Auschwitz - Birkeneau

26 November, 2014
Michael Yee

I read Ephesians 6:16-18 to prepare for today’s trip to Auschwitz-Birkeneau.  All of us were going to experience a gamut of emotions and I prayed that we had the strength to withstand the heaviness of this day. I prayed that each of us are convicted that the Lord redeems – that good can come out pain and the worst in this world. This place is a juxtaposition of the cathedral in Prague. Evil is but an echo but the enemy still lingers around the corners ready to grip our hearts and minds. That’s why this place can be so painful for those who visit.

I braced myself as I walked towards the main gate. 'Birkenau' means 'birch forest,' and without having context of what occurred here, it is quite beautiful and not what you expect. In my mind I allowed the veil to fold away. On top of the rusted railway tracks I see the cars pulling in and the black smoke of souls rising out of the chimneys. I could feel the void of hope and joy. There is a lawful evil taking place as human identities were methodically replaced by a number.  There is an unseen and lost presence when you enter the camp when you walk amongst where over a million died.

How suiting that the sky was gray and the damp chill hindered my ability to warm my hands. The ground was muddy and the standing water was drowning the grass. As I stared at the stairs leading downwards to the underground gas chamber, the ruins were steadily replaced by an entrance to an undressing room. I could hear classical music to make the prisoners feel at ease as they were lead inside. There is a man shouting that that after a shower there would be a warm meal. The undressing room was almost directly below a brick building that contained a furnace room. At right angle to the undressing room was the gas chamber. To hide the gas chambers from an aerial view, the gas chamber’s three-foot high roofs were covered with dirt and planted with grass. The reinforced concrete roof was six inches thick, with four holes, in a zig-zag pattern, where the Zyklon-B gas pellets were poured into the room.

I am thankful for Lauren, Paul, Martin, and Colson. Their companionship pulled me back from the edge of losing myself in a tidal wave of despair. I was straddling a dangerous place I’ve been before. That place was filled with an unbearable guilt for humanity. I could hear whispers revealing the deliberate planning that went into the purpose of each building and the operations that made this place history's most productive factory of death. 

In the adjacent field known as “Mexico” there was a doe slowly walking through the tall grass. Something stirred in me as I watched her – oblivious to the land just outside the barbed wire fence. She brought me back to the present and reminded me of His redemption and resurrection. It gave me strength to continue moving forward – one step at a time. The birch trees are beautiful…

As we turned the final corner, there were men on rickety ladders maintaining the siding of a reconstructed barrack and another crew casually pouring fresh asphalt into one of countless potholes. This was the anti-Disney Land.  I understand their role. I understand the need to replicate and restore what many would prefer to forget. And forgetting is what the Enemy wants. We are visual creatures hardwired for imagery. It helps us to remember. That’s why we buy souvenirs at concerts and at the end of vacations. It’s why we take photographs of our loved ones at birthdays and of the sunsets in faraway lands we visit. It’s why we take communion and break the break and drink the wine to taste the extent of Jesus' sacrifice as a reminder of His undeserving grace.

As I collected myself after leaving Auschwitz-Birkeneau I realized I was half scraping and half stomping my shoes on the curb trying to get the dirt off. It was like I was unconsciously trying to wipe my hands clean. How quickly I forget His grace. I took one last glance behind me before I lowered the veil. I observed a multitude of generations walking the stone paths with arms interlinked silently saying “never again”.