In 1945, Europe emerged from the Second World War ravaged, wounded, and divided. Between Germany and the Poland, Relations were then marked by a heavy history: the invasion of September 1939, the brutal occupation, the millions of deaths, the deportations, the destruction of Warsaw, and then the forced population displacements after the war.
Entire generations have grown up in pain, mistrust, and mutual hatred. In sermons as well as in the streets, Germany evokes the loss of its eastern territories, the Poland, the suffering of its martyred people. Two Christian nations, though neighbors, seem condemned to live in resentment and silence.
And yet, twenty years later the war, Within the solemn walls of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, a small group of Polish bishops dared an unexpected gesture: extending a hand to their German brothers.
The Second Vatican Council, a framework for a new boldness
The year is 1965. The Council Vatican It is living through a decisive moment. The Catholic Church is exploring a new way of being in the world: dialogue, openness, mutual understanding. Bishops from all over the world are reflecting on peace and to the unity of men.
In this atmosphere of hope, the Polish bishops — led by Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński and a certain Bishop Karol Wojtyła, future pope John Paul II — decided to write a letter to their German counterparts. The idea came primarily from one man: Bishop Bolesław Kominek, then auxiliary bishop of Wrocław. He himself had experienced the war, the occupation and the wounds of exile. But he firmly believes that faith must precede the memory of offenses.
In this historic letter, they write: «We grant and ask for forgiveness.» A simple, almost disarming formula, yet of immense power. For it is the very heart of the Gospel—and yet, one of the rarest gestures in politics as in history.
A letter that changed Europe
The symbolic significance of the message
The "Letter from the Polish Bishops to the German Bishops" of November 18, 1965, is not a diplomatic document, but a spiritual statement. Nevertheless, it would have considerable political consequences. This gesture initially provoked a shock in Poland. At the time, the country was still under a communist regime, dominated by Soviet power, which exploited memories of the war to justify his takeover. The idea of extending a hand to the Germans is shocking and scandalous. The bishops are accused of "betraying the nation".
Despite the criticism, the letter circulated. It passed through chancelleries, parishes, and homes. German Catholics discovered in it an unexpected nobility. In a context where borders had not yet been recognized, this message transcended political calculations. It spoke of inner conversion, of healing memories, of a shared future.
The German response: gratitude and hope
On December 5, 1965, the German bishops responded. Their letter, understated and deeply respectful, paid tribute to the magnanimity of the Polish gesture. They expressed their gratitude and, in turn, promised to work to ensure that "the evil spirit of hatred will never again separate our hands.".
This two-way exchange marks the beginning of a long but irreversible process. A new chapter begins. This spiritual dialogue between two episcopates becomes the moral foundation for reconciliation between the two nations.
It was also the prelude to political rapprochement: in the 1970s, Willy Brandt knelt in Warsaw before the monument to the heroes of the ghetto — a gesture made possible, in part, by the 1965 letter.
The visionary role of Bishop Bolesław Kominek
The unassuming protagonist of this story is Bolesław Kominek. Born in 1903, he lived through the shifting border between the two countries. In Wrocław—formerly German (Breslau)—he guides a rebuilt population, a mix of long-time residents and refugees from the east. He understands that this city symbolizes both the tragic and the reconcilable aspects of history.
For him, writing this letter means giving Wrocław a future: no longer a city of wounds, but a crossroads of peace.
Six decades later, it is in front of his monument, in this same city, that the Polish and German Churches meet to celebrate this anniversary of light.
Wrocław 2025: Celebrating a Living Heritage
An emotionally charged anniversary
On November 18 and 19, 2025, Wrocław will once again become a symbol. Near the monument dedicated to Cardinal Kominek, citizens, the faithful, historians, and religious leaders will gather to commemorate the 60th anniversary of this prophetic message. A solemn Mass at St. John the Baptist Cathedral will open the celebrations, attended by the presidents of the Polish and German Bishops' Conferences, Bishop Tadeusz Wojda and Bishop Georg Bätzing, as well as the Apostolic Nuncio, Archbishop Antonio Guido Filipazzi.
