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New blog post: Daily Digest for November 10th http://bit.ly/3G9Sc0 [deacon_jim]
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New blog post: The recurrent PR problem http://bit.ly/2MEjos [deacon_jim]
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Come, listen youthful warriors, now,
While my sad tale of grief is told;
And let it kindle glory’s glow
While it records the deeds of old.
For I will sing the glorious wreath
Which erst the patriot hero wore
Who nobly died a hero’s death
While crown’d with laurel’d victory o’er.Chmielnicki’s fierce and savage band
Had ravaged our Podolia’s vales;
The cries of mothers fill’d the land,
Wide-echoed round from hills and dales.
Our ploughmen from their fields are torn,
Our maidens shameless slavery prove,
Our shepherds are to exile borne,—”
Not to be exiled from their love.Potocki —” old and hoary —” stood
Proud in felicity and fame,
When the loud shrieks, the cry of blood,
Like soul-disturbing tempests came.
He sigh’d; a stream of tears roll’d down
His venerable cheeks, while thought
Rush’d on the brighter moments gone.
But age had come, and left him —” nought.The will, but not the power, was there.
Down dropp’d the falchion from his grasp.
But see his hero son appear —”
Spring on his steed —” the war-brand clasp.
Why should he waste in ease and sloth
The brightness of his morning star,
When virtue and when valor both
Had charm’d his ear with tales of war?“My son,”—”his eyes with tears were fill’d —”
“Thy country groans! Go, warrior! be
Thy bosom now thy country’s shield,—”
Be worthy of thy sires and me!
Go! —” for thy country live! Be blest
With triumph glorious and renown’d!
So calmly shall I sink to rest
When I have seen thee victory-crown’d.”A fond farewell sent forth his son,
When he had bound him to his breast.
He put the heavy armor on;
The while a golden helmet prest
The raven ringlets of his hair:
Yet ere he sought his warriors he
Saw midst many a maiden fair
His maiden at a balcony.She was a maid of beauty rare —”
The loveliest maid Podolia knew—”
Fair as the morning rose is fair
When blushing and when bathed in dew.
And she was true to love and fame,
And young,—” and pledged her hand and heart
To him whose valiant sword should claim
In battle fray the bravest part.Then drew the ardent hero nigh,
And lowly bent on reverent knee:
“O thou, my heart’s felicity,
All, all life’s sweets I owe to thee!
Now bless me in the field of death,
And smile upon me, struggling there.
My heart’s best blood, my latest breath,
I’ll pour for fame and thee, my fair!”His heart was full —” he spoke no more.
Her eyes were wet —” the maid unbound
The snow-white scarf her bosom wore,
And girt the hero’s shoulders round.
“Go! rescue what is lost! My vow
By this pure pledge shall fail thee never!
Be crown’d with bright affection now,
Be crown’d with bliss, with fame, forever!”Meanwhile the piercing clarions sound,
The dust-clouds o’er the plains arise;
The troops of warriors gather round.
While helms and armor dim the eyes.
The courts, the gates, the lofty walls
A thousand anxious gazers show.
The slow-descending drawbridge falls,
While to the gory fight they go.‘Twas evening. Through a gloomy night
Toward the Yellow Lake they sped.
The morning came, but not in light,—”
‘Twas wrapp’d in clouds opaque and red.
The mighty army of Bogdan
Spread countless o’er the extended land;
The brave Potocki led the van,
To smite the innumerable band.Then dreadful havoc’s reign was spread,
The murd’rous fires of death were there;
Swords cleft the helm and helmed head,
And hissing arrows fill’d the air.
The dauntless chieftain fought,—”he press’d
The foremost on the foe,—”when deep
A deadly arrow pierced his breast;
He fell,—”fell lock’d in endless sleep.Yet victory crown’d our arms. ‘Twas vain;—”
It was no triumph;—”He away,
Courage and joy were turn’d to pain.
They throng’d around him in dismay:
They bathed his wounds; they wash’d the gore
With tears,—”while round the corpse they stand
Then on their shields that corpse they bore,
Their hope—”and of their fatherland.And on a green and woody glade
‘Neath a proud tomb his dust they set;
They hung his armor and his blade,
And that white scarf,—”with blood ’twas wet.
