By Robert R. Schwarz
The priest is a man anointed by tradition to shed
blood, not as soldier, through courage, not as
blood, not as soldier, through courage, not as
the magistrate, through justice, but as Jesus
Christ, through love. The priest is a man of
sacrifice; by it, each day, reconciling heaven
and earth , and by it, each day, announcing to
every soul the primordial truths of life, ofdeath,
and of resurrection .
and of resurrection .
--Fr. Henri-Dominique, O.P.
On August 2, 2003, a 23-year-old man disembarked at O'Hare International Airport after a 10-hour direct flight from Warsaw, Poland. He glanced curiously around—his first look at America—before being shuttled to the immigration line then took a deep breath and asked himself: What have I done?
The lone, apprehensive traveler with kind blue eyes and jaunty walk was Krzysztof ("Chris") Kulig, and he had come to this country to become a Catholic priest. Though confident his calling was from God, thoughts of inadequacy pestered him. Herded through the airport's terminal and hit by a barrage of foreign mannerisms and speech that to him sounded like alien babel, Chris was painfully reminded that he knew no English and was, in many respects, still a country boy from a small village in southern Poland. He had forgotten that tomorrow was his birthday.
In a moment, along with l2 other Polish seminary candidates who had been on the same flight, he would be greeted by the rector of Abramowicz Preparatory Seminary, Fr. Andrew Izyk, and the vice rector of University of Saint Mary of the Lake Mundelein Seminary, Fr. August Belauskas. Showing his visa to the immigration official, Chris' preoccupation with the challenges ahead was an echo of what the late Saint Josemaria Escrivá wrote: In Love with the Church: A priest is expected to bring love and devotion to the celebration of the Holy Mass, to sit in the confessional, to console the sick and the troubled; to teach sound doctrine to children and adults, to preach the Word of God… [and] to give counsel and be charitable to those in need.
Again Chris breathed deeply. Ahead was four difficult years of studying in a language he would have to learn to read, speak, and understand well enough to pass not only exams but also to work effectively as a parish priest among many families immersed in a wide spectrum of American culture.
Growing Up
"I never thought I would someday become a priest," Fr. Chris told this writer in one of several interviews we had in the spring of 2011. There seemed to have been no "mountain top" experience for him, no voice from a burning bush but rather, he said, the momentous decision evolved through the years of growing up in his hometown of Zegiestow. Close to the border of Slovakia and once part of a fashionable resort area known for its healing mineral waters, nearly every one of Zegiesgtow 1,200 inhabitants is Catholic. The village today is farmland, lying in a valley beneath hills covered with pine and oak. "We're lucky there because when storms come, these hills absorb them," Fr. Chris said.
His parents, Janina Skalniak and Adam Kulig, and his two older brothers and three sisters still go to mass each Sunday. "There are no exceptions," Fr. Chris said as he related his days as an altar boy who rose at 4 a.m. to catch the 5 a.m. train for the 32- kilometer ride to high school. He was on the soccer team there. His father is a forester, as was his grandfather; his mother is retired cook who worked at Catholic retreat houses. "When I go home to visit, my mom plans a different menu for me each day (his favorite is a cheese-stuffed ravioli or sweet cheese Pierogi)".
The Kuligs are a middle-class family. With some pride, Fr. Chris mentioned that the family "always had bread on the table." He remembers when food was rationed during his childhood in the waning years of Soviet-imposed communism. To deal with the shortage, each of the Kulig children shopped at a different store. "There was a time when there was no food in the stores," Fr. Chris said: "I remember the revolution of 1989," it was the year when the spirits of Polish people soared because the Solidarity-led coalition government led by Lech Walesa was formed, leading to the eventual fall of communism.
His Formation as a Priest
Inspired by Pope John Paul II and priests in his own parish, the young Chris Kulig now wrestled with whether to become a priest himself. His father wanted him to become a forester and his mother wished her son to remain near home. Procrastination was fueled by fear of failure, of not making the grade at the college level seminary in Tarnow. With that lilting Polish accent of his and a voice lowered almost to a whisper-- as it occasionally will today when making a solemn point during a homily-- he explained how "that kind of disappointment would turn a blessing into a curse for me."
The decisive moment came soon after high school when, during the l999 canonization Mass of St. Kinga in Stary Sacz, Poland, he heard John Paul II say: "Saints draw life from other saints." The words struck a chord with the teenager. "Without any delay," he was to say later, "I decided to be a priest." He took—and passed—an exam at the Tarnów section of the faculty of Theology of the Pontifical Academy of Theology in Kraków. "My mother was shocked."
