It would be almost impossible to miss the fact that you are in a staunchly Roman Catholic country when visiting Poland. On their last census, 75% of respondents said they are practicing Catholics – one of the highest rates in the Western world. Instead of a Starbucks on every corner in the Old Town, it would seem there’s a Catholic Church: St Mary’s,  St Bridget’s, St. Catherine’s, St John’s … yes, ‘Margie’s people’ are in abundance.

Two hundred metres from our accommodation there is a statue of Father Franciszek Rogaczewski that we pass each day on our way to coffee. Father Rogaczewski was the beloved local parish priest before the war.  In 1939 he was arrested by the Germans and sent to a concentration camp. There he continued to care for his fellow prisoners  until his death in 1940. He was beatified in 1999 by a fellow Pole – Pope John Paul the Second. In his church today there was a special mass for him as there has been on every All Saints’ Day since the end of the war. This All Saints’ Day was also memorable for us, as we were able witness a touching Polish tradition first hand.

At dusk we took a taxi to Gdansk’s largest cemetery – Cmentarz Lostowicki. There, thousands of locals had gathered to light candles, place flowers and pray at the graves of family members or friends.  Some were weeping, some were laughing, – all were respectful. It was an incredibly touching scene and a deeply moving way of remembering and commemorating those who had passed. I don’t know if this same tradition is practiced by some in Australia, but the mere scale of the crowds making that pilgrimage in Gdansk today made it special for these two travellers. There were stalls upon stalls of flowers and candles for sale – from our observation every grave bore at least one bunch of flowers and one candle for remembrance.

It is said that the principal of the Sister Mary McKillop School in Toowoomba tells a story of a phone call made before the school was opened. The caller demanded to speak to Mary (of the McKillop variety), with urgency as she wanted to enrol her kids at the school. The caller was told that she is perhaps a little late, as Sister Mary was about to be beatified in Rome. ‘Never mind,’ the woman replied, ‘Just get her to call me when she gets back.’

I suspect that caller had not had a long association with the Catholic Church, although that may now have changed. However I do think that she might have developed an even deeper appreciation of Catholicism had she been given the opportunity to visit a Gdansk cemetery at dusk on All Saints’ Day

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