Jan. 27 marks the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau. Each year, the camp survivors are fewer in number, and as their testimony and witness remain, the importance of Auschwitz endures. In 2024, more than 1.8 million visitors passed through its gates.
What is it that brings people here? An obscene charnel of mass murder with all its evil, its inhumanity, its brutality: On the surface, it is a site devoid of hope. But among the ruins and the selection lines, beneath the Arbeit Macht Frei sign, in the preserved block houses, and amid the devastating exhibits of personal belongings lie pockets of resilience, humanity, and decency.
The testimonies of survivors and the accounts of the bravery of individuals bring a vestige of hope and lessons to inform generations to come.
One such account among many is a supreme example of self-sacrifice. A prisoner was missing, and SS Officer Karl Fritsch had decided that 10 men were to be placed in a punishment cell to starve to death. One of the men selected, Franciszek Gajowniczek, a family man, pleaded for mercy in desperation.
Another prisoner stepped out of line, offering to take his place. He was a priest, he said; he had no family. Unexpectedly, this insubordinate intervention by inmate 16670 drew unexpected respect from Fritsch, the officer in charge. His response was not a blow to the head or a drawn pistol but, according to accounts, a change in tone of voice and manner. He agreed to prisoner 16670’s illogical proposal. Yes, the priest would face starvation. His name was Father Maximilian Kolbe.
The consequences of Kolbe‘s actions are barely chronicled, the identity of his nine comrades is unknown, and eyewitness accounts are sparse. Reflecting on their slow physical deterioration raises the question of their experiences during those harrowing days of starvation. What thoughts filled their minds as they faced the grim reality of their fate? Most fascinating may be the consideration of the calm and consolation St. Maximilian Kolbe brought to the cell.
For visitors, the experience of descending into Block 11, the punishment block, can be overwhelming. The chilling reality of Cell 22, where prisoners stood in solitary confinement, evokes a visceral response. The scratched crosses on the wall, presumed to be the marks of fellow inmates, serve as haunting reminders of the lives lost and the suffering endured.
One survivor, block janitor Bruno Borgowiec, recounts how the prayers and hymns from within Kolbe’s cell resonated through the confines of the camp, providing solace to fellow prisoners in adjoining cells. Their voices would also have been heard by victims in the execution yard above. In those moments, Kolbe’s words and deeds were a testament to the power of community, even in the face of despair.
Father Piotr Wiśniowski, EWTN Poland chaplain, told CNA that his grandfather Sebastian was one of the prisoners of the Auschwitz and Neuengamme concentration camps and perished under bombs dropped by RAF planes on May 3, 1945. His grandfather’s testimony, Wiśniowski said, offers a “ray of light.”
“Sebastian Wiśniowski, with camp No. 10823, whose greatest guilt was love for his Polish homeland and defending the values in which he raised his three children, sent his last letter nine months before his tragic death on Aug. 20, 1944, from Neuengamme concentration camp. Apart from a few sentences of greetings and assurances that he was healthy and feeling well (which was in accordance with the camp’s strict Nazi censorship) he wrote one sentence that escaped the attention of the censors and can become a motto for all of us living after those tragic times: “I ASK YOU ONLY TO REMEMBER.”
“Remembrance,” Wiśniowski said, is a task that we, as generations without the trauma of the Nazi death camps, must fulfill so that no one has to suffer all those inhuman horrors anymore.
“‘I ask you only to remember’ is a cry from the deep darkness of the cruel World War II, so that we do not forget what can happen when humanity and respect for the values that constitute it are missing.”
By Patrick J. Passmore
This article was originally published by Catholic News Agency on January 27, 2025.
