Fr. Joseph Jarzebowski, MIC (1897-1964) Among the many pictures taken in Lichen, Poland centered on the beatification of Marian Founder Blessed Stanislaus Papczynski is one snapped on the grounds of the magnificent basilica of Our Lady of Lichen. The shrine stands as the largest church in Poland and one of the largest in the world. The picture in question depicts a statue of a cleric. We don't stop the presses at the sight of a statue on the grounds of a shrine. We expect effigies at a shrine the way we presume to see fans at a football game. "Great ... a statue ... so what?" you ask. The sculptor has memorialized the priest holding a plaque that bears the image of The Divine Mercy. Behind him, to his left, a stone cross stands firm and upright, reminding pilgrims that the limits of God's love are infinite. The priest's face is determined and resolute, with a hint of - what would we call it - thanks, gratitude, indebtedness, appreciation? All four words would fit. It's an inspired work of art. The legend under the statue tells us he's Fr. Joseph Jarzebowski, MIC. It also informs us that he was born in 1897 and died in 1964, certainly a Marian of relatively recent vintage - young enough so that more than a few present-day Marians remember him on Eden Hill, home of the National Shrine of The Divine Mercy in Stockbridge, Mass. Father Seraphim Michalenko, MIC, for example, director of the Association of Marian Helpers, remembers meeting Fr. Jarzebowski in the mid-1940s in Stockbridge. Father Seraphim describes him as a man large in stature, presence, and spirituality - a determined man, the proverbial "man on a mission." "Mission." The word gets us closer to understanding why Fr. Jarzebowski rates a statue on the holy ground of Lichen. Obviously, he's not just another deceased Marian. So why is Fr. Joseph Jarzebowski important enough to be memorialized with a statue? Because without him, who knows where the message of Divine Mercy would be today, particularly in the United States. It might well be nowhere. In 1940, Fr. Joseph, a Polish priest who turned 43 that year, embarked on a perilous journey upon whose success rested the fate of the Divine Mercy message in America. To better understand the temper of the priest's flight, keep in mind that World War II was raging following Nazi Germany's invasion of Poland on Sept. 1, 1939. The war brutalized Poland, and for men of the cloth, a priestly vocation offered no protection against the onslaught of militarized political evil. The Marians of the Immaculate Conception were no exception. The war threw the Congregation into chaos. According to a history of the Marians compiled by Br. Michael Gaitley, MIC, "a large number of Marians" died during the war, including many who were murdered. The communist threat was only too real. In 1940, the Marians opened their Latvian Province. Only a few years later, following the Soviet annexation, the communists destroyed the Marians' Latvian and Lithuanian houses, killing almost all the seminarians and many of the brothers. In all, 98 Marians died. In 1940, Father Joseph - with a penetrating, almost prophetic intelligence - realized he had to leave Poland to escape the mayhem. With war-torn borders secured and heavily guarded, with communications disrupted and tapped, with spies lurking, and with unauthorized travel one of the surest ways of attracting attention of the authorities, the prospects of escape seemed dim. The chilling command, "Produce your papers!", served as the first words of the epitaph for countless innocent individuals caught in a nightmare and slaughtered for the "crime" of trying to flee its horror. "Refugees" they call them, which is a euphemism for "the decimated and destroyed."
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