Part 1 Part II

	Our Lady of the Dawn Patroness of Lithuania

One crack in the facade of Soviet "religious freedom" opened up when we tried to find some religious artifacts or souvenirs of the shrine. Since no religious articles of any kind were seen in the nearby shops, or even at the shrine, we ventured over to another church to try our luck. One of our party who spoke fluent Lithuanian asked a cleaning woman where we could find what we were looking for. A look of fright came over her face. She said she didn't know and refused to answer any more questions. When we asked if we could see the priest in charge, she looked even more frightened and said he was not there. Only the persistence of our companion convinced the lady that we were Americans and meant her no harm. She told us to wait while she went to a door in the back of the church. She knocked, another woman opened, looked frightened, and refused to see us. Only a lengthy talk with the cleaning lady persuaded her that we were safe and only wanted to buy religious articles. With our purchases finally in hand, we went a step further and asked if we could have them blessed by the priest. She took us to the sacristy, where the priest, who was indeed there, blessed the articles. He too appeared frightened and suspicious and said little. In the sacristy we noticed another priest, sitting and staring into space as if in a trance. All the while we were there he said nothing and never changed his expression, even when we nodded a greeting to him. This is the one event of the trip that was the most unforgettable. One need only visit a Catholic church to see firsthand the reality of "religious freedom" in Lithuania.

It is the Lithuanian Catholic youth who suffer the greatest persecution. Not only are their parents harassed by the KGB and threatened with economic punishment or worse, but the children are threatened with failing grades, punishment of their parents, harassment by their peers, loss of higher education and, for the older ones, conscription into the army. All this for the crime of attending Mass or religious instruction. Added to this is the mandatory requirement that they "volunteer" to join the Pioneers as soon as they begin school. The Soviets claim that these groups are like our Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. The uniforms are similar but the goals are very different. There is no room for God in the Pioneers. The children are taught that only the State is God and all their needs are provided by the generosity of the State.

During a guided tour through one of the "model" kindergartens, we saw small children sitting rigidly in their places, supposedly playing with toys and games, which looked too new to be in continual use. They behaved like little robots and rarely smiled. Everything in the classroom was too orderly to be real. Every Western parent and teacher dreams of such things, but small children in a large group are not normally so subdued. In each classroom hung a large portrait of Lenin. Perhaps that forbidding countenance staring down at them keeps them in tow. Before we left, we were able to crack this rigid wall by giving their teacher a large bag of candy to be distributed to the little ones. This seemed to bring a hint of joy to the stonelike faces. We only hope they got some of it.

Although much of our tour was in and around Vilnius, we spent some time in other places of interest. As with many European countries, Lithuania has its share of medieval castles and fortresses, reminders of its war-torn past. Two of the most notable are the castle of Gediminas and the fortress-castle of Trakai. Gediminas Castle, standing on a hill overlooking the Old Town, was built by Grand Duke Gediminas in the 14th century. Legend has it that while he was hunting with some of his retainers, he stopped for an overnight rest. In a dream he saw an iron wolf standing at his side, howling lustily. The next morning he called one of his chiefs to interpret the dream and was told the dream meant that he should build a city and fortress on the hill on which he stood. Its fame would spread throughout the world. Gediminas accepted this explanation and built the city and fortress, naming it Vilnius. It became the permanent capital of Lithuania.

Next to the Vytis or knight, the iron wolf remains the most popular symbol in Lithuanian culture.

It was this symbol that was adopted by the famous Iron Wolf Regiment of partisans who were responsible for the destruction of over 100,000 Soviet troops in guerilla operations after World War II. If they had not run out of guns and ammunition, the conflict might still be going on. It is likely that the success of these partisans was due to the fact that they wore on their lapels badges of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, and said the rosary daily.

About 25 miles from Vilnius is the ancient town of Trakai, on crystal-clear Lake Galve. On an island in the middle of the lake stands the majestic castle built by Grand Duke Vytautas in the 15th century and used as a residence by the rulers of Lithuania. It has also stood as witness to the heroic struggle of the ancient Lithuanians against the Teutonic Knights. Since the castle is on an island and difficult to reach, it blocked the expansion of the crusaders further into the country. For nearly two centuries the Teutonic Knights, in alliance with the Knights of the Sword, had been striving to conquer Lithuania. Supported by Western secular powers and the pope, they made incursions under the pretext of spreading Christianity to the last pagan country in Europe. The Lithuanian tribes united into a centralized body, resisted the aggression of these militant monastic orders and defeated them in 1410 in the Battle of Gruenwald. During the battle the castle of Trakai served as a strong defensive bastion.

We were always under the watchful eye of the RGB, who generally posed as tourists, but stood out like sore thumbs.

Movement in Lithuania is severely restricted—natives need permission to go from city to city—but we were fortunate to be able to visit several places no more than a day's drive from our hotel. We never stayed overnight anywhere else.

Some 65 miles northwest of Vilnius is the ancient city of Kaunas, once the capital. It is the nation's second largest city, with a population of about 500,000 and rivals Vilnius in intellectual, industrial and political vigor. Like Vilnius, it is famous for its castles, churches and museums. It is also home for the largest Catholic seminary in Lithuania; its golden age was the period of the nation's independence (1918—1940). It is still open, but admission is limited to students selected by the atheist Council of Religious Affairs and not by the Church.

