LIFE AND DEATH

THE GREAT ANSWER

Of all the stories of strange and beautiful happening in our own times, one stands out in my mind with ever increasing meaning. It began at a small town not far from the Spanish border. Lodged in the boardinghouses of the village were many refugees, men and women fleeing from the secret German police following the Nazi armies into France. Among the refugees was a young mother and her little girl, not more than four years old. Like all the other refugees, this mother’s one idea was to get across the frontier into Spain, where she could board a ship and get safely to America. Otherwise, soon enough, the Gestapo would find her, and she and her child would be thrown into a concentration camp – perhaps murdered.

Now it looked as if, having walked hundreds of miles to get this far, mother and child were to fail, even though within sight of freedom. The Spanish guards were stubborn. They were not letting refugees pass through. And rumors were flying about the secret police would soon arrive, and then every stringer in the boardinghouses must prove himself or become a prisoner.

It is not strange, then, that the mother clasped her child to her bosom, while she prayed for deliverance to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

You may think it was a coincidence; nevertheless, there came to this woman’s room next day a singular man on a secret errand.

“I’m a guide from the underground,” he confided. “In the dark of the moon I lead parties of refugees over the mountains and down into Spain. It is a long and difficult trail, but God will help.”

That night, when the town was asleep, mother and child set out together to walk to a rendezvous somewhere up the mountainside. But the child soon tired and the mother had to carry her. She was painting with exhaustion when she came to the appointed place. There she found an apprehensive company: old men and women, middle-aged and young – all waiting to be guided up and over the mountain, down to safety and freedom. The leader was telling them to trust to God in this desperate attempt. All welcomed the mother and daughter, and at once the young and middle-aged men volunteered to take turns in carrying the lady’s child. Then they started upward.

As they toiled higher and ever higher, the strain began to tell. Finally, the oldest, frailest man among them gave a groan.

“I can’t go on,” he gasped, and sank to the ground. “Don’t mind me. Leave me here to die. Save yourselves.”

But the leader stood over him, stern and yet compassionate.

“You’re not dead yet,” he said. “We must all help each other. Whatever strength you have left belongs to all of us. With your last ounce of strength help us carry the lady’s child – until you die.”

Three times on that dreadful expedition, one after another, three older men gave up. And each time the leader insisted that the exhausted old man use his last drop of energy to carry the child. When the morning light appeared, and they had crossed the heights and come down past the border line into another country, every one of the party that had set out together was alive – every one well.

The three old men who had carried the lady;s child had found new strength, new life, and were ready to face a new world of freedom.

Surely here is the great answer for the riddle of life.