I’d been searching for a book on St. Edith Stein for some months. I’d claimed her name as my own in Confirmation, but knew merely the basics of her story—she was a feminist during WWII, a Jewish convert who perished in Auschwitz. With “basics” like that, I was eager to know more.

On the first night of my Loyola retreat, I was browsing the gift shop when I saw it: one singular copy of Modern Saint and Martyr, an Edith Stein biography, on sale for half price. As if God had set it aside just for me.

[Edith Stein] traveled the arduous path of philosophy with passionate enthusiasm. Eventually she was rewarded: she seized the truth. Or better: she was seized by it. Then she discovered that truth had a name: Jesus Christ.

Little is known of Edith’s life, but this is a good introduction to what we know. She was raised in a Jewish family, teetering the line of agnosticism for a while, but always on the search for truth. I imagine her fear and awe when she discovered that truth in Jesus, and the relief at having found him. She was adamant about joining the Carmelite Order, though they denied her several times. When she was finally accepted, though, it was the only place anyone could imagine her to be.

“Whoever seeks the truth is seeking God, whether consciously or unconsciously.” —St. Edith Stein

I didn’t understand all she encompassed when I took on her name, but like Edith as a Carmelite, I can’t see myself being tied to anyone else. Edith taught women that they can be anything: They can marry, or not; they can bear children, or not. They can be wife to God in consecrated life, and spiritual mother to those in need. Edith was also tied to her Jewish identity, even after conversion, which would have been easy to throw away during an era of Jewish persecution. Though I’ve always felt a kinship with God’s chosen people through our shared history, it wasn’t until my own conversion that I fully understood how closely knit we are—in Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of the Law. Catholicism isn’t independent of Judaism, and Edith knew this first-hand.

I came for the stubborn WWII feminist, but was also filled with her peace in God, affection for her Jewish roots, and a desire to serve others. And, with a list of her published works in the back, my to-read list just grew infinitely larger, too.

“Prayer is looking up into the face of the Eternal. We can do this only when the spirit is awake in its innermost depths, freed from all earthly occupations and pleasures that numb it.”