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Despite the belatedness of this post, I still have wrap up thoughts about Poland. I've been writing this post on and off since we got back. And everyone tells me that you continue to receive the fruits of a pilgrimage until long after you've left. I have never been on a real pilgrimage until the weekend of February 17th. But, from Thursday night at 8 p.m., to Monday morning at 2 a.m., I experienced the highs and lows of a spiritual journey. We went to Czestochowa, Krakow and Wadowice.We visited churches, museums and a concentration camp. Auschwitz was one of the most difficult experiences of my life. I feel like I have a pretty good grasp on the history of World War II, especially since my grandpa was in the Battle of the Bulge. But being American, I feel somewhat removed from the horrors that went on during the reign of the Third Reich. I only took two pictures while visiting Auschwitz. I felt that for me to participate in this experience, I couldn't be snapping pictures of everything we might see. There is a certain hushed stillness over the entire camp. Even though there were quite a few people walking around, there was no noise. We stopped a moment before the foreboding, wrought iron gates with "Arbeit Macht Frei" in bold letters at the top. "Work will set you free."
The gentleman giving our tour was born and raised in Poland and hearing him talk about the suffering that the Polish people went through during that time was hard to hear. But I didn't start crying until we walked into one of the barracks and he showed us a room that was once a courtroom of sorts. A courtroom where people were taken to be condemned to work until they died. People...children as young as 12 years old...were classified as political prisoners. There are so many artifacts salvaged from the rooms of the concentration camp after it was abandoned. Empty cans of the poison that was used in the gas chambers. Women's hair that was cut off before they were handed a striped uniform, worn by countless others before them. Shoes of men, women and children, discarded as they were stripped of their clothes before being sent into the gas chambers for a "shower." Eyeglasses. Suitcases. Pots, pans and other cooking utensils. Everything was taken from the prisoners. The Nazis attempted to strip their personhood away and make them replaceable and disposable. We walked through one hallway that was filled with the ID pictures of the prisoners with their name, number, the date they arrived at the camp and the date they died. I didn't want to look at the eyes following me throughout the hallway, but I forced myself to keep watching and looking into their eyes. There were looks of confusion, sorrow and pain, but then there were also eyes filled with fight. Eyes with determination, strength and calm serenity. It made me wonder what thoughts were flowing behind those eyes. Then we got to cell block 11.
We were able to pray at the starvation cell where St. Maximilian Kolbe died. Here we saw a glimpse of hope that penetrated through the thick blackness of the concentration camp experiences. I didn't like going to Auschwitz, but I don't regret going. I know that it's a day I will never forget.
