Oh wow, I'm only on Day 4. This is taking longer than expected. Day 4 was one of the days I was really looking forward to, the visit to Our Lady of Czestochowa.
If this were a movie, this would be the scene where I'd flash back.
My mother's side of the family is from Poland, so my mom knows about Our Lady of Czestochowa, or the Black Madonna. The Black Madonna is not well known, and no, it is not an African American version of Our Lady to eliminate racism. If there is one thing to know about Poland, it is that they are not very diverse to begin with.
The following information is from "The Glories of Czestochowa and Jasna Gora: Miracles Attributed to Our Lady's Intercession" by the Marian Press, paraphrased. If you don't want to read this part, that's cool, I'll never know. (But maybe you're the one who needs to read it the most.)
[Jesus was a carpenter. Jesus built a table. Mary did her work at the table. St. Luke (yes, the Gospel guy Luke) was a painter. Mary moved in with St. John after Jesus' death ("Behold your mother/son"). The table came with her, and she continued to use it. "By its side, for hours, sat the Holy Mother of Sorrows, and as she wept (her son just died), her tears soaked into the grain of this table as they fell upon it" (17). St. Luke painted an image of Our Lady on that exact table. Mary was holding the baby Jesus in this image. Luke, chatting with Our Lady, "gathered material from their conversation which later aided him in writing the gospels." I mean really, who better to ask about Jesus than his mother? I know my mom knows more about me than I do. Anyway, they sat and talked at this very table! The table that would later have Mary's face painted on it, that I would be seeing in person.
So the picture survived through the ages, and was hidden in various tombs and catacombs. It was later passed around as a gift among kings and ambassadors. It can also be noted (I know there is a lot of passive voice, I hope my English teachers are not reading) that there are scars present on her face made by some Hussites in 1430. No matter how many times they try to remove the scars, they kept reappearing.
You're also wondering why she's called the Black Madonna. "For a few centuries, it was retained in the East where, to this day, there exists the following traditional custom: The faithful burn votive candles in front of sacred pictures and images. Consequently, dust and smoke do their share on the destruction of the paintings, along with countless venerations (kissing) and handling." The image was also painted by someone who saw and knew the Mother of God: St. Luke. So he had a first-hand witness to what she actually looked like. The painting is dressed with physical cloth around Mary and Jesus' faces, and the clothes have been changed out (because a lady cannot wear the same dress for too long, I guess).
Multiple miracles have been attributed to her, including calming seas, healing the sick/dead, etc.]
History lesson over. I comprised about 30 pages into a few paragraphs. I'm awesome. And I'm humble. (I said "And I'm humble" multiple times this trip, mainly to remind myself of my pride.)
Anyway, as we arrived in Jasna Gora, we walked under the gate of Our Lady of Sorrows (The leaders of our group were 3 nuns from the order of Our Lady of Sorrows). We then had mass in a side chapel, in English again. Although we have been having masses in English, half of the mass is said in Latin, so we basically had a Lenglish mass. After mass, we had an appointment with Our Lady (that sounds cheesy, but we literally did have a certain time to go into the chapel).
As I walked in, I immediately felt a Holy Presence. Another group began singing a slow, beautifully drawn out version of "Hail Holy Queen" (not the Sister Act version), which added to the magnificence of the atmosphere. Then someone else began singing a song to Mary (I think) in another language, which was also very beautiful. Part of me was hoping someone would start Ave Maria, because I actually know that one (I am sooo bilingual...and humble).
I faintly saw the image from far away. The lighting was very dark, very intense. Crutches and rosaries lined the walls, signifying the many healings and miracles attributed to her. I actually went to Jasna Gora with a special intention on my heart. An intention that I pray for everyday, and I have faith and hope a miracle will happen to ensure my intention will be answered. I finally got the front of the chapel, inside of the gated area, where I knelt down and began to pray to Christ in the tabernacle, with the origianl painting of Our Lady of Czestochowa right above her Son. I prayed the Hail Holy Queen, a Hail Mary, and finally, the Memorare, which, until that day, I never payed attention to words within the prayer. It really is beautiful:
"Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it know that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession, was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, I fly ot you, O Virgin of Virgins, my Mother. To you do I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate (Jesus), despise not my petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer me. Amen."
