One of things I want to do with this blog is talk directly
about my ancestors and tell their stories. I think with all the shit going on
in the world, and the stark divisions in the U.S. coming to a head this
election day, it is the perfect time to talk about Cousin Max.
Old Frater T has been having a shitty week and I’m glad I
wrote out a few of these blog posts in advance. But I’ve run out of backlog,
and this one is coming to you raw. I wish I had time to go into the Cult of the
Saints as the continuation of ancestor veneration in Europe, and the nuances of
working with spirits of a faith that I have all but completely relinquished.
But I don’t have time for that. Let’s just talk about Max.
That’s Saint Maximillian Kolbe, my fourth cousin, the first
saint canonized by John Paul II, another fellow Polack. I don’t know what made
my grandmother happier, having a Polish pope in her lifetime, or having that
pope declare a member of our ancestry a saint. Her love of JP II was so intense
she would take pictures of the TV whenever he was on it.
I’m talking about Max today because Max fought Nazis. He was
by no means a perfect man, and his hate-on for the freemasons is upsetting. His
utter devotion to Mary was inspiring, but we disagree heartily on my view of
Mary as vestigial goddess worship. I have been known to stop at shrines to Mary
and say prayers to Babalon (I can feel Max cringing right now.) The links are
there if you look deep enough. While Mary has been seen as a virgin since the
earliest days of the Church, not all early Christians agreed with that
perspective. Many Christian gnostics saw her as a representation of Sophia. I’ll
let you do that research yourself.
Max and I agree on two important things. If you can help
relieve suffering in the world, do it. Also, fuck Nazis. I am proud to share
with you the story of Max’s martyrdom taken from his biography at the Jewish
Virtual Library.
“During the Second World War he (Maximillian Kolbe) provided
shelter to refugees from Greater Poland, including 2,000 Jews whom he hid from
Nazi persecution in his friary in Niepokalanów. He was also active as a radio
amateur, with Polish call letters SP3RN, vilifying Nazi activities through his
reports.
On February 17, 1941 he was arrested by the German Gestapo
and imprisoned in the Pawiak prison, and on May 25 was transferred to Auschwitz
I as prisoner #16670.
In July 1941 a man from Kolbe’s barracks vanished, prompting
SS-Hauptsturmführer Karl Fritzsch, the deputy camp commander, to pick 10 men
from the same barracks to be starved to death in Block 13 (notorious for
torture), in order to deter further escape attempts. (The man who had
disappeared was later found drowned in the camp latrine.) One of the selected
men, Franciszek Gajowniczek, cried out, lamenting his family, and Kolbe
volunteered to take his place.
During the time in the cell he led the men in songs and
prayer. After three weeks of dehydration and starvation, only Kolbe and three
others were still alive. Finally he was murdered with an injection of carbolic
acid.”
Probably part of the reason I am social worker today is my
family’s belief in helping others. Even if Max and I argue about just about
everything else, we agree that if you are honestly devoting your life to easing
the suffering of others, you’re okay in our book, no matter what gods you are
calling on.
And fuck Nazis.
Max has become the patriarch of my family’s ancestor
spirits. They often, but not always, defer to him, and trust his judgement when
representing my family in this world and across the veil. It is always Max I
bring with me when I leave home to represent for my ancestor spirits.
One of my fondest memories is visiting his shrine here in the
U.S. in Marytown, IL. I wandered the beautiful church and grounds, inspired by
the spiritual presence there, lighting candles and watching the monks’ afternoon
prayer service. I took the ancestor flag I made for him and touched it to the
vessel containing some of his remains, hair and fingernail clippings said to be
kept by the camp barber at Auschwitz. Yes folks, Frater T is in possession of a
bona fide third-degree relic of the Catholic Church.
I can’t seem to make peace with my living relatives. But at
least I can make peace with my dead ones. I just have some hard-lines I will
not cross. Like tolerating Nazis.
I hope this can be an inspiration to those who look back at
their ancestors and think they can never work with them because of spiritual
differences. If you can find just two things to agree on, the rest can be
negotiated.
