September 3, 1921, 9:10 p.m.—EDW Ranch
Edie and Mitch got up off the couch as Jacob and Adelia came out of the hallway. “Are your kids asleep?” Edie asked.
Adelia shook her head. “No, but they soon will be. Their eyes are getting pretty heavy. The kids have had such a great time these past three days. They’ll be talking about it for months. Liesel is so proud that she rode a horse all by herself. We can’t thank you enough.”
“We hope Labor Day at the EDW becomes an annual tradition for your family.” Mitch motioned toward the couch. “So, do you still want to talk about the trip, or would you rather wait until morning?”
“Let’s talk now,” Jacob said with some eagerness. Then he sheepishly turned to his wife. “Or are you ready for bed, dear?”
“No. I’m too excited to sleep.” Then she turned to Jacob. “So let’s talk. My bag with all the brochures and maps and stuff is in our bedroom. Can you get it for me?”
“If that’s the case,” Edie said as Jacob got up, “let’s go in the kitchen and sit around the table.”
9:22 p.m.
“All right,” Jacob said as Adelia began spreading things out on the table. “It’s been about a year since we last talked about the trip. So let’s start with the key question. Are we going to do this or not? Has the situation in Germany stabilized to the point that we feel it is safe enough to go? Yes or no?”
No one spoke as they looked at each other. Finally, Jacob cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll start. I think that it is a very good thing that we did not go this summer. Hans hit the nail on the head with his predictions. The Allied Powers did present the war reparations bill to Germany. One hundred and thirty-two billion gold marks, or about thirty-three billion in U.S. dollars! That is a staggering sum. One of our government economists has projected that it will take sixty years or more for Germany to get it paid off.
“And with that, Hans’s second prediction also proved accurate. The announcement was met with tremendous anger and frustration. Thousands took to the streets in protest. There were calls for general strikes. One group tried to storm the government buildings. And just a week or so ago, one of their government ministers was assassinated.”
Edie shuddered. “Yes, we read about that.”
“And the worst of it is that since the army in Bavaria intervened and helped overthrow the Socialist government last year, they’ve set up a right-wing regime. Southern Germany, and especially Munich, has become a magnet for right-wing extremists, including several paramilitary groups. So there’s been a lot of unrest there this summer too.”
“And Oberammergau is in Bavaria, right?” Adelia asked.
“Yes. It’s only about sixty miles south of Munich. So Hans was right. This would not have been a good year for us to be in Germany.”
“And yet,” Edie noted, “we heard that the Church is now sending American missionaries back in.”
“That’s right,” Jacob said, “which is significant, I think. They wouldn’t do that if they thought things were not relatively stable. And we know that because of the stance it’s taken, America is not the target of all this anger anymore.”
“So what has all this done to the value of the mark?” Mitch wondered.
“Good question. As soon as the announcement was made on the war reparations, the value plummeted again. A month ago it was at seventy-six marks to one U.S. dollar.”
“Whoa,” Mitch exclaimed. “So the rate has almost doubled again in a year? That’s not good.”
“Not for the German people. It will be for us next summer.”
Edie spoke up. “Mitch and I were talking about this the other day. If we stay with the Eckhardts, as you know they will insist that we do, that’s going to be a hardship on them. So what if we insist that we pay them room and board and do it in dollars? That would be a blessing for them, right?”
Adelia hooted softly. “Remember who you’re talking about, Edie. Inga Eckhardt may be this sweet, little German Oma, but she’s got a rod of steel down her back, and she’s absolutely insisting that we stay with them as their guests. That’s her way of thanking Mitch and Jacob for what they did two years ago now.”