AMEN, RIGHT?! After I prayed it, I prayed it again. I was so reassured that a miracle would happen and my intention would be answered. I still have faith and hope that it will be answered to this day. And, if you are reading this, please, please, please aid me in prayer to Christ through intercession of the Black Madonna that my prayer be answered.
I felt such peace as I left the chapel, and I thanked Our Lady, my spiritual Mother, for holding me in her arms, as any mother would.
I walked into the Basilica at Jasna Gora, which was connected to the Chapel where the painting was held, and it was very white, bright, and beautiful. Humongous, too, may I add. With a beautiful organ and extravagant sculptures, it made me proud to be Catholic.
We left Jasna Gora, after I ate in Pope JPII's Pilgrim House Bar (???) bought an official WYD 2016 flag (it's a weird collection thing I do).
Conrad check: He's probably eating something right now. And he decides to ask the bus driver if he can take us to a castle that he wanted to go to. The tour guide wanted to tour something brand new. So as we leave Czestochowa, the land starts to get a little bit hillier, and soon we began to see mountains. We suddenly turn on this n a r r o w country road and begin to go up and down the vast hills and towards a mountain; we suddenly enter a forest and come to a stop where cars line the tight road.
We get out and begin to walk towards a chapel. This chapel was built on stilts over a small stream, because at the time it was built, chapels could not be on land. So apparently Polish were just as self-driven and stubborn as Americans, and they built it just off of the land, and on top of the water. We later walked 2 kilometers (I actually prefer them over miles) until we realized we were heading the exact opposite way. We stopped by a little restaurant on the walk back to get some water. I was smart and asked for still water. Others were not so smart and ended up with the gas water. ("HA!," as Sr. Fatima and Blake would say.) We walked to the other side, 3 km later, and the castle was just a few bricks on the ground they called ruins. You could also climb a hill for a few Zlotys (Polish money). (Can I throw some bricks on the ground and call them ruins? My High School Report Card maybe?) Anyway, my less-than-athletic body was not paying anything to climb a hill. It would not even do it for free!
We got back on the bus and headed down the road, where we found another castle. Except THIS was a castle. It was very legitimized. It had a moat, a garden, everything. Although it was not really part of our religious pilgrimage, it provided a fun stop for pictures (When in Poland, right?).
After we got back on the bus, some of the pilgrims put to music a song that Conrad taught us. Being humans, we all go to the bathroom (hopefully), and it is a nice thing to know when in a diferent country to know how to ask where the restroom is. The song goes like this:
"It's always friendly if it's dry or wet...do do do do do...where's the toilet?"
I just realized how funny the do's sound when reading aloud.
Anyway, Krista, our musician, put it to music, and that's that. #wheresthetoilet is now a trending hashtag on Instagram. Conrad was absolutely fascinated by our fascination with his music, that he decided to tell us a story. I honestly cannot live to tell you what he said. All I know is that the story lasted for over 10 minutes, and ended with someone asking him where the toilet was.
Another thing that we started on the bus trip (yet never finished) was a game of two truth and a lie. Here is Conrad's.
1.) He walked through an IKEA wearing a Bulgarian Dress, and shook the German President's hand while there.
2.) He is fifty and has only owned two cars in his life.
3.) He got interviewed by a television team on a nudist beach. (He was always very quick to point out nudist beaches as we passed them, too.)
The lie was number two. That should help explain who Conrad is.
We then arrive in Krakow, our final destination, to our hostel. As we got off of the bus, Conrad announced that this was his last day with us, and that we had changed him for the better. Everyone began taking selfies with him and saying they will miss him (the typical white girl way). So Grant decides to dare me to say "I love you" in German. Being of unsound mind and tired body, I just thought, "why not?" So Grant told me how to say it, and I did. Then, Conrad's face looked up, had a crooked little smile, and he said "You better be careful who you say that to," then proceeds to pull out a rainbow striped card. This was no Noah's Ark rainbow, either. Everyone's suspicions were confirmed: Conrad was gay. In all reality though, all truths must come to the light. Some would say that I totally did the team a favor in emerging us out of ignorance. But in my opinion, ignorance really is bliss sometimes.
We walked into the hostel, and it did not exactly live up to the previous hotels, exactly. They were smaller and the bathrooms were basically tin cans. And then it hit me: I'm officially a pilgrim. Thus ends Day 4.
