Brittle Lives

By Steve Mierzejewski

Love, in all its positive and negative aspects, often serves as the defining test of a person's character. These stories show that redemption implies a preexisting state of despair, and such despair can all too often be a by-product of love.All of the stories are set in Poland with different aspects of Polish culture serving as their backdrop.

Timelessness
If all love is destined to evolve into indifference, then disappointment and cynicism must be the fruits of any love. At least this is what David believes until he finds redemption in the most unexpected way.

Poles Apart
Is there any need for the Church in modern Poland? John, an idealistic young priest, decides that it is time for the Church to return to its non-political roots, only to find that this road leads to both his own ruin and, ultimately, to his control over the fate of the entire nation.

Shattered Skies
Love can always lead to manipulation and destruction, for love is power and, like any power, it can be used as a means of control. Often, those controlled unwittingly help construct the mechanism that will destroy them. When Peter, a naïve artist from the countryside, encounters the sophisticated society of the big city and the irresistible charms of Alicia, he learns that love and life have no moral boundaries.

The White Bus
Brian, an American living a prosperous life in Poland, has his world suddenly torn apart when he loses his wealth and, with it, his wife, family, and friends. Within despair, he finds an enlightened innocence and begins rebuilding his life, little knowing that he is heading for the greatest trial of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Mierzejewski
• Release date: Nov 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465772275

Steve Mierzejewski

Steve Mierzejewski was born in Cheshire, Connecticut. He has lived and taught in Japan, Korea, Poland, and Afghanistan. During this time, he has published or contributed to numerous professional books and articles. He now works as a marketing consultant and blogger. He now resides deep in the woods and hills of southern Poland.

Book preview

Brittle Lives

Steve Mierzejewski

Published by Steve Mierzejewski at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Steve Mierzejewski

Smashwords Edition; License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

I. Religion: Poles Apart

II. History: Timelessness

III. Art: Shattered Skies

IV. Society: The White Bus

I. Religion

Poles Apart

I

Unlike most of the other guys my age in Poland, I had no real idea of what I wanted to do with my life. It’s not that I wasn’t a good student, I was. I just had no idea where I fit in, that’s all. I liked science, but the math was beyond me. I liked art and literature, but had no real talent in either, besides, what kind of a living could I make? Because that’s the way society had become. You no longer thought of going to a university to gain knowledge, you thought of it as a step on the way to your career. Once you made that big career decision, it was onto the conveyor belt until you got off at retirement. So how did they expect an eighteen-year-old kid to make such a monumental decision?

Yeah, all my friends already knew what they wanted to do. Computer guys, engineers, businessmen, those seemed like the big things now. And when they asked me what I was going to do, or what university I wanted to go to, I just shrugged my shoulders. They just shook their heads in disbelief. Time was running out, they kept telling me.

Maybe I could be a teacher, you might think. Maybe I could teach art, literature, or philosophy. But I should perhaps mention here my pathological shyness. I could not ever, in a thousand years, imagine myself standing in front of a group of people and talking. And to do it everyday! No. That was out of the question. That was a nightmare. And so my life went deeper into indecision with each passing day.

That was until one weekend when a couple of friends and I decided to hike around some of the hills in a neighboring town. It was one of those beautiful, warm, sunny weekends that you sometimes get in early May in Poland. Yellow and purple flowers everywhere, trees with their mint green, young leaves, the smell of rich, ripening earth, in short, we couldn’t have picked a better time for a hike. Anyway, we had just wandered across a sunny field thickly covered with sky blue forget-me-nots and shiny, yellow buttercups when we noticed an old, gray, stone building and a small church. Curious, we walked to it and, as we pulled opened the heavy, old door of the church, a voice came from behind us.

Can I help you boys? We turned around to see a priest. We were more embarrassed than surprised, really; like we had been caught stealing or something. I’m not sure why we felt like this. But there was something in the contrast between our high spirits and the somber, musty interior of the church on that sunny day that seemed to provoke a feeling of guilt. Anyway, none of us knew what to say.

Would you like me to show you around the seminary? The priest asked, smiling at us. We all just stood there, all of us waiting for one of the others to say something. As for the priest, he seemed like a nice enough guy, I suppose. He was around thirty and had a good-natured, intelligent face. But without waiting for our response, he pushed past us and said encouragingly, come on Still unable to think of a reply, we followed him into the church. The contrast of the dimly lit interior with the brightness outside made it difficult for us to see any details at first, but as our eyes adjusted, we noticed that we were in a very small, immaculately kept, and quite charming church. There was a sense of history in it that seemed to be drawn out by the slanting of the late afternoon spring light through the stained glass windows. This feeling was palpable to me, though I have to admit it seemed tinged with a sense of melancholy that I could not quite grasp.

You’re probably wondering why it’s so small, well, it’s generally used only by seminary students and staff.

How old is it? I asked without even realizing it; my voice much too loud for the small church to contain.

It was built in 1750 and it’s in its original condition. Let’s go through here. And he led us through a side door that went into a small courtyard. There were some stone benches and beds of well-tended flowers, daffodils, yellow. The sky was deep blue. We went across to a pair of huge, dark, wood doors that served as the entrance to a much larger, but equally old stone building.

