Today August 14

Today is a great feast day: St. Maximilian Kolbe, saint of Auschwitz (1894-1941), home of the most notorious and most efficient death camp of the Nazis. But it really was a nice little town before that, full of clean streets, well-tended gardens, and humble buildings. It changed.

When Raymond (for such was his baptismal name) was only 10 years old, he suddenly matured, though he'd been a typical and playful little boy up until then. He had a mystical experience of Our Lady (whom he called the Immaculata), who offered him two crowns -- one red and one white, which she explained were the crown of martyrdom (red) and the crown of purity (white). Like the equally precocious and loving St. Therese of Lisieux, he said, "I'll take everything!" At 16, he joined the Conventual Friars of St. Francis. He was a great student of science and philosophy; he had a holy and joyful confidence; and, he had absolute trust in Our Lady. He wavered a little just before taking his final vows. He was troubled with what he felt was a call to become a soldier instead -- especially since he was such a Polish patriot. But through the advice of Marianne, his beloved mother, he realized that as a Franciscan friar he WAS a knight, slaying dragons for his wonderful Lady. Indeed, this was the beginning of the Militia Immaculata . . . a virile group of knights fighting the good fight against sin and ignorance under the banner of Mary. Just because he wielded the weapons of nonviolence doesn't mean he wasn't powerful!

He studied in Rome, even as the rise of the anti-clerical movement grew in numbers and power there, mocking virtue and degrading morals, falling into all kinds of error. But he was unmoved even after being dismissed as useless and a crank. He only burned brighter with love for God and His Lady.

On April 28, 1918 he had one bright moment in an otherwise gloomy stay in wartime Rome -- Friar Maximilian was ordained a priest, along with 100 other men! Men from many races and nations. He was "an inconvenient man," one who was fearless in accusing error in his time and whose piety and zeal caused many to bristle and become defensive. But he soldiered on.

He returned to Poland and had to enter a sanatorium in Zakonpanie for his health. He had contracted tuberculosis, apparently. He didn't want to rest, but he obeyed his superiors -- just like the good knight he was. Even then he was able to reach out to others. In a nearby sanatorium attached to a college, he started a religious discussion group -- which he moderated so all could give their opinion freely. His most vocal opponent came up to him later and admitted, simply: "I cannot believe." His response was to give the young man a miraculous medal and to pray for him. Soon after, this man was moved to go to Confession and make his profession of faith.

After a mysterious and some would say miraculous recovery, he went into the publishing business, despite all the obstacles. It was a weapon. But it was an expensive and uphill battle. Even blessed Maximilian fell into despair. He just couldn't work (in publishing) anymore. But lo! He retired to the church and prayed and, after a long time in prayer, he looked upon a statue of the Immaculata and at her feet was an envelope with the exact amount of money he needed to continue.

Later he established Niepokalonow in Poland, a real "Marytown" where all was held in common and men lived in communion. A Communist came and visited the vibrant Franciscan community he founded and proclaimed: "You, you are the real communists!"

Nagasaki, Japan was the site of a new mission very soon thereafter. He wished to touch the hearts of all, no matter where on earth they were. The generous, shy and very proper souls of the Japanese opened to him and his many young men.

He returned home to his troubled and soon-to-be-occupied country. January 10, 1937, he told his brothers he was going to die and told him he was their father, as much or more so than their physical fathers -- and that he took leave of them with joy and peace. "Love the Immaculata," he said, echoing his very last words in the starvation bunker at Auschwitz.

3500 refugees swarmed into Niepakalanow, 1500 of them Jews, and the brothers welcomed them all, calling the Jews "our elder brothers." The Gestapo arrested him, interned him in a terrible Warsaw prison and then sent him to the concentration camp. He was forced into slave labor and often beaten, but he remained true and brave. He still heard confessions and prayed with the sick and despairing (and who in that place was not sick and despairing?)

At the end of July 1941 a prisoner escaped and in retaliation ten prisoners were chosen to starve to death . . . the simplest and cruelest form of death. Kolbe wasn't chosen, but with holy audacity he walked to the front of the line and offered himself in place of a man with a wife and ten children. He suffered for two weeks and in the end offered his arm out to the doctor who injected him with carbolic acid. He looked straight into the eyes of the doctor -- and in his later testimony, the man said such eyes looked into the depths of his soul and spoke words of love. Yes, even in death, he worked a miracle of conversion. Pray for us, St. Maximilian!