And there through many a day forlorn,
His joy-abandon’d maiden went;
And from the evening to the morn
She pour’d—”she wept—”love’s sad lament.Sleep, noble hero! sweetly sleep
Within this dark and sacred wood;
The silent moon her watch shall keep
Upon thy gravestone’s solitude.
And should some future warrior come,
And the decaying trophies see,
His eye may linger on thy tomb,
And learn to fight and die from thee.
Translation from Poets and Poetry of Poland A Collection of Polish Verse, Including a Short Account of the History of Polish Poetry, with Sixty Biographical Sketches of Poland’s Poets and Specimens of Their Composition by Paul Soboleski
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Słuchajcie, rycerze młodzi,
Żałosnej lutni jęczenie;
Niech w was chęć do sławy rodzi
Dawnego męstwa wspomnienie.
Słuchajcie, jak sławy wieniec,
Walcząc w ojczyzny obronie,
Zyskał odważny młodzieniec
I w szlachetnym poległ zgonie.2
Już Podola żyzne niwy
Chmielnicki hordy zalegał,
Już głos matek przeraźliwy
W smutnych się skałach rozlegał;
Rzuca rolnik pług i rolę,
Wszędzie hoże wiodą branki,
Pasterz woli iść w niewolę,
Niż odstąpić swej kochanki.3
Syt wieku, szczęścia i sławy,
Mikołaj wojsku przewodził:
Gdy jęk ludu i mord krwawy
Do uszu jego dochodził,
Westchnął i twarz mu sędziwą
Łez potok skropił obfity,
Wspomniał na młodość szczęśliwą
I na wiek swój nieużyty.4
A gdy siła chęci zdradza,
Gdy grot z słabej pada dłoni,
Syn ciężką starość nagradza,
Zdolny do konia i broni.
Niechętnie Potocki młody
Dni swoje trawił w pokoju,
Męstwo łączył do urody
I drżał na wspomnienie boju.5
“Synu! – rzekł hetman ze łzami –
“Kraj twój w ciężkiej jest potrzebie:
“Idź, broń go twymi piersiami,
“Bądź godnym przodków i siebie.
“Wiedz, że w każdej życia dobie
“Dla ojczyzny tylko żyjesz;
“Ja szczęśliwy legnę w grobie.
“Gdy się ty chwałą okryjesz.”6
To mówiąc, żegna rycerza,
Czułe mu daje ściśnienie,
Już Stefan zbroję przymierza,
Już czarne włosów pierścienie
Złotym okrywa szyszakiem,
Lecz, nim zbrojny wszedł do szranku,
Między cnych panien orszakiem
Postrzegł swą lubą na ganku.7
Elżbieta młoda i hoża,
Wierna miłości i chwale,
Twarz miała świeższą jak róża,
Usta żywsze nad korale.
Cel życzeń wszystkiej młodzieży,
Temu serce swe oddawa,
Kto do boju pierwszy bieży,
Komu droga miłość, sława.8
Staje rycerz uzbrojony
Przed swej kochanki oblicze.
“Tobiem winien – rzeki wzruszony –
“Życia mojego słodycze;
“Niechaj mi twoje wspomnienie
“Towarzyszy w bitw zapale,
“Niech ostatnie życia tchnienie
“Poświęcę tobie i chwale.”9
Żal przerwał czulą przysięgę,
Głos Elżbiety płacz tamuje;
Zdjawszy z siebie białą wstęgę,
Rycerza nią przepasuje.
“Idź, powróć, cośmy stracili;
“W ten znak miłości przybrany,
“Bogdajbyś był w każdej chwili
“Równie szczęsny jak kochany.”10
Lecz już trąb i kotłów wrzawa
Zgromadza zewsząd rycerze,
Tuman kurzawy powstawa,
Wszędzie hełmy i pancerze,
Dziedziniec, bramy i wieże
Zewsząd okrył lud ciekawy;
Spada most, co zamku strzeże,
Ciągnie wojsko na bój krwawy.11
Nim przyszli pod Żółte Wody,
Ciągnęli spiesznie noc całą;
Słońce w dzień tej zlej przygody
W krwawych obłokach powstało.
Bohdan hufce swe rozłożył,
Jak tylko oko zamierza;
Mnóstwem się Stefan nie trwożył,
Z garstką na tłumy uderza.12
Już wojska zwarły się razem,
Śmierć niosące ognie błyszczą,
Hełm się zgina pod żelazem,
Strzały na powietrzu świszczą.