This is the main seminary where the students live and study. He said. We all expected the usual dark, dank, and cold interiors that we were all familiar with in such buildings, so you could imagine our surprise when the inner doors opened and revealed a modern interior with low ceilings, fluorescent lights, and stylish, modern furniture. And here’s our library, he said pointing to a large number of shelves, bookcases, computers, chairs, and tables.

I was stunned. It seemed as big as any library I had ever seen. Do you mind if I look around a little bit? I asked. I couldn’t help myself. I had always loved libraries. The smell of the old books alone was enough to intoxicate me. I simply couldn’t resist the lure. Sure, go ahead, he said, sweeping his arm towards the books.

So the three of us shuffled towards the stack of books. I could tell right away that my friends weren’t as excited by this opportunity as I was. John, let’s get out of here, said my friend, Paul, under his breath.

I just want to look around for a few minutes, I answered, unable to control my irritation at his comment. My other friend, Mark, poked around the stacks in a lifeless manner, clearly not even reading the titles of any of the books.

I walked over to a bookcase with Philosophy written above it and impatiently skimmed through the titles. It was an astounding collection, but what stunned me most was coming across the entire range of Nietzsche’s works. What, on earth, was Nietzsche doing in a seminary library?

I looked up to see my friends waiting for me to finish my browsing, something I could have continued doing for hours, and we all walked back in the direction of the priest. You’ve got Nietzsche here. I said in the manner of one announcing a great archaeological find.

He laughed. You think we shouldn’t have works by atheists here? How else can we make ourselves and our faith stronger than by knowing our opposition? Don’t you think our students will be asked difficult questions some day when they become priests? It’s better for them to prepare themselves here than to think up answers on the spot later on. Don’t you agree? I only nodded. It sounded like a good answer to me, but I was still somewhat confused by my find.

Would you like to see the student quarters and classrooms? He asked us.

Er, I think we’ve got to get back, said Paul.

Yeah, we have to catch a train back to our town, added Mark.

Sure, said the priest, come back again whenever you have more time. We shook hands and left.

Oddly enough, this whole event had a profound impact on me. For weeks I thought about the possibility of living in a seminary. There was only one problem. I wasn’t religious. Oh, I had been brought up as a Catholic like any other Pole, but it had all become just a tradition rather than a belief. Yet, I appreciated the idea that a seminary encouraged study and introspection. I realized that it could be a place that would allow me to express the spirituality and sensitivity of my character without people thinking of this as abnormal. I talked to a few people at other local seminaries and learned that it was not necessary for students to actually become priests. They said I could think of it of a place of spiritual growth and could later decide whether I had a calling for the priesthood or not.

But when I mentioned the idea to my parents they were shocked. Yet, being very religious people, they could not bring themselves to say anything against the idea. I knew they were depending on me to find a more practical profession, one that would enable me to earn a healthy income. In addition, though they did not say it, I also sensed their disappointment in the realization of the possibility that they would never be able to be grandparents, as I was their only child.

At first my friends thought I was joking. When they realized I wasn’t, they became alarmed. They did everything they could to talk me out of it. But John, what about women? They asked. What about them? I responded. I’ve never had much to do with them so far and I don’t seem to be so bad off. The truth was that I was too shy to even talk to girls. If I tried, and I did, I ended up stammering or saying something completely stupid. I kept hoping I would outgrow this, but the condition only seemed to get worse. The fear of sounding like an idiot in front of them became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I felt I had some sort of illness that I would never recover from. Was I attracted to beautiful girls? Of course, but maybe too much. To me, looking at a beautiful girl was the same as being exposed to a great work of art. What was I to say?

II

The first thing you lose when entering a seminary, is the idea that somehow these young men studying there will be something special. It became instantly obvious that they were the same cross section of humanity one would find in any other institute of higher learning. You did not get any immediate sense of any special spirituality in them. Actually, after living there for a couple of weeks, I found it quite easy to divide the residents into distinct categories. One of the most easily defined categories was formed from those who were here for, let’s say, more or less practical reasons.

These practical boys could be broken into two subgroups. The first of these came from villages. These were boys who either didn’t have the money to go to a university or were not cut out for that kind of study. These were boys who had lived in places where the local priest held a great deal of prestige. And these were boys who didn’t want to follow in their father’s footsteps of sacrificing themselves to a small farm in order to survive. Their parents were, no doubt, happy to have a son enter the priesthood because their own status would increase by association. Unfortunately, of all the boys who left the school, these were at the top of the list. They always had some good excuse. My parents need help on the farm or this place isn’t really for me. But the truth was that most of them were simply homesick. Having never been away from their homes before, they were devastated by the new lifestyle. They missed their families, the home cooked meals, and the land of their villages.

However, although these country boys were practical in their own way, they were no match for the practicality of the boys from the city who saw the priesthood as a good way to make a living. Good pay, a nice place to live, a good car to drive, it seemed to them the perfect career. I talked to a few of them about this and their motivation. They seemed to see nothing really wrong with it. And when I asked them if they worried about not being able to have a wife and family, they just gave me that knowing smile. You see, it was common knowledge that some priests had girlfriends and even children. It was clear from their smiles that they were not averse to the idea.

