Six Weeks

Here we are in Michigan again. We have six weeks at home -- six weeks in which to cram all of our Stateside spring and summer experiences. So, we mow the grass (it was 10" tall due to the unusually hot weather in March/April!), referee soccer, ride bikes, have our teeth cleaned, visit friends, parents, and supporting churches, love on our younger son, grill burgers, prepare lessons for Poland, daily correspond with co-laborers on the field, fast and pray, tackle 1,000's of details involved in overseeing 9 summer interns and 7 short-term teams this summer, clean the house, organize photos, repair our old Chrysler, attend our older son's graduation, help my mother pack all her belongings as she moves to Ohio, call on my dear friend (Holocaust survivor) and her husband, write blogs, read books, enjoy a steak on Mother's Day, celebrate our daughter's birthday and our son/daughter-in-law's first anniversary ... and so it goes. It's a busy time, yet there are also moments to put our feet up, breathe deeply, and meditate on the faithfulness of our God. It is refreshing to walk in the morning through our neighborhood, praying to God, allowing Him to refocus our thoughts, to fine-tune our vision, to remind us of our calling. Yes, we are thankful for these six weeks in the States.

Grappling with Smoleńsk

I can still remember that morning – April 10, 2010. I was at my computer in the basement of our home in Michigan, eager to read about the memorial events scheduled that day in honor of the victims of the Katyń massacre in 1940. As the headlines appeared that the plane en route to the memorial carrying Poland’s President Kaczyński and his wife, plus 94 other top officials, had crashed in Smoleńsk killing all aboard – I sat in stunned disbelief. I read the news over and over again, unable to process the magnitude of the tragedy. I wept.

In the days to come, investigations began amidst a swirl of conspiracy theories. Katyń, that “cursed” place where the Soviets had murdered 22,000 of Poland’s military officers and intelligentsia, had again claimed the lives of Poland’s elite – first in 1940 and now in 2010. Rumors of Russia’s involvement in the crash were hard to dispel amongst a people who have witnessed Soviet deception up close and personal for many years.

It has now been two years since the Smoleńsk tragedy. Official reports have declared the crash an accident based on pilot error as they attempted to land the plane in heavy fog. The plane’s wing was severed upon contact with birch trees, causing the plane to plummet to the ground. For some, though, this report is faulty, or at least insufficient.

When I first heard of the crash, I, too, wondered if Russia could have been involved. It would have been a perfect opportunity to eliminate Poland’s leadership in one strike, many of whom were anti-Russian in sentiment and policy. The negligence of Soviet officials at the crash site was appalling, and apparently there was evidence that didn’t line up with the official explanation. Yet as the months went by and the media repeated the story, I settled in my mind that it was simply a very unfortunate accident and I mourned for Poland’s loss. As far as I knew, most of my friends in Poland had arrived at the same conclusion.

But that shifted this week. I noticed a man on the bus reading a newspaper article about Smoleńsk. I peered over his shoulder and saw a two-page spread with photos from the crash site. I bought a copy at a nearby kiosk and, with the help of my Polish dictionary, waded through the conflicting evidence.

A couple days later some Polish friends invited us for supper. As it was the eve of the 10th, our discussion turned to Smoleńsk. I mentioned that I had read the newspaper article and assumed they would dismiss it as hearsay. To the contrary, and to my surprise, they admitted that they, too, were not convinced by the official report. One woman at the table was personally acquainted with 35 of those who died in the crash and had spoken with a dozen of them the day before the tragedy. Her eyes filled with tears, she simply shook her head. Another young woman claimed that most “thinking adults” in Poland realize there is more to the tragedy than the government is revealing. Everyone knows it, but no one speaks it. She believes that Russia is somehow involved and the truth should be known

And then the real dilemma surfaced. What if the Russians WERE responsible? What if they were to blame for this tragedy, causing the death of Poland’s president, first lady, and top officials? Is Poland in a position to wage war against Russia? If not, then who would come to Poland’s aid? How does the “little guy” hold the “big boy” accountable when all the other “big boys” are looking the other way? What price would Poland be willing to pay for the truth to be known and the guilty to be held responsible? Is there a point at which principle takes priority over peace?

