The girl looked down at her chest, and her eyes widened when she saw all the blood. She raised her gaze back to Yona. “My mother and father?”
Yona couldn’t speak over the sudden lump in her throat, and so, with her eyes never leaving the girl’s, she shook her head.
Anka blinked a few times, absorbing the news, and then her face crumpled and she began to cry. “I saw them, you know, when my eyes were closed. My mother, she was saying goodbye to me.”
Yona choked on her own stifled sob and had to turn away for a second to gather herself. Sister Maria Andrzeja moved in beside her to hold the child’s hand. “You are here with us now, and we will protect you.”
“But where is here?”
“The Church of Saint Helena,” the nun replied. “Here we help people in need.”
“But I am not Catholic,” Anka whispered. “My father, he did not believe in God.”
“But God believes in you, my dear,” Sister Maria Andrzeja replied immediately. She looked up and held Yona’s gaze. “And that makes us all the same, all over the world.”
* * *
Later, with the girl hidden in a small room beneath the church, finally asleep though she whimpered while she dreamed, Yona sat on a pew in the church’s main room, staring up at the gold crucifix above the altar. She had never been inside a church before, never seen such a detailed depiction of the Jew who was said to have sacrificed his life on the cross for the world’s salvation. As she studied him now, in candlelit darkness, she felt a great sweep of sadness. Was faith futile in times like these? Where was God in all of this, in this world where people starved to death or perished at the hands of cruel and heartless men? Where was God when neighbors turned against each other?
“It is easy to question our faith,” Sister Maria Andrzeja said, coming to sit beside Yona. She had changed her clothing, and now the collar that framed her face was a stark white, all traces of the little girl’s blood erased. “And much more difficult to maintain it.”
“I don’t understand how God can let these things happen,” Yona whispered, looking at the nun and then back at the altar, where the gilded Jesus watched in silence. “All of this. This heartache. This death. This suffering. The woman who raised me taught me never to question God, but sometimes lately, I can’t help myself.”
Sister Maria Andrzeja was quiet for a while. “Throughout all of mankind’s history, God has tested us, has tested our faith. Do you know the story of Job?”
Yona nodded.
“Then you know that God protected Job, and Job prospered. Job was a good man; the Old Testament describes him as blameless and upright, a man who feared God and shunned evil. Satan came to God, and God gave Satan permission to test Job, to test his faith, by taking everything from him but his own life. And so Satan did, taking all Job held dear. Job cursed the day of his own birth, but he never cursed God. He did not understand why God was testing him, but he still believed in the Almighty.”
Yona shook her head in frustration. “But at the end of Job’s life, God restored everything. That is not happening here. God is letting innocent people die, so many of them, at the hands of evil. The little girl in the basement, what did she do to anyone? Why would God let so many people like her be tested?”
“Do not abandon faith, my child.” The nun’s eyes were a deep well of sorrow. “We can only pray to be his servants, to do what we can to ease the suffering and to save the innocent.”
Yona looked down. “What if I am failing in that?” She thought of the way fate had put her in the path of the refugees in the forest. God had given her a chance to help them, and at first, she had answered the call. Had she failed God by turning her back now?
“You can only do your part. You can do your best to strike a match in the darkness, to light the way. God is with you, always, and he sees what’s in your heart.” The nun folded her hands over Yona’s. “Today you saved that child’s life. That was God working through you. Tomorrow you might help someone else. As long as you are doing good, you are doing God’s work. You are making a difference.”
“Whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world,” Yona murmured to herself.
“The Talmud.”
Yona looked up in surprise. “You know the Talmud?”
Sister Maria Andrzeja smiled slightly. “Those of us who seek spend a lifetime trying to find God, to know him, to understand him. Perhaps we can hear him where we least expect. But we must always listen. We must never turn our backs.”