Lecz gdy wódz nieulękniony
Walczy w tłumie niebezpiecznym,
Strzałą w piersi ugodzony,
Pada, ujęty snem wiecznym.13
Tak pewne naszych zwycięstwo
Zgon wodza młodego zdradza,
W żal ciężki zmienia się męstwo,
Wojsko się wkoło zgromadza.
Łzami skraplają twarz bladą
I, otarłszy ze krwi blizny,
Ciało na tarcze swe kładą,
Nadzieje wojska, ojczyzny.14
Wpośród dąbrowy zielonej
Zwłoki rycerza złożyli
I na wstędze krwią zbroczonej,
Zbroję jego zawiesili;
Tam nieszczęśliwa kochanka,
We łzach pędząc dni nieznośne,
Od wieczora aż do ranka
Rozwodzi skargi miłosne.15
Spoczywaj, rycerzu, mile
Między cichym drzew tych cieniem;
Niech księżyc głuchej mogile
Przyjaznym świeci promieniem.
Jeśli kiedy rycerz mężny
W tej się tu znajdzie krainie,
Spojrzawszy na grób potężny,
Niech, jak ty, walczy i ginie.
The issue of the Roman Church’s handling of PR issues has been discussed on and off over the past few years (see here, here, and here for examples of discussions on the issue).
Take this story from the Buffalo News: Another St. Teresa whistle-blower loses job (also an earlier story here)
The group of issues covered in this article (see below) could have been handled in a much better, much more professional way. As it is, this looks terrible — as in cover up and silencing of witnesses terrible. It may or may not be, and that’s just the problem. Nothing said by the Buffalo Diocese gives any sense of confidence.
Back to my school days. The preeminent public relations victories come from clear, honest, and straightforward dealings with the public and the media. The Tylenol poisoning case is often cited as a best practice. From Effective Crises Management (emphasis mine):
The reason Tylenol reacted so quickly and in such a positive manner to the crisis stems from the company’s mission statement. (Lazare Chicago Sun-Times 2002). On the company’s credo written in the mid-1940’s by Robert Wood Johnson, he stated that the company’s responsibilities were to the consumers and medical professionals using its products, employees, the communities where its people work and live, and its stockholders. Therefore, it was essential to maintain the safety of its publics to maintain the company alive. Johnson & Johnson’s responsibility to its publics first proved to be its most efficient public relations tool. It was the key to the brand’s survival.
Every story is not a crises, but effective management (of your actions and message) in line with your mission statement is essential. Otherwise you leave followers, seekers, and everyone else wondering.
Pastoral assistant was critical of finances
Another whistle-blowing employee who complained to the Catholic Diocese of Buffalo about financial irregularities at St. Teresa of Avila Church in South Buffalo is being removed from her post.
Karen M. Krajewski, pastoral assistant at St. Teresa, confirmed that she was asked to leave by the current pastor, the Rev. James B. Cunningham.
Her dismissal follows the removals in August of the temporary administrator, Monsignor Fred R. Voorhes, and the business manager, Marc J. Pasquale.
Voorhes and Pasquale had urged the diocese to examine financial irregularities and questionable bookkeeping practices at the parish, and after Pasquale took his concerns to the Erie County District Attorney’s Office in August, both men were removed.
District Attorney Frank A. Sedita III has since launched an investigation into parish finances but has declined to comment on the probe.
Krajewski, who concurred with Voorhes and Pasquale, initially was retained on staff as the parish operated under a temporary priest administrator, Monsignor W. Jerome Sullivan. In September, though, she sent a letter critical of the diocese’s actions to Archbishop Pietro Sambi, the pope’s representative in the United States, and to Archbishop Timothy M. Dolan of the Archdiocese of New York.
“I knew it was coming. It’s a new pastor, and he has a new way of doing things and it doesn’t include me,” Krajewski said.
Cunningham, appointed by Bishop Edward U. Kmiec last weekend, told Krajewski he planned to hire a deacon instead. Krajewski was not critical of the new pastor.
“You’ve got to give Father Cunningham some time and some space to figure out what he’s doing,” she said. “He’s an extremely fine man. He’s going to be easy to work with. Many of the people at St. Teresa’s know him. I think he’s going to be good for the parish.”
But when asked if the diocese had a role in her dismissal, Krajewski responded that she didn’t know if the move was Cunningham’s “choice and only his choice.”
