The Jan Tyranowski of the Turtle Mountains

When you work with small children, as I do, there’s never a shortage of opportunities to grow in self-knowledge. Case in point: my kids’ never-ending (it seems) angling for the coveted role of line leader, and my exasperated reaction to their bickering.

For those of you who don’t work with small children, let me refresh your memory. In elementary school, to be the line leader is to occupy a position of leadership, prestige, and dignity, if only for the time it takes to journey from your classroom to the bathroom. As the line leader, you stand out in sharp contrast to your less distinguished colleagues who must meekly trundle after you like so many ducklings. This kind of trip provides teachers with a sterling life lesson to impart to their young charges: You can’t always be first; that’s just the way life is.

One day my patience snapped when a sixth grader insisted on being the line leader. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I took the child aside and told him unambiguously that while little kids tend to fixate on being first in line, he was far too old for such nonsense. The boy accepted my correction with good grace, as I recall, and we moved on. Case closed.

Well, not exactly. In the days following, I noticed to my chagrin that in any number of ways, I myself wanted to be the line leader: to be first, to stand out from the crowd, to be generally esteemed and admired.

But the fact of the matter is that I can’t always be the line leader, nor even the caboose, which is actually a good thing.

St. Paul skewers the lie that some roles are inherently better than others. He writes:

“…the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body…. God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as He chose.... the parts of the body which seem to be weaker are indispensable (1 Cor. 12:14-15, 18, 22).

Down through the ages, God has raised up any number of saints whom the world considers unimpressive and inadequate but who have exercised key—if hidden—roles in his kingdom. One such man was the 20th century Polish tailor and mystic Jan Tyranowski.

What do you do when you feel totally inadequate and unprepared for the task to which God seems to be calling you?

Such was the dilemma of a shy tailor during the dark days of Poland’s Nazi occupation during WWII. Jan Tyranowski was neither a priest nor a religious brother; he boasted neither a theological degree nor youth ministry training. He was merely a simple layman who took prayer and his faith seriously and responded to the need to step up to the plate when needed.

In May of 1941, the Gestapo rounded up the Salesian priests of St. Stanislaw Kostka Church, located in a suburb of Cracow. As spiritual sons of St. John Bosco, the Salesians had dedicated themselves to youth formation, a key apostolate that they entrusted to Jan prior to their arrest. But was the tailor-mystic up to the task?

On a natural level, introverted Jan lacked the credentials to encourage and teach the young men. Nor did he himself feel drawn to youth ministry.
Fortunately, Tyranowski got out of his comfort zone and stepped out in obedience, creating “Living Rosary” groups of 15 young men each, with special training dedicated to the leaders of these groups. Of those whom Jan formed, a number became priests. One of these was Karol Wojtyla, the future St. John Paul II. The pope who came to be called “John Paul the Great” could never have achieved his greatness apart from Jan Tyranowski’s hidden formation.

I began this reflection in the classroom at St. Ann’s Catholic School in Belcourt, and I’ll end it there. What is the connection between Tyranowski and my school? A very simple one. In the three years I’ve taught there, I’ve come to see that God is calling my students to heroic sanctity and nothing less, just as he called the young men of St. Stanislaw’s Parish to eminent holiness. I am called to be my kids’ Jan Tyranowski. That’s my role.

 Forget being the line leader. 

Venerable Jan Tyranowski, pray for us.