Reflecting on his four years of living among 279 other seminarians and faculty instructors —the first year being crammed into one dorm room with 14 other students-- Fr. Chris fondly remembers the dramatic body language of his Italian instructor, Fr. Boleslaw Marganski, and the creativity of his cosmology professor, Fr. Michal Heller. At first he disliked being restricted to the seminary building all day except for one hour, and for that he needed permission. "But I learned to like it later for the discipline it taught me." He failed a few exams but found the studying not difficult. To prepare himself to better defend the faith, he read several books by authors who challenged the Christian faith.
In his fourth year at Tarnów Seminary, Fr. Chris faced a critical decision: to stay in Poland as a priest or leave his native land for America to help fill the void there of priests.
Coming to America
The decision was sparked by a visit in September 1999 by Cardinal George of Chicago, who ostensibly came to Poland (a country he knew was blessed with a large number of priests) to encourage seminarians there to consider being ordained in America. The Cardinal explained that this would make it easier for a young seminarian to adjust to the Catholic Church in America and to American culture. Reflecting on the Cardinal’s invitation and discussing it during an exchange of emails and phone calls with former classmate (Fr. Robert, now a priest in the Archdiocese of Chicago), crystallized Fr. Chris' decision to come to America.
"Yes", Fr. Chris exclaimed, "I knew I would be leaving everything, my family and friends and coming to a new culture. It would be like jumping into a big ocean, and I didn't know if I would be able to swim well or not. The language was the big thing. And I would be greeted at the airport by someone I had never met."
The Archdiocese of Chicago paid for his traveling expenses, and now, on that August day, as he waited for the immigration official to stamp his student visa, the same thought flashed again: What have I done?
Housed in the Chicago parish rectory of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, he was given intense courses in English for a year at the Bishop Preparatory Seminary and at University of Illinois at Chicago. "I was bombarded with English five days a week from 9am to 12pm and 3pm to 9pm. It was very difficult for me. Sometimes you just look at the teacher and ask: what is she asking me?" Vocabulary challenged him the most, made even more difficult because students were from different countries and could not apply their newly learned language skills by interacting with each other when outside of class. Administrators purposely situated Chris and the other Polish seminarians in environments where they were forced to communicate in English.
"I really didn't have too much difficulty adjusting to the American culture. The only discomfort I felt was when walking down the street and I had to refrain from returning a wave or smile to a child—all because of the sex abuse scandal. I had smiled once or twice in passing a child and my friends told me 'never, never do that again'."
He was amazed by how "fast everything is in America…there is no time for spontaneity. Everything is by appointment. In Poland, for example, when an adult child wants to visit their parents, they just go to their home." Fr. Chris was equally surprised to discover that, unlike in Poland, supermarkets in Chicago supply free paper or plastic bags and are bagged by staff. But if Fr. Chris had any epiphany during those four years he studied at the Mundelein seminary, it came when he sensed a profound difference between the hope which Polish people have in the ability to overcome daily living obstacles and the hope he himself now felt, that in America "just about anything could be fixed here, but not so in Poland."
A Deacon, then Priest at St. James
In November of 2006, Fr. Chris was assigned as "a transitional deacon" to St. James in Arlington Heights, an upscale suburb northwest of Chicago. On weekends he lived with Pastor Bill Zavaski in a residential home next to the parish office. He would later move permanently to an adjacent home and shared it with Father Jim Hearne and now with Father Joji Thanugundla from India. That next May 19th, Mr. Krzysztof Kulig stood in Holy Name Cathedral waiting to become—for life—Father Chris Kulig. In the pews were his parents and a sister (who had traveled from Poland just for this occasion) and Fr. Zavaski. "It was very beautiful," he said. "I found myself asking: Can I really do it? Can I really take that huge responsibility of being a priest?" Minutes later, this 28-year-old Polish immigrant approached the altar and prostrated his wiry five-foot-eight-inch body face down on the cathedral floor. Parallel to him, their faces also pressed to the floor, were l3 other candidates: four from Poland, two each from Tanzania and Kenya, two each from Mexico and Peru, and one born in Chicago. "I will never forget how cold that marble floor was. One of my classmates was crying and shaking….When Cardinal George put his hands on me, I felt relief, I felt that the Holy Spirit was saying: Don't be afraid. I knew that God's grace had brought me this far." He now was one of more than 27,000 diocesan priests in America.
Soon he was being embraced by his family. "I was so happy I cried." Later came a celebration party for him at the White Eagle restaurant in Niles. "It was like a wedding."
His parents and sister listened to his first homily at St. James, a parish of 4,000 families and seemingly uncountable ministries. He told the congregation that Sunday how grateful he was to God for everything, especially his parents. "I was nervous, so aware that I was considered the new kid on the block, and was—and still am—learning English. But I felt welcomed. I never felt that people looked at me through the prism of my nationality but at who I am as a person, how I treat them."
