Matka Alžbeta
by Milan Jurčo
translated from the Slovak by Sarah Hinlicky Wilson
They called from the jail:
Tomorrow morning a woman will be shot.
It’s necessary to give her last rites.
So they called from the jail.
I’ve lived within convent walls,
there,
where one forgets pain,
where we break ourselves away
from the power of temptation,
where from every side
to the human soul flies the question,
what is life,
and what death.
They called, and so I went.
Good day, mother Elizabeth,
the doorkeeper greeted me.
Good day,
thundered a thousand voices
of the streets of the big city,
good day,
whispered red roses in the park,
good day,
oh, good day, mother Elizabeth,
sang a little baby bird on a branch.
And life was all around,
from everywhere life stretched out its arms.
Life, that beautiful, happy life,
ran in front of me.
That small child,
chasing his own wish,
played on the green grass.
Child.
Small child,
dream and memory,
little pink cloud
and light spring breeze
filled my soul.
And across,
from the abyss of destruction
the stone walls of the jail
lifted themselves to heaven.
They are a threat,
they are a curse,
they are a warning to life.
I stopped.
Thoughts rose
like the waves of the ocean.
I need to comfort someone I don’t even know.
No, I shouldn’t and I can’t comfort her!
I can’t!
I need to say to her,
though in fact to speak is a small thing,
I need to set her soul on fire,
I need to stand her in the light:
The Lord died also for her,
She must not fear!
Faith is greater than poetry,
greater than life,
She doesn’t have to fear,
if in this hour of death
she will call on Him.
I went into the cell.
There on an oak bench
she sat,
a woman of death,
a person who already knows
what tomorrow will be.
I imagined her otherwise.
I don’t know how,
but not like this.
She was young and pretty.
Her eyes were wise,
her figure delicate,
her hands wringing themselves
in painful trembling.
She stood and silently stared at me.
I know that you have to die,
my voice cracked and tears entered my eyes.
I know that you have to die,
but I announce life to you.
Eternal life in the name of God the Father,
in the name of Jesus Christ,
in the name of the Spirit
who speaks through my mouth.
About what life do you say that?
I don’t believe in these things!
I believe only in good on earth
and I hate violence.
That’s why I fought.
Do you undertand?
I fought against conquerors,
against an enemy government,
so I could save the life of our children.
Here, on earth,
here, in our city.
Her voice began to climb the heights,
her voice resounded in the cell,
like when a bell rings in an empty land.
What do you know about life?
You shut yourself off from the world,
build yourself a fortress,
You do nothing for the salvation of the nation.
We fight
and you all watch how we fall.
Everything,
everything that you know
is only words.
Prayers and words,
songs and words,
sermons and words,
by words you see us off to the grave!
Please don’t speak that way.
Yes, I am a nun,
my name is Mother Elizabeth,
but don’t think
that I don’t know what life is,
that I don’t know what fear is!
Morning and evening,
at night, and when the sun shines
my soul struggles in prayer
for humankind,
for the victory of good,
for the celebration of the Lord Jesus
on earth.
I am, true, sinful
and I don’t know how to
witness to people,
I don’t know to say
all the things the soul feels.
But
a child appeared to me in my mind
I saw him a little while ago
maybe you’ll understand that better,
children believe in the Lord
by an unspeakable strength,
they are still pure,
unstained by sin.
In his name I beg:
Reconcile yourself to God!
Child?
Innocent child?
Oh, wretched me,
a ten-month-old I’ve left
with my neighbor!
When they arrested me
I gave him into her arms.
He cried.
He cried in a mournful little voice
as if he knew
where his mother was going.
Her voice changed into a tempest
and knocked at the windows of my soul
with an impossible strength:
Why should he suffer?
Why must God look down on that?
Let him stop looking!
Let him interfere!
Let him perform a miracle!
Let them give me mercy
and let them send me home!
In the name of an innocent child
Let God perform a miracle!
He doesn’t.
He doesn’t do anything.
You’ll say something more,
bid me farewell,
and you’ll go pray between your convent walls.
But I’ll stay here.
Here I will die from pain,
from desire,
and from love.
That is all
that a dying woman
can say to you.
Quiet.
The silence of emptiness,
the awful silence of people’s mouths
when there is no hope,
when there are no open doors,
no windows of liberty,
when there are only ominous walls
and sentinels of hatred
and men of death.
The Lord took me into the palm of his hand
and gazed,
gazed into my eyes.
The Lord called my name!
My soul caught on fire,
my body shook like a blade of grass
thoughts fell down at once
like shot birds.
The Lord spoke,
the Lord demanded,
the Lord asked me the greatest question of living.
I looked around,
wanted to catch at something,
called for rescue,
cried in the despairing voice of my soul,
not my own,
not eternal,
not a natural person’s.
But there wasn’t time,
seconds flew like light
minutes crashed into my head,
my heart took flight,
darkness entered my eyes.
And then God’s strength came to me.
I stood
and in a voice
that had heavenly tones in it,
my mouth opened:
Friend,
I announce to you
in the name of the Savior, my Lord,
that you have found grace
in the Father of heaven.
He will perform the miracle
for which your soul yearns.
Put on my dress,
go out of the jail,
and I will die for you.
Understand,
we don’t have time,
understand,
don’t resist,
I’m doing this at the Lord’s command,
just a little while ago I spoke with him,
He lives,
He is here,
Just as you and I are!
Oh, understand,
I’m not doing this out of charity,
I’m not doing anything,
I’m just obeying Him.
From the place of execution
I’ll go right to Him,
friend,
we don’t have time,
please,
don’t you understand my words?
We stood across from each other,
and I wasn’t me anymore,
and that wasn’t her anymore.
Everything changed.
The whole universe changed.
Her soul was struck by lightning,
her soul met with the living God.
Like in a dream she stood
and let herself be dressed.
She wasn’t able to speak,
only cried, mourning,
the kind of crying one
can hear only under
the cross of Golgotha.
Then we embraced each other,
and then her soul cried out
a song of blessing,
May the Lord raise you,
Mother Elizabeth.
May he give you his
glory and greatness,
May angels alone take your soul
and may they lead it
through the place of execution
through all the moments of dread.
I thank you in the name of children,
thank you in the name of my soul,
thank you in the name of my deliverer,
Jesus Christ.
While I live,
I will proclaim the glory of your deed
because you are greater than forgetting,
stronger than time,
more glorious than immortality.
The door closed.
The door closed,
and I, down on my knees,
began to call on the Lord.
It’s four o’clock in the morning.
In the jail courtyard
a sharp voice is heard.
The men bring rifles,
insert the bullets,
the men lead the woman…
I call you,
all you who seek faith!
Behold,
at the place of execution
she stands alive!
I call you,
all you who want to witness love!
Behold,
at the place of execution
she stands alive!
I call you,
all you who want to see the power of God!
Behold,
at the place of execution
she stands alive!
At that place stands
a woman of faith,
a woman of love,
a woman of the power
of the Lord Jesus Christ.
It’s four o’clock in the morning.
A command resounds
and shots
and a fall to the ground.
To the body comes a doctor
and he says a single word:
Dead.
The soldiers indifferently walk away.
The soldiers go away
and they don’t know
that mother Elizabeth
LIVES!