As the man pleaded his case, Father Maximilian Kolbe came forward and offered his life for the one pleading. The German commandant of Auschwitz—probably rather shocked—agreed, and Kolbe, with nine others, stripped naked and entered the 3-foot high concrete bunker.
As Hillsdale students approach my desk on the fourth floor of Delp Hall, several things stand or sit between me and them. There’s the huge desk, of course. But, on the desk sits a lamp, some books, a MacBook, and a small figurine of a monk, one of his hands broken off. Some of my own knowledge of the figurine itself is foggy, as I no longer remember why his hand is missing. I do know that I purchased the figurine at a nunnery in Ohio many years ago.
The figurine is of one of my great heroes, a Catholic saint and priest. I almost always get the same reaction from my students. Typically, they pick him up and say something like “Oh, I like your monk action figure, Dr. Birzer.” Usually, a slight but sympathetic laugh or giggle accompanies the question as they continue to examine the figure.
“Oh, do you know who that is?” I ask. The usual guess is: “St. Benedict”? A legitimate guess, especially given that we teach the rule of St. Benedict to all of our freshmen and that I have such a fondness for Miller’s Canticle for Leibowitz.
No, I explain, this man died on August 14, 1941, in cell block 13, the worst of all punishments handed out by the National Socialists in Auschwitz prior to the employment of the ovens and gas chambers.
St. Maximilian Kolbe, a Roman Catholic priest, had been taken prisoner by the Nazis, as had been vast number of his fellow men, Poles, Jews, Catholics, and Lutherans. The Nazis seemed to avoid discrimination when it came to state sanctioned murder.
On the last day of July, 1941, a prisoner had attempted to escape the terror camp. As punishment, the commandant called out 10 random names—the names of those to be executed in retribution for the one man trying to escape. One of the names called had belonged (or, rather, had been forced upon) a husband and father. As the man pleaded his case, Father Kolbe came forward and offered his life for the one pleading. The commandant, probably rather shocked, agreed, and Kolbe, with nine others, stripped naked and entered the 3-foot high concrete bunker. Deprived of food, water, light, and toilets, the men survived—unbelievably—for two weeks. Madness and cannibalism had never overcame them, as the Nazis had hoped. Instead, through Kolbe’s witness as priest and preacher and as an incarnate soul made in the Image of Christ, grace pervaded the room. When the commandant had the room searched two weeks later, only to find the men and Father Kolbe alive, he furiously ordered them all to be injected with carbolic acid.
The man who removed Kolbe’s body offered a wondrous testimony under oath. Kolbe, he said, had been in a state of definite ecstasy, his eyes focused on something far beyond the bunker, his arm outstretched, ready to accept the death of the chemicals to be injected in him.
At this point in the story, the student almost always puts down the figure of St. Maximilian Kolbe, a little surprised, a little overwhelmed, a little impressed, and with a bit of reverence.
No mere action figure sits on my desk.
There sits a representation of the saint of the twentieth century, patron of the 205 million men, women, and children murdered by their governments because they were each and every one of them an unrepeatable center for dignity and freedom, made for beauty and eternity, not for the whim of governor, bureaucrat, commandant, or ideologue.
This essay was first published here in August 2010.
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The featured image is a photograph of Maximilian Kolbe in 1936, and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
I don’t mean to nitpick (I’m always grateful to read anything about St Maximilian), but the article mentions that the starvation bunker was only three-feet high; accounts I’ve read up to now mention that St Maximilian was often seen standing in the middle of the cell when guards checked.
I had visited St. Maximilian Kolbe’s cell on a religious pilgrimage of Central Europe over 11 years ago. According to our guide, the prisoners in that small cell were forced to stand, without rest, for hours without end.
One of the great heroes of the era of the Nazi persecutions. NE OBLIVISCARIS…do not forget. We shall build for him a monument and a memorial. Let us be men of valor and courage for our family, for our country and for Holy Mother Church.
My Auld Pop used to tell me that I should be proud to be a Gael. Not because we were the Master Race (how could we when our history is a disastrous one of military defeat and exile?) No, because we are among the oldest Christians of Northern Europe dating back to St. Patrick (5th Century, St. Columba (6th century and St Maelrubha and St. Mungo founder of Glasgow. Every male in my line has been baptized in an unbroken line (depending on the clan descent from St. Patrick, St. Mungo or St. Columba (the three main missionaries of the Gaels). Learning the stories of the early saints and missionaries was an important part of our heritage. They gave us the alphabet, the Christian faith, they abolished slavery and headhunting as well as polygamy and human sacrifice. Until the Early Fathers came to us we were the White Barbarians of the North. Our pre-Christian epoch was not a happy one as we raided and murdered and stole with impunity. Still it is amazing that the White Martyrdom of Ireland achieved so much without violence even though the Scots and Picts and Gaels were a very violent people. But something told us that here were Godly men and women and to harm them would be the greatest sin of all. So we have always protected and been loyal to the Holy Mother Church despite the Penal Years and many generations of persecution.