“That’s right,” Jacob said. “But it’s more than that, I think. Hans and I are corresponding regularly now, and I brought that idea up with him. And he said that actually, all of them are doing pretty well. Inga and Hans Sr. have the dairy, and that’s prospering. And the play will be a huge financial windfall for them next year. Wolfie is now a pretty high-ranking supervisor in the Ministry of Public Works in Munich, and the government keeps raising his wages to cope with the inflation. So they’re all right too. And to my surprise, Hans told me that he and Emilee have just moved into a little bigger house. Her mother and her handicapped brother now live with them upstairs, and Hans found a nearby shop with four service bays for his repair shop. And he just hired a third mechanic, so it sounds like they’re doing well too. So it’s not like we’re going to be imposing on people in dire poverty. And, as Adelia said, I think if we offer them money, they’ll be offended.”
“Okay,” Edie said. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
“So,” Jacob said after a moment, “that brings us back to the question. Hans’s father, who’s back in Graswang now and doing pretty well health-wise, is just waiting on word from us so he can reserve our tickets at the play. He says he’ll get us the best seats in the house.”
“How nice,” Edie exclaimed. “How big is the theater, anyway?”
“They’re talking about enlarging it, but right now it seats about forty-two hundred. But there is only one performance a day, and he says they’re expecting somewhere between three hundred and three hundred and fifty thousand people to attend the play next summer.”
“Three hundred and fifty thousand!” Adelia yelped. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah, that’s why they start performances in early June and go into September.”
“Wait,” Edie said. “They only put on the play once each day?”
“Yes, dear,” Mitch said. “That’s because it takes seven hours. They give us a two-hour lunch break, but other than that, we’re basically there all day.” He turned to Jacob. “I know it’s not an enclosed theater, because it’s an outdoor stage, but it does have covered seating, right?”
“Yes.”
“Seven hours.” Edie was still trying to take that in.
“And,” Jacob went on, “it would be wise if we booked passage before very much longer. Otherwise the best cabins will be sold. So, we are at the point where we have to decide quickly.” He turned to his wife. “Adelia, why don’t you go first? What are your feelings at this point?”
She was rearranging the brochures and maps in front of her. Finally she looked up, but at Mitch and Edie, not her husband. “I am worried about how safe it is over there. But I want this so badly, not just for me, but for Jacob. Both of our parents and also my sister-in-law have offered to take the children, so that’s not a problem. I’ve been praying about it for months, but I can’t seem to get an answer. I don’t feel like we’ll be in danger, but. . . .” She looked to Mitch. “Don’t you think the Lord would say, ‘Don’t go,’ if we were going to be in any danger?”
Mitch nodded. “I would think so.”
“There are also a couple of new developments that are influencing my feelings, but I’ll let Jacob tell you about those. But I. . . . Well, I guess at this point, I would say, let’s go.”
She sat back, seeming to be relieved to have said it. Jacob turned. “Edie?”
Edie sighed and leaned forward. “As you know, from the first, I’ve probably been the one with the most reservations about going. And what has happened in Germany these last few months hasn’t really helped me feel better about it, to be honest. But then when I say, ‘Well, let’s not go,’ another part of me starts asking questions, like, Mitch t
urns fifty-four next January and—”
Jacob’s head jerked up in surprise. “Really? Wow, you’re a young fifty-four.”
“Thanks,” Mitch chortled. “I keep telling Edie that I don’t feel a day over eighty.”
The Reissners burst out laughing as Edie reached over and slugged him on the arm. Then she went on. “And I’ll be fifty-two next May.”
“The same goes for you,” Adelia said. “I hope I look as good as you do when I’m in my fifties.”
“Thank you, but my point is this: the next Passion Play won’t be until 1930. We’ll be in our sixties by then, so I think we have to face the fact that if we don’t go this time, we never will.”
Mitch looked as though he was going to say something, but Edie hurried on. “But that doesn’t change the question of whether it’s safe to go. Jacob, Mitch and I want you to know that we both have great confidence in you. You are up to date on what’s happening over there, and if you think things will be all right, then that means a lot to me. To us.”
“Yes, it does,” Mitch said. “We can’t think of anyone we’d rather be going with.”
