pulled out by a doctor, whom he thanked.
In school, Alfons wasn’t popular but got along with everyone. The books he read were treatises on Maximilian Kolbe, lives of the saints, sermons and other religious matter. Alek was impressed by the life of Kolbe. In 1964, he headed out to Niepokalanov, the site of a friar community, where he saw the friary and then returned home. He also visited the seminary of St. John the Baptist in Warsaw, applying for admission in a year. He was accepted there in 1965. Marianna was happy with his decision and prayed that God would protect him and keep him from harm.
In Warsaw, Alfons discovered that his name was slang for a pimp. He entered the seminary of St. John the Baptist in June 1965. Built in the 1700s by the Carmelites, it was dark and airless, but untouched by the Nazi regime. It didn’t take long before the lad seriously considered abandoning his moniker, replacing it with Jerzy. Students may have been fortunate to be in a room with only one other person, but most likely each had a bed with a dozen or more seminarians. A new term brought housing lotteries and someone who had two roommates before could wind up with nineteen. Jerzy accepted it all without complaining.
In late 1956, Władysław Gomułka led the government and considered seminaries as places of business, so taxing them was in order. His cronies weren’t fond of the church and seminarians had little meat and few vegetables, most nourishment coming from the families of the students. Those at St. John the Baptist had to procure odd jobs such as office cleaners and road sweepers. This was in addition to the required studies, writing and delivering sermons to colleagues. Popiełuszko was familiar with double duties since he had managed them at home.
As far as being at the top of the class in studies, Jerzy didn’t stand out but made up for it with his enthusiasm and reverence for God as well as country. As before, his health was not much different from what it had been and he was small of stature. Stanislaw Malkowski also attended the seminary and viewed Popiełuszko as friendly, sincere, open but ordinary, which was expected because of his peasant background. A couple decades later, Stanislaw and Jerzy would be united in their opposition to Communism.
Before being at the seminary for a year, Popiełuszko was drafted into the army. No breaks were given to the Church. With those studying for the priesthood at drill, the government used the time to discourage the young men from continuing their vocations. They also set out to guarantee that seminarians wouldn’t spread the Word of God to the other recruits. Having a single seminarian in a barracks was one solution, but it failed at times because the men from St. John fostered good relations with the others, leading them in Bible readings and prayers. There were classes in catechism, too. On the other hand, one seminarian was told, Remember, father, your collar won’t protect you here. This admonition didn’t affect Jerzy, whose physical courage even then would become a part of him in the 1980s.
Jerzy was a peace loving person and he saw the ugly side of Communism when he had an assignment in northern Poland in the city of Bartoszyce. From then on he was an opponent of the system and spoke out against oppression. Since his first Holy Communion, Popiełuszko wore a scapular medal proclaiming his devotion to the Blessed Mother. A sergeant inquired as to what he had on his neck. Jerzy told him and the sergeant demanded that he remove it but Popiełuszko refused. Defeated, the sergeant said, get out of here immediately, Popiełuszko. Jerzy stood out in the rain for a few hours because of the incident, but his scapular was still around his neck.
The army didn’t help Jerzy’s health, as he went through dizzy spells. After entering the hospital, he was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. Part of his thyroid was removed, but somehow it gave him strength. With it, he passed his finals and was ordained on May 28, 1972, in St. John’s Cathedral. He was joined by over twenty-nine other seminarians who became priests that day, listening to the sermon of Cardinal Wyszynski. They were about to begin doing their work.
Jerzy was assigned to Holy Trinity in Zabki, but Father Tadeusz Karolak and Popiełuszko had clashes. In the summer of 1975, he was transferred to Mother of God, Queen of Poland, in Anin, not far from Warsaw. Here, he didn’t fit in either and less than three years later he found himself at Infant of Jesus Church in Zoliborz. Within months, he collapsed while saying Mass and soon went to a parish with less stress, St. Anna, an academic church. He changed it into a gathering place for young people. In another move for his health, the curia of Warsaw brought him to St. Stanislaw Kostka in May 1980, which was usually assigned to clergy when they were about to retire. That’s one thing he didn’t do. In a few months, Solidarity would embrace the country.
The spelling of the organization in Polish is Solidarność, which arrived on August 31, 1980. The Communist authority in the country weren’t pleased with the Church in Poland and certainly not with Pope John Paul II, the first Polish pope. Even before being named pope, Karol Wojtyla wrote a poem that Jerzy quoted about the worker. It asked, what makes you think that man can tip the balance on the scales of the world? The Polish Union, Solidarity, answered the question, insisting man could, provided there was spiritual guidance. At first, Solidarity had a membership of about ten million and would only grow larger as the Church and the people all embraced it. In the early twenty-first century, membership still numbered in the hundreds of thousands. Needless to say, this activism in the 1980s didn’t sit well with the commies.
