Visiting Poland amid thoughtful reflections on past and present

On the Feast of Saint Stanislaus, I boarded a flight to Warsaw. It was only once I was on the plane and opened my Magnificat prayer book that I realised the significance of the day. It was my first ever visit to Poland, and it happened – by chance, or perhaps divine ordination – to begin on the day of the country’s patron saint.

The sun was shining as I landed in the capital, and rushed straight from the airport to the University of Warsaw to launch the Polish edition of my book, The China Nexus. From there I was plunged into a 24-hour flurry of media interviews and meetings with Polish Members of Parliament and civil society.

The day before I arrived was the 14th anniversary of the terrible plane crash in 2010 which the then President and First Lady of Poland, and all other passengers, were killed. On my first evening in Warsaw, I walked past floral tributes outside the Presidential Palace. The next day, I paid my respects at a memorial in the Polish Parliament, at a plaque on which the father of a current Parliamentarian with whom I had just met is commemorated. The fact that the plane crash occurred in Vladimir Putin’s Russia raises questions that have until now not been answered.

This was the curtain-raiser for an emotional roller-coaster visit to Poland, one which was both deeply harrowing, immensely inspiring and profoundly uplifting. It was a six-day pilgrimage that took me to the depths of hell in Auschwitz-Birkenau and the heights of heaven in Warsaw’s Victory Square, where Pope St John Paul II delivered his first homily in his homeland as pontiff and his opening salvo in his challenge to Communist tyranny:

“Let your Spirit descend.
Let your Spirit descend.
and renew the face of the earth,
the face of this land.”

As I stood at the foot of the cross in Warsaw’s Victory Square, just across from the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the Eternal Flame, and reflected on the words of St John Paul the Great, the first Slavic Pope and the third longest-serving Pope in history, I repeated his words in my own prayers.

Across the world – in Ukraine and Israel and Gaza most obviously, but also in Russia, North Korea, Myanmar, China, Hong Kong, Tibet and for the Uyghurs, and for those places of freedom under increasing danger, such as Taiwan, as well as the decaying West – St John Paul II’s prayer for renewal is much-needed for our times.

That moment propelled me through Warsaw’s beautiful Old Town, to the Cold War Museum that depicts the courage of Poles and others in their resistance to the Soviet imposition of Communism – including the wonderful martyr priest Fr Jerzy Popieluszko, murdered by Moscow’s thugs in 1985. This brave priest, chaplain to the pro-democracy Solidarity movement, deserves our respect and prayers.

To bring the past together with the present, as I walked through the cobbled central Square, I came across a protest against Putin’s war in Ukraine – and a dramatisation depicting the plight of prisoners of war in Russia’s grasp. Powerful, emotive and moving, it was an apposite reminder that Poland’s trials of the past, under Nazism and Communism, are not simply a matter of history. They are a renewed tragedy, threat and challenge in the region today.

The past and the present seemed to walk together throughout my visit. In the Church of the Holy Cross in Warsaw, I saw a plaque claiming that the heart of Poland’s great composer Frederic Chopin was buried there. A few days later, in Krakow’s Chopin Concert Hall, I listened to a recital by a young pianist, Radoslaw Gozdzikowski, performing various Nocturne, Etude, Marzuka and Fantasy-Impromptu variations.

After paying respects to the heart of Chopin, I slipped silently into a side chapel dedicated to St John Paul II. In that side chapel, I lit candles and knelt and said prayers before St John Paul II for my friend Jimmy Lai, the 76-year-old Hong Kong media entrepreneur and devout Catholic who has spent almost three and a half years in prison and is currently on trial under Hong Kong’s draconian National Security Laws, simply because of his pro-democracy activities. I prayed too for all other prisoners in Hong Kong, across China, in Myanmar, North Korea and beyond.

