Children of the Stars

by Mario Escobar

  “I’m so sorry, I thought André would have remembered to fetch you. I told him your train would be arriving an hour ago. We’re having a dress rehearsal, and . . .” Magda covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

  “Don’t worry about it in the least, Mrs. Trocmé. I’ve been helping in churches all my life. I know what a busy season it is,” Alice said, still smiling.

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Magda said, greeting her with two kisses.

  “For me as well, Mrs. Trocmé.”

  “Do call me Magda,” she said, able to smile again after the embarrassment of having forgotten the woman at the train station.

  “Magda, I think I’m going to enjoy my time in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon very much.”

  “I’m sure you will. Let me show you the church. But first, let’s take your luggage to the house.”

  Magda had been waiting for months for help. It had not been easy for her to get used to the village. She was only part Protestant. She had been raised Catholic in Italy, and part of her family had fled from Russia. It took her a long time to realize that her inability to totally fit in with Protestants was precisely what helped her get along so well with André and his way of understanding the world.

  Magda led Alice to the room they had prepared for her next to the kitchen. Despite how small and narrow it was, Alice was delighted. Magda had never met anyone so positive and from whom flowed such natural goodness. When André had told her the denomination was sending them an aide, Magda had initially rejected the offer. She knew she was at the end of her strength, but she did not want some goody-goody making her feel that she was not good enough.

  “They’ve told me you have four children,” Alice said, unpacking her few things from the suitcases.

  “Yes, three boys and a girl. They don’t slow down one second the whole day. We always have two or three other children hanging about the house, in addition to meals with André’s friends, visitors, visiting preachers, and everybody else who makes their way through town. Sometimes I think we run a hostel more than a church!” Magda said, immediately taking Alice into her confidence.

  Alice nodded. “I work at a camp during the summers, and I’m used to cooking and cleaning the rooms. By the time I finish one and move to the next, the first one is dirty again. Homemaking is thankless work.”

  Magda had come across all kinds of women since her arrival in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. Church women criticized her for not being a typical pastor’s wife. Unlike them, Magda refused to cover her head in meetings or become the slave of her family and husband. Women had so much to give to the new society.

  The two women returned to the chapel. The children were running to and fro while some of the church women put the finishing touches on the wall decorations. It seemed a more joyful ambience than a few minutes prior. No one seemed to be thinking about the war and its ensuing problems.

  Alice helped Magda with the chorus, and after several run-throughs, the parishioners started heading home. The festivities would take place the next day.

  “Anna, Jacob, Moses!” Magda called loudly. The children ran up to her. “I’d like you to stay for supper with us. The celebrations will start tomorrow, but it seems my children can’t survive without you three.” Feeding three extra children was more work, but she had to admit even to herself that she had grown fond of this bunch.

  Jacob, Moses, and Anna jumped with excitement, then ran off to join the Trocmé children. When they were all together, Jacob, Moses, and Anna felt like they were part of a family again and could momentarily forget how far they were from their parents.

  “See what I mean now?” Magda asked Alice with a wry smile.

  Trocmé arrived home half an hour later, famished. He was surprised to find Alice there. He had forgotten it was the day of her scheduled arrival.

  “André, you forgot to go pick Alice Reynier up from the station today,” Magda reproached.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I had several meetings, and Magda’s reminder went in one ear and out the other. Please forgive me, Ms. Reynier. I want you to know we’re very glad to have you.”

  “Please, call me Alice,” she said with her customary smile.

  “I think you’re going to be an enormous help, Alice,” Magda said. Trocmé arched his brows in surprise at the change of attitude. Magda had vehemently resisted having a helper, but he was familiar with his wife’s temperamental disposition.

  It was a happy supper, everyone excited about the next day’s festivities. Nothing could keep them from celebrating Christmas.

  All the next day, the parsonage and church were a beehive of activity. Women were fixing costumes, children were running wild, and by midafternoon the parishioners had arrived in small groups to save the best seats and sit next to their guests.

  “Will you be ready soon?” Trocmé asked, somewhat nervous. It was almost time, and it looked like there was a lot left to get done.

  Magda nodded, a pin in her mouth. She was fixing Moses’s wool vest in their living room while the boy kept his eyes trained on her. Noting the child’s intense stare, she asked out the side of her mouth, “You okay?”

  Moses’s face crumpled, and he began to cry. Magda hugged him tightly and, in the process, accidentally poked him with the pin. Moses squawked and backed away.

  “Oh, dear me, I’m so sorry!” she said, amused despite the circumstances. Moses smiled for a moment, but the expression soon morphed back into crying. “Moses, honey, what is it?” Magda pressed.

  “I miss my mother.”

  It broke Magda’s heart. Sometimes she caught herself forgetting that many of the church’s children did not have parents in the village. She knew most of them would never see their parents again. The Germans were emptying the detention camps in France, taking the Jews north. Magda had no earthly idea what became of them, but the war was increasingly bloody, and the Allies were bombing German cities nearly daily. Even André was worried about his German relatives. He had no way of knowing how they were. Magda was conscious of the fact that the conflict grew harsher and harsher, and she did not know how much longer Le Chambon would be spared direct attack.

