Why I Cringed

Recently, I had the opportunity to attend my first Annual Parishioners’ Meeting at Saint Stanislaus Parish here in Saint Louis.  My wife and I are rather new members of Saint Stanislaus, so we haven’t been first-hand witnesses to the trials and tribulations of this truly unique parish community for very long.  This meeting was an eye opener.

As you may know, all of the parishioners of Saint Stanislaus are “owners” of the parish corporation, so to speak, and freely elect their representatives to the parish’s governing Board of Directors.  The purpose of the Annual Meeting is to give the pastor and the members of the Board the opportunity to report on the current state and future direction of the parish, and to present the financial situation of the corporation.  New Board members are also elected and introduced at this meeting.  And, these things did indeed happen at the 2008 Annual Parishioners’ Meeting of Saint Stanislaus Parish.

However, Saint Stanislaus is a Roman Catholic parish that’s undergoing a magnificent transformation.  Hopefully, I’ll have the opportunity to write more about that transformation in future posts on this website.  But suffice to say for now, as with any metamorphosis, the changes at Saint Stanislaus are not coming without struggle … and pain … and frustration … and anger … and great, great joy.

I had been told before the meeting that there was a vocal and angry group of parishioners who vehemently oppose the changes that are occurring at the parish.  They despise Father Bozek.  They feel that his coming to Saint Stanislaus has been a total disaster.  They consider many of the new parishioners that he’s attracting to be Catholic malcontents and sexual deviants.  Stan Rozanski, a former Board member and outspoken critic of Father Bozek, is quoted in a recent article in the Saint Louis Post Dispatch as saying that Saint Stanislaus "is now home to anyone who has a gripe with the (Catholic) church."

At one point during the meeting, an older man, who spoke with a heavy Polish accent and who was obviously very angry with Father Bozek, stood up and demanded to be heard.  He was clearly out of order and probably would have been forcibly removed from the annual meeting of any other corporation.  But, he was calmly advised that he would be given a chance to speak his mind and he was asked to wait his turn … which he ignored.  He boisterously proclaimed his views for another minute or two.  And then, I heard a shout from the back of the room, “Aw, if you don’t like it, just go back to Poland.”

Now, you’ve got to understand, I am one of Father Bozek’s biggest supporters.  And I, along with the other parishioners who support Father Bozek AND the principles he advocates, were overwhelmingly in the majority at this meeting.  This was our meeting.  But in spite of being on the prevailing team, so to speak, I felt myself cringe when I heard that comment.  “Just go back to Poland!”

It took me several days of personal reflection to determine why I flinched.  No, I’m not uncomfortable with confrontation and conflict.  My ancestry is mostly Irish, so I find a good fight to be quite entertaining.  And no, I didn’t cringe because of some emotional sense of obligation to defend the underdog.  No, my discomfort was caused by something quite unusual for me … and most unexpected.

You see, it’s not just Saint Stanislaus Parish that has been undergoing a transformation.  I’m being transformed as well.  You listen to Father Bozek’s homilies a few times, and you excitedly tell your family and friends about what you’ve heard.  You find yourself defending his positions, and suddenly you wake up one morning and you realize, “Whoa, am I the same person that I was two months ago?”

Then you say something to one of your “good” Catholic friends and you hear, “Well, if you people don’t like the Roman Catholic Church … and can’t obey the Church’s teachings … why don’t you just find another church?”  In other words, “If you don’t like it, why don’t you just go back to Poland.”  And that hurts.  It hurts bad.  The Roman Catholic Church is my home.  It’s been my home since my Mom and Dad dressed me in a little white christening gown when I was only a few weeks old and took me to Saint William’s Church in Cincinnati to be baptized.  I just can’t pack up and leave my home.

The comment I heard from the back of the room at the Annual Parishioners’ Meeting was the same comment that I had heard my “good” Catholic friends say to me.  And I knew how much it hurt me … and how much it must have hurt that Polish gentleman who just wanted to vent his fear and anger.  That’s why I cringed.

Mick Kenney