Angel of Auschwitz (7 page)

Jezra and I became fast friends. The healer in me resonated with the artist in her. Our energies harmonized as spiritual sisters. As children of the Light, we cast our dice before the gates of hell. As her trust in me grew, Jezra told me her story.

She came from the north, from an industrial city of steel and stone. Her father Isaak was a wealthy entrepreneur, revered by the Jews, reviled by the gentiles. Two years ago her life had changed forever. As she stood by his side, her father was murdered by the Nazis. The endless echo of that shot resounded in her mind. She felt numb inside at times, like a mannequin; it was her way of coping with that grief.

She had learned to survive at Auschwitz for thirteen months, and she taught me the ropes of survival.

U
NTYING THE STRING OF
her cloth pouch, Jezra began to play “the stone game.” Inside her pouch were more than fifty small round stones, about the size of marbles. Each stone was a precious treasure from the earth. With the tip of her stick tool, she shaped little holes in neat rows in the ground. Carefully sorting through her stones, she picked just the right one to fit into each hole. These precise stone arrangements were her secret code, like hieroglyphics.

Then it was my turn to make up a new game. I took the drawing stick and designed symbols, tracing them from my mind’s eye. The fun part of the game was to have Jezra guess what I was thinking about from looking at each symbol. In this way, we developed our telepathic abilities and the psychic link between us.

As Jezra drew her pictures in the dirt, her sleeve flew back in the breeze, exposing a long cut across her wrist and forearm. It was not healing due to abscess and infection. I asked her permission to place my healing hands over the wound. She felt my love for her and acquiesced. “OK,” she agreed, “at least let’s try.” I closed my eyes and said a prayer. I focused the healing energies as I had done before when working with my family and animals. As my hands became warm, I saw Jezra sigh and relax. As she closed her eyes we harmonized with each other. Opening her eyes, she exclaimed, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” I could tell that she did not understand, but she trusted me.

“A
CCLAMATIONS!”

I was surprised to hear a voice speaking to me. It entered my mind as a stream of pure thought with neither pitch nor timbre. I looked around but saw no one who might be addressing me.

“Very good, Natasza. I congratulate you on your talent for healing. You shall be a help to many with your ready hands.”

I strained my eyes and looked around once again. Then I relaxed and refocused my eyes, seeing with the inner sight taught to me by my mother. In this way, I was able to discern the figure of a man with light shining through him. He was a
ghost!

At first I stared at him in disbelief, which quickly turned into curiosity. After my initial shock at seeing a ghost, my emotions settled down. I attuned my psychic vision and looked him over very carefully. He appeared to be a rather stoutly built man in his mid-sixties. He walked toward me, hunched over, leaning on a cane he held in his right hand. His hair was gray and pulled back tightly, and he wore a handlebar mustache.

“Let me introduce myself, young woman. My name is Boris Brozinski. For quite a while, I have been observing you. Now you have ripened. Your telepathy is finely tuned; you are able to see and hear me. It is time for me to show myself to you.

“I appear before you now to ask you to listen to your heart. Feel your heart as it moves with compassion. Hear your heart as it speaks with wisdom. The voice of your heart is calling you to walk your destiny path. You are being called to serve humanity. You are being called to minister to the House of Judah. You have been chosen by the Most High, and have been blessed with the gifts of Spirit to carry you through.

“Answer the call of your heart. As you commit your life to serve our people, I will assist you as your spiritual guardian and mentor. I will protect you from danger, and show you how to overcome anger. I will teach you more about the art of healing and the science of medicine. This knowledge is necessary for your future life work. I can no longer
carry this burden alone. I need someone with your gifts and abilities to work in partnership with me.”

Who was this ghost who had been secretly watching me? How could he know what my calling was going to be? I had never seen a ghost before. Since leaving the security of my home and village, the roots of my reality had been tossed into the wind.

“What drives you with such passion?” I questioned the ghost-man. “What motivates you to help people?”

“As a child,” he answered, “I was very much like you are now: sensitive and psychic. But I denied my feelings and ignored my intuition in order to develop intellectual prowess. I excelled in my studies and was considered brilliant. I was appointed professor of history and Jewish studies at the University of Warsaw. I was looked upon as an erudite scholar and was lauded and respected by my peers. After climbing the steps of the stairway of knowledge, I hid away from the world in my ivory tower of illusions. Reverberations from gunshots rocked the tower, and I awakened from my dream. I woke up to witness the horror of the Nazis invading our homeland and brutalizing our people.

“I must make amends for my arrogance. I regret burying my head in books like an ostrich. I feel overwhelmed by guilt and remorse for turning my back on suffering humanity while I vainly sought the hollow honors of mental power. My young wife and two sons were taken to the slave-labor camps. They transferred me from camp to camp; I was labeled a troublemaker because I took risks to help my people. Finally, they shot me for defiance. They murdered my body, but they could not destroy my spirit.”

“Why did you choose me, professor?” I asked. “Why me?”

“In your heart of hearts, you know the answer. Your heart has already chosen. Are you willing to devote your life to serve God and humanity? Are you ready to answer His call? Your bright light shines like a beacon of hope through the fog of oppression. The mercy of your love softens hearts that are hardened. You speak the truth despite the consequences,” Boris praised me. He continued, “I need the assistance of a human counterpart.
We have many souls to save, many bodies to heal. Let’s make an agreement to work together for the good. Let’s make a deal now. There is no time to lose.”

