Hope

A rose left on the bunk of a wooden barrack at Auschwitz Birkenau.

A calligraphy/hand-lettered piece on Hope.

“Despite everything, I still believe people are good at heart.” - Anne Frank

Similar to my last blog post, I begin with an Anne Frank quote. In contrast, this post is about hope, as opposed to hopelessness. To me, this quote displays hope in humanity, regardless of how horrifically Frank’s family and other Jewish families were treated throughout the Shoah.

This week has taught me so much about history. On top of that, it has taught me a lot about myself, especially the way I process things. Whether positive or negative, exciting or boring, I like to reflect on life experiences through calligraphy and hand-lettering. Calligraphy, which has been around for thousands of years, has evolved on social media to “hand-lettering” by millennials. Hand-lettering is a way of creating various fonts, alongside calligraphy to express words. Over the last decade, I have found myself taking profound concepts and minimizing them to handwritten fonts to express myself. It is therapeutic for me and can make for great gifts and cards!

I decided to center the entire piece around hope. Before creating it, I read through “Celebrating and Deepening the New Christian-Jewish Relationship”. The natural optimist in me loved this, as hope is a common theme throughout it all. This statement was sent out for the Golden Jubilee of the Second Vatican Council Declaration, Noestra Aetate. Within the introduction, there is a positive undertone that guided my thought process. “Like people dreaming of what were once unimaginable possibilities (Psalm 126:1) we look forward to a future full of hope” (pp. 44). Written by the ICCJ for a conference in Rome in 2015, this statement reviews the new, positive dialogue between Christians and Jews since the Shoah. It begins with the distance made from the awful starting point that allowed millions of Jewish people to be persecuted and killed. Christianity played a role in allowing this to happen, through the Teaching of Contempt. Jewish people were made out to be “Christ-killers” by many Christians in the early 1900s and this negative connotation brought about indifference, which led to the genocide. The council states that today “we have been learning to speak to each one another as friends and companions…for the first time in history Jews and Christians can work and study together in a sustained way, thereby enriching each other’s covenantal lives” (pp. 45). I was able to see this first hand multiple times, and I am thankful I was able to express this in hand lettering.

First, (the top left corner reads) “Saint Maximillian Kolbe, pray for us”. I added this when I saw it left in the room he was kept in during his starvation period. He was an example of hope for me this week because he gave of his life for another, which is the greatest form of love. Amongst hate, I was reminded that people are also good.

Second, (the top right quote) says, “life makes sense as long as you save people”. This quote, by Oscar Schindler was painted on the wall of Schindler’s Factory, which we visited in Krakow on Wednesday. Schindler saved over 2,000 Jewish people by hiring them in his factory so they would not be sent away to ghettos and concentration camps. He was courageous, and the face of hope in a very tense time.

Third, (the words directly below) that read “Shabbat Shalom”, and were said during the Shabbat dinner we ate on Friday night with the Jewish community in Krakow. The entire community brought me so much hope for peace in the world today, because they invited people of all ages, backgrounds, and religions into their center to enjoy a meal with them. Their hospitality, despite barely knowing us, brought me encouragement and taught me the significance of recognizing dignity in all people.

Fourth, (to the left of the prior quote) is from Simon Peereboom. “We still believed it would all be alright”. This quote was on the wall in one of the blocks at Auschwitz I. It stood out to me when we returned Thursday, because Peereboom displayed so much hope in his future, regardless of how anxious the present seemed.

Fifth, (to the left of Peereboom’s) is a John Lennon quote from his song “Imagine”. Written on a stone outside Auschwitz Birkenau, it says, “imagine all the people, living in peace”. Although I had known this song before coming to Poland, it struck a chord with me before entering the “Gate of Death” because it was a display of hope for a more peaceful future in the world, but left by an anonymous stranger. It left me with the comforting thought that our group was not alone in being advocates of peace, that there are many others out there, too.

Sixth, (above Lennon’s quote) is a verse. “And in your book they all will be written” (Psalm 139:16). This was written in front of the Book of Names at Auschwitz I, which documented the names of the victims of the Shoah. As I walked around the largest book I’d ever seen in my life, I felt hopeless. But, when I saw this verse I felt comfort and hope that this memorial was summarized with a verse that reflected back on a Creator, one who is loving and keeps the names of His people, even if humans replace those names with numbers.

Finally, I end with the quote that started this blog. “Despite everything, I still believe people are good at heart” (Anne Frank). After hearing this quote, I eagerly picked up her book in one of the bookstores and I began it. Although I am only 40 pages in so far, I can see how she displayed humor and an uplifting outlook, even though her world was rapidly declining.

This theme of hope will stick with me forever when I recount this trip to others. I am confident that I will be able to reference all of these quotes, as well my Catholic faith through documents like Nostra Aetate and the more recent ones to remain hopeful in humanity and be a voice for the voiceless.

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Hopeless

A quote by Simon Peereboom about listening to the media throughout WWII.

A picture of a Hungarian woman before the Shoah next to a picture of her after the liberation.