That began a habit that was repeated over the next few days. In all the towns I visited in Poland, I lit candles and said prayers in churches for my friends in prison and for countries under repression. Across Poland dozens of candles burn for Jimmy Lai, all Hong Kong political prisoners, Myanmar’s Aung San Suu Kyi, who has been in jail for over three years since her elected government was overthrown in a coup in 2021, my friend Reverend Dr Hkalam Samson and all political prisoners in Myanmar, and for the unnamed, unknown but not forgotten prisoners throughout China and North Korea, as well as of course for Ukraine, Russia, Israel and Gaza.

In Krakow’s Wawel Cathedral, I attended Mass where St John Paul II, as Fr Karol Wojtyla, said his first Mass. It was moving, but at the end of Mass as I stayed to pray in front of the altar of St Stanislaus, which also commemorates St John Paul II, an officious tour guide evicted me, telling me that now it was time for tourists and if I wished to stay I had to buy a ticket. This was the only sour moment in an otherwise beautiful week – and a reflection of the ugly effect that Western secularisation and commercialisation has had on our places of worship. I understand that cathedrals need upkeep, and I can understand, though I dislike, the entry charge for “tourists” to our great cathedrals. But it seems unreasonable to kick out a pilgrim staying on after Mass to pray. No one who wishes to stay to pray should be made to pay. As one person commented on social media: “If we treat our churches as museums, visitors will also behave there like in museums and we will lose the opportunity to transform them into pilgrims.” I doubt St John Paul II would have approved.

The rest of that day involved navigating the beautiful streets of Krakow and this year’s marathon, with various crowds cheering passing runners on as I passed by and smiled. I even managed to slip into St Mary’s Basilica amid the cyclists, for a few minutes’ reflection, and stood outside the papal window at the Archbishop’s residence, where a big picture of St John Paul II stands at the spot where he used to banter with crowds on return visits to his home city.

And then came the heaviest moment of the week.

As I walked through the tunnel into Auschwitz, I heard the names of all those killed in this concentration camp. Haunting and harrowing.

As we turned a corner and approached the infamous “Arbeit Macht Frei” sign which we all know but dread, my heart chilled, and I turned numb. I had seen pictures of that gate, but actually standing in front of it was an experience difficult to describe.

Walking through torture chambers, execution grounds and gas chambers, and seeing piles of shoes, crockery and suitcases that belonged to prisoners, one could feel the sense of evil in the place even today, almost 80 years on. I visited the cell in which St Maximilian Kolbe was killed, where a Paschal candle placed by Pope St John Paul II stands – a light in a very dark place.

From Auschwitz we went to nearby Birkenau which was even more chilling. What I did not realise was that while Auschwitz was a concentration camp in which some prisoners were executed, Birkenau was established purposely as an “extermination camp”. As we entered through the archway under the famous building that stands in front of the railway tracks, the weight of history was palpable. “Forever let this place be a cry of despair and a warning to humanity where the Nazis murdered about one and a half million men, women and children, mainly Jews, from various countries of Europe,” read the commemorative plaque. One and a half million – never forget that.

As I walked through Auschwitz and Birkenau, I thought of the genocides and atrocity crimes in our world today. I reflected on the prison camps in China’s western Xinjiang region, where at least a million Uyghurs are incarcerated, and the gulags of North Korea, as well as the displacement camps in Myanmar and the genocide of the Rohingyas. While we should always recognise the Holocaust as unique and be cautious about comparisons, there are crimes against humanity being perpetrated today that bear similar hallmarks. Visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau made me determined to redouble my advocacy work for human rights in the world today.

I emerged from Birkenau and had over an hour before catching my bus back to Krakow, so I walked from the camp across the car park to a café, to have a cup of coffee, recharge my phone and gather my thoughts. As I ordered a coffee, the young man behind the counter asked gently: “How are you feeling?” I have never been asked that before by a barista. “Well, I have just been to Auschwitz-Birkenau,” I said. “I know,” he smiled. “That’s why I asked.” I told him I was still trying to find the right words.

