Echoes

THE DAYS PASSED QUICKLY FOR AMADEA, FILLED WITH prayer and work. She was assigned to the kitchen and the laundry most of the time, although she worked in the garden once with Edith Stein. They had worked side by side in silence, and Amadea was just happy to be near her, and smiled at her from time to time. The thought came to her later that morning, in her examination of conscience, that she should have no personal interest in her. She avoided her thereafter, in an effort to clear her mind of the thought and what she knew of her, and admired in her, from the past. Sister Teresa Benedicta a Cruce was nothing more than one of her sisters in Carmel now, and not to be thought of as anything other than that.

She had regular letters from her mother and Daphne, and some small sense of what was going on in the world. The Nuremberg Race Laws against the Jews had been decreed in September, which made things even more difficult for them now. It gave Amadea something more to pray for. Her mother sent the entire convent oranges at Christmastime, which was an enormous treat. And in January the sisters voted to allow Amadea to begin her novitiate and bestowed on her the Holy Habit of Carmel, which felt like the most important day in Amadea's life. She was allowed to see her mother and Daphne in a brief visit after that. She beamed at them through the small grille, and her mother cried when she saw her in her habit, as Daphne stared at her.

“You don't look like you,” Daphne said solemnly. She was almost scared of her, but not quite. And Beata saw instantly how happy she was, which nearly broke her heart.

“I'm not ‘me.’ I'm a nun.” Amadea smiled at them. She could hardly wait to take her new name sometime in the coming year. “You both look wonderful.”

“So do you,” Beata said, staring at her, embracing her with her eyes. The three of them stuck their fingers through the grille to touch each other, but it was frustrating more than satisfying. Beata ached to hold her daughter in her arms, and knew she never would again.

“Are you coming home?” Daphne asked her hopefully, with enormous eyes, as Amadea smiled.

“I am home, sweetheart. How is school?”

“All right,” Daphne said forlornly. Life wasn't the same without her. And their house was deathly quiet, although Beata was making an effort to spend more time with her. But they were both sad all the time. The house without Amadea seemed lifeless now. The spirit that had kept them all going and filled their days with sunlight was now here.

The visit was over all too quickly. And they didn't see her again until late in the year. Daphne was eleven and a half by then. Beata had taken her to the Olympics that summer, which had been terrific. Daphne had particularly loved the swimming, and had written all about it to her sister. By the time they saw her for that second time, she had become Sister Teresa of Carmel. Amadea de Vallerand no longer existed.

The following summer Sister Teresa of Carmel asked to make her temporary profession, which would bind her to the order by vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. She was accepted by vote of the chapter and allowed to do so. She was still six years away from final vows. But already after her temporary profession, she felt as though she had been a nun all her life, after only two years. It was 1937.

The news of the world was disturbing that year, as Jews had been banned from countless professions, like teaching and dentistry. They could no longer be accountants. It was as though little by little Hitler's regime wanted to squeeze them out. They were being methodically removed from every arena, one by one. It gave the sisters of Carmel something to pray for. They had a lot to pray about these days.

In March of the following year, 1938, Nazi troops entered Austria and annexed it to Germany. The SS was put in charge of Jewish affairs, and a hundred thousand Jews in Vienna were told to emigrate.

The following month, in Germany, Jews were told to register their wealth and property. Beata couldn't help wondering how this would affect her father and brothers. As far as she knew, they still owned and ran the bank.

Things got markedly worse over the summer, not long after Amadea renewed her temporary profession. By then she was working almost full-time in the garden, and sewing vestments for the church at night, according to her letters to her mother. In July, any Jewish person over the age of fifteen was told to apply for an identity card from the police, to be shown on demand to any member of the police, at any time. Jewish doctors were forbidden to practice. With the same regulations against dentists the previous year, most of Germany no longer had a doctor or a dentist, and countless Jews in serious professions were out of work.