We have read thus far of four contributors to Christian mysticism in the 20th century. Two, Rufus Jones and Howard Thurman, were professors in higher education; Thurman was also ordained. The other two, Henri Le Saux and Thomas Merton, were Roman Catholic priests in religious orders.
The reader could be forgiven for thinking that mysticism is solely the arena of clergy and academics. They are the ones whom we know because they work in fields that easily garner attention. There are others, however, who serve the Kingdom in quieter ways but can have as much, or more, influence over the course of spirituality.
Jan Tyranowski was not a university lecturer, clergyman, nor a member of a religious order; he was not an oblate or confrater of any Christian community. He wrote no books.
He was a tailor in Krakow.
He lived as ordinary a life as possible in Poland in the 1930’s and 40’s. Having once tried to work as a bookkeeper, an occupation that made him physically ill, he had inherited his father’s shop and found peace with his needle and thread.
Of a devout nature, he attended Mass at St. Stanisław Kostka Church, where the serving clergy were members of the Society of Saint Francis de Sales, an order founded during Poland’s industrial revolution in the 1850’s and dedicated to the needs of the marginalized members of the working class.
Although he tended to keep to himself, Tyranowski was a full participant in the life of his parish. In 1935, he found himself particularly inspired by a Salesian preacher who intoned from the pulpit, “It is not difficult to become a saint.” This was, for Tyranowski, a moment of deep revelation.
Despite his lack of spiritual portfolio, he conformed his life as best he could to the very deliberate practices of the Order of the Discalced Brothers of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel. If you prefer brevity, they are more commonly known as The Carmelites.
From the Salesian priests, Tyranowski had discovered the works of St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila and began to read voraciously on mysticism. Through these labors, he became acculturated into what is known as Carmelite charism.1
Phrased simply, Carmelite spirituality defines charism as the grace-fueled practice of a particular set of values. As the Carmelites emphasize contemplation, one can feel compelled to a particular mission in service of the Kingdom through that medium.
Tyranowski’s daily practice involved the following:
1. To meditate on the Word of God each day in the Rosary and spend time in solitude and silence, concluding every session of meditation with a concrete action. 2. To receive Jesus as often as he could in the Eucharist. 3. To study the Catholic Faith, especially the works of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross.
After the German invasion of Poland in 1939, clergy were sent away to work in labor camps. Before their forced departure, the Salesian priests asked that Tyranowski take over the young adult education program. As he was shy and uncomfortable around people, he wished to decline, but came to realize this as his charism.
He felt called through circumstance to teach mysticism to a prayerful collection of young men, each of whom had expressed interest in a contemplative awareness of God at work in the world. These were not necessarily overly devout young men, merely those curious about the possibilities of the mystic. None of them intended to become clergy.
He thus began what he called “a living rosary,” groups of fifteen who met at his home and studied contemplative literature, fashioning ways in which to work devotion into their daily lives.
Not all of his rosarians warmed to his technique immediately, however. In 1940 for example, a recent orphan named Karol, who was searching for some meaning to his life, was not so sure.
Yes, Karol understood that this man Jan was clearly a true believer and respected for his Christian devotion. What Karol found unsettling was that Tyranowski was almost off-putting in his intensity. Because of this, Karol could hardly look him in the eye.
So intense could the living rosary study be that one night during the Nazi occupation their gathering was raided by the Gestapo. Fortunately, after speaking with the introspective Tyranowski, the Hauptmann2 determined that they were not a collection of potential resistance members, but a “harmless religious cult.”
As most religious teachers of the time would educate through lecture alone, Tyranowski’s technique was considered advanced. For example, he
Despite his hesitation, this encouraged Karol’s interest to evolve, and he would eventually become a leader of one of the living rosary groups. His interest in St. John of the Cross became so passionate that Tyranowski recommended that he consider reading for Holy Orders.
Of the living rosary groups, at least six of the young men would eventually join monastic orders. Eleven or so would become priests, with one a professor of religion at the University of Krakow. Karol, too, would become a priest and seek to do what he could to further develop the living rosary system that Tyranowski organized in his sitting room.
Jan Tyranowski met an early death from a stomach disorder while still in his relative youth. Through circumstances extraordinary, his legacy has lived on as have those inspiring words he heard in that sermon in 1935. If dedicated to a charism, it really is not difficult to become a quiet, effective saint.
Those lessons taught by Tyranowski continued to be fruitful, especially when Karol would become known to the world as Pope John Paul II.
It’s hard to forget the conversations with him. One of these that remains in my memory was a time when this simple man, who complained to his confessor that he does not know how to speak, talked late into the night about the nature of God and indeed what life with God is. He didn’t quote others’ works but drew on his own experiences… he was the apostle of God’s greatness, the beauty of God, the transcendence of God.3
I cannot help but reflect on those who have given me encouragement and direction in my own life, especially as relates to my vocation. My cousin, a Presbyterian minister and Vietnam-era Army chaplain; my Lit professor who taught me how to look more deeply into the stories that live behind words and music; the Father Superior of the monastic order who taught me all of the “blue collar” aspects of priesthood from celebrating correctly to managing a vestry; an eccentric Ohio poet; an Iraqi historian and Syrian Orthodox deacon who celebrated the union of heart and intellect.
All of them taught me some aspect, some shard of what matters in the defense of the Kingdom. All of them contributed to the construction of a charism.
I would hope the reader would find an occasion to reflect on those who did so for them, especially in realization of their Christian vocation as clergy or laity.
Once he was elevated to the papacy, John Paul recognized the gift he had received from Tyranowski’s charism and initiated the canonization process for him.4
That can be a slow process. Thus far, during the tenure of the current Bishop of Rome, Jan Tyranowski has been granted the title of “Venerable” by the Congregatio de Causis Sanctorum5 as they continue to mark his pilgrimage towards sainthood.
As often as it is manifest in the words and actions of professors and priests, the mystic is probably more often issued through small acts of faith, kindness, and courage by the quiet, the shy, and the unprepossessing who feel that tug from God to do something that enriches the World and reveals the Kingdom.
Like those lessons from an introverted Krakow tailor whose inspired pupil transformed Christianity’s largest group and re-invigorated the call for world peace.
Charism, from the Greek χάρισμα, refers to a special gift from the Holy Spirit granted to a person. Generally, the gifts match those referenced in I Corinthians 12:7-11.
In English, a “captain” or “head-man”.
from My Friends [1993] by John Paul II.
An interesting aside: Those who are credited by John Paul II as having helped him discern a vocation and see the holy in all circumstances are almost entirely lay people.
The Dicastery for the Causes of Saints, the Vatican organization that determines who may belong and who may not. It sounds better in Latin, doesn’t it?
Thank you for writing about this very interesting Pole. I believe I visited that cathedral when I was 11, spending a month in Poland with my parents. At that age, I was not impressed.
Another great read! The concept of a living rosary is so neat--love it! Thank you for sharing!