Wartime Rescue of Jews by the Polish Catholic Clergy

I moved into the old age home. …

There was, in contrast to all other inmates, a young woman occupying the room next to mine. She shared it with a twelve-year-old girl. They also, like myself, preferred to take their meals in their room.

She had access to underground news sheets and she knew that all of those deported died in gas chambers. She spoke authoritatively, leaving no room for arguments. But I did not want to believe her because I wanted to find my child alive.

In my room I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window. I did not hear the knock at the door. Father Bensch came in.

I senses at once that he had something important to say. I pulled another chair to the window and motioned my guest to sit down.

“I have been recalled to Lublin Catholic University to resume teaching Canon Law.” …

“What are your plans?” Father Bensch asked. “You can stay here as long as you like but you’re too young a woman to remain in an old age home indefinitely.” …

“What do you think of resuming your education?” Father Bensch asked.

“Am I not too old for that?”

“No one is ever too old to learn. Come to Lublin and register at Lublin University. If I remember correctly you wanted to become a journalist.”

…

I talk about my unforgettable friend Father Teodor Bensch who hid several Jews in his chapel and saved them from deportation to death camps.
Not all rescue efforts in convents and institutions run by nuns ended so fortunately. Helena Szereszewska describes her experiences in a nursing home in Warsaw, St. Roch’s Shelter for invalids and the incurably sick, operated by the Felician Sisters, where she passed as Alicja Majewska. After the Germans liquidated the ghetto and requisitioned the Sisters’ building for a hospital, their institution was moved to a former Jewish students’ hostel on the corner of Leszno and Żelazna Streets. The institution was staffed by 16 nuns, and an old priest resided there too. The Felician Sisters took in many Jews and Jewish converts, among them Helena Szereszewska, Zofia Łoziewicz, Maria Zawadzka, Mrs. Makowska, Mrs. Kosińska, Mrs. Mech, Mrs. Kowalska, Mr. & Mrs. Binder, and Mrs. Kozubowska. However, a conspiracy of silence prevailed about what was an open secret. Szereszewska eventually had to leave the institution after her daughter, Anna Maria (Marysia), and her grandson, Robert (Maciuś) Szereszewski, came to join her, because they not fit the resident profile. They thus avoided the tragedy that befell its residents during the Warsaw Uprising of August 1944. On August 14, the Germans executed most of the 180 elderly and sick residents of the institution. The nuns and priest were allowed to go to Kraków, whereas the lay staff was taken to Germany for slave labour. (Helena Szereszewska, Memoirs from Occupied Warsaw, 1940–1945 [London and Portland, Oregon: Vallentine Mitchell, 1997], pp.292–377.)
I lived at Lwowska Street until the beginning of June 1943, until the day I received my identity card.

Mrs Grabowska had a confessor in the church [Church of the Holy Saviour] on Zbawiciela Square. She went there once a week and sought his advice in everything.

‘There are two women living with me, a mother and daughter. They’re Jewish. I want to get the mother taken in somewhere.’

‘Nuns are the best,’ advised the priest. ‘The Ursulines or the Felicians. The Felicians have got a place on Leszno Street now.’

‘Shall I tell the Reverend Mother the truth?’

‘Don’t say anything. I’ll take the lie on my own conscience. Give the woman these books to contemplate from me.’ …

The Reverend Mother was sitting at a desk.

‘I’ve come on behalf of my tenant, Maria Majewska [Szereszewska’s daughter’s assumed name],’ said Mrs Grabowska. ‘Her mother has a bad heart because of her terrible wartime experiences. She’d like the sisters to look after her.’

‘Tell her to come with her mother,’ said the nun. ‘We’ve always got room.’ …