For his first two years at St. James, Fr. Chris read his homilies, which he had written out. Nowadays, he said he trusts in the promptings of the Holy Spirit. He can’t recall his sentiments upon hearing his first confession other than he felt very humble—and says he still does—and was acutely aware not to judge anyone. "I knew that a priest cannot be prepared for any confession because everyone comes to him with something different to confess. I knew I had to give my personal understanding of that person, how I could help him or her be a better person, not to dismiss the confession by simply saying: 'your penance is to say ten Hail Mary's." As for his first funeral, he was surprised to be wearing a white rather than a purple chasuble as worn by priests in Poland.
A Typical Day
"Tell us all about your typical day," I asked this priest with the cropped dark brown hair whose movements were characteristic quick as he pulled two magazines from a bookcase in his small office and then turned to check his email at the desktop computer. "I'm sure your parishioners would truly appreciate knowing more about all that a priest does for his salary." We both laughed.
'I'm not a morning person," he said somewhat apologetically, aware that I might have been at a weekday Mass when he had been a few minutes late. "I set three alarm clocks for 6 a.m. but sometimes don't hear them," he confessed with a wide smile. After showering, he has a cup of strong Dunkin' Donuts coffee. Commenting on his java brew, Fr. Joji Thanugundla, who shares the home with Fr. Chris, said: "I always tell him the coffee tastes better when he makes it. And he takes good care of our house and the yard."
After presiding over the 7:30 a.m. weekday mass, which is usually twice a week, he goes to his home office to check emails. At 8:30 a.m. in his home, Frs. Bill and Joji and he pray their required Divine Office (three Psalms, the canticle of Zachariah, and petitions for families and the deceased whose funerals are that day). Fr. Chris doesn't eat breakfast. He's off now to the parish office; there might be a funeral or a Bible study he leads from 9:30 a.m. to 11a.m. He lunches at home, usually on leftovers from last night's dinner prepared by the priests' cook, Angie, a parish member who prepares the meal in Fr. Chris' home. The three priests eat together. His afternoon may entail a parish staff meeting from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m., followed by a one-hour break. Evenings are often occupied with some kind of church meeting. "Every day is different….on Wednesdays evenings, for example, I am with RCIA team preparing new members to join Catholic Faith. There are different meetings which sometimes you plan these like wedding appointments or visitation at the wake. But some you can't plan, like sick call visit or going to hospital and being with a family whose loved one is near death… Honestly, when I'm really fatigued, I tell the office I won't be back for an hour and then I just go to my room and rest."
Fr. Chris is usually home at 9 or 9:30 p.m. and unwinds by watching the animated TV shows "Family Guy" and "The Simpsons." He may read a novel or something humorous. "Sometimes when you're preoccupied with your work and getting a bit depressed, laughter is needed….Sometimes I call my old Mundelein seminary friends and we might talk for hours." Depending on his energy level at this late hour, he might slip in an instructional CD and practice his English pronunciations or just update the St. James Facebook page. He finds the late evening hours the best time to prepare for Mass the next day. In the summer, he enjoys the "inspiration" of insect sounds at night. In the "Magnificat," a monthly missal read by Catholics throughout America, he reads a meditation before going to bed. Lastly, he prays the following:
Thank you God for this day. Give me the strength for
another day and keep all my friends and my family in
your care.
Fr. Chris extended his hand to me. "You see this ring on my finger? It's a Rosary ring my mother gave me when I entered the Seminary in Poland. Many times while falling asleep, I touch this ring and say the Rosary and pray to my Holy Mother in heaven. I also remember my mother on earth.”"
Looking at the ring again, Fr. Chris' voice rose an octave as he explained what role the ring plays at weddings. During the ceremony, he takes it off and cautions the groom never to take off his ring as a convenient excuse to feel free from his marriage vows for an hour or two when out with the men some night at a bar. "Keep it on and you will be free of temptation," Fr. Chris exhorts the groom.
He and the other two priests hears confessions from 3:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. on Saturdays in the parish center. “Many times though, people just telephone me and ask if they can seen me." He views a confession more like a "friendship, a conversation between someone I don't know but to whom I must relate." Most of the people he sees in the confessional booth are St. James members and are of all ages; men slightly outnumber women, and from time to time he hears a confession from a teenager. Many confessions begin with a question about morality or a request for advice on daily living, like: "Father, I'm not sure I'm on the right path" or the question: "Did I say the wrong thing to my spouse?" With marital problems, Fr. Chris keeps people focused on love and marriage vows. Quite often at the conclusion of a question and answer session in the confessional booth, finally come the words: "Father, can you hear my confession?" Fr. Chris himself goes to confession twice a year: before Christmas and Easter. For private prayers and meditation he occasionally drives to the church at Marytown in Mundelein and walks the grounds amid the beautifully landscaped Stations of the Cross.
