He was shy. A conversation with Jacek Woźniakowski.

He was shy. Conversation with Jacek Woźniakowski.

Gazeta Wyborcza, Teresa Torańska April 11, 2005

I fear exaggeration. Cult of personality. Cult of personality is always dangerous

And what next?

I don’t know. I think terribly difficult times await us. We are not prepared for them. He was the only man who still had authority. With us and in the world. And he could protect us from our foolishness.

In March, my son took His book “Memory and Identity,” published by Znak, to Him in the hospital. He was brought on a wheelchair to the lounge, the Pope looked at Henryk and said: “Oh, Jacek’s son.”

It moves me very much. I was one of the last people he mentioned.
“You are older than me – he smiled – by a month.”

He pulled the microphone to himself – I saw it. It was terribly dramatic. And after a moment, he moved it away from himself.

And he hits the lectern with his fist.

With regret. That he can’t. That he is unable to articulate one simple sentence.

Like Tischner.

Father Józef died five years ago.

Tischner also had an extraordinary gift of speech and persuasion through words, in my opinion, he spoke better than he wrote, and this gift of speech was also taken from him by illness. As if Providence – deliberately, intentionally – struck a man in his strongest point. Maybe so that he wouldn’t think too well of himself at the end, wouldn’t be too satisfied with himself?

“And what next?”.

The curve of scandals, corruption, and rudeness is rising and rising. It would be a miracle if the Pope’s departure suddenly caused some general examination of conscience and resolution to improve. It seems to me that it is hard to count on that. But on the other hand…

This is the Pope’s question. He asked it to Prime Minister Mazowiecki in September 1989.

And what did Mazowiecki answer him?

Nothing. It was a rhetorical question.

But on the other hand, an entirely unexpected phenomenon occurred, symbolic for Krakow. Wisła and Cracovia fans, who fought each other terribly, sometimes to death, for decades, suddenly went together to pray and reconciled. It must mean something.

Do you think that for Giertych, the Kaczyńskis, Macierewicz, Oleksy – also? Will they do something together?

Do you believe that these are people capable of thinking in terms of human reflexes? No, no. They are consumed by politicking.

Semi-intellectuals – you like to talk about them.

(Laughter) Politicians who govern us have no doubts, no questions. This is the worst state one can fall into. Half of our misfortunes result from politicians’ conviction that they have eaten all the wisdom.

Do you think it is possible that after a week of collective prayers, people will change and become a little more honest?

Let’s go back to the beginning.

I was furious.

?

When I found out they had elected Him as pope. We at the Znak publishing house had a lot of various publishing plans and journalistic ideas. We needed Him.

Did you discuss publishing plans with the Archbishop of Krakow?

We discussed what books we would like to publish. And when we had problems with the church imprimatur and nihil obstat, we flew to Him and told Him that there were problems with this or that professor because he didn’t want to give us church permission for publication, so let the bishop help us. He could talk to them in an excellent style, full of courtesy, and temper that church censorship. I remember Wojtyła’s conversation with the older Krakow theologian Prof. Florkowski, very respectable, who refused us nihil obstat for Rahner’s book. Bishop Wojtyła asked him: “Professor, is there anything against faith and good morals in it?” Florkowski replied that no, but there are various strange, controversial formulations. And Wojtyła then said: “Okay, but why not give the reader a chance to get acquainted with these oddities so they can form their own opinion about them.”

And how many complaints He received about “Tygodnik Powszechny” from various priests, bishops, devotional circles! And he replied: I would ask for the charges to be specified. Which ended the matter because they were generally charges hanging in the air, not anchored in any specific article, and rather none of the senders of these letters could specify them.

And another example of what the Pope was like, from Vatican times. I told Him about my meeting with a group of charismatics, who according to them received direct inspiration from the Holy Spirit, who raised their hands, sang, danced. I didn’t really like it. The Pope said: “But maybe we shouldn’t mock them too much. You know, people manifest their feelings in different ways, and apparently, they need it. Let’s leave them with these customs, though a bit strange to us.”

The press, especially the French, wrote about Him not long ago as a rigid conservative, almost making him an inquisitor. Not true. He was never an inquisitor.

So my first feeling after His election as pope was anger, then regret, and only later did I think that as pope, he could also do quite a bit.

Regret?

That as a publisher, I was losing not only a good collaborator but also a wonderful partner for dialogue. You wanted to talk to Him. It was simply pleasant to argue with Him. He never got heated.

