Auschwitz-Birkenau

Note: Sister Sue Paweski, SP, and others, recently embarked on a pilgrimage to Poland and Prague. While on the pilgrimage, they also visited Auschwitz. Here Sister Sue reflects on the visit.

Silence. Silence. The commotion of the passengers climbing out of the coach buses and heading to restrooms; buying bottles of water; chatting about the weather and the drive; finding the guides who introduce themselves. Then as we begin the long trek to the entrance to the Auschwitz concentration camp, the guide tells us not to speak. The names of the murdered women, men and children envelops us as we walk through the high walled path. You see nothing but the cement walls and listen to the  litany of the names. Silence falls over us. 

A ‘Barren Landscape’

We emerge to a barren landscape with barbed wire structures that become the familiar perimeter to Auschwitz. It’s a long walk and the barren surroundings sets the tone.

We see the brick barracks in neat rows that, from the outside, could be a military barracks. Every structure is built with red brick and dark windows. Neat, efficient. Inside, the narrow aisles with pictures of the murdered:  intellectuals, homosexuals, enemies of the Third Reich. Here they waited for torture and execution.

We trudge down a narrow staircase to the cells of individual prisoners who were tortured and then executed. These people were made to stand for days, yes days, then brought to their cells, chained to a pole to wait. Wait for the freedom death would bring. The cell of St. Maximillian Kolbe is there. A Franciscan friar, he and his companions stayed with the people of Krakow as the Nazis advanced. After he was sent to Auschwitz, he begged that Franciszek Gajowniczek’s  life be spared and his taken in exchange. The Nazis complied. And so, it was. Gajowniczek survived and raised a family as a testimony to the act of love that saved his life. The place of Kolbe’s execution is marked, a memorial to all the acts of kindness that prisoners showed to one another.

Tearing at Your Heart

The rooms of the personal effects of the our brothers and sisters who were murdered lined the walls. Mountains of shoes — baby shoes that tear at your heart, eye glasses, canes, crutches, prosthetics, Jewish prayer shawls. I could not take photos. It seemed an invasion of whatever was left of these people. The image that will stay with me forever were the mounds and mounds of hair. Braids, long swaths, curls.  And next to that area was a loom and a woven rug made from human hair.

The barracks that housed the prisoners who were made to work were packed with wooden bunk beds that slept no less that 2 people to a bed. The hygiene was nonexistent. Long slabs of cement with two rows of holes was the latrine in the middle of the barracks. Two allotted minutes, then the next group of people went to the latrine. No sanitation.

Our group boarded the bus for the short trip to the death extermination camp, Birkenau. The guide reminded us that the gas “baths” often took as long as 20 minutes before the prisoners died. There are no words to describe standing in the chamber. 

Leave in Silence

We left in relative silence shaking our heads in disbelief. The pall that hovers over the Auschwitz-Birkenau is like a wet down quilt. You feel it. The presence of the dead who now live in Spirit is with you. You see their photos and know that it could be you; it could be your children; it could be me. 

The parallels are our perils. The labeling of the “other” as vermin and a list of horrid names sets the stage for a loss of freedom and liberty to say nothing of the loss of humanity. The images are seared on my soul. If you think this is an exaggeration, watch documentaries, read, go to Holocaust museums. To dilute what happened and is happening in our country is to welcome the evil that lurks in the pursuit of greed and power.

Let us pray daily for the strength to speak out, to stand with everyone whose dignity is challenged. Now we cannot be silent. We are compelled by the Gospel to stand with our sisters and brothers whose human rights are being stripped from the fabric of their humanity. Our enemy is silence. We cannot be silent.