Cunningham did not return telephone calls seeking comment.
A diocesan spokesman said he didn’t think there was any connection between Krajewski’s dismissal and the earlier moves by the diocese.
Officials from the chancery weren’t involved in the most recent personnel change, said the spokesman, Kevin A. Keenan.
“We weren’t aware of the decision by the pastor,” Keenan said. “Pastors come in and they oftentimes evaluate their personnel needs and they act accordingly.”
Krajewski, a retired school teacher, is scheduled to work at St. Teresa parish through Wednesday.
In her letter dated Sept. 21, she criticized Kmiec’s decision to dismiss Voorhes and Pasquale, saying the pair had worked tirelessly to turn a difficult merger between St. Teresa and St. John the Evangelist into a success.
“Parishioners ask daily for Msgr. Voorhes (sic) return —” they are hurt, stunned and disgusted with this situation,” Krajewski wrote.
Diocesan officials have maintained that the removals of Voorhes and Pasquale had nothing to do with the complaint to the diocese or the district attorney, although they’ve declined to elaborate, citing personnel issues.
Voorhes also has declined to comment, while Pasquale contends that he was fired for sticking up for parishioners and their pocketbooks.
Voorhes was appointed temporary administrator in the fall of 2008, after the previous pastor, the Rev. James T. Bartnik, suffered a stroke during a meeting in Kmiec’s office.
Bartnik also had asked diocesan officials to examine whether there had been financial irregularities at the Seneca Street parish when it was overseen by a different priest and bookkeeper, the Rev. Robert M. Mock and Dawn M. Lustan.
The questionable practices included missing invoices, shredded documents, missing computer records and unexplained charges on a parish credit card, according to Pasquale and other sources. Mock, who now is an associate dean at Trocaire College, and Lustan, who works for the diocese, referred questions to Keenan.
“Something is amiss,” said Krajewski, who was hired by Voorhes. “I said that when I came in last October. Within a week, I said something’s wrong.”
Krajewski said she notified the diocese’s director of internal audit, Bruce Evert.
“Records just don’t go missing,” she said.
Cunningham informed Krajewski of her dismissal on the same day she completed a two-hour interview with forensic accountant Timothy McPoland, who was hired by the DA’s office to determine if any embezzlement occurred at St. Teresa.
McPoland also interviewed Evert at the parish, Krajewski said.
The appointment of Cunningham has eased tensions at St. Teresa, said Kathy Frawley, a member of the parish council.
On Nov. 1, Cunningham and Voorhes concelebrated at a Mass, which was followed by a reception for Voorhes.
Nonetheless, some parishioners remain concerned about the issues raised by Voorhes, Pasquale and others —” and the diocese’s reaction.
“Really nothing has been resolved. It’s all being investigated and people still have questions,” Frawley said. “(For) a lot of people there’s still that cloud. They feel bad about what happened to Father Voorhes and Marc.”
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New blog post: Daily Digest for November 9th http://bit.ly/on1Hq [deacon_jim]
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Maid of Roxolania fair!
By your lips of roses swear,
Why your lyre’s sublimest tone
Sings the graceful Thelegdon?
‘Tis that noblest passion’s praise,
Merits, aye! the noblest lays.
Light of love whose kindling stream
Shines like morning’s dewy beam;
Not so bright the dawn which shakes
Splendent ringlets when she wakes.
Not so rich her lips of red,
When their balmy breath they spread;
Not so glorious is her eye,
Burning in its richest dye;
Not so modest when her face
Shadows all its blushing grace.
Yet if heaven’s thick-scattered light
Seeks to be more pure, more bright,
‘Tis from her their rays they’ll take;
Goddess of the frozen lake,
Genii of the wintry snow,
Warm ye in her beauty’s glow.
Not the immeasurable sea,
Not the tides’ profundity,
Not the ceaseless years that sweep,
Not the murmurs of the deep,
Shall outlive that maiden pure,—”
Shall beyond her fame endure.
Joyous hours again renew,
Songs of praise and rapture, too.
Maid of Roxolania, praise,
Praise the fair one in your lays.