“Thank you.”
“I totally agree,” Adelia said. “That’s one of the reasons I said, let’s go.”
Edie was silent for several moments, as if trying to make up her mind about something, and then she finally did so. “There’s something else that’s come up in the last little while that I feel I need to share with you. And this will surprise you, I’m sure. It surely did me. And you may think it’s crazy enough that you say, ‘No, we can’t do that.’ And if those are your feelings, we’ll accept that.”
“Okay,” Jacob said with a puzzled smile, “you do have our attention.”
Edie took a quick breath. “About two weeks ago now, as I was lying awake in bed one morning after Mitch had already gone out, I had the strangest thought come to me. At first I laughed right out loud at the idea, it was so ludicrous. But I couldn’t shake it. And I still can’t.”
“My goodness,” Adelia said with an encouraging smile, “what was it?”
“I feel like we need to take the twins with us.”
Mitch laughed right out loud at the reaction on the Reissners’ faces. “That was my reaction exactly,” he said. “When she told me that, I just gaped at her. ‘You can’t be serious, Edie,’ I cried. ‘You want to take two bouncing seven-year-olds to Germany for a month or more? Am I getting that right?’”
“Just the twins?” Adelia asked. “Not Tina or anyone else in the family?”
“Oh, no,” Edie replied, “we could never afford that. And besides, we need MJ and June to take care of the ranch while we’re gone.” She laughed, but it was without mirth. “I told you it was a crazy thought. And by the way, none of the kids know anything about this. We’ll have war on our hands when we do tell them, and not just from Tina.”
“But you still feel that way?” Adelia asked, her eyes probing Edie’s now.
She hesitated but then nodded. “Yes. More strongly than ever, I’m afraid.”
Mitch squeezed her hand. “Before we were ever married, my mother took me aside one day and said to me, ‘Mitch, you need to know something about this girl you’re in love with. She has an unusual gift of sensitivity to spiritual things. You need to learn to pay attention to that.’” He was looking directly into Edie’s eyes now. “And after more than thirty years of marriage, I’ve come to know just how right my mother was. So, even though it makes no sense to me—in fact, even though I can think of about a dozen very good reasons why we should not take Benji and Abby—I trust her feelings.” He shrugged. “But that affects you two as well, and so if you have contrary feelings, Edie and I will take that as our answer.”
“Otherwise,” Edie concluded, “like Adelia, my answer is, let’s go.”
Now it was Jacob and Adelia who were exchanging meaningful looks and Jacob who reached over and grasped his wife’s hands. And then he started to laugh softly. “Then I guess we’d better share what’s happened to us in the last few weeks.”
“Yes,” Adelia said softly.
Jacob took a quick breath and plunged. “Last year, when we were talking about all of this, an idea came into my head. Only unlike yours, this was a totally exciting possibility for me, and so I went to the chairman of my graduate committee and made a proposal to him. I told him that we were thinking of going to Oberammergau. I also told him that I had come up with an idea for my thesis proposal. I told him I wanted to study the impact of the war and the aftermath of the war on German members of the Church. How much did they suffer? Did the harsh conditions that accompanied the war weaken or strengthen their commitment to the Church? What happened to the Church in Germany when about two hundred of us American missionaries—many of us who were serving as their district and branch presidents—were pulled out for seven years?”
“Oh, my,” Edie said. “That would be fascinating to know.”
“Yes, and my chairman thought so too. He had a few additional suggestions, but he was totally supportive. But when I proposed to him that I take a couple of extra weeks while we were there to do research for my thesis, he threw cold water on the whole idea.”
“But why?” Mitch asked. “If he thought it sounded good?”
“We were thinking at that point that this would be in 1921. And he said there was no way I could be ready that quickly. I had just barely started my program. I hadn’t taken a research class. I hadn’t taken a statistics class. He said it was just too premature. I tried to argue with him, but he was adamant. But when I went back after we talked and told him that we were more likely going in 1922, he immediately gave me his approval. I’ll have all of my class work done by then.”
