Poland: Hope in Brokenness

The trip to Poland made for a very heavy weekend so I’m splitting the weekend into two blog posts as an attempt to give justice to it all. To be honest, I don’t know where to start so please bear with me as I wade through the brokenness of my heart while writing this post. 

On Friday we visited Auschwitz concentration camp and Birkenau extermination camp. My family was not directly affected by the atrocities that occurred at either of these or any other concentration or extermination camp. Despite having no concrete attachment to any of the people who suffered through these camps, I was profoundly impacted by what I experienced. What we learn about the holocaust in history classes in high school is far from an accurate description of the torments these people withstood.  

I think Auschwitz has always been a place of puddles. 75 years ago the puddles were of blood and tears; today the puddles are of a cleansing rain that allows the grass to grow green. Despite green grass, blossoming flowers, and thriving trees, another monument for man’s capacity for evil appears at every step through Auschwitz. From the 7 tons of hair that the Nazis shaved from the heads of innocent prisoners to the firing wall to the crematoriums to the standing cells. There are remnants of the lie people were fed before going into Auschwitz-Birkenau: thousands of suitcases that were once filled with clothing meant for a new beginning, pots and pans meant to cook dinner for their families, dolls to comfort children when they began to miss the place they left, dress shoes and shoe shine packed in the hopes of good times to come. Auschwitz-Birkenau is a place of unfulfilled dreams, forfeited hopes, desolate thoughts, and sorrowful stories. At the same time it is a place of great heroism, incomparable goodness, and sacrificial love. The story of Maximilian Kolbe is essential to Auschwitz, even to those who aren’t Catholic. The testimony of a man giving his life for another in an attempt to preserve a family. That one selfless act among many is greatly celebrated at Auschwitz. There is a plaque dedicated to the place Maximilian Kolbe offered himself for another. The cell Maximilian Kolbe was left to die in is untouched except for a single candle placed there by Pope St. John Paul II the Great.  The message of hope can reach into the darkest, most depraved corners of our world and spread the light of love. 

The thing that struck me the most about our visit to Auschwitz was seeing ruts in the stairs where people had walked. It made me so sad to know that I was walking in the footsteps of men and women who were terrified, lonely, and didn’t know freedom. The comfort for that moment came when I was sitting on the ground after the tour wondering how in the world to process the whole thing. A million people walked those steps in fear, out of punishment; millions of people have walked those same steps in memory, out of love. 1 John 4:18 says, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.” I know the love we have now does not make up for the total lack of love they were faced with, but it does give me hope for the future. I don’t really think I was supposed to come out of the camp with a  message of hope but I did. Approximately 1.4 million people visit Auschwitz every year. That’s 300,000 more people that visit each year than endured the cruelties and evils of that place in the 5 years it was active. The world is not the same nor will it ever be the same again. Those 1.4 million annual visitors by no means justify or rectify the sins of the past but they do show the hope that there will one day be an end to the pervasive Culture of Death in our world.