Did he admit he was wrong?

Either he openly admitted he was wrong and changed his mind, or in very sensitive matters, he didn’t rush to answer. I once said, for example, in the Vatican, that lumping together the issue of abortion and contraception is, in my opinion, pointless because the latter was invented to prevent the former. That is, contraception is there so that abortion doesn’t have to be used. The Pope said nothing, did not speak at all. I thought to myself that he apparently agrees, qui tacet, consentire videtur, who is silent, seems to agree. But maybe he thought it wasn’t yet time to speak about it clearly.

Did someone support you?

I don’t remember, I was so eager to blurt out my thoughts, quickly and honestly, that I only stopped when I heard… silence.

Who changed the subject?

Well, someone immediately intervened, naturally. From the side. Maybe Father Dziwisz, kind-hearted.

Will he return to Poland?

I don’t know. There are quite a few Poles in the Roman Curia. It’s understandable if for 26 years a Pole was pope. Maybe they’ll hear: you’ve had your turn, now take a rest.

 

The Roman Curia is an extremely complicated, highly traditional machinery. Until I got to know it a little, it seemed to me that this decision-making process over the years, maturing to changes, working out positions was the result of some incomprehensible activity, a sign that behind the scenes God knows what was happening. Like in sensational novels about the papacy. And there, usually, not much happens. There are plenty of family connections and personal traditions. This traditionalism has lasted for centuries and spills over into various fields of activity.

I sincerely sympathize with the successor of John Paul II. He will have to replace a man who is irreplaceable.

Will he have the courage to continue the line of religious pluralism in Christianity, that is, multi-worldview or multi-opinion within the same denomination? Will he go further than John Paul II in specifying where unity is required in the Church and where there can be libertas, or freedom in views?

The measure of the maturity of Poles – said one of the Polish bishops – will now be their attitude towards the next pope. How they will accept the election of the new one.

That also depends on him.

Just don’t expect him to immediately come to Krakow.

On what he says.

A statement about Poles will certainly be made, I think, already in the first homily. Hierarchs have some diplomatic training, after all. I also count on the sensitivity and delicacy of the new pope. For a hundred years, we’ve been fortunate with popes. Starting with Leo XIII. Among them were outstanding people seeking new paths and inspiration for the Church. John XXIII – extremely direct. When he spoke, he got so excited that he almost jumped on his throne.

Paul VI.

He was a very polite man, extremely friendly, and immensely shy. It was evident that he was constantly plagued by various doubts. Singing, he was terribly off-key. I think it’s terrible when a pope knows he’s off-key but sometimes has to sing.

John Paul I.

I didn’t see him; he was pope for only 30 days, but judging from the booklet on catechesis he wrote, he seemed to me an extraordinary man.

Now I’m afraid that the old saying will come true, that after the fat years, lean ones will come.

Various scenes come to mind.

Our children loved to play with Him when he came to us. He would wrap them in a carpet, roll them around the room, and suddenly, unexpectedly, unroll them. This game was His invention.

He was shy. He constantly had to overcome his shyness. It’s hard to believe, right? When you saw Him, with what emphasis he could speak to millions of crowds, with what insistence, he articulated his opinions strongly, how he could direct the emotions of those millions. I remember Him as a young, shy priest who listened to various remarks about his sermons, that they were too complicated, too difficult, incomprehensible, etc. I think his shyness stemmed from genuine humility. And from the fact that he was very careful not to impose himself on anyone, not to absorb anyone.

And now a series of changes in street names to John Paul II will begin, naming schools, hospitals after Him, every city will have the ambition to erect a monument to Him.

The older I get, the more it irritates me. I am convinced that He wouldn’t like it at all either.

He would say with Thomas Aquinas: it’s all straw?

Certainly.

I fear exaggeration. Cult of personality. Cult of personality is always dangerous.

Note that He never used the form that popes and sovereigns generally used in the past – pluralis maiestatis. He didn’t say: we – the Church. He always said either I, if he was talking about himself, or in the third person, in the form of a description.

 

To us, standing at night outside Franciszkańska 3: “Go home, the Pope wants to sleep”.

People’s attitude towards each other was moving then, courtesy, an extraordinary willingness to help each other.

It has now repeated.

An extraordinary desire to be together, to manifest that these feelings are not only mine but ours, shared. I think they are very beneficial for the psyche because it is some kind of bond that connects people. Only what will come of it?

