An Interview with Fr. Marek Blaza

Fr. Marek Blaza is a priest belonging to the Catholic Society of Jesus [Jesuits] who has permission to serve the Eastern or Greek Catholic Rite in addition to the more usual Roman Catholic Rite. Based at the Jesuit complex centered upon St. Andrzej Boboli Church in the Polish capital, Warsaw, he also lectures on the theology of ecumenism and sacramentology.

The East-West Church Report earlier featured a portion of the editor’s August 2022 interview with Fr. Marek concerning his service to the Ukrainian community in Poland, especially those fleeing the current war in their homeland [see the East-West Church Report vol. 30 (2022), no. 3, 7-8]. The portion below sees Fr. Marek discussing his past and present experience within the Catholic Church in Poland. The interview took place in English.

What was your pathway to becoming a Jesuit priest?

I was born in Chorzów, a town in Upper Silesia in southwest Poland. I am a typical indigenous Silesian—we speak a Silesian dialect that is not pure Polish. Historically, my region has belonged to Germany, Austria, and Czechia, so it is influenced by many cultures. The majority is Catholic, but there are also Lutherans—I think that is why I became interested in ecumenical dialogue.

I first heard about the Jesuits when I was a schoolboy, from the American television series Shōgun starring Richard Chamberlain. I saw that the Jesuits were so smart and cunning, and I thought, “I could be like that!” (Laughs.) Then I began to learn about the order’s founder, St. Ignatius of Loyola. I entered the Society of Jesus after leaving secondary school, in 1989.

Poland was still under Communist rule when you were thinking about becoming a Jesuit. Was such a step made difficult?

My secondary school was very “red,” as we say—very Communist. But going there was a good experience, because it meant that my faith was tested and verified. At that time it was possible to be a believer openly in Poland. What was not acceptable was that every year, from this very “red” school, there was always one pupil who went to seminary. (Chuckles.) For the headmaster, this was a point of shame.

Was there any attempt to stop you from joining the order?

No, because I didn’t tell anyone about it. That would not have been prudent! If I had told the headmaster or my teachers, I think that I would not have passed my high school diploma. Without that, I would not have been able to study to be a priest. One of my fellow pupils was a girl who wanted to go to West Germany to study medicine and become a doctor. She said to me, “If you tell the school administration that I want to go to West Germany, I will tell them about your plans to go to seminary!” (Laughs.)

I began my novitiate [period of training prior to taking vows] in Stara Wieś in southeastern Poland. After two years I took my first vows. Then, from 1991-93, I studied philosophy at the Society of Jesus’ faculty of philosophy in Kraków, at what is now the Ignatianum [a Jesuit university]. Then I completed the regency, the practical stage of my candidacy. I spent two years in Dublin, Ireland, teaching at Belvedere College—a quite famous high school which some of the Taoiseachs, or Irish prime ministers, attended.

I then completed a Master of Divinity at the Pontifical Faculty of Theology here in Warsaw from 1996-99. After that I pursued doctoral studies in ecumenical theology at the Catholic University of Lublin in eastern Poland, receiving my doctorate from there in 2004. My thesis was on “The Sacraments of Christian Initiation in Catholic-Orthodox Dialogue.” My supervisor was Wacław Hryniewicz [d. 2020], a famous professor here in Poland. He was an apostle of Christian hope—he emphasized the hope of salvation for all people.

I had long been interested in Eastern Christianity. After starting my philosophy studies in Kraków in the early 1990s I frequented the Polish Autocephalous Orthodox Church and sang in the choir there. This allowed me to get to know the Orthodox faith properly. Before that, everything I knew about Eastern Christianity came from books.

In Ireland I also participated in the services of an Orthodox church in Dublin that was built by Cypriots and part of the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople. It was a very interesting community. The parish priest was Romanian, and he gave the homily partly in Romanian, partly in English, and partly in modern Greek. The choir director was Scottish, his wife was French, and their children were Irish!

Once here in Warsaw, I began to attend the Greek Catholic church of the Basilians [Eastern -Rite monastic order historically prominent on the territories of modern-day Ukraine and Belarus] because I already knew I would be working with Ukrainians. When I became a deacon in 1999, I received permission to be a bi-ritualist from the father general [head of the Jesuit order], Peter Hans Kolvenback. That meant I could celebrate the sacraments in both rites, Byzantine [Eastern, similar to that of the Orthodox Church] as well as Latin [Western or Roman].