The two friends I made here were from neither of these groups. One of them, Daniel was probably the most unusual student in the seminary. I first noticed him when I didn’t notice him. I mean, when I noticed he sometimes wouldn’t show up for the required masses. One day I found myself eating lunch next to him and started up a conversation. Through this and subsequent conversations, I learned that he seemed to be treating the seminary as a place to conduct an experiment on himself. He wanted to know how this lifestyle affected one’s thinking and whether it alone could lead one to become spiritual. He had no intention of ever becoming a priest or graduating from the school. He simply wanted to spend a couple of years in this atmosphere as he felt it would broaden his perspective on life. You see, his real goal was to become a writer and he was of the school that felt you should accumulate as much experience as possible before you began any serious writing. You couldn’t write about what you had never experienced.

Our mutual friend, Tom, was in many ways the complete opposite of Daniel. We sometimes referred to him as ‘The Mystic’. He had a strong belief in Nature and felt that a unified life force was running through all parts of it. He believed that the partitioning of nature into, let’s say, trees and man was artificial. He thought that this boundary was a lot less defined than scientists made out. His hope was to devote more time to developing the spiritual side of his personality so that he could break down the barriers between man and Nature. He believed that he could unite with it in some way, at least this is my impression of his ideas. Though Daniel and I would often laugh at his mysticism, he supported many of his ideas with a certain scientific perspective. In fact, when I think about it now, I can see that, despite our differing views, we all looked to science for our main support. Even Tom, The Mystic, felt that science would eventually prove that he was right and stated some interesting scientific facts that led us, despite our jesting, to consider the possibility.

Now, we had a fair amount of free time at the seminary that we were supposed to use wisely. We could study, meditate, or exercise. However, we were strongly encouraged to form discussion groups. During my first two months, I joined in a couple of these groups but found them to be rather tedious. Generally, one person was responsible for bringing a quote or a story from the Bible and we would discuss the implications. However, the ideas that were generated in the groups I joined were boringly predictable. All the stale, traditional viewpoints were brought out and treated as if they were a novel discovery. After a few weeks, I left these discussions to exercise or spend time in the library. After Daniel, Tom, and I met and started talking informally in the evenings, we decided to form our own discussion group. According to seminary policy, all such groups were to be open to any other person who might be interested. Groups were to post their coming discussion topics on the bulletin board. From time to time, other students would join in, but few of them came for more than a couple of sessions.

Actually, it was during one of these discussions that my future life was set. We were talking about how the modern church compared to Jesus’ conception of a church. In other words, would he be happy if he saw the church today? I found myself arguing that the church had become more of a business. There was a strong hierarchy and all money gained was channeled into the head office for distribution throughout the firm. I then remembered the story of the moneychangers. How Jesus caused a commotion outside the temple by turning over their tables and whipping the moneychangers with cords.

Yeah, said Tom, displaying a Biblical knowledge that always impressed us, I think he said something like, ‘make not my father’s house a house of merchandise.’ A lot of people think it shows that Christ had a negative attitude towards business.

But not about all business, I said. It was only about business associated with a church. It seems to me he’s saying a church shouldn’t concern itself with such things.

So, said Daniel, you think Christ wouldn’t like the church he saw if he came back today.

Well, no, I answered. Just think about it. Today’s church is doing exactly what got him angry at the Jewish church of his day. If he were alive today, he’d probably be the first to point this out, don’t you think? And if we are being trained to follow in the footsteps of Christ, shouldn’t we be the ones to point this out? I mean, wouldn’t this really be following his example?

Well, maybe, said Daniel, nodding his head knowingly, "but before you do, let me ask you a simple question. You do remember what happened to him shortly after, right?"

I laughed. I’m no martyr. But, you know, the more I think about it, the more I think we’re being dishonest. Either we follow in Christ’s footsteps or we don’t. Either we promote his ideas or, well, forget about being priests.

Look, said Daniel, there’re a lot of things that Christ said that will get you in trouble. Let’s just say that to be a priest means you have to be a bit of a pragmatist. You know as well as I do that people don’t really want to hear the truth. The truth will set them free? Forget it. The truth will make them angry.

In this case I agree with Daniel, said Tom. It’s the reason I’d rather live as a monk. I simply think that dealing with people will lower my spirituality. And, prepared with a Biblical quote as usual, he went on, remember, ‘do not give to dogs that which is sacred; do not throw pearls unto swine, for if you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces.’

I stopped to think about what he said. He had a point. But even if you’re correct, I continued, we shouldn’t let this fear stop us from doing what’s right. I think this has got to be the main lesson we learn from Christ, isn’t it?

But you’re forgetting one thing, added Daniel, Christ made Peter the head of the church. He basically gave him permission to take it anywhere that he saw fit. What we have today is simply the end product of that proclamation. It’s what Jesus wanted, you could say.

You know, I answered, "Camus said that Christ was joking when he said, ‘upon this rock I will