Earlier, before His pilgrimages, we had no opportunity to feel any community. We were deprived of that. We didn’t even experience the shared joy of the end of the war.

Andrzej Jawień – he signed his poems. He wasn’t sure if they were worth printing.

Didn’t he think they were good?

I think not. He once told me: “If I weren’t the pope, no one would be interested in them now.” He was quite skeptical about the value of his poems. I printed them in “Tygodnik Powszechny”. Turowicz was abroad at the time, and I was substituting for him. I didn’t know whose poems they were. I just liked them very much. They were in the climate of Wyspiański, Norwid, and some contemporary French poets.

No, I had no idea they were Father Wojtyła’s. He sent them through someone. Maybe he was curious how the editorial office would react to an unknown author. Maybe he wanted to check how much they were worth. We already knew Father Wojtyła well from the parish of St. Florian.

Zosia Morsztynowa sniffed him out. An interesting priest, returned after studies in France, must be met. She invited him for tea, and we had a long conversation with him. From what I remember, about what was happening in France. He intrigued us.

He wanted to be a Carmelite – we found out later. He wanted to go to the monastery, but Cardinal Sapieha forbade him. He said: “No monasteries, you are called for entirely different purposes.” Sapieha had incredible intuition. And to me, you know what he said? I’ve told this many times. “But you slash!”

Slash?

I went to Sapieha at the head of a student delegation, a whole group, to tell him that the Polish Church is anachronistic and needs to be reformed. It was still well before the Council, at the beginning of my studies at the Jagiellonian University after the war. Sapieha stood, small, in a black cassock, at the front, and behind him, prelates, magnificent, adorned with chains. The prelates were very unpleasantly touched by my reformist speech. I saw them getting more and more puffed up. And Sapieha listened to me with pleasure, and when I finished, he said: “But you slash!”

It was said in Krakow about Wojtyła that he delivered terribly difficult intellectual sermons, that they didn’t reach people. Jan Józef Szczepański, who was a believer in his own way, had a different opinion. He told me: “Some incredible new priest is at St. Florian’s, in his sermons he can simultaneously reach completely simple people and very demanding, subtle intellectuals.” Szczepański didn’t know Wojtyła personally at the time, I think he visited St. Florian’s under his wife’s influence.

I went to Him for confession. He recommended reading not any St. Thomas or St. Augustine, but St. John of the Cross.

As penance?

No, as advice, that it would be beneficial for you to read St. John of the Cross. And that in general, he advises me to read a bit of the great mystics, according to Him too little known and read in Poland. Father Tischner also later drew my attention to this. During some conversation about Polish culture. He said it’s interesting that in Polish literature there are actually no great mystics. Neither in the style of Pascal, nor in the style of St. John of the Cross, nor the great St. Teresa. Well, look, such a Catholic nation, and this tradition didn’t develop at all with us. We, in the environment of “Tygodnik Powszechny” and the Znak publishing house, oscillated between St. Thomas and St. Augustine. And few were driven to the mystics. I also probably don’t have a knack for mysticism, too many rationalist tendencies in me, probably. St. John of the Cross is, for me, above all, a wonderful poet.

Like Tischner.

Father Wojtyła once told me about Tischner: “Everyone keeps discussing with him as a pure-blood philosopher, and he is, above all, a poet.” They liked each other very much. Tischner was a poet of philosophy.

Primate Wyszyński too, when asked about Bishop Wojtyła, who he was, said: a poet.

I think Cardinals Wojtyła and Wyszyński understood different things by the term poet. Wojtyła, speaking of Tischner, thought about his way of thinking, feeling, associating. This is wonderfully visible in Tischner’s journalism. He doesn’t go from premise to premise, but uses sharp flashes. Sometimes intuitive, extraordinary.

And what Wyszyński meant by the word “poet,” I don’t know. I know how he understood dignity. Cardinal Wyszyński used this word when speaking about the nation. The Pope referred it to the person. He didn’t treat the nation as a person. He treated the nation as a collection of persons.

Wojtyła and Wyszyński were two different worlds. Wojtyła was an intellectual, and Wyszyński focused on the folk, ceremonial Church. And on his own authority. I remember dinners at Wyszyński’s, which were embarrassing for me. Around were various prelates, with whom it was difficult to establish any serious conversation, and Wyszyński – standing a few floors higher, towering over them with culture, sophistication, knowledge. So when he met Wojtyła, he had to notice his extraordinariness. He couldn’t ignore this extraordinariness. After all, Wyszyński was a man of great caliber.