At this point we changed tour guides. Our first guide was native Lithuanian and obviously proud of her heritage. During her commentaries, we could see in her eyes and through the inflections in her voice that she was still patriotic. She showed great reverence when speaking about the holy places. These things she could not hide even while reciting the Communist propaganda required by her job.

In sharp contrast, our Kaunas guide, a Soviet national, was extremely hostile to anything religious or nationalistic.

Her tour directed us mainly to museums and art galleries. Visits to churches were discouraged, except for the one built by Vytautas the Great in the 15th century. Even she could not ignore this national treasure. The church was closed, however, and we were not even permitted to look inside. One of her infatuations was the Devil Museum which housed thousands of pictures, sculptures and woodcarvings of devils, gathered from all over the world. Although it was not very interesting, we spent a good part of our day there.

One bright spot was the studio of Mikalojus K. Ciurlionis, one of Lithuania's foremost artists. Besides being a painter, he was an accomplished poet, sculptor, pianist and composer. As most of his short life (36 years) was spent painting, he completed only two orchestral works: "In the Forest" and "The Sea." We were lucky to hear the first of these in a small hall adjacent to the studio. The music was so soothing that I dozed off—and even our KGB watchdog nodded more than once. We bought a recording of this piece and to this day I cannot listen to it and remain wide awake until the end.

The rest of that day was spent browsing in the local shops and indulging ourselves at the sidewalk cafes. When it was time to return to our bus (a considerable distance), we decided to be adventurous and catch the public trolley instead of walking. At the corner newsstand, tickets cost four kopeks each. We waited in line according to local custom and stuffed ourselves into the vehicle like sardines in a can. All the other sardines were very tolerant of being crushed; in fact, they were actually polite in their discomfort. Everyone is required to cancel his own ticket at machines on the car. The poor soul nearest the punch ends up punching everyone else's ticket. Lapses from this honor system (failure to punch ticket) can result in a five-ruble fine.

Outside Vilnius, our most enjoyable excursion was the one to Rumsiskes, about 80 kilometers west of Vilnius. It is the site of Lithuania's Ethnological Outdoor Museum, because it best represents a combination of landscapes inhabited by the many Lithuanian ethnic groups over the centuries. It is Lithuania's Williamsburg. The houses depict Lithuanian life from the 17th to the late 19th century. Catholicity was obvious, as each village had its own wayside shrine at the outskirts. Each was unique in design and included an image of Christ or the Blessed Virgin. Here a traveler could stop and say a prayer before entering the town. The countryside was dotted with thousands of these little shrines years ago, but all were torn down after the Soviet "liberation." In each home was a handmade religious tapestry or carving on the wall by the dining table. An honored guest was seated at the table directly under the blessed image—an attractive feature of Lithuanian hospitality.

Another excursion brought us to Druskininkai, a famous health resort on the Nemunas River. Old legends of the miracle-working powers of the salt water had spread among the peasants of the region. Physicians who investigated gave positive reports of the spring's therapeutic value, with the results that Druskininkai developed into a modern spa, drawing people from all over Europe who came to be cured of various ailments or to enjoy a holiday. Some came seeking to recover their lost youth. My wife and I decided to try this approach. We drank the water and washed in it. It seemed to do something for her, but, alas, not for me. We also visited the Forest Echo Museum, containing specimens of the flora and fauna from the surrounding forests. There is a Hansel-and-Gretel quality in this museum, with its fanciful wood carving and gingerbread decoration. It was actually more interesting than the spa.

My report on Lithuania is presented from a tourist's point of view of this unhappy land, sprinkled with some historical notes and some realities of life which may not be apparent to the casual visitor. As a tourist, I have never been better treated anywhere. We had the finest in food and accommodation. Every-one treated us like honored guests. This is the image the Soviets are trying to project to the free world.

But you need only look into the faces of the people to see their misery.

It is quite out of character for a people whose hospitality and friendliness are proverbial. All is now tempered with suspicion and fear. People go about their business and are reluctant to talk to strangers, especially tourists. Any lengthy conversation with a tourist is sure to invite interrogation by the KGB. Forty-five years under the Soviet boot have taken their toll but still not extinguished the nationalistic fire which burns in their hearts. Why so many Soviet troops in the cities? They fear this spirit may erupt into a full-fledged revolt. They often see patriotic symbols painted on walls and the hatred in the faces of their captives. They are not made to feel comfortable. At best they are ignored. Everything done here by Lithuanians is a labor of love for their homeland. They take great pride in their modern roads, beautiful buildings, sports arenas and historical restoration. The fervent strength of Catholic Lithuania is evident in the meticulous cleanliness and loving care of the churches. It is the stolen jewel of the Soviet empire.

With the help of God, some day all this will be returned to its rightful owners and the eternal enemies of God will be vanquished. Presently, however, nothing has changed. The establishment media would have us believe that the Soviets are softening, as shown by the recent releases of Anatoly Scharansky, but Catholic priests are still being murdered by the KGB, the most recent being Father Juozas Zoebskis. The persecution of the Church has intensified. We should find it in our hearts to pray for these modern martyrs to persevere.

The following prayer was written by Father Sigitas Tamkevicius, sentenced to ten years in prison by the USSR for religious activities in Lithuania. Let it remind us of our heroic but forgotten brethren across the sea.