A better name couldn’t have been picked for the group. In August 1980, the union, led by Lech Walesa, struck on behalf of the workers in Gdansk. The government appealed to patriotism with a hint of change along with some repression. The Church supported the union, advocating the rights of the laborer, including that of worship, truth, private property, bread and a fair wage. Protests were going on in the Silesian coal mines and at the Warsaw steelworks, Huta Warszawa. Popiełuszko was part of the movement, even if he only preached peace in St. Stanislaw Kostka.
Father Henryk Jankowski celebrated Mass for the workers at Gdansk. Another priest was sought to do the same at Huta Warszawa. Most refused to go there, but Jerzy became the priest of Solidarność. He went to the foundry having his doubts about being accepted. He shouldn’t have worried as he was greeted by smiling, crying and cheering people. He thought it was for him but then realized it was for the Church. It was for both as he became the first priest entering through the front gate and the first to say Mass at Huta Warszawa.
He knew somewhat of the problems the workers were experiencing, having heard their confessions. The constantly changing work shifts of the men were wrecking havoc on marriages, not to mention health problems. The community was demoralized and fragmented. He was really needed there. He had much to do, including comforting the families and embracing them with spirituality. He also had to teach them exactly what Christ had taught regarding social justice.
Popiełuszko was there for the strikers as well. He joined the medical academies when they protested for a higher education bill. Students were as active in the movement as others, posing red banners in the familiar Solidarity script. Just to be in the presence of the strikers was enough, as Karol Szadurski explained:
During a strike every boy carries some fear in him because nobody knows how it will end. But when one finds out that a priest has come – as I found out that he had arrived in the Huta – then one sees that one has nothing to fear, that one is on a higher moral plane.
The movement was gaining too much power, which the authorities couldn’t handle. Spying was happening and soldiers appeared at the churches. Eventually, Jaruzelski suspended Solidarność. This was done to restore order even though matters weren’t in disorder. The commies were losing control as workers, religious and all the people were being watched. Reform in Poland was happening, but the higher ups wanted no part of it.
On December 13, 1982, a bomb was tossed into Jerzy’s tiny apartment, tied to a brick. It was meant for him, but fortunately no one was hurt. He soon had people guarding him at all hours. The Secret Police tried various tactics. Some police agent was chased away from Popiełuszko’s car by his defenders. At first Jerzy thought he wasn’t under watch, but he soon knew that he was being targeted. Even preaching at Mass wasn’t safe. The secret police tried various tactics, including one involving vodka that would disgrace him and force him to leave St. Stanislaw. That didn’t work. Another that failed was planting Solidarity pamphlets and munitions in his apartment. There were other attempts on his life.
In Okopy, Jerzy’s mom and dad turned on the news on Octber 20, 1984. The night before, Marianna had difficulty falling asleep. She had a dream that one of her sons was being maimed and tortured. The youngest, Stanislaw, was sleeping at home while Jozef was in West Germany on business, soon to return to Poland. Keeping track of the other son, the priest, was an impossible task.
Popiełuszko died on October 19, 1984, but it was not related to his run-down condition or other health problems. He was kidnapped and cruelly, brutally murdered. He was with his driver, who was also hurt but somehow managed to get away. Despite what happened to him, Jerzy also tried to flee, but was beaten and dumped in the Reservoir near the Vistula River.
According to Father Andrzej Przekazinski:
Solidarity helped Jerzy find those people who made him feel needed, who accepted him and his ideas, and who became his greatest friends. Even today we can see how those people loved him. It was a genuine friendship and love for him. He and they were attracted to each other. Jerzy was not just a passive member of Solidarity, he was one of the spiritual founders of the movement.
There wasn’t a policeman in sight at Jerzy’s funeral, but 400,000 people, the largest gathering in Poland since John Paul II’s last visit. Addressing the mourners, Lech Walesa said, rest in peace. Solidarity is alive because you have given your life for it.
Over the years, Poland has been taken over by various countries from all directions. Though it’s fiction, James Michener’s book, Poland: A Novel, treats of much of the strife, historically. The events of late 1984 seemed to repeat what had been going on for years. Solidarity wasn’t dead, though. In 1989 agreement between the government and Solidarity members led to semi-free elections in Poland.
In Popiełuszko’s memory, Andrezej Panufnik composed the Bassoon Concerto in 1985. That same year the 1985 French film, To Kill a Priest, based on Jerzy’s life came out and in October 1985, the documentary drama The Deliberate Death of a Polish Priest was showcased at the Almeida Theatre in London. Two other movies, Popiełuszko and Jerzy Popiełuszko: Messenger of the Truth came out in 2009 and 2013 respectively. You can read more in The Priest And The Policeman: The Courageous Life And Cruel Murder Of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, the 1987 book by John Moody and Roger Boyes. There are monuments to him in Chicago next to St. Hyacinth Basilica and near St. Hedwig Church in Trenton, New Jersey. You can find a part of McCarren Park in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, named after him and Popiełuszko Court in Hartford, Connecticut. Popiełuszko was beautified on June 6, 2010 in Warsaw, with Marianna present.