solace to the souls of the dying. Angels of mercy comforted the broken-hearted. Unlike humans who grapple with indecision and struggle with temptation, angels are steadfast and unwavering in their service to God. An angel is pure, like a virgin. An angel has devotion.
The Sisters of Light learned how to call on the angels for assistance. It is spiritual law that angels of Light cannot intervene in our lives unless we invite them to help us.
Working with angels brought joy to my heart. I vowed to serve the Light to the end of my days.
Healing by Day and Night
A S I AWOKE EACH morning, images of comrades in need flashed into my mind. They were calling to me, soul to soul, with anguished cries for healing. I saw the faces of the desperate ones. I heard their psychic pleas. Yet living at Auschwitz, I was not free to offer aid. The plans of our healing team were compromised by the vicissitudes of camp reality.
In the mornings, when possible, the Sisters of Light gathered at the rear section of barracks 12. I taught classes on healing and first aid, and we practiced on each other. We read the energy of groupings of people throughout the camp, sensing the mood, watching the crows, ever alert for signs of impending emergencies—the inevitable beatings, rapes, and shootings that blackened each day.
We separated or paired up to work with a partner in the afternoons. The girls carried flasks of clean water from barracks to barracks to quench the thirst of small children, the elderly, and the infirm. During this time I made my rounds of the camp, usually accompanied by an assistant. We assessed the needs and urgency of each case, identified new cases, and noted who improved, who worsened, and who died. Truly half of my ministerial calling was to assist the dying, to bless the departing soul.
By night I ventured solo (or with Boris as my shield) to the far reaches of the camp. Sometimes I worked all night, making two to three bedside visits before returning just before dawn. I yearned to answer every cry, every call for help. Yet I was faced with a dilemma that tore at my heart. At times, I had to shut out the cries of the world to honor my body’s need for sleep. I had to remain strong, to survive what lay ahead.
Misery’s woe came knocking at the door to my heart. Yet sleep I must, or I could not be of help to anyone. I felt so worn and frayed, exhausted from endless giving. I prayed for divine intervention, for comfort and healing for the people. In my stead God sent His angels to minister His love. Like a nocturnal tide of mercy, a host of angels flooded the bastion of the enemy.
Each angel brought its unique gift of healing. Archangel Michael was a warrior of peace, sent to conquer fear and inspire courage. Angel Daniel healed anger and rage, offering the sweet wine of forgiveness. Archangel Ariel balanced the emotions and guided the life path of the soul. Archangel Raphael brought comfort to the multitudes who prayed for relief. The angels were divine messengers offering grace to humanity. They were God’s devoted servants, evidence of His love.
The Gypsy
A NIELA FOUND A NEW arrival to join our team of healers. She was broad-shouldered and strong, of hardy stock. Accompanied by Aniela, she came to our practice sessions and provided moral support for team members. The new girl told us her story. Her name was Iravana.
She came from a band of gypsies that had traveled far and wide. She had suffered a hard life, constantly moving from place to place, with nowhere to call home, no place to call her own. She lived the life of a refugee, fleeing from bandits and marauders.
She tasted her last draft of freedom on the west bank of the river, where her family had set up camp. During the night a surprise ambush destroyed the camp. Their horses and possessions were stolen; the women were raped; the men were shot; and the children were kidnapped.
After their tents were set aflame, Iravana and five of the women managed to escape.
The Sisters of Light learned how to call on the angels for assistance. It is spiritual law that angels of Light cannot intervene in our lives unless we invite them to help us.
Working with angels brought joy to my heart. I vowed to serve the Light to the end of my days.
Healing by Day and Night
A S I AWOKE EACH morning, images of comrades in need flashed into my mind. They were calling to me, soul to soul, with anguished cries for healing. I saw the faces of the desperate ones. I heard their psychic pleas. Yet living at Auschwitz, I was not free to offer aid. The plans of our healing team were compromised by the vicissitudes of camp reality.
In the mornings, when possible, the Sisters of Light gathered at the rear section of barracks 12. I taught classes on healing and first aid, and we practiced on each other. We read the energy of groupings of people throughout the camp, sensing the mood, watching the crows, ever alert for signs of impending emergencies—the inevitable beatings, rapes, and shootings that blackened each day.
We separated or paired up to work with a partner in the afternoons. The girls carried flasks of clean water from barracks to barracks to quench the thirst of small children, the elderly, and the infirm. During this time I made my rounds of the camp, usually accompanied by an assistant. We assessed the needs and urgency of each case, identified new cases, and noted who improved, who worsened, and who died. Truly half of my ministerial calling was to assist the dying, to bless the departing soul.
By night I ventured solo (or with Boris as my shield) to the far reaches of the camp. Sometimes I worked all night, making two to three bedside visits before returning just before dawn. I yearned to answer every cry, every call for help. Yet I was faced with a dilemma that tore at my heart. At times, I had to shut out the cries of the world to honor my body’s need for sleep. I had to remain strong, to survive what lay ahead.
Misery’s woe came knocking at the door to my heart. Yet sleep I must, or I could not be of help to anyone. I felt so worn and frayed, exhausted from endless giving. I prayed for divine intervention, for comfort and healing for the people. In my stead God sent His angels to minister His love. Like a nocturnal tide of mercy, a host of angels flooded the bastion of the enemy.
Each angel brought its unique gift of healing. Archangel Michael was a warrior of peace, sent to conquer fear and inspire courage. Angel Daniel healed anger and rage, offering the sweet wine of forgiveness. Archangel Ariel balanced the emotions and guided the life path of the soul. Archangel Raphael brought comfort to the multitudes who prayed for relief. The angels were divine messengers offering grace to humanity. They were God’s devoted servants, evidence of His love.
The Gypsy
A NIELA FOUND A NEW arrival to join our team of healers. She was broad-shouldered and strong, of hardy stock. Accompanied by Aniela, she came to our practice sessions and provided moral support for team members. The new girl told us her story. Her name was Iravana.
She came from a band of gypsies that had traveled far and wide. She had suffered a hard life, constantly moving from place to place, with nowhere to call home, no place to call her own. She lived the life of a refugee, fleeing from bandits and marauders.
She tasted her last draft of freedom on the west bank of the river, where her family had set up camp. During the night a surprise ambush destroyed the camp. Their horses and possessions were stolen; the women were raped; the men were shot; and the children were kidnapped.
After their tents were set aflame, Iravana and five of the women managed to escape.
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