Translation from Poets and Poetry of Poland A Collection of Polish Verse, Including a Short Account of the History of Polish Poetry, with Sixty Biographical Sketches of Poland’s Poets and Specimens of Their Composition by Paul Soboleski
Roksolanki ukochane,
Przecz usta wasze różane,
Czemu wasze słodkie strony
Nie brzmią wdzięcznej Telegdony?Godna jest przedniego pienia
Zacność wiecznego płomienia,
By jej serdeczne zapały
Z Jutrzenką równo gorzały.Nie tak zorza z jasnej kosy
Rozpościera świetne włosy,
Nie tak wargi swe szarłatne
Wystawia światu udatne,Jako młoda Telegdona
Pięknym ogniem rozpalona
Od zatajonych płomieni
Oblicze wstydem rumieni.Lampy rozsiane po niebie,
Jeśli ku waszej potrzebie
Światłości więcej mieć chcecie,
Zaraz od niej zdobędziecie.I wy, łaskawe boginie,
Które w północnej krainie
Od przykrych mrozów ziębniecie,
Prędko się u niej zgrzejecie.[…………………………………..
……………………………………]
Ani walne wody, ani
Morskich przepaści otchłani.Nawet lata nieprzeżyte
I marmory twardo ryte,
Choć żadnej skazy nie znają,
Pamiątki jej nie przetrwają.Przetoż, śpiewacy ucieszni,
Zaczynajcie nowe pieśni,
I roksolanki pieszczone,
Ogłaszajcie Telegdonę.
Zephyr! that gently o’er Ukraine art flying,
Go and salute my Maryna for me;
Whisper her tenderly, soothingly sighing
“Lo! he has sent these soft accents to thee!”Why dost thou dwell, my maiden so lonely?
Why dost thou dwell in so gloomy a spot?
Think of the palace of Leopol —” only
Think, my fair maid! though thou visit it not.There in thy tower is a window, where seated
Often thou sheddest a smile on thy swain,
There have my sighs oft an audience entreated;
Maiden, that window invites thee again.Lady! the thought of thy absence has shaded
Even the flow’rets with sorrow and gloom;
All the bright roses and lilies are faded,
And my gay orchard is stripp’d of its bloom.Come, my fair maid, with thy beautiful blushes,
Shine o’er our turrets,—” oh, come for awhile!
Smile on us, lady; oh, smile, though Red Russia’s
Twice-castled towers may deserve not thy smile.Lo! it expects thee, its lions await thee,
Watching like sentinels fix’d on the height:
Sleepless and eager to welcome and greet thee
When thy fair vision shall dawn on their sight.Haste, maiden, haste! scatter blessings around thee,
Laughter and wit are waiting thee here;
Courtesies, feastings and smiles, shall be found thee,
Wanderings and wassails to honor thee, dear!Here we have centered the graces and pleasures;
Come thou, bright lady! inherit them now.
Here Nature pours out her charms and her treasures,
Nothing is wanted, oh, nothing but thou.
Translation from Poets and Poetry of Poland A Collection of Polish Verse, Including a Short Account of the History of Polish Poetry, with Sixty Biographical Sketches of Poland’s Poets and Specimens of Their Composition by Paul Soboleski
Wdzięczny Zefirze, lecąc śrzodkiem Ukrainy
Nie zapomnij ode mnie pozdrowić Maryny,
Nie zapomnij łagodnym szeptem twego ducha
Tę piosnkę jej zaśpiewać cichuchno do ucha:“I takeś barzo sobie, moje dziewczę lube,
Umiliła w odległych krajach kąty grube,
Że też do leonowych budynków przezacnych
Bynamniej w sobie tesknic nie czujesz niesmacznych?Izaż nie wiesz, że alkierz z okienkiem przychylnym,
Z któregoś ty strzelała na mię okiem pilnym,
Którym do ciebie moje zalatały chęci,
Ustawicznie się z twojej niebytności smęci?Dla ciebie ogródeczka mego bujne zioła
Frasobliwe nadzwyczaj pomarszczyły czoła,
Do ciebie z lilijami fijołki steskniły,
Drzewa niedonoszone płody poroniły.Hejże, kochana dziewko, pokaż nam swe czoło,
Na którego ozdoby już nie tylko sioło,
Ale i roksolańska stolica dwójgrodna
Zawsze się zapatrować nie zawsze jest godna.Patrzaj, jako cię z chęcią wyglądają wieże,
Jako lew, który miasta z wysokości strzeże,
Upatrując przyjazdu twego, nieuśpiony
Obraca ustawicznie wzrok na wszytkie strony.Pokwapże tedy do nas niezwykłym pośpiechem,
Kędy cię trefne żarty z krotofilnym śmiechem,
Zabawy pokojowe, przechadzki pomierne
I panieńskie czekają kompanije wierne.Tu rozkosz co przedniejsze złożyła swe zbiory,
Tu Cyterea wszytkie przeniosła Amory,
Tu Kupidowie z oczu dziewiczych się snują,
Tu na udatnych wargach strzały swe hecują,Tu się jako do gniazda wszelkich pociech zlata,
Cokolwiek jest lubości uciesznego świata.