In his homily, the Archbishop of Wrocław, Mgr. Józef Piotr Kupny, reminded everyone that this gesture of 1965 should not remain a static memory: «We want to tell our nations, Europe, and the whole world how important reconciliation based on truth, dialogue, and forgiveness is important.»
The bells ring out over the old town, rebuilt after the war. In the Gothic nave, Polish and German hymns blend together. Outside, young people lay flowers at the foot of the monument. The emotion is palpable. Wrocław is no longer just a city of rebuilt structures: it is a symbol of what Europe can be when faith precedes fear.
Prayers, songs and ecumenical dialogues
At 5 p.m., an ecumenical prayer service brought together believers of all faiths—Catholics, Protestants, Orthodox—in a nearby church, to the sound of Taizé chants. An image that would have seemed unimaginable during the time of the Iron Curtain: Poles and Germans praying together for peace.
This moment testifies to the spiritual fruitfulness of the gesture of 1965. Forgiveness It is no longer a word of theology, but a lived experience, transmitted, renewed.
Alongside these celebrations, exhibitions recount the history of the letter, the life of Bishop Kominek, the memory of the victims, and the slow rebuilding of trust. Concerts bring together young musicians from both countries. At the Pontifical Faculty of Theology, a conference explores the theme: "Reconciliation and the Future of Christian Europe." A comprehensive program to remind us that this reconciliation is not yet complete: it is constantly evolving.
Pope Leo XIV pays homage to Rome
Two days earlier, from the Vatican, THE Pope Leo XIV (fictional within the context of the reported scenario) evokes this 60th anniversary with emotion after the Angelus. Greeting the Polish pilgrims present in St. Peter's Square, he recalls that this letter was "one of the founding texts of contemporary Europe".
This is not just a diplomatic statement, but a recognition: reconciliation between Poles and Germans has become a spiritual key to European unity.
The message for today's Europe
Forgiveness, a political and spiritual act
In a world fractured by new wars, the message of 1965 takes on a unique resonance. Forgiving is not forgetting; it is choosing not to remain a prisoner of the past.
What the Polish bishops accomplished was an act that was both evangelical and political: breaking the cycle of hatred, not through negotiation, but through grace. They laid the foundations for a reconciled memory, which is essential today for understanding modern Europe.
Germany and the Poland, Former enemies, they now collaborate closely within the European Union. The region's development, cultural exchanges, town twinning – all of this has its roots in the 1965 letter.
An inspiration for a Europe in search of unity
At a time when the continent is facing other divisions — economic, migratory, cultural — this memory reminds us that unity cannot be decreed: it is built, patiently, from courageous and selfless gestures.
Cardinal Kominek liked to say that "reconciliation is not the policy of the weak, but the strength of Christians." A phrase that could serve as a motto for Europe today.
The testimony of the martyrs, the root of peace
Just weeks before this commemoration, the Church beatified eleven priests who died under Nazism and Communism—nine Polish Salesians in the Auschwitz and Dachau concentration camps, and two diocesan priests murdered for their faith. This beatification, to be celebrated in October 2025, serves as a reminder of the price at which reconciliation was achieved.
These lives given for the Gospel embody the same logic of forgiveness: that which prefers charity to resentment, loyalty to Christ with a spirit of vengeance.
Their memory directly links the 1965 letter to the spirituality of lived forgiveness.
Their testimony, far more than a historical episode, is an invitation to continue along the path they have laid out.
A flame to pass on
Sixty years after this "letter of peace," the words "we grant and ask for forgiveness" resonate as a renewed appeal. They remind us that peace It is not born from a treaty, but from a transformed heart.
This gesture, born of a time of suffering, demonstrates how faith can liberate history. Thanks to it, Europe was able to believe in genuine reconciliation. Thanks to it, too, generations of men and women have learned that an outstretched hand is worth a thousand military victories.
In Wrocław, the bells will continue to ring long after the ceremonies are over. Each one still carries the echo of that promise made sixty years ago: "We grant and ask for forgiveness." A promise that, more than ever, remains the moral foundation of Europe.
