The Marian Martyrs of Rosica

123 Memoir the True Cross. It had been so many years since he had kissed it. The reliquary was made of solid gold. Finally, we recovered the last item. It was too big to pull out through the hole, so the hole had to be enlarged. Then we took it out, a most beautiful Gothic monstrance. It had a huge base made out of hammered silver. On its side were crystal figures of St. Stanislaus the Bishop and of St. Adalbert. We were all moved. Our search had not been in vain. We would use this beautiful chalice for Shepherds Mass, and the Blessed Sacrament would be exposed at the early morning Mass in our own Rosician monstrance. Mr. Joseph said: “Father, there is also another monstrance, much larger and more beautiful than this one. It is behind the bricks in the other sacristy. ” “We shall look for it later.” But we never did. It is still behind the bricks in this “inhu- man land” where people are not allowed to worship God. It is waiting there for the moment when perhaps another priest under different circumstances will take it out in order to place the God-Host in it. Jesus, make this time come sooner, so that You can go out to the meadows and grain fields of this miser- able land. Make this land become human, so it will no longer be ruled by the law of hatred but instead by love. Then human dignity will be respected at long last. We ate our Christmas Eve dinner in a family mood. As usual, we wished each other well, hoping for better times — the end of the war and the opportunity to work for those poor, so- long-abandoned souls. Father Anthony shared the Christmas wafer with me and said: “Finish your theology soon, so you will be able to help us fully.” And he smiled from his heart. The Shepherds Mass would have to be in the morning, instead of midnight. At night we could not move about, because it was wartime, after all. After the meal, we went out to the church for a moment, then returned to the rectory. From the nearby forests, we could hear a long, sad wailing.