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Vol. 22, No. 1
By Susanne Chawszczewski, PhD
“What would I have done?” After reading “The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness,” by Simon Wiesenthal, I have been haunted by that question, by my reflections on that question, and by some recent memories. Wiesenthal’s account and the subsequent reflections from a variety of theologians, rabbis, and others took my breath away. In fact, I felt myself holding my breath at many points during the book until I reached an endpoint.
photo: Susanne Chawszczewski
In October of 2008, I had the opportunity to take a trip to Poland with my best friend from high school. Individually, we had promised each other, that in honor of our parents, all of whom are deceased, we would visit Poland. All four of my grandparents were from Poland, as were my best friend’s. In making plans for the trip, we certainly knew that we would have the opportunity to visit Auschwitz/Auschwitz II–Birkenau (Oświęcim, in Polish). While this is not the camp where Wiesenthal is imprisoned during his account, what I didn’t expect while reading “The Sunflower” was the flood of memories that came back to me from Poland and from that visit.
I had done some family research prior to my trip and found that my grandfather’s brother, Tomasz, had died at Auschwitz. The only record was his birthplace, his date of birth (March 20, 1889) and death (August 24, 1942) and that he was a Catholic laborer. Here was a name without a face, without a context. As I read Wiesenthal’s account of the horrors of his time in the prison camp, I realized that Wiesenthal too was a name without a face, like the countless millions who died in the many prison camps at that time. But since I had visited Auschwitz, I definitely had a context.
I remember that of the two and one-half weeks we were travelling, the day we went to Auschwitz was the only day it rained during our entire trip. I remember not being able to speak during the tour, which was conducted by an elderly woman whose father had been a prisoner and was liberated from Auschwitz. At Auschwitz, I remember reading the “Work Makes You Free” sign in German at the entrance and what a chill it gave me. I remember the barbed wire surrounding everything. I remember the starvation cell where St. Maximilian Kolbe died. I remember my horror at the crematoria. I also remember the van ride to Auschwitz II–Birkenau. This is where the trains came with those being brought to the camp and their fate was decided with the flip of a wrist – left for death and right for life. And I am haunted by that image.
As I have reflected on the question “What would I have done?” I cannot seem to find an answer. There are many different opinions represented in the essay portion of the book. As Wiesenthal reflects, has God been on leave? How would I react to such evil? As a non-Jewish person who has no first hand knowledge of the Holocaust, would it trivialize the horrors if I had an answer to that question at all? As a Catholic, would I have an obligation to forgive? (Matt 18: 21-23) Having not had the experience that Wiesenthal had, I can say that I probably would not be able to place myself in his shoes. But one of the most important lessons of the book is that we not forget. And while I haven’t come to a point that I would be able to answer the question posed by Wiesenthal, I can at least help others continue to remember the horror.
photo: Susanne Chawszczewski The book raises another important point for me. Are there instances when I have stood by, as a bystander, when I’ve seen injustice, hatred, discrimination, and not done or said anything? Am I just as guilty of those crimes as if I had done them myself? I think that this is another important piece for us to reflect on. At what cost am I willing to do something in such a situation?
As I have found much in this book to reflect upon, I hope you do as well. The image that I still carry with me from Poland is that I was walking on the ashes of millions of people while I was there. This book makes that image come more to life for me and it is an image that I will not soon forget.
Susanne Chawszczewski is NACC certification and education coordinator.
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