For me, as an American, it was a strange and uncomfortable place in which I found myself – grappling with the issues from the “little guy” perspective.

I am not saying that Russia was responsible. It may indeed have been the tragic result of human error, as per the official report. Many Poles have resigned themselves to the fact that the complete truth may never be known. Others have waged a battle for the truth, sadly resorting to extreme measures of slander and accusation in an effort to promote a political agenda For the sake of the grieving friends and family and the nation of Poland as a whole, I hope the full truth will soon be revealed so that healing can begin. May all that is hidden be brought to the light and may those in authority have the courage, wisdom, and grace to agree with the truth and to administer fair justice.

The Villa

A couple of months ago my friend in the States recommended that I read a book entitled, “The Zookeeper’s Wife.” It is the story of Jan Żabiński (zoo director) and his wife, Antonina, who hid and rescued more than 300 Jews at the Warsaw Zoo during WWII. They lived in the villa and although the Nazi soldiers had an ammunition base next door, they managed to house and protect the Jewish people right under their noses. Some hid in their home, some in the pheasant house or other animal cages and enclosures. Of course, this placed Jan and Antonina and their son, Rys, in grave danger. The Żabiński’s are thus listed amongst Israel’s “Righteous Among the Nations.” I have read extensively about the Holocaust, but this book, drawing primarily from Antonina’s diary, lent a unique perspective specific to the suffering experienced in Warsaw during the Nazi invasion.

I finished the book only a few days ago. The book implies that the villa is still standing, so I was eager to visit the zoo during our stay in Warsaw. Yesterday (Easter Monday) Dave and I awakened to blue skies and lots of sunshine, so it seemed the perfect day to visit the zoo. As soon as we entered the grounds, I headed straight for the large wooden sign displaying the “plan” of the zoo. Yes, we wanted to see the lions, tigers, and bears (oh my!), but my main goal was to visit the villa – the very place where Jan and Antonina lived and so bravely provided a safe haven for the Jewish people. Well, you can imagine my surprise when no villa appeared on the map.

We decided to follow the suggested route and before long we were "oo"-ing and "ahh"-ing at the condors and anacondas. We were glad to have finally found Nemo, but there was no villa in sight. I approached a young woman selling ice cream next to the aquarium. When I asked her about the villa, she said she had never heard of such a place. I was confused.

On we went … jaguars, giraffes, elephants … but where was the villa? Inside one of the animal houses was a nice gift shop. “Finally,” I thought, “a zoo worker who can direct us to the villa.” I went to the counter and asked, “Excuse me, ma’am, but can you please tell me where the villa is?” She answered, “Nie ma” (it’s not here). I went on to explain that I had just read a book about the zoo which described a villa where the Żabiński’s lived. She repeated, “Nie ma.” When I told her that I had read on internet that the villa was still standing, she became a bit impatient with me and repeated emphatically, “Nie ma.” So, I left the shop … disappointed.

As it was a lovely day, I resolved to make the most of it, villa or no villa. We enjoyed strolling through the park, laughing at the antics of the monkeys, watching the sea lions do lunch, and feeding the little goats. But my disappointment lingered, creating a cloud in my spirit on this otherwise cloudless day. Just as we were approaching the exit and were about to leave, I noticed a white building off to the left behind some trees. It was an unassuming place off the main path, and unlike all the other buildings, it obviously was not a home for animals. It looked like it may have been a dwelling at one time – two stories, windows across the front, a terrace on top. No other guests at the zoo would notice it unless, like me, they were searching for a villa. On a whim, I took a picture of the building and then we left to catch our tram.