Yesterday I visited the Museum of the Blessed Fr. Jerzy Popiełuszko here in Warsaw, in the crypt of St. Stanisław Kostka Church where Fr. Jerzy served until his murder by the Communist secret police in 1984. A monthly mass for the Polish nation was taking place inside the church, which was filled with worshippers. Do you think that the great devotion to the Catholic Church displayed by Poles during the Communist era—exemplified by the massive crowds that turned out to see Pope John Paul II on his visits to Poland—has endured?

Up until the end of the 1980s the Catholic Church was the only legal opposition party, so people came to church. I remember one occasion when I was a boy, when a man in church didn’t kneel down during the elevation of the host. My grandmother said to him, “Kneel down!” He replied, “I don’t believe in God! I’m here because I’m against the Communists!” (Laughs.) Of course, things changed after 1989. We had pluralism—the possibility of establishing your own party, society, or whatever. So these people went away from the church—but they were never really believers.

Now that devotion depends upon what region of Poland you are in. Most of the people who come to church are in the south of the country, especially the southeast, but also Upper Silesia. Yet as we say, “Down there everyone goes to church, while here in Warsaw, it is only those who believe!” (Laughs.)

Is it more of a cultural phenomenon in the south?

Yes. There was a sociological study of religiosity in southeastern Poland which revealed that some people there never pray privately, but they are in church every Sunday! (Laughs.) “What would the neighbors say if I weren’t there?”

When international media report on the Catholic Church in Poland, it is typically regarding its alignment with right-wing politicians and concerns over abortion and LGBT rights. How far is this an accurate reflection of Polish Catholic priorities?

I do find that a lot of priests like to preach morality in their homilies. Without God, I would even say. “I am against abortion because I am Catholic.” Oh, interesting—does this mean that you must be Catholic in order to be against abortion? Yet I have met atheists who are against abortion, for this is not a question of whether or not God exists—it is a question about the beginning and end of human life.

This preaching focused solely upon moral questions is a real problem in Poland. For Christianity is not just morality. Where is the Gospel? I have been noticing this because I gave two homilies in one small parish during the recent summer holidays, and the people there said to me: “Father, you speak a lot about Holy Scripture. You don’t just talk about what is allowed and what is forbidden!” (Laughs.) No, because Jesus said, “If you want to follow me…” [Matthew 16:24]. “If you want” and not, “you must.”

That is one issue. The second, as you mentioned, is that some bishops and priests think that the right wing will be in government forever and ever. I don’t think so.

Is the Collegium Bobolianum— the Jesuit educational institution where you currently teach—attempting to address this situation?

In our teaching on political studies we try to explain that a marriage between the altar and the throne is not the best idea to save the Church. History shows us that when such a marriage takes place, the altar is usually the side that will lose more.

However, the young generation is already very far away from the Church. We lost them.

Has the decline in young people coming to church been swift or gradual?

A dramatic drop, beginning with those who were born around the late 1990s or the early 2000s.

People who are now in their early twenties.

Yes. But why? This happened because their parents did not pass the faith on to them. Even the parents were not really believers. It was just tradition, and I think the same thing will happen in the southeast of Poland. It is just a question of time.

These young adults would still have encountered religious education in public schools.

Yes, although some might not even have wished to attend the religion lessons offered in school. Sometimes the level of teaching there is very poor, based more upon piety than reason. Piety plus stupidity is a very dangerous thing. Faith should be rational—Fides quaerens intellectum [Latin: “Faith seeks understanding”] as Anselm of Canterbury would say. If you create theology just as doctrine, this is ideology. It is the same with Communism—you can create many kinds of ideology. LGBT might also become an ideology.

With regard to LGBT, I have participated in private consultations with LGBT people, particularly those involved in Poland’s Faith and Rainbow Foundation [Polish: Fundacja Wiara i Tęcza]. These are Catholics who want to stay in the Church, and they need priests for counseling and confession. The problem here is that the language some priests use about such people is vulgar and un-Christian. After that kind of preaching, one mother with a son who is homosexual told her priest: “Father, you are talking about my son. I love my son, and I want him to be saved. What have you done, Father?” The attitude of such priests is just, “Go away, get out of the Church, because we don’t need you here.” But excuse me, this is not your Church. You just work at the counter, like at the bank! (Laughs.) The director, the chief, he’s up there! [Points upwards.]