Nicholas Scalfano
PS: As previously said, please join me in prayer in intercession to Our Lady for my intention. God Bless You, if anyone even reads this lol.
If this were a movie, this would be the scene where I'd flash back.
My mother's side of the family is from Poland, so my mom knows about Our Lady of Czestochowa, or the Black Madonna. The Black Madonna is not well known, and no, it is not an African American version of Our Lady to eliminate racism. If there is one thing to know about Poland, it is that they are not very diverse to begin with.
The following information is from "The Glories of Czestochowa and Jasna Gora: Miracles Attributed to Our Lady's Intercession" by the Marian Press, paraphrased. If you don't want to read this part, that's cool, I'll never know. (But maybe you're the one who needs to read it the most.)
[Jesus was a carpenter. Jesus built a table. Mary did her work at the table. St. Luke (yes, the Gospel guy Luke) was a painter. Mary moved in with St. John after Jesus' death ("Behold your mother/son"). The table came with her, and she continued to use it. "By its side, for hours, sat the Holy Mother of Sorrows, and as she wept (her son just died), her tears soaked into the grain of this table as they fell upon it" (17). St. Luke painted an image of Our Lady on that exact table. Mary was holding the baby Jesus in this image. Luke, chatting with Our Lady, "gathered material from their conversation which later aided him in writing the gospels." I mean really, who better to ask about Jesus than his mother? I know my mom knows more about me than I do. Anyway, they sat and talked at this very table! The table that would later have Mary's face painted on it, that I would be seeing in person.
So the picture survived through the ages, and was hidden in various tombs and catacombs. It was later passed around as a gift among kings and ambassadors. It can also be noted (I know there is a lot of passive voice, I hope my English teachers are not reading) that there are scars present on her face made by some Hussites in 1430. No matter how many times they try to remove the scars, they kept reappearing.
You're also wondering why she's called the Black Madonna. "For a few centuries, it was retained in the East where, to this day, there exists the following traditional custom: The faithful burn votive candles in front of sacred pictures and images. Consequently, dust and smoke do their share on the destruction of the paintings, along with countless venerations (kissing) and handling." The image was also painted by someone who saw and knew the Mother of God: St. Luke. So he had a first-hand witness to what she actually looked like. The painting is dressed with physical cloth around Mary and Jesus' faces, and the clothes have been changed out (because a lady cannot wear the same dress for too long, I guess).
Multiple miracles have been attributed to her, including calming seas, healing the sick/dead, etc.]
History lesson over. I comprised about 30 pages into a few paragraphs. I'm awesome. And I'm humble. (I said "And I'm humble" multiple times this trip, mainly to remind myself of my pride.)
Anyway, as we arrived in Jasna Gora, we walked under the gate of Our Lady of Sorrows (The leaders of our group were 3 nuns from the order of Our Lady of Sorrows). We then had mass in a side chapel, in English again. Although we have been having masses in English, half of the mass is said in Latin, so we basically had a Lenglish mass. After mass, we had an appointment with Our Lady (that sounds cheesy, but we literally did have a certain time to go into the chapel).
As I walked in, I immediately felt a Holy Presence. Another group began singing a slow, beautifully drawn out version of "Hail Holy Queen" (not the Sister Act version), which added to the magnificence of the atmosphere. Then someone else began singing a song to Mary (I think) in another language, which was also very beautiful. Part of me was hoping someone would start Ave Maria, because I actually know that one (I am sooo bilingual...and humble).
I faintly saw the image from far away. The lighting was very dark, very intense. Crutches and rosaries lined the walls, signifying the many healings and miracles attributed to her. I actually went to Jasna Gora with a special intention on my heart. An intention that I pray for everyday, and I have faith and hope a miracle will happen to ensure my intention will be answered. I finally got the front of the chapel, inside of the gated area, where I knelt down and began to pray to Christ in the tabernacle, with the origianl painting of Our Lady of Czestochowa right above her Son. I prayed the Hail Holy Queen, a Hail Mary, and finally, the Memorare, which, until that day, I never payed attention to words within the prayer. It really is beautiful:
"Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it know that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession, was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, I fly ot you, O Virgin of Virgins, my Mother. To you do I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate (Jesus), despise not my petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer me. Amen."
AMEN, RIGHT?! After I prayed it, I prayed it again. I was so reassured that a miracle would happen and my intention would be answered. I still have faith and hope that it will be answered to this day. And, if you are reading this, please, please, please aid me in prayer to Christ through intercession of the Black Madonna that my prayer be answered.