Tu wszytko jest, co tylko mają ruskie kraje,
Oprócz, że ciebie samej jednej nie dostaje”.
I saw thee from my casement high,
And watch’d thy speaking countenance;
With silent step thou glidest by,
And didst not cast a hurried glance
Upon my mean abode nor me.Then misery smote me,—” but for heaven
I should have fallen scathed and dead.
I blame thee not,—” thou art forgiven;
I yet may hear thy gentle tread,
When evening shall o’ermantle thee.The evening came,—” then mantling night;
I waited till the full moon tower’d
High in the heaven. My longing sight
Perceived thee not; the damp mists lower’d.
In vain I sought thee anxiously.Didst thou upon some privileged leaf
My name record, and to the wind
Commit it,—” bid it charm my grief,
Bear some sweet influence to my mind
And set me from despairing free?Where are the strains of music now,
The song, the dance, that morn and eve
We heard around my house,—”when low
And sweet thy voice was wont to heave
Soft sighs and gentle thoughts for me ?‘Tis past, ’tis past, and in my heart
Is sorrow, silence in my ear;
The vain world’s wonted smiles depart;
Joy and the springtide of the year,
Fond youth! are scatter’d speedily.Thou hast not said farewell! no sleep
Shall close my mourning eye,—”the night
Is gloomy now. Go, minstrel, weep!
For I shall weep; and sorrow’s blight
That scathes my heart shall visit thee.
Translation from Poets and Poetry of Poland A Collection of Polish Verse, Including a Short Account of the History of Polish Poetry, with Sixty Biographical Sketches of Poland’s Poets and Specimens of Their Composition by Paul Soboleski
Widziałam cię z okieneczka, kiedyś przechodził.
Rozumiałam, żeś się ze mną obaczyć godził.
Aleś ty pokoje
I mieszkanie moje
Prędkim minął skokiem,
A na mię, nędznicę,
Twoją niewolnicę,
Aniś rzucił okiem.Żal mię przejął niesłychany, gdym to ujrzała.
Bóg strzegł, martwą zaraz w oknie żem nie została,
Lecz to niebaczeniu
Abo też niechceniu
Twemu przyczytałam;
A wieczornej chwile,
Tusząc sobie mile,
Tylko wyglądałam.Przyszedł wieczór, mrok mnie nocny w okienku zastał;
Trwałam przecie, dokąd księżyc pełny nie nastał.
A ciebie nie było,
Ani cię zoczyło
Oko moje smutne.
Aniś listkiem cisnął
Aniś słówka pisnął,
O serce okrutne!Kędy teraz twe usługi, kędy ukłony?
Kędy lutni słodkobrzmiącej głos upieszczony?
Który bez przestanku
Z zmierzchem do poranku
Słyszećeś mi dawał?
Przy nim winszowania
I ciche wzdychania
Lekuchnoś podawał.Nie masz teraz dawnych zabaw, nie słychać pienia,
Pełne serce tęsknic, uszy pełne milczenia.
Gdzie zwyczajne śmiechy?
Gdzie dawne uciechy?
Niebaczny człowiecze!
Nie wiesz, że pogoda
I godzina młoda
Prędziuchno uciecze.Przeto, żeś mi nie winszował szczęśliwej nocy,
Nie uznały snu miłego biedne me oczy.
Także ty wzajemnie
Łaskawej przeze mnie
Nocy nie zakusisz,
Lecz przykre niespania
I częste wzdychania
Co noc cierpieć musisz.
From the Hí¼rriyet Daily News & Economic Review: Muslims, Christians pray together in Polonezkí¶y
Poles in and Turks greeted each other warmly as the priest at the small church in Polonezkí¶y, a village on Istanbul’s Asian outskirts settled by Polish emigrants in the 19th century, invited worshippers to exchange the peace during the All Saints’ Day mass on Nov. 1.