Up Close and More Personal
Recreation , etc.… "I'm reading Jesus of Nazareth by Pope Benedict XVI. He also reads the magazines "Archaeology" and "Discover". He loves barbecued ribs and seldom goes out to eat because, he says, “I have a great cook.” Once every three weeks or so he gets a haircut in Mundelein from a woman barber whose been cutting his hair since his seminary days there. A camping trip to Yellowstone National Park was his favorite vacation in America, but “next time I’ll stay in a hotel.” 
Friends…When he needs to "vent," he telephones former classmates or talks to Fr. Zavaski, whom he considers a close friend to whom "I can open up to…whether he agrees with me or not, he has that gift of listening well." Said his home-sharer, Fr. Joji: "We laugh, we share, we discuss—all in good spirit. Fr. Chris is friendly and very responsible." Another close friend, Sr. Joanne Grib of the nearby Sisters of the Living Word convent, describes him as "a deeply spiritual man who has a deep respect for all people. He’' a gentle, kind man who is a dedicated priest. We have a lot of laughs together." With a laugh she added: "We both love movies, and as much as we'd like to go to a movie together, we wouldn't want to scandalize the parishioners." Sr. Joanne consults with Fr. Chris when organizing her evening Bible classes.
Political leanings… He chuckles at this, then thoughtfully comments: "I try to follow what the candidates are saying and disagree with them sometimes." Does he favor Democrats or Republicans? "A little of both," he answered.
Milestones in his life…The many people who have "helped show him the way in life."
Celibacy… "When I visit my family in Poland and see my nephews running around, it is sometimes painful knowing I cannot have biological children. But I married the church."
Biggest disappointment…That seminarians at Mundelein are, in his opinion (challenged by Fr. Zavaski ), not taught enough things relevant to today’s world.
Major needs of St. James parishioners…That "they experience the presence of God in their lives and the treasure of the Catholic church. From the recent parish survey, which I am still reading, I personally find out that parishioners hunger to learn more about their faith." This is not an easy task, he added, because of the mix among parishioners—healthy as it is—of traditionalists (those who want to see the church return to some of the pre-Vatican II practices) and of modernists (those who want greater freedom in how they express their faith).
What disturbs him as a priest…Church leaders—both clergy and laity—who openly criticize high leadership positions without knowing all the facts about an issue. It saddens him when people don't proclaim Jesus Christ as head of the church but would rather proclaim themselves or their own particular church as the final word.
Agreement with what the church teaches… He has personal opinions but chooses to "obey" church teachings. (After this interview, Fr. Chris during his homily at next morning’s Mass, exhorted everyone to go home and think about their "obedience to Christ" not to obey what they personally prefer to obey. He cautioned his parishioners that although people interpret church teachings differently, due in part to the natural changing of human language as time passes, the spiritual language of the church remains the same and is universal.
What drives him… "I'm trying to be as humble as I can. I hope people don't read me as arrogant. I just want to present Christ the best I can as a young priest." Again his words seem to echo those of St. Escrivá : A priest is no more a man or a Christian than any ordinary lay person. That is why it is so important for a priest to be deeply humble.
How He Battles with Satan
Fr. Chris is candid about his own temptations. "Sometimes there are doubts about things you do, things that make you sort of empty." When this occurs, he is helped by meditating on the life of the saint, Padre Pio, who helped many people battle evil. "I know I am vulnerable …and sometimes I pray again and again in that moment of temptation, asking God to give me wisdom and strength. After I have been victorious in overcoming the temptation, then the important thing is that I be grateful to God."
Our interview of several hours ended with Fr. Chris relating what he described as his "worst experience ever of doubting the presence of God in his life." He grew increasingly emotional as he told the story of when his youngest sister, Annette, 23, flew from Poland to visit her him in May, 2010.
Fr. Chris had been summoned to the immigration office at O'Hare, where his sister was being held and disallowed from entering this country despite possessing a legitimate visa. He was not allowed to see his sister, who was being held in an adjacent room. Separated by a wall and that he was absolutely helpless to do anything for her, was perhaps the most agonizing moment in his life. "They didn't even tell me that they were about to put her back on the plane to Poland for another ten-hour flight!" He went home, he said, and "cried like a kid,"asking God : Where were You? "I doubted that God existed if he could allow that to happen." He burned with anger from the unfairness, the insensitivity, the gross mistrust of those particular government employees. "For the first time in my life I was so weak. Then I looked up at the crucifix on my wall. In that moment of pain, I realized how "helpless" Christ was when he hung there on His cross, helpless like I was."
"I offered up all my pain to him then and knew it was a victorious moment."
©2011, 2012, 2013 Robert R. Schwarz
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