“Wonderful!” Edie said. “So how will you do that?”
“Our tentative plan is that I’ll stay on in Germany two weeks longer than planned and devote my full time to research. Whether that’s before we go to Oberammergau or after is yet to be resolved. However, I plan to do my primary research among the people I worked with while on my mission, which was in Bavaria for most of the time. And the University of Munich will be a great resource too. So I don’t plan to be going all over Germany.”
“And will you stay with him?” Edie asked Adelia.
“Good question. That’s why we wanted to talk to you about it tonight. I think our trip will take us about three weeks. If Jacob and Mitch visit the areas where they labored as missionaries and then we go down and see the play and do some other sightseeing, it will take that long. But I don’t feel like I can stay any longer than that. I’m not sure what to do. I told Jacob I’ll just go home after the three weeks, but he doesn’t like the idea.”
“I don’t like the idea of you traveling alone,” Jacob explained.
“There’s a simple solution to that,” Mitch said.
“There is?” Adelia retorted.
“Yes. I’ve promised Edie I’ll take her to the Black Forest region and to the Mannheim area where her grandparents were introduced to the Church. And we’d like to see some of Bavaria’s famous castles and palaces—Linderhof, Neuschwanstein. Maybe even go down to Salzburg in Austria. But we can do those either before the play or after. It doesn’t really matter to us. So I see two options. You go over early, Jacob, and we bring Adelia with us and meet you, and then you two travel home together. Or you stay after we’re done, and we take her home with us. Problem solved.”
“And you wouldn’t mind me tagging along with you?” Adelia asked.
“We’d love it,” Edie exclaimed. “And if we do take Benji and Abby, they would love it too.”
“Well, then,” Jacob said, “I guess there’s just one more piece of the puzzle to put into place, and then we can make a decision.”
“And what is that?” Mitch asked.
Jacob was grinning like a little boy now. “We need to pick a date for the Passion Pla
y, because everything else revolves around that.”
“Right, and before you go back tomorrow,” Mitch added, “remind me to give you a bank draft for our share of the tickets and passage.”
“Yes. I promised Hans that we’d send him an international bank draft by the middle of September. Then he can go ahead and have his father secure our tickets.”
Selecting one pamphlet from the materials on the table, Adelia said, “So let’s start there, shall we? Here’s the schedule for the play. Inga sent it. It also has a seating chart for the theater.” She held the brochure up. On the front, there was a full-color photograph of Christ hanging on the cross, with weeping women standing around looking up at Him. “That’s what we are going to see live on stage. Isn’t that amazing?” She opened the brochure and laid it out in front of Mitch and Edie.
“Oh,” Edie cried, “I just remembered one other thing. We would like to take passage through Boston instead of New York either coming or going across the Atlantic.”
“To see Frank?” Adelia guessed. “Of course. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You know,” Mitch said, leaning back with a contented look on his face. “To me, it sounds very much like we have finally made up our minds to embark on this grand adventure.”
“So there is only one more thing to say,” Edie exclaimed. She clenched a fist, raised it high, and leaned in toward the center of the table. “Next year in Oberammergau!”
Laughing, the others did the same, bumping their fists together. “Next year in Oberammergau!” they cried in unison.
July 10, 1921, 5:35 p.m.—Eckhardt home, Wellensteinstrasse 41, Milbertshofen District, Munich
Hans had the soap mug in one hand and his shaving brush in the other and was lathering his face when Emilee stepped to the open door of the bathroom. He was freshly out of the tub, so his hair was wet and tousled and he had a bath towel tied around his waist. Their eyes met in the mirror and she smiled at him. “Look who’s awake,” she said.
Hans turned, his smile creating a dark gash in the white lather that covered the lower half of his face. “There’s my little munchkin.”