He didn’t like “Tygodnik Powszechny”?

Wojtyła told me why. It is disappointed love – he repeated to me several times. Wyszyński counted on you, expected you to support him in various actions and activities, and he didn’t get that support from you.

He really didn’t get it, because we thought that his organized large folk manifestations did not favor deepening religiosity, but directed people towards too passive piety. Wojtyła evaluated them with more understanding than us. He always tried to reconcile the different currents present in the Polish Church.

Wyszyński, by the way, was sometimes unbearable in his underestimation of the intelligence gathered around the Church. Once, my wife and I went for a walk in Laski and on one of the paths, we came across the Primate walking alone. I was fresh from my doctorate, achieved with great effort, mainly by my wife, who took care of the home by herself during that time. “Cardinal – she boasted – my husband has just finished his doctorate, we are happy.” And then Wyszyński gave us a little sermon: “Oh, all these doctorates are nonsense, there’s nothing to talk about, the religiosity of the Polish people is important,” etc. It touched my wife very much.

I think that such demonstrative disregard for intellectual ambitions manifested itself in Wyszyński only after his release from imprisonment. He was disappointed in his wise bishops. He probably thought that all these intellectuals are worth little in times of trial, they break under pressure, and he relied on the people.

And on obedience.

I once mentioned to Wyszyński that for me the most important thing is dialogue in the Church. He said: people keep talking about dialogue, I don’t understand it. For me, dialogue in the Church means there is a division of duties – I have the task of teaching, and people have to listen to what I teach them.

It would never occur to Wojtyła to think something similar. Wojtyła encouraged people to discuss with Him. He felt great in a group of people with various beliefs who argued with Him and among themselves. He thrived in such an atmosphere. One had the impression that Wojtyła, talking to us, focused all his attention, all the power he had, on the interlocutors. Even when he was opening letters, it seemed that he was listening very carefully and attentively to what was being said to Him.

What letters?

I see it. He sits at the table and cuts open letters with a knife. Envelope after envelope. He received enormous correspondence. In Krakow, during dinners to which he invited the “Tygodnik Powszechny” editorial team, he talked with us, argued sharply, joked, and went through letters. At lightning speed, whole pages. He had incredible attention division. He also did it in the Vatican at the beginning. Until Andrzej Deskur, his friend, cardinal, who was the Pope’s guide in Rome, decided: we will slowly wean Him off this. And they weaned him off.

He also read the press at lightning speed. At first, he didn’t want to, politics didn’t interest him. He said he didn’t want to deal with politics, bishop’s, apostolic, pastoral, and pastoral functions were enough for him. We explained to him with Turowicz that – being a bishop – he must read newspapers, must be aware of the political situation. He acknowledged that we were right, and after three weeks of reading, he was quite well-versed in political issues. He had a fantastic memory and the ability to grasp the crux of the matter. And then I thought to myself: “Well, well…”.

If someone has such an ability to adapt to new situations and the skill to meet the demands they bring, and can instantly delve into the arcana of knowledge and master it with such incredible ease, they must go far. And if it continues like this – I thought further – He will sooner or later become pope. I only thought it would be much later, in old age, as popes usually are.

After seventy.

We had a feeling of admiration for His growing into ever-new responsibilities. It was something extraordinary. And for His internal need to change the world around Him.

Dinners at the Pope’s were an incredible innovation in the Vatican. Previously, popes had to eat alone, that was the etiquette.

Alone, at the table?

Terrible, right? Not having anyone to talk to at dinner.

John Paul II introduced open dinners, with people. He invited regularly. I was there many times. Sometimes he invited two, three people, sometimes a dozen. During dinner, you could talk to Him a little longer.

Did someone take notes?

Father Dziwisz noted many things if he was present. So I think they exist. The Pope sometimes casually made his remarks on various current topics. Excellent, just excellent.

Once, when we came to Him with the entire publishing delegation, he said: “We argued about various things in the Krakow curia. How much more pleasant it is to argue with someone with an open visor than to encounter closed visors on your way.”

At one of the dinners, we talked about Alain Besançon. Leszek Kołakowski was there, I and a few other people.

In Castel Gandolfo?

Yes, yes. That’s where the papal seminars were held, attended by the greatest minds from around the world.

