All Saints Day

All Saints Day:1

November 1st, 20042

Inowroclaw, Poland3

What is Halloween? It is a time of year when we, in America, ridicule the dead and poke fun. We dress up as zombies and people who have been gruesomely murdered. You do realize we are one of the only countries, if not the only one, that practices this on the Holiday. Mexico has a Day of the Dead, where Mexicans remember their dead and honor their graves. I would like to bring up one form of the holiday in particular though.4

In Poland, they have a holiday on November 1st called All Saints Day. It is really a beautiful holiday no matter what way you look at it, whether spiritually or physically. Poles spend the day in the cemetery. They meet at the graves of their deceased family and talk about life with their living family members. Everyone here walks slow, no stores are open, nobody goes to work, it is the most peaceful day I have ever witnessed. Graves are decorated with flowers and candles. During the daylight hours it is a time of thinking about your specific family member or members. Once darkness strikes it becomes the most amazing thing I have ever laid eyes on.5

We walked through the cemetery at night on November 1st. There were no streetlights, flashlights, the moon only partway showing, yet there was a radiant glow that reflected around the entire cemetery, lighting every grave. The candles placed during the day, sat on each and every grave. If an entire family was buried, strangers and friends set candles. As we walked through, there was one grave in particular that first caught my attention. It had no light shining from it. I set my candle on the grave and dedicated it to my Grandfather, knowing it would light the path for the woman underneath the candle. It was beautiful. The light, lit with my match, fueled by my love for my Grandfather grew and suddenly the entire grave was lit. I felt rather proud of myself. As I turned however,  I saw many other “light-less” graves being lit by strangers, for the buried. I shed a tear.6

All the different colored candles and flickering lights attracted us. We walked the rest of the cemetery and continued to the next. We went to three cemeteries that night. At the end of the third cemetery. At the end of the third cemetery we turned left on the path. I looked up and a huge sculpture loomed ahead. My attention was grabbed, I could see it perfectly, as it looked like it was on fire. As we walked toward the statue, we passed many uniform graves. I read the name on each one. The shrine was dedicated to the soldiers who served and died in the first World War. The names on the crosses were few. Not many people were known. Many families lost a son, husband, uncle, brother, and they will never know where he lies.7

My mouth hung open as we stood in front of the statue dedicated to the soldiers. The “fire” was a sea of candles. It seemed everyone placed a candle under the statue. I watched as a boy, maybe four years old, placed a candle amongst the others, then ran back to his Mom and hugged her around the knees. This is such an important holiday.8

Films and T.V. shows are completely misleading. Directors and actors portray World Wars as heroic, romantic events. True, many men and women were extremely heroic in the two World Wars and in all wars, but where is the romance?9

I personally have read about wars and as much history as I could read. I even went to Washington D.C., there I saw memorials dedicated to the men and women who served in our Armed Forces and died. My mother took me to the Holocaust Museum. In the museum and at the memorials I shed my tears. Most likely, any one who visits those places sheds tears. Reading novels and watching films can not even compare to the real thing however.10

Many people hope one day they will be able to visit the dreaded death camp Auschwitz, whose very name strikes fear into most hearts. I too had that dream. I still do, but I am going to tread lighter than I would have before.11

As we continued our walk amongst the buried soldiers, we came across the World War II grave sites. It appeared normal enough. I felt bad, sure, but I had seen graves and memorials before. I read each and every name and year of death.12

Suddenly, the year of death, even the day of death, remained constant. I looked at the names, there was a surprising amount of women names. My host father, told me this story.13

On October 22, 1939, German troops entered Inowroclaw. The Nazis rounded up all of the intellectuals in Inowroclaw. They took them all to the prison and shot them. The massacre took place on October 22 and continued onto the 23. I focused my eyes on the stone and I saw my breath. There was another stone that we came to. It said, on the October 22 massacre, 56 people were killed. The stone had the word “Zakladnik” written on it. “Zakladnik” is the Polish word for “collateral”. Among the 56 people murdered by the Nazis, the Vice President and President of Inowroclaw were killed. We read all of the names. There were two men who’s surnames are the names of streets around the city. The Nazis killed the entire town, anyone who had any education that was “special” or was of importance.14

The movies can never, ever explain this to you. I will try, but I don’t know how well I will do, or if it will make sense to you. I will give it a shot. When you read about the men and women who die during wars, the children too, you feel sorry… but for whom? I, honestly, did not truly think about the individuals, the innocents killed during (for example) World War II. How can one think of every individual? As I said earlier, I went to the Holocaust Museum, I saw the World War II memorial, the Vietnam memorial. We as Americans, are extremely lucky. We have never had to see the horrors or war so close up. When I chose Poland as my exchange country, I knew I would learn first hand about the horrors of war, I wanted to. Poland was a major battle field during World War II. I thought I was ready.15

When I read those two stones depicting the story of the city I AM LIVING IN, it scared me. This is not a fear I want any of you to ever feel, although to grow, I think we must. The war has long since been over, but for the first time in my life, it became reality. I went with my class and we visited the prison where the massacre occurred, without even knowing it’s history. I have walked the streets named after people murdered by the Nazis, I touched the gravestones of innocents who were intentionally killed. I watched my breath as it blew past my face in the cold and I felt my knees shake. I know my eyes were wider than they have ever been in my life. I could say nothing. No words felt right. Being there, seeing it, touching it…16

No film, even by the best director on Earth, could explain to you how that feels. I am living in a country that has such a bloody past. We Americans think that we have had it hard with all the wars we’ve fought. This is true, we have had it tough, but never the same lever of brutality as in Poland. I walked away from those graves with a heavy heart. I left part of my soul back there, it is lighting one of the candles underneath the statue dedicated to the unknown soldiers, who died to defend a land that they called “home”. I can not even begin to imagine what that could be like.17

Auschwitz. In Polish, Oswiecim. The name sends chills up my spine. I still want to visit there. I read in one of my guide books, “It is a massive graveyard. No visitor can leave unmoved.” This is true, I am positive no person can enter Auschwitz and leave the same person. But, I went to a single graveyard, it could have been in any town, in any city, in Poland, and I left a different person. War has become a reality to me, not just a heroic dream, where the good guys always win. I know what you are “thinking, it is a reality to me already, you must be insane!” I thought it was a reality to me before. I thought I understood war better than most people, I swear to you, I left that graveyard a different person. Nothing is such a reality as seeing and living.18

In the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C., there is a wall with a list of all the town in Poland whose entire Jewish population was wiped out. Inowroclaw is listed.19

Maybe you are wondering why I switched from talking about All Saints Day to War and experience. The truth is, I never switched topics. All Saints Day is about remembering the dead, not just our own families. Remembering ones own family becomes the main priority, but life, after death is what we are really remembering. When I looked on that shrine to the men and women of Inowroclaw during World War I and II, I was thinking about them. But most of all, I was thinking about what they did. As I walk through Inowroclaw now, I pause at the street corners and read the names of some roads. I stroll past the prison, knowing it’s secret, but not afraid. We must move on from the horrors of the past, always remember, always know, always be thinking, but move on. We must learn from our mistakes and continue living. 20

All Saints Day is an incredibly powerful holiday. Sure, you can look at it as, just another holiday, I will pray and cry and go home. Or you can wander the cemetery on the night November 1st. You can gaze into the candles, read the names on the graves, pray, remember, and learn. Knowing what I know now, makes Halloween seem, well… pointless.21