St. John Paul II’s play about another Polish saint (Photos)

The style and themes of the plays St. John Paull II wrote between 1939 and 1960 emerged directly out of his experience of German occupation of Poland and his involvement in clandestine theatre during World War II. His early works explored Polish history through the lens of biblical motifs. Three mature works — Our God’s Brother (1950), The Jeweler’s Shop (1960), and Radiation of Fatherhood (1964) — muse upon far-reaching spiritual and theological questions.

Stylistically, the postwar plays were rooted in the aesthetic of the underground Rhapsodic Theatre, which Wojtyła co-founded and where he performed as an actor. Thematically, they deal with topics such as personal vocation, art, social justice, marriage, and the meaning of human and divine fatherhood.

Of the six dramas, Our God’s Brother and The Jeweler’s Shop have steadily attracted attention. Both plays possess a customary dramatic structure, with identifiable dramatis personae and discernible plots, placing them safely within the realm of traditional drama. Their subject matter does not require familiarity with Polish history (as the early plays do) or a grasp of philosophical and theological analysis, making them accessible to wide audiences. Their themes remain current and engaging.

That is probably why Our God’s Brother and The Jeweler’s Shop continue to feature in the repertoires of amateur and professional theatre companies — including a 2014 Storm Theater Company production of Our God’s Brother (as seen in photo above). They also appear on reading lists in many Catholic colleges and have even inspired film adaptations. In this article, we highlight Our God’s Brother. The Jeweler’s Shop will be the focus of the last article in our three-part series on the plays of John Paul II. You will find part one here.

Tellux Films

Our God’s Brother tells the story of a Polish painter, Adam Chmielowski (1845-1916). The defining event of Chmielowski’s life was his decision to give up a promising career as an acclaimed painter for the sake of serving the poor. He became a Franciscan tertiary, took religious vows under the name of Brother Albert, and spent the rest of his life living with the homeless, alcoholics, and outcasts of every kind. He was instrumental in establishing two religious communities which to this day to minister in shelters, hospices, and hospitals.

(See the PHOTO GALLERY at the end of this article to view a selection of Adam Chmielowski’s paintings.)

Like St. John Paull II before his election as pope, Albert Chmielowski lived most of his life in Kraków. Pope John Paul II would later canonize him, 39 years after writing Our God’s Brother.

Three principal themes drive the play: the social problem of poverty, the artist’s relationship to his works, and supernatural vocation. As the play begins, we meet Adam’s friends and admirers gathered in his studio. They include painters, art critics, and a famous actress who delights in Chmielowski’s canvases. Naturally, their conversation revolves around art. Where most artists, one of the company observes, reveal themselves in their works, Adam seems to live more deeply within himself. His paintings register a hidden tension. “Something in me keeps opening up,” acknowledges Adam, “something that until now was closed.”

Since stumbling into a homeless shelter by accident, Adam has begun to welcome poor people into his studio. His friends expect this to produce an artistic breakthrough, a new period in his art. Two other visitors signal different possibilities: a Stranger seeks to harness Adam’s concern with social justice in the service of revolutionary change, while a Theologian quietly introduces the idea of vocation.

For the majority of the play Adam wrestles with a crippling binary choice between his love of art and love for the poor. He must choose one or the other, he thinks, for he cannot serve both by halves: “I cannot remain halfway between two chasms that draw me” he confides. Adam’s friends view his devotion to the poor as a lamentable distraction from his painting. The poor he serves barely appreciate his efforts. Some ridicule him. Others pounce greedily upon the bags of clothing he brings. Seldom does anyone display gratitude or inquire about finding work.

The poor scorn charity, it turns out, and the Stranger echoes their sentiments: he argues that charity merely perpetuates poverty, and only systemic change can eradicate injustice. The poor don’t need Adam, while God seems to not need his art. Adam falters until a priest advises him to be molded by love. Gradually Adam discovers that his calling is not to alleviate poverty, but to become poor; not to assist the poor, but to become one of them and embrace their condition. Dispossession and rejection open a way to grace.

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At the close of the play, Adam, now Brother Albert, is now the superior of a religious community. He has lived for years with the poor. Some of them have become his followers, taken religious vows, and transformed their poverty from a hateful burden into a purposeful way of life. A few of the brotherhood question Albert’s methods, however, and agitate for more systematic approaches to eradicating poverty.

Albert doubts himself. Did he have the right to divest his companions of their poverty, the only thing they could call their own, when he asked them to turn it over to God through religious vows?  News of social unrest interrupts his musings. The revolutionary fervor that was prophesied by the Stranger seems to have finally erupted. The poor have risen in protest. Their anger is just, but Brother Albert’s last words affirm a different reality:

“I know for certain, though, that I have chosen a greater freedom.”

A reference to Adam Chmielowski’s most famous painting Ecce Homo, an image of Christ that is mentioned in the play, encapsulates the meaning of his interior transformation and the trajectory of his life. It suggests that Adam’s vocation became his artistic breakthrough. He did not abandon art, but reversed his relationship with it: instead of creating, he allowed himself to be created; instead of making images, he became an image: an image of Christ—poor and suffering who thus re-created Himself in a living soul.

Here we recognize affinities between the life of Brother Albert Chmielowski and that of the playwright, poet, and actor Karol Wojtyła. The former gave up painting to serve the poor. The latter gave up acting to become a priest. The former allowed himself to be molded into a living image of Christ. The latter accepted a calling that — a quarter century after the play was written — would make him the eternal Word’s spokesman to the world. As Pope John Paul II, Wojtyła canonized Brother Albert: brother of the poor, our God’s brother and — in the realm of art and vocation — also his own brother.

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