BY FATHER CASIMIR ZIELINSKI, O.CARM., ALIAS ZZZ Even as kids growing up in a close-knit Polish parish in Joliet, Illinois, during the great depression of 1929 we didn’t so much talk about spiritual life;—it was just there. Our legacy. A given. God and Mary; or, some would prefer, Mary and God. At six years old “Jezus y Maria” was a frequent cry punctuating all sorts of surprise happenings. When I reported to my ma and pa that our pastor, Father Stanley Derengowski, offered to pay my eighty-dollars per year tuition at Carmelite Catholic High after my graduation from Holy Cross grade school, “Jezus y Maria” was their surprised response. My mother meant it as a prayer; with my father, it was not quite so thankful. I would get to know the Carmelites while at the same time I could be making up my mind about which seminary to attend. To this day I “pour” Father D into my chalice at each Eucharist. Little did I suspect that there was a prophetic flavor in what was happening. My guardian angel no doubt saw this as the process of “carmel-ization” of this sixteen-year-old. Carmelite indeed! After all, we had all been enrolled in the brown scapular at “solemn communion” a practice in Polish parishes to evangelize seventh graders for the onslaught of adolescence. Carmelite indeed! Every family on the block vied to set up the prettiest May-altar. We sang really peppy hymns to Mary even during the whole Latin Mass, not to mention the processions in and out of the church. Statues and images of Our Lady held an honored place in our cramped homes. The two years at Catholic High ended with my entry to Mount Carmel College in Niagara Falls, Ontario. The trip was a raucous overnight train ride from Chicago with some forty Chicago area young men. The train stopped smack in front of the college just a few hundred yards from the front doors of the magnificent chapel. The falls were just a proverbial stone’s throw away down monastery hill. From then on my horizons would expand dizzily. I left my family of three sisters and two brothers and became one of the many students housed within four dormitories that contained just the high school seminarians. Exciting bursting questions at every turn: and in those days’ quick and easy sophomoristic (wise-fool) answers. We would be well fed considering the war... (we surrendered our ration coupons to the procurator). We were well taken care of: when to eat, when to play, when to work, when to pray, when to study, when to confess, when to do “spiritual reading,” when to put out our laundry, when to do the assigned chores, when to return library books, when to keep silence, when to stand up to hear your report card announced out loud in the study-hall when to write a letter home, etc., etc. My, how we grew and prospered all those years! What was it all about? Today in my 86th year and still in “overdrive” with a fairly robust “engine” going-not-slowing, I have to suggest that it’s not about ministry. It’s not about doing; it’s about community. It’s about being, being a Carmelite. Because of Carmel I am more than I was. I am a mix of humanity and divinity. Catherine de Hueck visiting Niagara at the prior’s invitation told us we would be God’s tumbleweeds. I am an educated person, thanks to Carmel-lovers who paid our bills. Despite very humble beginnings where there was no running water I now imbibe rich quaffs of the elixir of divine favors. Oops! That may sound too poetic but I now can juggle the realities of life with the conviction that maybe the things that are keeping me from being a saint are the very things God and Our Lady are putting “on my plate” to become a saint. In signing off let me close with a name that a number of ex-Seminarians call me “Z.Z.Z.” (Zelo Zelatus Zielinski), after our coat of arms “Zelo Zelatus Sum Pro Domino Deo Exercituum. I Am Filled With A Zealous Love For God.” Now that’s a good deal of an ideal. not always easy to put into practice. I still have a little to work on it. Pray for me and I’ll pray for you.
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