Muslim Turks participating in a Christian ritual was —normal for Polonezkí¶y,— an elderly inhabitant of the town said. The priest conducted the mass in both Polish and Turkish so that everyone could participate. After the mass, the congregants commemorated the deceased at a nearby cemetery with flowers while the priest blessed the gravestones with holy water, just as he would in Poland.
The cemetery reflects the story of Polonezkí¶y. The majority of the oldest graves belong to Polish soldiers, combatants in many national uprisings during the 19th century. The Ottoman state was the only one in Europe that did not recognize Russian, Prussian and Austrian’s late-18th century partitions of Poland.
In 1841, Duke Adam Czartoryski sent emissary Michał Czajkowski from Paris to Istanbul to negotiate the establishment of a Polish colony there. One year later, Sultan Abdí¼lmecid I granted Istanbul’s Polish mission the right to take land from the Lazarite Order and establish a semi-autonomous Polish settlement, Adampol, named after Czartoryski.
—Thank the Lord, who gave us this land where we can pray for Poland and talk about Poland in Polish —“ let’s pray and act righteously and God will return us to our Motherland,— Czajkowski, also known as Mehmet Sadık PaŁŸa after he converted to Islam and served in the Ottoman army, said in a letter during the initial settlement period.
Speaking Polish in Poland was forbidden under Prussian and Russian rule, but Adampol was a safe haven for Polish patriots. Poles not only found refuge in the Sultan’s land, but also fought on the side of the Ottomans in the Crimean War (1853-56) against the Russians.
By the end of the 19th century approximately 150 Poles lived in the village. Even in 1918 after Poland finally re-gained its independence, the Poles in Adampol remained in Turkey. Today, there are about 750 inhabitants in Polonezkí¶y, 90 of whom are of Polish origin.
—We are Turks with Polish origin,— said Antoni Dohoda, one of the elderly inhabitants. —I was a Turkish officer,— he said proudly. The Polish-Turkish friendship seen in Polonezkí¶y is indeed amazing: The villagers said it was natural to see Polish and Turkish flags flying side-by-side or flowers from the gendarmerie at Czartoryski’s monument.
On one side of Adam Mickiewicz St., named for a famous Polish writer who died in Istanbul in 1855, there is both a Catholic church and a mosque just a few meters away from each other. —We go to weddings together, funerals and we carry coffins for each other when needed,— said Dohoda, somewhat surprised at the question about religious issues.
Dohoda said he was not worried about the loss of Polish culture and language. Though there is now much intermarriage in the community, he said this was a worldwide trend. Whatever the case, religious and cultural life in the community remains strong —“ mass is held every Saturday evening, after which Sister Arleta leads a number of children in religious study. Also, the children prepare a nativity play for the birth of Jesus every Christmas.
Recently, land from the graves of Adam Czartoryski and Michał Czajkowski were brought to Polonezkí¶y and placed in symbolic graves in a ceremony attended by Polish President Lech Kaczyński. Indeed, the town often receives visits from Polish heads of state during their trips to Turkey, having hosted former presidents Lech Wałęsa and Aleksander Kwaśniewski in the past.
Polonezkí¶y keeps ties not only with Poland, where children go every year for holidays, but also with similar Polish migrant communities in Romania. In October, Polonezkí¶y welcomed 12 children and two teachers from Nowy Soloniec in Romania.
—We also want to establish connections with Polish towns in Georgia. The origins of these villages are the same —“ they were built by Polish patriots,— said Polonezkí¶y Mayor Daniel Ohotski. These meetings with other Polish children motivate interest in Polish culture and help to maintain the language, he said.
Polonezkí¶y is not just a heritage park for Polish culture, but also a beautiful destination for residents of Istanbul seeking a quiet place for a weekend getaway. Hotels and restaurants offering traditional Polish and Turkish food attract Istanbul clientele.
The fact that there is no public transportation connecting Polonezkí¶y to Istanbul helps to maintain the peacefulness of the village. Moreover, Ohotski is not very enthusiastic about the idea of having a public bus —“ —That would bring too many people. It is good the way it is now,— he said.
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New blog post: Daily Digest for November 6th http://bit.ly/1drKLz [deacon_jim]
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New blog post: All for a dollar http://bit.ly/1KbvKi [deacon_jim]
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