Should I consort with this ghost who seemed so insistent? What did he mean by “saving souls”? Healing Jezra’s wound was one thing; saving souls was another. “Professor, I need time to consider your offer. I will answer you tomorrow—when the black crow lands atop the north guard tower.”

A
NOTHER ONE OF MY
beliefs about reality was shattered. I did not realize that dead people could work as hard as living people. I thought that in heaven you rested, contemplating and praising God. I imagined that when I arrived in heaven I would learn to play the harp, frolic with fairies, and gather golden rosebuds to make garlands of glory. It didn’t occur to me that my spirit might have a job to do after I died.

G
ROWING UP AT
A
USCHWITZ
I saw the many faces of death. I awoke each morning knowing that this day could be my last. The challenge of facing death transformed my view of life. I learned to be present in the moment. I learned to be grateful for the smallest things, and to thank God for every blessing. Although I was barely thirteen years of age, I was becoming wise beyond my years.

Until I met the ghost-man, I had not considered the possibility of the afterlife, nor wondered what happens to us after we die. To me, Boris Brozinski was “real” proof of the eternal life of the spirit.

S
HOULD
I
MAKE A
deal with the professor? I was faced with a decision that could change my life. I prayed for guidance, for clear seeing and knowing.

Searching my memories for inspiration, a scene from my childhood came into focus in my mind’s eye. I saw my elder brother Simon sitting in an armchair in the parlor of our flat. As my family sat around him, he read to us from the Holy Book. The afternoon sun shone through the parlor window, surrounding him with a golden halo. His voice became animated as he read the word of God. His face was radiant, and a peaceful presence filled the room:

Simon closed the Holy Book and sat in contemplation. Lost in thought, I reflected on the story of Exodus. I admired Moses for his unwavering faith and service to God.
I will learn from his example
, I promised myself.
I will trust in God to guide me through the dark days ahead
.

T
HAT NIGHT
I
HAD
a dream. I saw myself climbing up a very steep mountain. The slopes were slippery and sharp, and the rock was brittle and crumbled beneath my feet. The climb was torturous and slow. I had to rest in caves where bats hung upside down. A few times I lost my balance and fell backward down the mountain. I was losing strength, and my determination was failing. I prayed for deliverance from my ordeal.

Then an old black crow flew above my head. The flapping of his wings disheveled my hair. Old Mr. Crow cawed out to me, “The angel of deliverance awaits you.” Then I heard the clatter of racing hooves behind me and saw a white stallion with angel’s wings galloping up the side of the mountain. He flew up the mountain and quickly came upon me in my struggle. “Hop on, Natasza!” The stallion beckoned to me with his handsome head. “The time of your deliverance is now. Choose between suffering and freedom.” The white stallion nudged me to get on. On his back was a golden saddle studded with rubies and emeralds.

I could be a princess flying high in the heavens, or I could be a lost child struggling to find my way out of the darkness. I mounted the celestial steed, took the reins in my hands, and rose above my trials and tribulations. “Wings of Spirit,” I cried. “Deliver me. Take me Home!” I stood on the golden saddle and turned around, waving good-bye to fear and pain. Then I faced forward and greeted my future in a flying embrace.

A shot rang out, and I was startled awake. I had been riding on the back of the angel of deliverance. Would God send His angels to help me and Boris? I heard shouting outside and wondered if Boris were a dream too. Was he a phantom of my imagination? Before I agreed to work with him, I must test him to see what he could do. Perhaps he was a hallucination brought on by my hunger and thirst. Maybe he wouldn’t even show up at the north guard tower.

I lay awake in my bed until first light, my mind seesawing between hope and doubt. Could I trust the ghost professor? What did he want from me?

A
NXIOUSLY
, I
DELIBERATED ON
the proposal made by the professor. Fears and doubts raced through my mind.
How can I trust this ghost?
I wondered.
Can ghosts be held accountable for their actions?

My mind stopped for an instant as I felt a sharp prick on the top of my head. Looking skyward, I saw Old Mr. Crow flying over me. He had dropped an acorn on my crown to get my attention.

“Hurry, Natasza. Hurry!” he telepathed to me. “Destiny is calling you. The moment of choice is now. It is time to meet the ghost professor at the north guard tower.”

This is the ultimate commitment
, I told myself.
There is no turning back. My life will be changed forever. Am I ready to make a holy covenant with God to minister divine love; to contract with a ghost to heal the sick and save souls, to speak the truth without fear?

Taking a leap of faith, I went forward in anticipation of this fortuitous meeting. As the tower came into view, I saw a black crow landing on its pinnacle. Seated on the ground at the base of the tower was the ghost professor. He sat hunched forward, apparently contemplating. As he turned his head and looked at me, the black crow flew from the tower and landed on my shoulder.

“Hail Natasza,” spoke the talking bird. “Honor my comrade, Boris the ghost.”

It was an auspicious meeting. I sensed a gathering of angels and spirit witnesses. I sat down in the dark shadow of the tower, facing the ghost-man. By my feet I found a twig, pointed at one end. To symbolize the consecration of the holy covenant, I drew a round circle in the hard dirt. A bolt of lightening crackled and thundered down as the hosts of heaven applauded.

“I have three requirements for you to fulfill,” I said, asserting myself. “Only then will I agree to work with you. First, how can you protect me?”

Mr. Crow volunteered, “I will be part of your early warning system. When you are in jeopardy, I will caw out
Danger! Danger!
”

“As you can see, I have enlisted the aid of our airborne allies,” said the professor. “They want to serve us as members of the healing team.” He was proud to announce the healer-crow alliance.