“Where there's hope, there's life. It fills us with fresh courage and makes us strong again” -Anne Frank.

Reading that is quite uplifting, until one remembers that Anne Frank was captured alongside her family, sent to multiple camps, eventually died at Bergen-Belsen. Did she lose hope? Since her writings halted on August 1st, 1944, we will never know. But Frank’s diary depicts a very joyful girl despite the hopeless end to her life. This stuck out to me today as we returned to Auschwitz I. I recognized a reoccurring theme of hopelessness today.

But, this is not a foreign idea, as we read through The Holocaust Kingdom by Alexander Donat and noticed this constant loss of faith in the future. In the first chapter of Donat’s story, he describes life in a Jewish ghetto in Warsaw, Poland. He speaks about the gradual changes that turned his every day life to misery. From the German soldiers robbing Jews without any repercussions, to their eventual beating and killing of people, these people participated in Donat’s eventual loss of hope. Donat’s story begins with the loss of hope by a loss of reputation. Early on, propaganda began to kill the reputation of the Jewish people. “Polish-Jewish relations deteriorated…the wartime sharing of experience had brought Poles and Jews closer together…but the idyl was short-lived. Poisonous Nazi propaganda soon reawakened native anti-Semitism.” (pp. 11). This exact quote struck me today in Block 21 of Auschwitz on the third floor. This area is a memorial dedicated to those who were killed during the Shoah, specifically from the Netherlands. An entire section of the area was dedicated to Nazi propaganda, which is a large reason they were so successful. These soldiers were able to recruit more non-Jews to join the SS and the non-Jewish citizens to remain bystanders, since they were fed lies. Reading these advertisements, posted publicly throughout the Netherlands and (in Donat’s case) Poland after German occupation, caused me to lose hope in people, especially those in power who used their media presence to spread false accusations.

Later in the day, I found myself again losing hope as I walked through Block 18 on the third floor. This section is a memorial to the Hungarians lost in the Shoah. Throughout the floor, there is no music, only a heartbeat playing on repeat. A section that struck me was from the time frame of 1944-1945, There were dozens of pictures of corpses of Hungarians that had starved to death in Auschwitz Birkenau and pictures of Hungarian women shortly after the liberation of Bergen-Belsen. The skinny, sick bodies made me hopeless. I imagined the perpetrators and lost hope in humanity, most especially the lack of empathy throughout this time. How could they not stand up for those starving people? How could they eat their meals knowing that they were going to spend their days next to hungry people? I recall Donat facing the same thoughts in the Polish ghettos during The Holocaust Kingdom. “Even a crust of bread that went to sustain life was dearly bought with Jewish blood.” (pp. 31). Our author begins to lose hope in the perpetrators, who grew harsher and harsher each day.

A third moment of hopelessness came today during our lecture. We reviewed “We Remember: A Reflection on the Shoah”. It was written in 1998 by the Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews. Although it was a step forward for the Catholic faith for addressing Judaism in a document, it turns into an apologetic for Catholics. An apologetic is a defense, specifically used to defend religion. In this case, the writers attempt to defend Christian participation in the Shoah; “many did, but others did not”(pp. 10). Being that Catholicism is the largest religion, the word “many” is a poor word choice because it makes it seem as though a majority (millions) helped. But, we know factually this is not true. Reading this brought me full circle to this morning, reading the propaganda and losing hope. This exaggeration by the writers, though not full propaganda, ruined the clean intention of defending the dignity of the Jewish people, and instead tries to make Christians look good.

I have hope, however, that through our trip to Poland this week, as well as the use of these blogs and social media, we can bring hope to preventing something like this from happening again. We can spread the truth and advocate for populations that do not have a voice, with the click of a button. As Dr. Procario-Foley said moments ago, “what is on the internet, is forever”, so let’s take that challenge and use it for good.

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The Worst of Humanity

The entrance to Auschwitz Birkenau, sometimes called the “Gate of Death”.

Upon hearing the title, “the Gate of Death” I immediately thought of hell. However, now that I have been to Auschwitz Birkenau, I can see why it is given this nickname: it is not very different from the horrors of hell described in afterlife.

After joyfully writing my last blog post about the best of humanity, I feel it is only fair to force myself to let go of the core optimist in me, and face the truths I witnessed today. The last two days at Auschwitz I and Auschwitz Birkenau showed me the worst of humanity. Put simply, the worst of humanity is genocide. In class we learned that this term was created after the Shoah, as it is the killing of many people from one specific group. In the case of the Shoah, it was the intentional, planned out, mass murder of the Jewish race by Hitler and the Nazis. But what brings one to this point?

The term “mass murder” already haunts me, after I sat in lockdown for four hours in 2012 as 20 children and six adults from my community were gunned down at a local elementary school. This mass murder left me with nightmares, worries, and profound thoughts about humanity. Here in Oświęcim, I have no choice but to accept the fact that the grounds I walk on, sleep on, eat on, and pray on are the graveyard to six million. Not 26, but 6 million. How does one come to terms with this? The only thing that comes to mind is that the perpetrators in both situations were the worst of humanity. The way they treated their victims is so horrific, I now believe, because it began as hate but turned to indifference.

