When
I went to the Auschwitz Concentration Camp, I visited Block 11, the
building where St. Maximilian Mary Kolbe, OFM Conv., was martyred by the
Nazis. Kolbe was only one of hundreds of thousands of people put to
death; millions of Jewish people, as well as many others, including
Christians, hundreds of whom were priests and members of religious
communities of men and women, were murdered by the Nazis.
When
I visited the second floor of Block 11, I saw, on a wall in a corridor,
a row of hundreds of framed photographs--mug shots of men who had lived
and died at Auschwitz. I took the time to study as many of their faces
as time permitted me. It profoundly touched my soul to have that chance
to look into the eyes of those men, now frozen in time.
I can't forget those eyes. They now torment me from my place of comfort.
Each
of those sets of two eyes, so very much represent the eyes of millions
of others. Those eyes stare out from saddened faces, and they continue
today to stare at all of us. We don't have to visit Auschwitz to know
that they are there, still there. Those eyes cry out not to be
forgotten. I wonder how many people today stop for even a moment,
wherever they may be, and take the time to notice those eyes, and those
who might hold similar eyes today, and the real men and women who have
held them?
At Auschwitz, I saw clearly inside of those eyes, and into the horror they beheld.
Those
eyes of Auschwitz continue to stare at us all, and they continue to
penetrate the souls of those who are willing to look into them.
How
can we continue, in our own day, to pay tribute to the men and women
who were put to death by the Nazis? Indeed, how can we recognize and
acknowledge those in our own time, who in different places throughout
the world, are put to death through genocide, and other types of
violence, great and small? Do we even understand how such violence has
been, and is, perpetrated by the potentates against those who are
powerless?
Those eyes of Auschwitz, those millions of
eyes there and beyond, continue to stare at us. Who among us cares
enough to make sure the deaths of those who held them will never be
forgotten?
Who are those people in our own lives, and
in our own time and place, who might be "different" than us? Might we
too, like those who championed the cause of the Nazis, or those who were
complicit with them, fail to see such people as victims of those who
know only how to hate?
Can we look into the eyes of
such victims and recognize their true humanity, and can we acknowledge
and recognize their dignity as fellow human beings?
What
follows is a kind of poem I wrote as I reflected on my visit to
Auschwitz and the second floor of Block 11. The poem is not finished . .
.
The Eyes of Auschwitz
Still . .
Eyes
staring
wide opened,
focused clearly
Those eyes . .
staring
Portals
revealing souls
heart broken,
eyes staring
On the walls,
second floor
block 11
Auschwitz
Those eyes . .
staring
Eyes
on frozen faces,
young men
staring
Proud
eyes
staring,
staring
Those eyes . .
staring
Lineages
disrespected,
pedigrees
unaffected
Still today,
haunting
young men
staring
Those eyes . .
staring
Staring
through
generations
unknown
Eyes
staring still,
without end
staring
Those eyes . .
staring
Sorrow
pain
horror
death
Imprisoned,
focused
sad eyes
staring
Those eyes . .
staring
Tearless
crying eyes,
staring
staring
Those eyes . . .
staring
still.
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