An Empty Tabernacle, Full Hearts
When I set out on pilgrimage this year, I felt different than usual. It was my fifth time on the road to Jasna Góra, but my first time in the role of spiritual guide. On my back I carried the experience of previous pilgrimages, and in my heart something between excitement and a slight tremor. Over the years I had seen many guides: some with humour, others with great seriousness, and all of them were, in some way, an authority for me. Now, suddenly, I found myself in that role. I understood that I could no longer simply "walk". Now I was to be the one who led.
That sense of responsibility was enormous. Group four, the youth group, full of energy and, of course, laughter, needed not only an organiser, but above all someone who would help them live this road in faith. Our patrons were the blessed Ulma family, witnesses of courage and sacrifice. Their story was an inspiration for me: faithfulness to the end, even if the highest price must be paid. I thought to myself: am I capable of leading my little group so faithfully?
The first steps out of Bielsko were a special moment for me. I saw the backpacks, the scarves, I heard the chatter of the young people, and in my heart I asked God: "Will I manage? Will I be equal to this task?" The answer came quickly: I am not alone. Just as Mary leads us all to Jesus, so I am to be only one of the instruments.
The road is not just kilometres to be covered. It is thousands of small scenes that stay in the memory. Heat pouring from the sky and hats that barely protect from the sun (this year without the "frog" on my head). Backpacks that seem light in the morning and, after a few hours of walking, weigh like stones. Blisters that appear faster than anyone would expect, and bottles of water passed to one another like the most precious gift. Pilgrimage teaches that a slice of bread or a sip of tea can taste better than the most exquisite dinner.
But pilgrimage is also song. Hymns carried across fields and villages, heard by passers-by, drivers, children waving from behind fences. It is precisely then that you feel we are not walking alone, but as the Church on the way. There were moments when a single musician could lift the spirits of the whole group when tiredness was draining our strength. There were also moments of silence: those when everyone walked in their own thoughts, step by step, and only the tapping of shoes echoed off the asphalt. During one of the stages this year, we organised a "contact stage". Music played through the loudspeakers, and our task was to make contact with another person. A time when conversation was the guiding theme. We definitely need more of that next year! This pilgrimage abounded in a great number of remarkable events.
One of the most moving events of the whole journey was the Eucharist in Chruszczobród. It was there, with Fr Marcin, that we prayed especially for our homeland. The church was full of pilgrims: tired, but above all thirsting for a meeting with the Lord. When the moment of Holy Communion came, I saw something that struck me straight in the heart. I will never forget it. So many people wanted to receive Jesus that not a single Host remained in the tabernacle. To such a degree that we broke the hosts into several pieces so that there would be enough for everyone.
An empty tabernacle… for many it could be a cause of unease, but for me it became the most beautiful image of the Church. For the Lord Jesus does not want to remain locked away in a golden vessel. He wants to be present in us, alive and close. I looked at all those people. At the young and the old, who walked away from the altar carrying the living Christ within them, and I thought that this is precisely the meaning of pilgrimage. We do not walk in order to leave something within the walls of a church, but to take God with us. In the heart, in the gaze, in words and gestures. All of Him.
That image of the empty tabernacle was an eloquent sign. A church outwardly empty, but inwardly full, full of Jesus present in people. When we later left Chruszczobród, I had the deep conviction that it is not we who carry God, but He who carries us.
Another of this year's exceptional experiences of the whole pilgrimage was the overnight stay in Nierada. Oh, I will not forget it for a long time. It was the last night before entering Jasna Góra, so emotions were already reaching their peak. Instead of school classrooms or sports halls, this time our place of rest became… the church and the grounds around it.
It is hard to forget that sight. A church that is usually full of prayer and song turned, that evening, into one great dormitory. Literally. Wherever there was space: in the aisles, by the pillars, under the choir loft, in the choir loft, and even at the foot of the altar, mattresses, sleeping mats, and sleeping bags were laid out. When the lights went out and the pilgrims, still chattering a moment earlier, settled down to sleep, an extraordinary atmosphere reigned: a mixture of pilgrim tiredness and the sacred. It was something more than an overnight stay; it was a living icon of the Church, which truly is a home. A place where everyone finds their place, even when they are simply tired and need nothing but sleep.
That night was very symbolic for me. As if God wanted to say: "This is my house, and I want you to feel at home in it." And indeed, that is exactly how it was. Entering Jasna Góra is always a moment that cannot be described in a single sentence. Although I had walked this road several times before, this year I experienced everything differently. The sight of the tower of the Jasna Góra monastery on the horizon made my heart beat faster. With every step, the singing grew, the tiredness seemed to vanish, and legs which an hour earlier, in the forest, had ached with every movement suddenly regained their strength.
