St. Maximilian Kolbe and the Way of Rising to the Occasion

One of the things I like about the stories of more contemporary Saints is that we see how they were, in fact, real human beings, just like you and me. The old hagiographies tend to smooth over rough edges, presenting an idealized image of holy men and women that seem impossible to ever match. But once we come to the twentieth century and so much is in the public record, such white-washing is a lot harder. Today I’d like to talk about a twentieth-century Saint whom I probably wouldn’t have liked much in his life, and yet, who, when push came to shove, showed up for the people around him — even those whom he considered to be his enemies — which first cost him his freedom and eventually his life: St. Maximilian Kolbe, the “Martyr of Charity.”

Maximilian Maria Kolbe was born in 1894 in a region of Poland which was at the time under Russian control. He professed his initial religious vows as a teenager and went to Rome to study. This was a time of political radicalism, and while in Rome he was shocked by anti-Pope and anti-Catholic protests. The First World War broke out while he was in Rome and his father was killed by Russian authorities for joining Polish freedom fighters. Returning to a newly independent Poland after the War, Kolbe founded a Roman Catholic magazine and printing press. He also founded monasteries in Poland and was a missionary in East Asia in the mid-1930s, before once again returning to Poland focus on writing and printing.

And this is where things get tricky. At some point, Kolbe began believing in conspiracy theories, particularly involving the trifecta of Communism, Freemasonry, and Judaism, and in the 1930s, his publications were allied with an illegal, far-right, antisemitic political movement in Poland. Even if he may not have been an extremist, he certainly associated with extremists and helped to promote their agenda. But as with everyone in Europe one way or another, Kolbe’s life changed when the German army invaded Poland in 1939. Thereafter, he proved that, as we should all hope is true in our own lives, his faith was better than his politics. He repeatedly rose to the occasion, choosing the dangerous way of the cross over his personal comfort.

Early in the German occupation, he was given the opportunity to sign the Deutsche Volksliste, which would have given him full citizenship rights in exchange for identifying as a German rather than as a Pole, but he refused to sign. Later, his monastery sheltered refugees displaced by the war, including hiding up to two thousand Jews, at both great personal risk and cost. (Later, when Kolbe’s canonization was being questioned after his political writings were put under the microscope, one of the friars attributed the monastery’s shelter of Jews directly to Kolbe’s intervention.) He continued publishing religious materials but these began to take on a stronger anti-Fascist tone. The monastery was finally shut down in 1941 and Kolbe was arrested with four brothers and imprisoned, and he was eventually transferred to Auschwitz. There he continued to act as a priest for imprisoned Roman Catholics and was beaten for his troubles. Finally, after German officers chose ten prisoners to be executed, Kolbe volunteered to replace one of them. He was killed on August 14, 1941 as a “martyr of charity.”

So what are we to make of the way of St. Maximilan Kolbe? The world is a complex place, and no matter how strongly we may hold on to our political or social convictions, we have to be willing to hold them with an open hand and act always out of the demands of the Gospel. And Maximilian Kolbe did just that. He was likely a far-right agitator, a believer in conspiracy theories, and antisemitic. And yet, when he was put to the test, time and time again, he set his politics and personal safety aside for the lives of others. He could have just signed the paper and saved himself as a German in Poland, but he refused. He could have turned away refugees from his monastery doors, but he welcomed them. He could have called the police on the Jewish people who sought refuge with him, but he offered them shelter. And, he could have held his tongue as his fellow inmates were killed, but instead he volunteered to take one’s place. He rose to the occasion, repeatedly, for the sake of Christ and the Gospel. And that is inspiring. It’s also good news for all of us. Because we are all sinners in one way or another; we all fall short of the glory and perfection of God. But God can still use us, transform us, work in and through us, for the life of the world. And for that I am grateful.