Two days later, I visited the factory where Oskar Schindler rescued Jews from the Holocaust. Now a museum, it serves as another reminder of the horrors of the Nazi era, but also of the good that one man can do. I had previously visited his grave at the Yad Vashem memorial in Jerusalem, and now I could see the place from which his rescue missions operated. Photographs of the thousand or more Jews he saved line the walls. “Life makes sense as long as you save people,” Schindler once said.

The day after visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau, I sought a more uplifting experience as a contrast to the darkness of that day. I travelled an hour and a half from Krakow by train, to a small town called Wadowice, birthplace of a Polish man called Karol Wojtyla who would go on to help defeat Communism in Eastern Europe and change the world. That man was of course Pope St John Paul II, pontiff for over 26 years and the first non-Italian Pope in 455 years.

In Wadowice, I visited the museum in his old family home, full of photographs of the sport-loving future Pope skiing, kayaking and hiking in the mountains. I visited the church where he was baptised, received his first communion and served as an altar boy. And I prayed in the side chapel dedicated to him, where I lit candles in front of his large portrait. I prayed – and asked St John Paul II to pray – again for all the causes on my heart. I asked the Pope who helped bring down Communism in Europe to pray for freedom in the world today.

I ended my visit to Poland at the Shrine of the Divine Mercy in Krakow. I have been reading St Maria Faustina Kowalska’s Diary, and so to pray in front of her tomb in the Chapel of the miraculous image of the Merciful Jesus in Lagiewniki, as well as in the Basilica of the Divine Mercy, was a wonderful way to end this extraordinary pilgrimage. I prayed and lit candles yet again for all the causes on my heart. And I asked St Faustina to pray for divine mercy for these and for the world.

One last unexpected stop. From the Shrine of the Divine Mercy I noticed in the distance another large, modern church, and somewhat closer a large cross, so I decided to walk over to find out more. As I got nearer, I learned that it was the Sanctuary of St John Paul II, part of the “Be not afraid! John Paul II Centre”.

In the church, I prayed again and lit more candles. Then, as I walked around the church, I came across a particularly significant side chapel where a bloodstained white cassock was displayed in a glass cabinet. It was the cassock John Paul II was wearing when he was shot in St Peter’s Square by assassin Mehmet Ali Agca on 13 May 1981. It had been entrusted to the Sanctuary by his personal secretary, Cardinal Stanislaw Dziwisz. Perhaps it was particularly apposite that I said some of my last prayers in Poland, for freedom, human rights and peace throughout the world, in front of the bloody cassock of one of the world’s greatest defenders of human rights, human dignity and human life, who miraculously survived an attempt on his own life

Later, in the museum, I saw a beautiful painting of John Paul II, after recovering from his gunshot wounds, embracing his assassin in prison. “We all need forgiveness from our brothers, so we should all be ready to forgive. To ask for forgiveness and to forgive – this is the way truly worthy of a human being,” St John Paul II said.

Throughout this journey, I was accompanied by George Weigel’s excellent book about John Paul II, The End and The Beginning – a sequel to his epic biography, Witness to Hope. As I travelled, many of John Paul the Great’s words echoed in my mind – three phrases in particular. “Be not afraid!”, “Duc in altum!” (put out into the deep) and “Open wide the doors for Christ”. Whether it was in the heavenly moments praying with St John Paul II and St Faustina, or in the hellish darkness of Auschwitz-Birkenau, I think I can say I tried to open wide my doors to the light of Christ, unafraid, as I put out into the deep.

Benedict Rogers is a human rights activist and writer. He is the co-founder and Chief Executive of Hong Kong Watch, a member of the advisory board of the Stop Uyghur Genocide Campaign, author of three books on Myanmar, a personal memoir – “From Burma to Rome: A Journey into the Catholic Church” (Gracewing, 2015) – and a new book, “The China Nexus: Thirty Years In and Around the Chinese Communist Party’s Tyranny” (Optimum Publishing International, 2022).