These Gaelic missionaries brought the faith to the Anglo-Saxons (my father used to joke a very bad mistake), and to many German and Swiss communities. They helped restore leaning and established many schools in Ireland, Scotland, England and the mainland of Europe. Never forget a marginalized, militarily weak people helped save western civilization only by having a strong faith in God and in the vital importance of learning and education. Saints like Father Kolbe should be remembered and remembered often. People attack the church as corrupt, as full of perverts and crooked but all I can say is you won’t find any Father Kolbes or Mother Teresas in any Planned Parenthood Clinic.
PSALM 127
A Song of degrees for Solomon.)
Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.
2 It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.
3 Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.
4 As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth.
5 Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.
A beautiful reminder.
Great story! Great Polish Saint (my wife is 100% Polish from Hamtramck, MI.)! We named one of our sons, Kolbe, after him. What an honor!
One of our altar servers at our parish is named Kolbe, too! What a magnificent example these boys have!
Thank you.
One of the first saints I learned about prior to becoming a Catholic. I frankly could not believe the story and as I read in disbelief I said to myself, this can’t be true, who would do something like this? Answer? A saint, a catholic priest.
When some people think of saints, they think of holy people who lived centuries ago, or in the time of Jesus. I am so thankful to know that we have saints in our own time, like St. Maximilian, Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, Blessed Carlo Acutis, and Ss. Jacinta and Francisco Marto.
I am a cradle Catholic and had never heard of St. Kolbe until I visited Auschwitz a few years ago and learned of his heroic sacrifice. If only the rest of society could demonstrate a small portion of love for our fellow man
Thank you, Dr. Birzer, for this outstanding testimony on my beloved St. Maximilian Kolbe, OFM. I am a Third Order Franciscan, and when we profess, we take on a patron saint. Mine is St. Francis of Assisi. But I have also personally taken on St. Maximilian Kolbe, knowing the extraordinary work he accomplished in his too short 47 years on earth. He was not only a Franciscan priest, but he was a teacher and writer. He wrote and published a daily newspaper with a readership in the thousands, bringing Jesus to his readers. He established Franciscan monasteries in the Far East. One of these was in Nagasaki, Japan. In 1945, the day the atomic bomb targeted Nagasaki, the monastery was very near the epicenter. It was the only structure that remained, and the friars, who were in the habit of praying the Rosary before daily Mass, where miraculously spared, with no aftereffects. And when he returned to his Polish monastery during the Nazi persecution of Jews and others, he offered sanctuary to all victims of Nazi evil. His brother friars were convinced they were in the presence of holiness, and the friar who was the barber saved his hair clippings, which are the only first-class relics of St. Maximilian. We all have the potential to be saints, and St. Maximilian is an example of holiness in our time. I want to be like him!
This is a powerful story that I had forgotten and was glad to have it once again brought to mind fresh with new and powerful details. As a broadcaster I often say that it’s important it must be heard and that a great story not only needs to be read it needs to be heard, so unless IC and the author objects I will retail the story to my worldwide audience with a course full thanks and attribution to all in the institutions concerned.
When I speak on many occasions on the table I have a single white rose and when I asked I tell the story of the white Rose society… And perhaps now I need a small statue … What we could call a Kolbe!
God bless us all everyone.
Thank you, Bradley. We love the story of St. Maximillian Kolbe so much (my wife is Polish) that we named one of our sons after him and call him “Kolbe”.
I was noting in my calendar that the saint for today is Maximillian Kolbe. The only thing I knew about him was that he had given his life to save another inmate in a Nazi concentration camp. While eating lunch I decided to open the Imaginative Conservative and saw Dr. Birzer’s article on Father Kolbe. Thank you for this beautiful meditation on the unfathomable power of Love and Holiness!
Kolbe volunteered to die in place of a stranger. Franciszek Gajowniczek would miraculously survive Auschwitz, and later said:
“I could only thank him with my eyes. I was stunned and could hardly grasp what was going on. The immensity of it: I, the condemned, am to live and someone else willingly and voluntarily offers his life for me – a stranger. Is this some dream?
I was put back into my place without having had time to say anything to Maximilian Kolbe. I was saved. And I owe to him the fact that I could tell you all this. The news quickly spread all round the camp. It was the first and the last time that such an incident happened in the whole history of Auschwitz.”