I felt such peace as I left the chapel, and I thanked Our Lady, my spiritual Mother, for holding me in her arms, as any mother would.
I walked into the Basilica at Jasna Gora, which was connected to the Chapel where the painting was held, and it was very white, bright, and beautiful. Humongous, too, may I add. With a beautiful organ and extravagant sculptures, it made me proud to be Catholic.
We left Jasna Gora, after I ate in Pope JPII's Pilgrim House Bar (???) bought an official WYD 2016 flag (it's a weird collection thing I do).
Conrad check: He's probably eating something right now. And he decides to ask the bus driver if he can take us to a castle that he wanted to go to. The tour guide wanted to tour something brand new. So as we leave Czestochowa, the land starts to get a little bit hillier, and soon we began to see mountains. We suddenly turn on this n a r r o w country road and begin to go up and down the vast hills and towards a mountain; we suddenly enter a forest and come to a stop where cars line the tight road.
We get out and begin to walk towards a chapel. This chapel was built on stilts over a small stream, because at the time it was built, chapels could not be on land. So apparently Polish were just as self-driven and stubborn as Americans, and they built it just off of the land, and on top of the water. We later walked 2 kilometers (I actually prefer them over miles) until we realized we were heading the exact opposite way. We stopped by a little restaurant on the walk back to get some water. I was smart and asked for still water. Others were not so smart and ended up with the gas water. ("HA!," as Sr. Fatima and Blake would say.) We walked to the other side, 3 km later, and the castle was just a few bricks on the ground they called ruins. You could also climb a hill for a few Zlotys (Polish money). (Can I throw some bricks on the ground and call them ruins? My High School Report Card maybe?) Anyway, my less-than-athletic body was not paying anything to climb a hill. It would not even do it for free!
We got back on the bus and headed down the road, where we found another castle. Except THIS was a castle. It was very legitimized. It had a moat, a garden, everything. Although it was not really part of our religious pilgrimage, it provided a fun stop for pictures (When in Poland, right?).
After we got back on the bus, some of the pilgrims put to music a song that Conrad taught us. Being humans, we all go to the bathroom (hopefully), and it is a nice thing to know when in a diferent country to know how to ask where the restroom is. The song goes like this:
"It's always friendly if it's dry or wet...do do do do do...where's the toilet?"
I just realized how funny the do's sound when reading aloud.
Anyway, Krista, our musician, put it to music, and that's that. #wheresthetoilet is now a trending hashtag on Instagram. Conrad was absolutely fascinated by our fascination with his music, that he decided to tell us a story. I honestly cannot live to tell you what he said. All I know is that the story lasted for over 10 minutes, and ended with someone asking him where the toilet was.
Another thing that we started on the bus trip (yet never finished) was a game of two truth and a lie. Here is Conrad's.
1.) He walked through an IKEA wearing a Bulgarian Dress, and shook the German President's hand while there.
2.) He is fifty and has only owned two cars in his life.
3.) He got interviewed by a television team on a nudist beach. (He was always very quick to point out nudist beaches as we passed them, too.)
The lie was number two. That should help explain who Conrad is.
We then arrive in Krakow, our final destination, to our hostel. As we got off of the bus, Conrad announced that this was his last day with us, and that we had changed him for the better. Everyone began taking selfies with him and saying they will miss him (the typical white girl way). So Grant decides to dare me to say "I love you" in German. Being of unsound mind and tired body, I just thought, "why not?" So Grant told me how to say it, and I did. Then, Conrad's face looked up, had a crooked little smile, and he said "You better be careful who you say that to," then proceeds to pull out a rainbow striped card. This was no Noah's Ark rainbow, either. Everyone's suspicions were confirmed: Conrad was gay. In all reality though, all truths must come to the light. Some would say that I totally did the team a favor in emerging us out of ignorance. But in my opinion, ignorance really is bliss sometimes.
We walked into the hostel, and it did not exactly live up to the previous hotels, exactly. They were smaller and the bathrooms were basically tin cans. And then it hit me: I'm officially a pilgrim. Thus ends Day 4.
Nicholas Scalfano
PS: As previously said, please join me in prayer in intercession to Our Lady for my intention. God Bless You, if anyone even reads this lol.
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