The atmosphere in the group was extraordinary. The young people sang, some cried, others smiled broadly. Each carried their own intentions in their heart: family matters, petitions, thanksgivings. There was a boy who had battled blisters throughout the whole pilgrimage and smiled more broadly than anyone else, or a girl who walked with tears in her eyes, not from tiredness, but from the emotion of having made it. And all along the way she had kept saying, "I can't do it, I won't make it."
As we crossed the avenues and then approached the monastery itself, I felt immense gratitude. That we had managed to walk 150 kilometres, that no one had been left behind, that we could enter together, was proof to me that God had truly guided our every step.
For me, as a spiritual guide, entering Jasna Góra had yet another dimension. I thought then that throughout the whole journey it was not I who had led the young people; in reality it was they who had led me, with their enthusiasm, their faith, their simplicity. It was they who reminded me that a pilgrimage does not end at the monastery walls, but that its fruits must be carried into everyday life.
When the emotions subsided, and the singing fell silent, I began to wonder what this pilgrimage had really meant for me. For many, it is simply a road: 150 kilometres from Bielsko to Częstochowa that have to be covered on foot. But I see more and more clearly that it is something more than a march from point A to point B. It is like an image of life itself.
On the road you learn patience, simplicity, joy in small things. You discover how important it is to share a slice of bread, a smile, or a bottle of water. You also learn silence, the real kind, in which you can finally hear yourself and God. Pilgrimage is simply a school of the heart, and the teacher is Christ himself.
Looking at my group, young people under the patronage of the blessed Ulma family, I saw something remarkable. I saw that they truly know how to believe and to trust. They know how to pray, sing, and dance with joy, but also how to remain in silence. Their enthusiasm and faith were a testimony for me. It was they who taught me that the Church really is alive and young.
Pilgrimage shows that faith is not a theory. Faith is step after step taken with trust. It is holding together when it hurts, and celebrating together when joy comes. It is an image of the Church that walks. Sometimes tired, sometimes smiling, but always together. For me personally, this year's pilgrimage was a lesson in responsibility. As a spiritual guide, I was not the one who "knows everything" and "leads alone". I was rather one of the many who walk. My role was to listen, to sustain, to rejoice together, and sometimes simply to be silent alongside. And in this I discovered that a guide is not above the group; he is inside it, together with it.
When I return in my thoughts to the empty tabernacle in Chruszczobród, to the church full of sleeping people in Nierada, to the tears and singing at the entrance to Jasna Góra, I see that God gave us signs that will stay with me for a long time. Because a pilgrimage does not end with the final stage. It begins anew: in everyday life, at work, in the parish, at school, in the family. And that is exactly why I know it was worth walking. Because it is not only about seeing Jasna Góra. It is about meeting God and letting Him lead us further. I wonder what the coming year will bring…
Fr Adam Płonka
That sense of responsibility was enormous. Group four, the youth group, full of energy and, of course, laughter, needed not only an organiser, but above all someone who would help them live this road in faith. Our patrons were the blessed Ulma family, witnesses of courage and sacrifice. Their story was an inspiration for me: faithfulness to the end, even if the highest price must be paid. I thought to myself: am I capable of leading my little group so faithfully?
The first steps out of Bielsko were a special moment for me. I saw the backpacks, the scarves, I heard the chatter of the young people, and in my heart I asked God: "Will I manage? Will I be equal to this task?" The answer came quickly: I am not alone. Just as Mary leads us all to Jesus, so I am to be only one of the instruments.
The road is not just kilometres to be covered. It is thousands of small scenes that stay in the memory. Heat pouring from the sky and hats that barely protect from the sun (this year without the "frog" on my head). Backpacks that seem light in the morning and, after a few hours of walking, weigh like stones. Blisters that appear faster than anyone would expect, and bottles of water passed to one another like the most precious gift. Pilgrimage teaches that a slice of bread or a sip of tea can taste better than the most exquisite dinner.
But pilgrimage is also song. Hymns carried across fields and villages, heard by passers-by, drivers, children waving from behind fences. It is precisely then that you feel we are not walking alone, but as the Church on the way. There were moments when a single musician could lift the spirits of the whole group when tiredness was draining our strength. There were also moments of silence: those when everyone walked in their own thoughts, step by step, and only the tapping of shoes echoed off the asphalt. During one of the stages this year, we organised a "contact stage". Music played through the loudspeakers, and our task was to make contact with another person. A time when conversation was the guiding theme. We definitely need more of that next year! This pilgrimage abounded in a great number of remarkable events.
One of the most moving events of the whole journey was the Eucharist in Chruszczobród. It was there, with Fr Marcin, that we prayed especially for our homeland. The church was full of pilgrims: tired, but above all thirsting for a meeting with the Lord. When the moment of Holy Communion came, I saw something that struck me straight in the heart. I will never forget it. So many people wanted to receive Jesus that not a single Host remained in the tabernacle. To such a degree that we broke the hosts into several pieces so that there would be enough for everyone.
