Such things only time could determine. In these days of danger, however, time was not a commodity one could always depend upon.

Ulrike Kropf glanced up at her husband walking side by side for the moment with Rabbi Wissen.

Two more different men she could not imagine: the learned rabbi, a respected university professor, well known, educated, wise; and the factory worker from peasant stock, uneducated in the ways of the intellect, a father and a husband and a practical man. The one used his brain, the other his hands. Now the fate of this small band of Jewish pilgrims walking through the night toward an unknown destiny lay in the care of them both.

“God help them,” Ulrike quietly prayed. “Give them wisdom. Let them guide us as one.”

Ulrike Kropf, like her husband, was a practical woman, though she was a thinker in her own way as well. It had now been two weeks since they had left their home and begun this journey through unfamiliar land. She could not avoid almost a tingling quiver of kinship with the ancient children of Israel, though her heart could not keep away a constant fear on behalf of her children. She knew nothing of where they were bound. But neither had the children in the desert. They had had only the promise of God to guide them.

Ulrike too knew the promises of Yahweh. He would keep them in the palm of his hand.

There was this difference, too, between those who followed Moses through the desert and this little band of Jewish wanderers. She and Helga and their children and husbands were fortunate to encounter untold numbers of friends willing and eager to help them. This was no aimless desert experience. Though she might not have understood everything, it was clear a distinct plan and schedule guided their movements. She had found tears rising daily within her from the sheer kindness and sacrifice of so many on their part.

Most did not even share their faith or race. Most were Christians. Some professed no religion at all. Yet these vast numbers of underground servants for good in the midst of the Nazi plague risked their lives on behalf of the safety and care of people they did not know and would never see again.

What was it that motivated such people, Ulrike wondered anew each time. In what deep recesses of being did that altruism originate prompting some men and women in times of trouble to make sacrifices for their neighbor, while others thought only of safety for themselves?

Was it disaster that brought out the deepest goodness or the deepest selfishness of people? She especially wondered about those calling themselves Christians, both Catholic and Protestant. Most welcomed them like fellows of belief, speaking of their worship of the same God.