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| Edith Stein as a young woman |
Recently, I’ve been lugging around a fairly sizable book; one comprising nearly 500 pages of readable text. If I’m to meet a friend for lunch, this book has come along, too, in the event my guest is late and I find myself with a few moments to steal away and read part of a chapter. I’ve been seen at the YMCA with it as well — on an exercise bike or treadmill — and in doctor’s offices. The copy I have is borrowed but marked with sticky tabs so I can return to the pages most striking.
You could say that I’m studying the book’s author, Edith Stein. The work is her unfinished autobiography entitled, Edith Stein: Life in a Jewish Family 1891-1916. It is unfinished because she was separated from the project during World War II. The blue and white cover is rather plain, nothing I would have picked up on looks alone, but I feel as if this book were one of my dearest friends right now. And if not the actual book, the person whose thoughts have been woven throughout its insides.
Recently I was asked which three people I’d like to meet if given a chance, and Edith was among my three choices. After all, for the past month I’ve been journeying with her, from Jewish girl to atheist philosopher to Catholic nun, and finally, on a train bound for Auschwitz, where she and her sister Rosa perished together by way of a gas chamber.
The ending is difficult to take, of course. No matter how much I read about World War II and other atrocities, it is always a bitter disappointment to realize we humans could allow such a thing, and that other versions of it still occur today in various forms. But it is not death on which I want to obsess today. Indeed, it is life. And Edith did live a very full and meaningful life. In particular, I’d like to offer you a peek at her writing life.
When these paragraphs ran past my eyes the other day, I wanted to yell out, “Wait a second. Not so fast. This is big. I’ve just glimpsed the soul of a fellow writer!” And if Edith had been beside me (and it’s not out of the realm of possibility that she was), I would have arisen, grabbed her hands and looked into her eyes to say, “Yes, yes, you’ve hit it straight on, dear friend!”
Well, let’s just let Edith speak for herself:
“…each morning I seated myself at my desk with some trepidation. I was like a tiny dot in limitless space. Would anything come to me out of this great expanse — anything which I could grasp? I lay as far back as I could in my chair and strenuously focused my mind on what at the moment I deemed the most vital question.
“After a while, it seemed as though light began to dawn. Then I was able, at least, to formulate a question and to find ways to attack it. And as soon as one point became clear, new questions arose in various directions…Next to the fine sheets upon which the running text was set down, I always kept a piece of paper on which to make notes of the related questions which occurred to me in this manner. After all, they would have to be treated in their proper place.
“Nevertheless, page after page was filled. The writing would bring a rosy glow to my face, and an unfamiliar feeling of happiness surged through me. When I was called to dinner I returned, as it were, from some distant world. Exhausted yet exhilarated I went downstairs. I was amazed at all the knowledge I now had about things of which I had been totally unaware a few hours earlier. I was delighted to have so many attached threads which I would be able to pick up later.”
I’m so with her there!
Incidentally, to those who doubt that Edith might be able to hear my shouts of glee, I have every confidence she has been with me in a special way recently. Also known as St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Edith Stein undoubtedly has access to our world from the other side of the veil. No matter, I feel privileged to have glimpsed the soul of this fellow writer through the written words she so carefully aligned; all so that we might better understand the time in which she lived…and died.
Q4U: Have you ever experienced the feeling of your soul and that of an author’s crossing, even if only for a moment or two? If so, whose?
In answer to your question, no, I don’t think so, but I might not be remembering, or wasn’t fully aware. I love it that you experienced the spirit of Edith Stein as you were reading. That lives on. And, now, you’ve brought her to light.
Mary, I think the other time this happened to me was when I was reading my great-grandfather’s book, “Soldiers of the Plains,” for the first time, as an adult. But that feeling was not fleeting. It hung on for a while, and was amazing. 🙂
That is a wonderful description of the writing experience! Thanks for posting it.
You’re welcome, Rosslyn. I’m not surprised you appreciated it. You are a deeply thinking and feeling person, just like Edith was. 🙂