Deep in the forests of eastern Poland lies the ghost of an audacious dream—Wierszalin, an abandoned settlement once envisioned as the world’s new capital.
This week, TVP World’s Michał Zdanowski ventures into this forgotten place, where moss-covered ruins whisper the story of a self-proclaimed prophet and his lost utopia.
At the heart of Wierszalin’s legend is Eliasz Klimowicz, an illiterate peasant turned spiritual leader, whose followers believed him to be the reincarnation of the biblical Elijah. His vision, faith, and the turmoil of 20th-century Europe shaped a settlement that now stands as an eerie monument to a prophecy unfulfilled.
At the heart of Wierszalin’s legend is Eliasz Klimowicz, an illiterate peasant turned spiritual leader, whose followers believed him to be the reincarnation of the biblical Elijah. His vision, faith, and the turmoil of 20th-century Europe shaped a settlement that now stands as an eerie monument to a prophecy unfulfilled.
A Prophet’s vision: the rise and fall of Wierszalin
The early 20th century brought upheaval to Poland’s Orthodox communities. World War I saw entire villages uprooted and exiled deep into Russia, where exposure to new ideas unsettled their traditional way of life. When these displaced people returned, they found themselves lost in a rapidly changing world—fertile ground for religious fervor.
Out of this chaos rose Eliasz Klimowicz, a charismatic peasant preacher with no formal theological training but an unshakable vision. He first drew attention by building a church in his home village of Stara Grzybowszczyzna, defying both state and religious authorities.
Klimowicz’s teachings soon diverged from Orthodox Christianity. Declaring himself a prophet sent to prepare for the apocalypse, he promised salvation to those who followed him to his new holy city—Wierszalin.
The Church that built a following
Before Wierszalin, Klimowicz poured everything into his church. Denied official approval and lacking funds, he sold all his possessions to finance its construction—an act that drove away his wife and child but cemented his followers' devotion.
Fueled by faith and a sense of impending doom, his movement grew. But would Wierszalin truly become the capital of the world, or was it doomed to be another lost utopia?
A legend soon emerged around the church, claiming that it had miraculously grown from the ground overnight. Villagers spoke in hushed voices about how the foundation appeared out of nowhere, as if planted by divine hands.
Some swore they had seen the walls rise by themselves, while others believed that angels had descended to aid Klimowicz in his mission. The church became a pilgrimage site, with believers flocking to witness its supposed miracles and to receive blessings from Klimowicz himself.
In the 1930s, Klimowicz and his followers retreated into the forests to build their sacred city. Wierszalin was meant to be the New Jerusalem, a place where the righteous would survive the end of days.
A central temple, known as the Monotheistic Temple of the World, was to be the heart of this utopia. Hundreds of people abandoned their homes and possessions to follow Klimowicz into the woods, convinced of his divine mission.
Some swore they had seen the walls rise by themselves, while others believed that angels had descended to aid Klimowicz in his mission. The church became a pilgrimage site, with believers flocking to witness its supposed miracles and to receive blessings from Klimowicz himself.
The rise of Wierszalin: a spiritual utopia
In the 1930s, Klimowicz and his followers retreated into the forests to build their sacred city. Wierszalin was meant to be the New Jerusalem, a place where the righteous would survive the end of days.
A central temple, known as the Monotheistic Temple of the World, was to be the heart of this utopia. Hundreds of people abandoned their homes and possessions to follow Klimowicz into the woods, convinced of his divine mission.
Life in Wierszalin revolved around religious devotion and strict discipline. Klimowicz, now referred to as the Prophet Ilia, held daily sermons, preached about the coming apocalypse, and performed blessings and healings.
His followers believed that by living in Wierszalin, they were purifying themselves for salvation. Many gave away their earthly belongings to the prophet, trusting in his divine wisdom.
Despite its religious fervor, Wierszalin was plagued by tensions. Some followers began questioning Klimowicz’s prophecies, especially when the promised end of the world failed to arrive. Others, consumed by their belief, became more radicalized, advocating for more extreme devotion.
His followers believed that by living in Wierszalin, they were purifying themselves for salvation. Many gave away their earthly belongings to the prophet, trusting in his divine wisdom.
Despite its religious fervor, Wierszalin was plagued by tensions. Some followers began questioning Klimowicz’s prophecies, especially when the promised end of the world failed to arrive. Others, consumed by their belief, became more radicalized, advocating for more extreme devotion.
As Ilja’s fame grew, so did the number of self-proclaimed saints, prophets, and miracle workers; some took the names of saints or Old Testament prophets and even angels.
One man declared himself Archangel Gabriel and rode through villages on a white horse, blowing a trumpet to announce the imminent end of the world.
Later In the 1970s, Polish anthropologist and religious scholar Włodzimierz Pawluczuk met Gabriel again. From being Archangel Gabriel, he was simply known as Miron, a well-known but just a beekeeper in the region.
One man declared himself Archangel Gabriel and rode through villages on a white horse, blowing a trumpet to announce the imminent end of the world.
Later In the 1970s, Polish anthropologist and religious scholar Włodzimierz Pawluczuk met Gabriel again. From being Archangel Gabriel, he was simply known as Miron, a well-known but just a beekeeper in the region.
