| Bogdan Witecki: Dying for the enemy: Greater love hath no man than this 04/07/2001 By Bogdan Witecki Guest column
When I first heard the story of Maximilian Kolbe, I regarded it as just one more war tale about a hero who gave his life in the fight against the Nazis. So many others lost their lives to protect friends and loved ones; what was so special about a Franciscan priest who died to spare the life of another?
A few years later, during my first visit to the museum at Auschwitz, I began to see Kolbe's sacrifice in a different light.
One day in 1941, camp guards randomly selected 10 prisoners to die of starvation, a punishment for the offense of another prisoner who did not come forward. Kolbe, knowing that one of the condemned, Franciszek Gajowniczek, had a wife and a child waiting for his release, offered to take his place in the starvation bunker. After two weeks of starvation, Kolbe died of carbolic acid injection. Franciszek Gajowniczek survived and returned to his family.
It was difficult to imagine, looking at the starvation cell inside Penal Block 11, that these walls had witnessed such a sacrificial act. For a moment, the Death Block had become a source of life. From the midst of fear, pain and hopelessness emerged a man who, driven by profound faith, offered himself for another. He did not hesitate to consider the value of his life, the joy of priestly ministry unto the glory of God, and found it fitting to become a substitute for the life of a father and husband.
"Maximilian did not die," said Pope John Paul II at the canonization of Maximilian Kolbe on Oct. 10, 1982, "but 'gave his life ... for his brother.' "
The uniqueness of St. Maximilian's sacrifice stirs up in us a sense of reverence. Realizing that his may be a display of what the essence of true humanity is, we would like to follow in his footsteps. But the totality of his sacrifice is paralyzing. It makes the act of St. Maximilian unreachable, more than human, almost comparable to the Passion of Jesus.
But only almost.
A closer examination of the Passion of Christ shows that despite the extraordinary character of St. Maximilian's sacrifice, the suffering of Christ is of another, much higher nature.
Where lies the fundamental difference? According to the Apostle Paul, Jesus Christ suffered and died for his enemies. The people for whom Christ died were sinners, and hence the enemies of God.
The essence of this animosity stems from the opposition between sin and holiness. God's holiness not only is never compromised by any association with sin, but it also demands a peculiar response to sin. The Bible refers to this response as the wrath of God. Thus, to speak of Christ, the Son of God, as dying for the enemies of God is a quite unexpected and remarkable revelation. It marks the change in the way God deals with sin.
Where we would expect a display of the wrath of God, we find a revelation of the love of God. Where we would expect the death of the enemies of God, we find the origin of life for the lovers of God. The cross of Christ became the only place where God can truly love sinners without compromising His holiness. Indeed, the cross is the most complete revelation of God Himself. It displays both His holiness and His wrath at the same time. It upholds God's righteousness in His dealing with sin – whether its punishment or forgiveness. It demonstrates God's love for His people.
St. Maximilian's was an extraordinary sacrifice. Even so, it was only a shadow of that of the Master.
"Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person – though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. ... For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life" (Romans 5:7, 8, 10).
Bogdan Witecki is a staff member at Park Cities Presbyterian Church and at Westminster Theological Seminary in Dallas.
|