This indifference is exemplified in the lack of dignity they gave their victims. This was directly spoken of in The Holocaust Kingdom by Alexander Donat and his wife Lena. Lena describes the awful treatment from the guards. “Half an hour later those selected to die would be marched slowly to Barrack 25. An hour before they were all fighting for a piece of bread, for an assignment to a Kommando…the Kapo would be very impatient: why did such carrion move so slowly? And would urge them on with kicks and abuse.” She describes the pain they faced in the moments before their death, being yelled at, pushed around, and made to be inhuman.
What made me recognize the worst in humanity was truly the photos. The land may not always tell the entire story, but the photos, especially those taken by Wilhelm Brasse, hurt the most. Seeing the children who had experiments done on them, and then later hearing of them during the documentary Portrecista displayed the indifference clearly. Brasse vividly describes the horrors he witnessed first hand. One example was when he watched Dr. Mengele pull out a woman’s uterus and inject a disease into it.

The sights, sounds, and stories of Auschwitz are emotional and scary. But, I need to leave here in advocate. I need to leave here and give voice to the 6 million voiceless whose stories can’t be told by their family, friends, or communities, because they crossed through the “Gate of Death” as well. So, instead of running from it, I need to remember it and always seek to learn, empathize/understand, and speak up. I will not be a bystander now that I have seen the worst of humanity.

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The Best of Humanity

A statue of Saint Pope John Paul II in front of the cathedral he was baptized in.

“Social justice cannot be attained by violence. Violence kills what it intends to create” - Saint Pope John Paul II. 

The wise words of this new saint, who I now feel strongly connected to. Today we stood in the kitchen of Saint Pope John Paul II’s childhood home, and I could not help but fall in love with who he was.

Only miles from his childhood home, millions of Jewish people were murdered in the Shoah at the Auschwitz death camps. Through his outreach to the most simple organization of society, family, he restored faith in the hearts of many. Alongside his work in building up an image of peace and solidarity for the future, brave scholars like Seelisberg in Switzerland spoke up about violence and hatred against Jewish people during this post-war era. To me, both men were brave and exemplify the best of humanity.

Walking through the Family Home Museum in Wadowice taught me so much more about him. Starting with the foundation of family, he created multiple documents like the Theology of the Body. This clarified and informed young people about significant parts of Catholic Social Teaching. For example, he touches on relationships, purity, specifically touching on the dignity of human life. On top of that, I learned about how he created World Youth Day, where he invited thousands (and soon, millions) of Catholic young people to gather in one place. He educated them, prayed with them, and set grounds for them to build from so that they could change the future. Through this extensive and hands-on outreach he restored many people’s faith in the Catholic Church by embodying what it truly means: universal. The universe church accepts all, respects all, and forgives all. His dedication to this was just one of many ways I believe he brought out the best of humanity.

At the Family Home Museum we heard many stories of him living out these values. I noticed that his actions always spoke louder than his words. A perfect example of such was his response to his assassination attempt. A man named Mehmet Ali Ağca tried to kill the Pope in public on May 13, 1981. However, it only injured him, bullets going through his stomach, even damaging his index finger. Almost immediately, the Pope responded saying, “pray for my brother who I haven forgiven”. Despite the pain he faced, the Pope fully forgave Ağca. He even went above and beyond to show love him, meeting him in prison and later meeting with his family. This act clearly changed Ağca’s heart, as he remained friends with the Pope until his eventual passing. This ultimate forgiveness, is another way I saw the best of humanity displayed today.

I thoroughly enjoyed the experience in Wadowice, following in the footsteps of this saint. I was able to return to the retreat center and dive into our Course Pack One, Part A. I reread “An Address to the Churches” by Seelisberg in 1947. Being that this was so soon after the war, this document was courageous. It truly represented accountability on the part of Christianity for it’s role in the Holocaust. In the document, Seelisberg states, “the Christian Churches have indeed always affirmed the un-Christian character of antisemitism, as of all forms of racial hatred” (page 1). This act of standing up for a marginalized group after the Shoah was the good, positive side of life. However, Seelisberg does not stop there; he goes on to state ten points to draw attention to anti semitism to prevent it from growing in the Christian Church. He uses comparisons of Judaism and Christianity to make connections, and later suggests that people not utilize the scripture references to Jewish people as the killers of Christ alone, since it was truly the Romans. Picking this apart in our class proved to me the importance of being an advocate instead of a bystander, and that speaking up, though difficult, can pull back stereotypes and hidden prejudices that lead to the worst of humanity.

Both Saint Pope John Paul II and learning in class about Seelisberg showed me the best of people. The best people are those attempting to replicate our perfect, loving, forgiving God. I will be holding onto this later in the week as I travel through the “Gate of Death” and witness the polar opposite of humanity.

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