An hour or so later, we arrived back in our room. I immediately got online and googled, “Villa Warsaw Zoo.” Within seconds, a picture appeared on the screen – it was the white building that I had taken a picture of just before leaving the zoo! I was shocked! WHAT? It WAS the villa! Yet, as far as we know, there were no signs, no indication that this was the place where Jan and Antonina had lived, administered the zoo, and rescued hundreds of Jews during the War. And not one person I had spoken to at the zoo knew anything about it! Nikt nie wie nic! (No one does not know nothing!)

Later in the evening I recounted these events with some friends who have lived in Warsaw all their lives. One woman remembered taking care of Jan Żabiński’s dog years ago and now she is a frequent visitor at the zoo. Yet neither she nor anyone else knew anything about the villa or what the Żabiński’s had done during the War.

I am still trying to process all of this. Of course, there are memorials throughout Poland that document the events of WWII and their significance for both Poles and Jews. Still, too often the realities of the past are neglected. Little evidence remains to remind this nation that 3.4 million Jewish people once walked these same streets and called Poland “home.” I have sensed a denial, sometimes an apathy, often an ignorance regarding the Jewish presence in Poland’s past. Unfortunately, it’s more convenient to ignore what once was and to go on with life as it now is.

Fortunately, though, there ARE those who want to preserve the past. Books have been written, films produced, documentaries created. I only hope one day a large sign will stand before the villa in the Warsaw Zoo, telling the story of Jan and Antonina Żabiński and their valiant role in saving many lives. It is good to remember those who have suffered and to give honor to those to whom it is due.

Training 2012 - Ukraine

This past weekend I (David) participated in "Training 2012" hosted by the Turiysk Church in Ukraine. More than 30 camp counselors gathered to be trained for the summer camp program. The theme for the weekend was “Two are Better than One” (Ecclesiastes 4:9). How to work together, understanding roles and responsibilities, walking in unity, prayer, and forgiveness, and most importantly, knowing Jesus as the “humble King who became sin for us” were all key teachable points. We participated in some simulation games to develop leadership skills (see pic). We worshiped, prayed, studied the Word, and enjoyed Ukrainian food and sweet fellowship. The camps this summer will be better served because of this weekend set apart for their preparation and development. Our prayer is that families, youth and children will encounter God and experience His forgiveness for the first time in their lives. Please join us in this prayer.

Beyond Tradition

Easter is a big deal in Poland. Since the majority of Poles are Catholic, this holiday is one of the most holy and most observed. Special Easter markets appear in the city squares, with special flowers, painted eggs, cakes and cheeses, holiday greeting cards, and more. David and I enjoyed such a market in Kraków earlier this week. This Easter weekend, though, I'm alone in Warsaw as Dave is now in Ukraine. On Friday I attended a special "Great Friday" service at the Christian church on Puławska street. I later took the tram to the one synagogue still standing in Warsaw to buy matzos and that evening celebrated the sacrifice of our Passover Lamb. "Great Saturday" found me in Old Town Warsaw, amidst the lines of people streaming through the churches with food baskets in hand, seeking the priest's blessing. Each church uniquely displayed the body of Jesus, wrapped in linen, lying in the grave. Beggars sat in the doorways, huddled in the cold, hands cupped for alms. I met a few of them, and now pray for them by name. Today, on Resurrection Sunday, we gathered early to sing praise to our Redeemer who lives forever. Afterward, I took the tram to be in the city. The sky was cloudy, the wind cold, the city grey. The streets were unusually quiet -- the only ones out were the homeless, or a few on their way to a family gathering. I was glad to see the city shut down -- knowing families were together, honoring this special day. I pray, though, that this day goes beyond tradition in the hearts of the Polish people. I pray that the resurrection of our Lord will be a vibrant reality that brings hope and life to this nation. He is risen, He is risen, indeed. And He is coming again ... oh yes, He is coming soon. Lift up your eyes, O Poland -- your Redeemer is near!