One of the incredible things that struck me on our day in Auschwitz is how differently people react to the experience. It is a heavy place. Some people are buckled over and some are sighing heavily. Some are bouncing around in tour groups and seem almost oblivious to the depth of the place. We saw one girl sitting on the tracks near the old rail car, unable to move, crying into her own lap.
We had been to Dachau and to the Holocaust memorial in Berlin, as well as a few others. So, I wasn’t sure how we’d respond.
The day we went to Auschwitz was the complete opposite, weather-wise, as our day in Dachau. It was beautiful. Birds were singing. The sun was gloriously radiant. It was a weird day to visit a place where one and a half million people were killed.
We spent a couple hours exploring Auschwitz 1, the original camp. And then we took the bus to Auschwitz 2 – Birkenau, which is the extension that was put in place when the ‘final solution’ to the ‘Jewish problem’ was determined. It is the place you see in the movies, with the brick arch building and the train tracks that allow the trains to run straight into the middle of camp.
The thing that blew us away at Auschwitz was the size. It is a huge complex. Which is especially mind-blowing considering there were about 3 train loads a day that came to Auschwitz and 75% of the passengers of each train were sent immediately to gas chambers. So the vast complex represents only the 25% of people who stepped foot in Auschwitz.
There are a lot of things I could say about Auschwitz. But I am going to say this: it is a ruin.
There are five massive gas chambers, all rumble. Destroyed by the Nazis to cover evidence of their crimes, they now sit in piles of rubble at the rear end of the complex.
The ruins of Auschwitz gave me a strange sense of hope. For the four years it was operational, Birkenau saw the deaths of about a thousand people a day. It is one of the biggest and most infamous tragedies the world has ever known. But now, it is rubble.
Everything evil is temporal. Everything good is eternal.
The sound of the birds and the surprisingly picturesque region have long outlasted the horrors of that place (one gut-wrenching moment was a sign that pointed to an area of trees where prisoners were forced to wait because the gas chamber they were condemned to die in was full, backed up).
There are many tragedies happening in the world and many of them happen for much longer than the camp survived at Auschwitz. But they are all awaiting the same destiny. Ruin.
Good things last forever because there is a scent of the Divine in them. Although the birds we heard that day will someday die, their song will live forever. Evil can only rule for a season, it is the nature of things. The victory has been won.
Writing this now, I realize that adopting this hopeful perspective was my way of coping with the horrific reality of what happened in that place. But, nevertheless, I believe it to be true. I believe in eternity, not just as a measure of time but as a measure of value. And, if it be true, then all things that meet the one measure must meet the other as well. At least in a sense.
As I said in my blog about Krakow, our last day on our trip around Europe was a twisty, turning, complicated one.
But such is life. And especially life in the Kingdom. The hope that keeps me going is that in the end, only good will remain. And participating in the good allows me a glimpse into that Glorious End.