  “I’m sure you’ll see her again one day soon. At least you know where she is. When winter’s over, you can go to Argentina.”

  Moses closed his eyes and pretended that the woman hugging him was his mother. He needed her kisses, needed to feel like he was the most important person in the world for someone again.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, wiping his tears as he walked away.

  Moses headed for the chapel. The pews were packed, but the first few rows had been reserved for the children. He wiggled in beside Jacob and waited for the ceremony to begin.

  The music started, and Trocmé walked out with a black robe, a white collar, and a stole. Theis and some of the deacons followed. The congregation stood as the leaders took their positions.

  “My friends, brothers, and sisters, it’s a pleasure to begin this beautiful Christmas feast. Many think that in times like ours we have little to celebrate. People all over the world have nothing to eat; others suffer illness or injury in hospitals or are living out the consequences of war. But today we want to celebrate peace and love toward all mankind,” Trocmé began as the children’s chorus approached the podium.

  The congregation listened as the angelic voices of the children’s choir sang several Christmas carols. Fathers smiled and mothers mouthed the words along with the children. Everyone had worked hard on the service, and as the voices floated up the church walls, the snow outside resumed falling to remind the world it was still winter. The lights on the tree and the walls trembled in the wind that found its way under the doors and through the cracks. The cold of the past few weeks had put the villagers’ hearts in dormancy, but for a moment in the Christmas service, peace reigned once again in the soul of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. The community that had suffered so much now sought to heal its wounds by candlelight, at the
foot of the immense fir tree presiding over the stacks of presents while the music assuaged their grieving, terrified hearts.

  When the children finished their repertoire, Trocmé took an accordion from a nearby chair and led the congregation in a song. When they were finished, Jacob’s eyes were cloudy with tears. Moses and Anna were each holding one of his hands, and they stayed that way as Trocmé led the congregation in two more songs.

  They all sat. Trocmé set the accordion down, cleared his throat, opened an ancient Bible on the pulpit, and began to speak.

  “A couple of years ago, most of you who are with us in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon today would never have imagined you would be celebrating Christmas with us. Back then, we were complete strangers to you. We walked entirely different paths of life, and many of you lived in foreign countries or faraway lands. But today we are all gathered in the shadow of this great Christmas tree. We are looking out at life with uncertainty about what the next year will hold—our hearts cowering in fear, ignorant of the fates of our loved ones. Perhaps you have felt that you’ve been walking all alone in this world, that no one cared about you, but this is not true. You are a gift to us. Many of you have been kicked out of your homes, you’ve been spit upon, you’ve been cursed; but we want to bless you and call you our brothers, our sisters.”

  Trocmé’s voice resounded from every corner of the sanctuary, and the congregation paid rapt attention to his every word.

  “Hurt, abandoned, countryless—many of you feel like the scum of the earth. You were the disinherited, wandering through the desert of life, but you have come to a promised land. A promised land that is not the beautiful green valleys of Le-Chambon-sur-Lignon, nor the dense forests of Auvergne, nor the lovely Loire River. You have come to our hearts. You have conquered with your laughter and tears. We will never be the same. Someday you will return home; you’ll break bread beside your loved ones again; and I’m convinced you’ll remember us in those moments. God has brought us together for a time, and together we will communicate the message of fraternity.”

  Sniffles and sighs punctuated the congregation. People nodded and slipped an arm around the shoulder beside them.

  “Our beloved country rests on three unshakable principles, three longings that have made us what we are: equality, liberty, and fraternity. For centuries, we have attempted equality among all citizens; equality in matters of justice and opportunity, regardless of our faith, ideology, race, or sex. Liberty is another key player: the freedom to improve, to build a nation of people who are the masters of their destiny. But we have neglected fraternity. It’s been taken for granted that we all belong to one great human family of humanity, but that is not the case. The human family must be built. Love is a decision more than it is a feeling. And tonight I have decided to love each of you. You are now my brothers and sisters, and I’ll never be able to forget you.”

  As his words died away, a gust of cold air blew through the sanctuary. The main doors had been opened. Boots slapped against the stone floor. A murmur ran throughout the room. With no space left in the pews or along the walls, the group of Germans stood tall toward the back, in the center aisle. Those seated nearby crouched as far as they could away from the Nazis. The officer took off his hat, and the other soldiers followed suit. With their gray uniforms, black leather boots, and silver insignia, they looked like angels of death.

  Trocmé looked them straight in the eyes and recommenced his sermon. “So now we are brothers and sisters. It may be that today in the faraway lands of Russia or Africa, in the Pacific Islands or the Syrian Desert, brothers are killing brothers—but that does not change anything. This is why we are here today, celebrating the birth of the one who became man for the love of mankind. A baby in a humble manger who, like many of those gathered here today, was far from home. There was no room in any inn for him either. Tonight, a star shines in the sky and its light brightens our world. Perhaps you fear that darkness will never again be dispelled, but soon we will once again see the star heralding peace and love for all men and women of goodwill.”