Kołakowski wrote a terribly funny condemnation of a certain French philosopher on a note. In Latin: whoever claims that this philosopher is a wise man, let him be anathema sit, etc., and further cast several church curses on him. He slipped me this note, it made me laugh terribly because it was a parody of medieval church Latin, anathematizing views other than those officially represented by the Church. I’ll show it to the Pope – I told Kołakowski. He was terrified: “For heaven’s sake, don’t do that, it’s inappropriate.” I gave the note to the Pope. He laughed, loudly. I saw Him laughing almost to tears like that only once more. When Adam Michnik started telling something. We all laughed to tears then. We sat in the garden, the Pope on a chair, around were Michnik, Geremek, my wife…

What made Michnik make Him laugh so much?

I don’t remember. Michnik was delighted to have come to the Pope, he was cracking jokes. Geremek also impressed me immensely then. He described the political situation in Poland against the backdrop of the political situation in Europe with such precision and accuracy that the Pope was delighted. He greatly valued the ability to clearly and concisely report problems.

I also once received such praise from him. When we flew with my wife to Rome in 1982 and I gave Him a report on events in Poland all day. We came to Him for breakfast, sat until lunch, had lunch with Him, after lunch the Pope apologized that he had to go handle a few current affairs, and invited us for tea. From tea, we sat again. Including dinner. I told my impressions from traveling around Poland and contacts with people. He was very interested in it. The Pope always reacted more vividly not to some theoretical descriptions, but to information on how people behave, how they react, what their life situation is.

He then told Father Dziwisz, and Dziwisz immediately kindly repeated it to me: “Finally, I have a decent report on what is happening in Poland.” I was surprised. Because the Pope must have had some information. And he did, from the Italians. But what could these Italians – one or the other – tell him. They came here, not knowing a word of Polish, and could understand little of Polish affairs.

Was he isolated from information?

Maybe they wanted to spare him? One of the nuns once told me with a complaint: “You always tell the Pope some sad things about Poland when you come, and the Pope needs to be cheered up.” The Pope burst out laughing when I repeated it to him.

Some of His old friends said that He missed the sharp discussions we had with Him in Krakow. The boldest to the Pope was Swieżawski. He sent Him letters several times, so incredibly bold, about what he thought about the Church in Poland and its prospects, that even we were amazed. But the Pope highly appreciated it.

Professor Stefan Swieżawski died a year ago.

There are fewer of us.

A very wise French cardinal once complained to me that at the beginning of his pontificate, he could talk to the Pope very broadly about various important things, and then shorter and shorter, because they assigned him less and less time for these conversations.

Indeed, out of respect, etiquette, certain people were not allowed to see Him, whom, I suspect, He would have liked to see. Once he asked me about a French writer, if I knew him. I replied that I did. “I would very much like to discuss with him – he said. – About his new book.” I met that writer a year later. He hadn’t seen the Pope. Maybe he didn’t try hard enough, or maybe it was deemed it would be a waste of time for the Pope.

I don’t know who decided that. I think it sometimes was mechanical decisions. They simply had a terribly long queue of people waiting for an audience, and someone had to be crossed off that queue.

When did you meet Him for the last time?

A long time ago. But I wrote to Him, he replied, I sent my books. One with the frivolous title “Does the Artist Have the Right to Marry?”. It concerned the sociology of artistic life in the 19th century. And the Pope replied: “Dear Mr. Jacek, thank you very much for the book, which I will read with interest, although judging by the title it does not directly concern me.”

After another, “Is Culture Necessarily Needed?”, which I also sent to the Pope, he wrote to me that the book seems to him not only very interesting but at times simply fascinating, he will finish reading it on the plane to Brazil. I thought it was such a courteous acknowledgment of the shipment. De Gaulle always replied to authors: “Thank you very much, I read your book with the greatest interest.” Although he never opened it.

And suddenly, in some French magazine, I came across a photograph of the Pope flying to Brazil, with a book on his lap. I checked through a magnifying glass – it was my book. He surprised me again. Even in such simple things, he didn’t use any tricks, courteous remarks, or gestures that didn’t have a basis in reality.

And our current ones? What will remain of them?

I thought – although it’s actually hard to compare – about the Warsaw Uprising. It was a terrible lesson, but it taught us something. That’s why I hope that the emotions associated with the Pope’s death – perhaps even exaggerated – will somewhat improve the psychological climate in our country. I want to believe that at least part of the promises of self-transformation associated with His death will be kept.