Poland Power to The Pulpit

By JAMES L. GRAFF/WARSAW

A bulwark against despair, a sanctuary of freedom, a subversive counterforce -- during a decade of struggle against communist control, the Roman Catholic Church in Poland was all that and more, depending on the viewpoint. Its representatives stood courageously alongside the Solidarity trade union and suffered the consequences, when Father Jerzy Popieluszko, an activist priest, was murdered by government security agents in 1984. When the struggle ended in 1989 with a Solidarity-led government, the church emerged triumphant, solidly allied with an administration it had all but installed.

A year later, the church, to which 97% of Poland's 38 million people belong, is omnipresent and, in the view of some, virtually omnipotent. Bishops and priests bless the armed forces, schools and factories. The newly created post of superior chaplain to the army has been given the rank of general. To mark the 200th anniversary of the country's first liberal constitution earlier this month, President Lech Walesa, a devout Catholic, skipped ceremonies at parliament and instead visited the national shrine of the Black Madonna at Jasna Gora.

Beyond such symbolic gestures, the church is exercising direct political influence in an often fractious country that has just begun to build democracy. Last August, after lobbying by church officials, the government introduced optional religious instruction in schools by administrative fiat rather than parliamentary vote. A poll released last week shows that the church is perceived as the single most powerful national institution, stronger than the government, the presidency, the military, the old communist nomenklatura and even Solidarity. The church's ascendancy has left many Poles uneasily wondering whether their country might someday be transformed into a clerical state, ruling in accordance with the dicta of Pope John Paul II (who makes his fourth papal visit to his native country next month).

Recent statements by the Polish Episcopate have fueled apprehension. In late April the bishops urged that the new constitution exclude any provision for the separation of church and state. Instead, they suggested, "exceptional emphasis should be laid on the need for cooperation between the state and the Catholic Church."

The church's gravest concerns -- and most assiduous efforts -- center on abortion, a volatile issue in a country where as many as 600,000 such procedures are performed each year. A liberal abortion law, which has been on the books since 1956, is still in effect, but the Senate has passed a bill that would impose a prison term of as much as two years on anyone performing the procedure unless the pregnancy threatened the mother's life or stemmed from rape or incest. Several variants on that bill, many of them even stiffer, are being considered by the Sejm, the lower house, which is due to vote this week on whether to submit the question to a national referendum. Earlier this month, the bishops' conference condemned that option. Meanwhile, the government has ended subsidies for birth-control pills. That move, which many suspect was church inspired, will triple the price of pills, putting them beyond the reach of many women.

The church's stance on abortion has hardly endeared it to the 59% of the population that favors legalized abortion with or without limitations. Even some churchmen are uneasy. Says Father Roman Indrzejczyk, a parish priest in the Zoliborz district of Warsaw: "The church's role is to deepen morality, not to dictate it."

The church's power stems less from mass popularity or direct intervention than from its pervasive influence on politicians. It vetted Solidarity's candidates in the parliamentary election of June 4, 1989, and their landslide victory was helped by unbridled electioneering from the country's pulpits. With Poland gearing up for new balloting later this year, notes Stanislaw Podemski, a commentator on legal issues for the weekly Polityka, "parliamentary Deputies won't speak openly against church positions for fear of being vilified as atheists by priests in their electoral districts."

Politicians who think serving the church is the best way to further their careers might in fact be miscalculating. There are indications that public opposition is growing to the church's sometimes bumbling attempts to meddle in political issues. An April poll showed that public trust in the church had dropped to 69% from 78% in December. "The abortion issue and the fight over religion in the schools have had a negative effect on the future of the Catholic Church in Poland," says Zofia Kuratowska, a physician and deputy speaker of the Senate. "People don't want that kind of influence on their private lives."

Some analysts say anticlericalism, which is deeply rooted, is gradually becoming an effective political issue again. "The church was a moral force under communism, but after 1989 some people began using their allegiance to it as a political tactic," says Bronislaw Geremek, the parliamentary leader of the centrist Democratic Union and a longtime Solidarity activist. "We're seeing a reaction to that now, and, step by step, we're returning to a healthy situation." As democratic institutions gain in stature and experience, the church is likely to be squeezed out of the political realm. But with the country still lurching through political and economic tribulations, the pulpit will remain a potent political force -- as well as, for many, a bulwark against despair.