  The church stood as one and sang “Silent Night,” their voices welling up from the depths of their being. Dozens of different accents, faces with unique features, and people of all ages sang as of one heart.

  When the hymn concluded, Magda and the other teachers led the children out for the pageant. Moses pronounced his one line in such a precious way that the onlookers chuckled. Afterward, they handed out Christmas presents to all the children. One by one the children approached the raised platform, while Trocmé and Theis kissed them and gave them each a gift.

  When the ceremony came to a close, several church members set up tables along one side of the church and laid out the food. The parishioners left the pews and started greeting one another with “Merry Christmas!” They hugged and kissed; some spontaneously sang carols in foreign languages; and they circled around the tables with the trays of food. The Germans remained quiet, serious, and inexpressive as they stood in the middle of the sanctuary. No one approached them. The officer motioned for them to leave, but just then Trocmé, who had had to greet half a dozen parishioners on his way toward them, approached.

  “Merry Christmas, Captain,” he said in perfect German.

  The captain’s brows knit together. His blond crew cut and leather jacket gave the thirtysomething man a formidable look. “Merry Christmas. You speak German, pastor?”

  “My mother was German.”

  “I never would have guessed. That was a good sermon. You may think we’re barbarians, but in Germany we also have churches and celebrate Christmas.”

  “I don’t think anyone considers you barbaric. At least, that’s not what I think. We’ve just been given difficult times to live in, Captain. You have your army, you order your men, and they obey. We are also an army, but our weapons are different, as are our battles.”

  The captain retained his serious look. Perhaps his mind wandered back to a time when he still believed in peace and love. He had seen and done too much for a few Christmas carols to change anything, but something still flickered inside him. Finally, he spoke. “It’s hard to be far from family, to not know if tonight some airplane will fly over your house with the colored Christmas lights. But we know we’re here for a reason, and we’re proud of it. God is always with the strong,” he declared.

  “The God I know said he was with the weak, with those who are despised and helpless.”

  “Clearly, we are not talking about the same God. Someday we’ll know which one ends up winning this war.”

  “Indeed we will, Captain.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Trocmé said, a chill running up his spine at the exchange. He sensed that someone or something more than a simple German captain had come to visit that night, and he foresaw a battle to the death between good and evil.

  The soldiers turned and their boots once again resounded over the stone floor. Everyone in the church let out a long breath as soon as the doors shut behind them.

  Jacob, Moses, and Anna sat on a pew and opened their presents. Moses ripped off the silver paper and took out a small tin steam engine.

  “Wow!” he said, showing it to Anna and his brother.

  Jacob opened his box and took out half a dozen lead soldiers from the Napoleonic era. He held them close to his eyes to study every detail of their painted blue jackets, white pants, and long gloves. It reminded him of the toy soldiers they had played with back at the Magnés’ house in Nouan-le-Fuzelier.

  From her box, Anna drew out a rag doll and set to braiding her hair.

  Despite the joy that permeated the village that night, Jacob could not help thinking about his parents. He tried not to, so as not to bring Moses or Anna down, but he could not get them out of his mind. Christmases in the past had been hard. They had not had much to eat or many presents, but at least they had been together. He thought of his parents in Buenos Aires, thinking about him and Moses. Even though they were Jewish, Christ
mas would still evoke memories of being together as a family and would still drive home how far they were from each other at that moment.

  Moses ran his train back and forth on an imaginary railroad on the pew, and Anna tended to her doll. Joseph put his soldiers on the pew and arranged them for a while. Then he looked up and watched the people laughing, joking, eating. For just a moment he felt home. These people might not be his family, but like the pastor had said, they were now his brothers and sisters. He would never forget this place or this Christmas. He would always carry deep in his heart the village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, Anna, and the Trocmé family.

  The great Christmas tree, alight with candles and crowned with a star, seemed big and strong enough to shelter everyone with its branches. But a long, dark shadow was stretching over the valley: the shadow of death and fear, darkness and hatred, which bided its time for the chance to overtake each home, field, and byway until it devoured the last ray of hope in the hearts of the women and men of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon.

  Chapter 25

  Le Chambon-sur-Lignon

  February 13, 1943

  The most challenging days tend to start out calmly enough. Winter still had plenty of time left to go, but the sun had managed to warm the air throughout the day. News arriving from outside the valley was every day more dire. All escape routes for refugees from Marseille or any other point on the Mediterranean coast were closed. The January 3 attacks in Marseille against members of the German army resulted in only intensified persecution of dissidents and Jews. On January 22, more than twelve thousand police and five thousand German soldiers combed the city hunting down Jews and members of the Resistance. Over eight hundred people, primarily Jews, were arrested. Perrot had let Trocmé know that the evacuation of Jacob and Moses from Le Chambon-sur-Lignon was, for the moment, impossible. The children were so involved in their school activities that they hardly had time to think about traveling to South America. The days were too short, and by night they fell into bed exhausted.