The reaction of Church and State officials
Klimowicz’s rise did not go unnoticed by the authorities. The Orthodox Church denounced him as a heretic, warning congregations against his teachings.
Priests claimed he was misleading the faithful, twisting scripture for his own gain. One official sermon described him as "a false prophet who seeks to build his own kingdom on Earth rather than the kingdom of God."
The local Orthodox priest described what was happening in Wierszalin at the peak of the prophet's popularity:
“Then complete madness ensued. When Ilja walked down the street, people threw themselves onto the spots where he had stepped, grabbing handfuls of earth—because it was holy, because the prophet had stood there. Crowds waited outside his windows and doorstep. When Ilja washed himself and splashed water outside, people would rush to drink it—even if it contained soap suds or mud—because it was holy.”
The state was equally wary. The Polish government, already managing religious and ethnic tensions, saw Klimowicz’s movement as destabilizing.
Secret reports from officials described Wierszalin as a "sectarian stronghold," warning that it could incite rebellion.
Some accounts even suggested that Klimowicz was under surveillance long before his arrest and maybe that is true, as at one point he received a state order and a pistol.
However, after the outbreak of World War II, Klimowicz was arrested by the Red Army and accused of fraud and mental instability and institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital.
His removal shattered Wierszalin. Without their leader, the settlement crumbled. Some of his most devoted followers refused to leave, hoping for his miraculous return, but as time passed, even the most faithful drifted away.
With Klimowicz gone, Wierszalin quickly fell into ruin. The grand vision of New Jerusalem was left unfinished, overtaken by the relentless growth of the forest. Those who had once believed in the prophet’s divine calling now faced ridicule and rejection.
However, after the outbreak of World War II, Klimowicz was arrested by the Red Army and accused of fraud and mental instability and institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital.
His removal shattered Wierszalin. Without their leader, the settlement crumbled. Some of his most devoted followers refused to leave, hoping for his miraculous return, but as time passed, even the most faithful drifted away.
The end of the world in Wierszalin
With Klimowicz gone, Wierszalin quickly fell into ruin. The grand vision of New Jerusalem was left unfinished, overtaken by the relentless growth of the forest. Those who had once believed in the prophet’s divine calling now faced ridicule and rejection.
Yet, despite its failure, Wierszalin left an indelible mark on the region. Stories of the prophet and his holy city continued to circulate, blending history with myth. Some claimed to have seen Klimowicz’s spirit wandering through the ruins.
After World War II, one of the followers of Prophet Ilia, Paweł Bielski, the ambitious Apostle Paul, who had tried to form his own sect, settled in the nearby village, living with his fellow believer.
Although he had abandoned his home, wife, and child for the sect, in his final years, he returned to his son in Pieńki. He died in 1954, having received Catholic last rites from the local priest.
By the 1970s, most of Ilja’s former followers were still alive, and some continued to meet secretly in Wierszalin several times a year.
Today, only fragments of Klimowicz’s vision remain. The ruins of Wierszalin are scattered among the trees, with remnants of wooden structures and stone foundations barely visible beneath the undergrowth.
The legacy of Wierszalin
After World War II, one of the followers of Prophet Ilia, Paweł Bielski, the ambitious Apostle Paul, who had tried to form his own sect, settled in the nearby village, living with his fellow believer.
Although he had abandoned his home, wife, and child for the sect, in his final years, he returned to his son in Pieńki. He died in 1954, having received Catholic last rites from the local priest.
By the 1970s, most of Ilja’s former followers were still alive, and some continued to meet secretly in Wierszalin several times a year.
Today, only fragments of Klimowicz’s vision remain. The ruins of Wierszalin are scattered among the trees, with remnants of wooden structures and stone foundations barely visible beneath the undergrowth.
The place has an almost mystical aura, drawing curious visitors who seek to uncover its secrets.
With its Temple of the World, where symbols of all monotheistic religions etched on what is left of the foundations give you a strange feeling of utopian dystopia.
Local legends speak of strange occurrences in Wierszalin. Some claim to hear whispers among the trees, while others report an overwhelming sense of unease. Is this the lingering energy of Klimowicz’s prophecies, or merely the psychological effect of being in a place steeped in legend?
With its Temple of the World, where symbols of all monotheistic religions etched on what is left of the foundations give you a strange feeling of utopian dystopia.
Local legends speak of strange occurrences in Wierszalin. Some claim to hear whispers among the trees, while others report an overwhelming sense of unease. Is this the lingering energy of Klimowicz’s prophecies, or merely the psychological effect of being in a place steeped in legend?
A journey into the unknown
Reaching Wierszalin is no easy task. The site is hidden deep within the forests of Podlasie, accessible only by rugged dirt paths. The journey itself is an adventure, winding through dense woods and forgotten villages, where time seems to have stood still.
For those fascinated by religious movements, lost utopias, or Poland’s lesser-known history, Wierszalin offers a compelling destination. It is a testament to the power of belief, the fragility of human ambition, and the mysteries that still linger in the hidden corners of the world.
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