An empty tabernacle… for many it could be a cause of unease, but for me it became the most beautiful image of the Church. For the Lord Jesus does not want to remain locked away in a golden vessel. He wants to be present in us, alive and close. I looked at all those people. At the young and the old, who walked away from the altar carrying the living Christ within them, and I thought that this is precisely the meaning of pilgrimage. We do not walk in order to leave something within the walls of a church, but to take God with us. In the heart, in the gaze, in words and gestures. All of Him.
That image of the empty tabernacle was an eloquent sign. A church outwardly empty, but inwardly full, full of Jesus present in people. When we later left Chruszczobród, I had the deep conviction that it is not we who carry God, but He who carries us.
Another of this year's exceptional experiences of the whole pilgrimage was the overnight stay in Nierada. Oh, I will not forget it for a long time. It was the last night before entering Jasna Góra, so emotions were already reaching their peak. Instead of school classrooms or sports halls, this time our place of rest became… the church and the grounds around it.
It is hard to forget that sight. A church that is usually full of prayer and song turned, that evening, into one great dormitory. Literally. Wherever there was space: in the aisles, by the pillars, under the choir loft, in the choir loft, and even at the foot of the altar, mattresses, sleeping mats, and sleeping bags were laid out. When the lights went out and the pilgrims, still chattering a moment earlier, settled down to sleep, an extraordinary atmosphere reigned: a mixture of pilgrim tiredness and the sacred. It was something more than an overnight stay; it was a living icon of the Church, which truly is a home. A place where everyone finds their place, even when they are simply tired and need nothing but sleep.
That night was very symbolic for me. As if God wanted to say: "This is my house, and I want you to feel at home in it." And indeed, that is exactly how it was. Entering Jasna Góra is always a moment that cannot be described in a single sentence. Although I had walked this road several times before, this year I experienced everything differently. The sight of the tower of the Jasna Góra monastery on the horizon made my heart beat faster. With every step, the singing grew, the tiredness seemed to vanish, and legs which an hour earlier, in the forest, had ached with every movement suddenly regained their strength.
The atmosphere in the group was extraordinary. The young people sang, some cried, others smiled broadly. Each carried their own intentions in their heart: family matters, petitions, thanksgivings. There was a boy who had battled blisters throughout the whole pilgrimage and smiled more broadly than anyone else, or a girl who walked with tears in her eyes, not from tiredness, but from the emotion of having made it. And all along the way she had kept saying, "I can't do it, I won't make it."
As we crossed the avenues and then approached the monastery itself, I felt immense gratitude. That we had managed to walk 150 kilometres, that no one had been left behind, that we could enter together, was proof to me that God had truly guided our every step.
For me, as a spiritual guide, entering Jasna Góra had yet another dimension. I thought then that throughout the whole journey it was not I who had led the young people; in reality it was they who had led me, with their enthusiasm, their faith, their simplicity. It was they who reminded me that a pilgrimage does not end at the monastery walls, but that its fruits must be carried into everyday life.
When the emotions subsided, and the singing fell silent, I began to wonder what this pilgrimage had really meant for me. For many, it is simply a road: 150 kilometres from Bielsko to Częstochowa that have to be covered on foot. But I see more and more clearly that it is something more than a march from point A to point B. It is like an image of life itself.
On the road you learn patience, simplicity, joy in small things. You discover how important it is to share a slice of bread, a smile, or a bottle of water. You also learn silence, the real kind, in which you can finally hear yourself and God. Pilgrimage is simply a school of the heart, and the teacher is Christ himself.
Looking at my group, young people under the patronage of the blessed Ulma family, I saw something remarkable. I saw that they truly know how to believe and to trust. They know how to pray, sing, and dance with joy, but also how to remain in silence. Their enthusiasm and faith were a testimony for me. It was they who taught me that the Church really is alive and young.
Pilgrimage shows that faith is not a theory. Faith is step after step taken with trust. It is holding together when it hurts, and celebrating together when joy comes. It is an image of the Church that walks. Sometimes tired, sometimes smiling, but always together. For me personally, this year's pilgrimage was a lesson in responsibility. As a spiritual guide, I was not the one who "knows everything" and "leads alone". I was rather one of the many who walk. My role was to listen, to sustain, to rejoice together, and sometimes simply to be silent alongside. And in this I discovered that a guide is not above the group; he is inside it, together with it.
When I return in my thoughts to the empty tabernacle in Chruszczobród, to the church full of sleeping people in Nierada, to the tears and singing at the entrance to Jasna Góra, I see that God gave us signs that will stay with me for a long time. Because a pilgrimage does not end with the final stage. It begins anew: in everyday life, at work, in the parish, at school, in the family. And that is exactly why I know it was worth walking. Because it is not only about seeing Jasna Góra. It is about meeting God and letting Him lead us further. I wonder what the coming year will bring…
Fr Adam Płonka
