Reclaiming one’s inner life can sometimes feel like a relentless battle fought both within and outside oneself. This struggle is evident in the intense spiritual trajectory of Etty Hillesum (1914-1943). A young Jewish intellectual from Amsterdam, she was a free-spirited and bold woman, passionate about languages, the arts, humanities—and about people.

Her story has reached us through the personal diary she kept from 1941 to 1943 before being deported to Auschwitz. This journal and her letters were published in France under the title Une vie bouleversée (An Interrupted Life). These ten tightly written notebooks begin with expressions of “disgust,” “anxiety,” and “depression” and end with words penned from the transit camp of Westerbork, where deportation convoys left for Poland’s extermination camps: “One would like to be a balm poured over so many wounds.”

The journey toward inner silence

At the start of her inner journey, Hillesum struggled with herself, scattering her energy in chaotic love affairs, desperately trying to fill an existential void with multiple partners. Cut off from herself and plunged into depression, she was at the mercy of her shifting moods.

“The first step in her spiritual journey was accepting solitude, which she gradually discovered as a space of great creativity,” noted Cécilia Dutter, president of the Friends of Etty Hillesum Association. She learned to embrace the sadness within her and to see solitude not as isolation but as a space for renewal, where she could listen to the voice inside her.

Her encounters with figures of interiority—Saint Augustine and poet Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)—helped her deepen this space. Silence also became a discipline for her, a practice she followed each morning to quiet external distractions, something she called her “little Buddhist quarter-hour.”

“Do not speak, do not listen to the outside world, but observe total silence and let what is most personal and private within you resonate—and listen to it,” she wrote in October 1941, a few months after starting her diary.

But how does one create order amid inner chaos? A pivotal moment in her transformation came through therapy with Jungian psychoanalyst Julius Spier. His openness to spirituality made him a profound guide for her—he became her friend, mentor, and lover.

“Through therapy, she learned to love herself with all her flaws and to accept her past. This inner peace, independent of external circumstances, allowed her to open herself to life, to others, to God, and to beauty, even in the midst of historical horror,” explained Dutter.

Reconnecting with the body

At Spier’s encouragement, Hillesum began keeping a diary, a practice that became central to her transformation. Writing down her thoughts and emotions felt difficult, but over time, she saw it as a vital practice.

“I must strive not to lose touch with this notebook, meaning with myself—otherwise, I will be in trouble,” she confided.

Her journey inward also involved a return to the body. Each morning, she practiced a form of improvised yoga in her bathroom—not as a duty, but as a way to reconnect with herself and cultivate self-discipline.

“She suffered from physical ailments, which were likely manifestations of her inner turmoil,” suggests Dutter. “She learned to pay close attention to her body’s signals, bringing unconscious feelings to the surface.”

The deeper she delved within herself, the more her inner chaos calmed, her thoughts became clearer, and her desires became more focused. She found vast inner spaces where she could engage in a dialogue that became increasingly personal with the One she called “God.”

“There is a very deep well inside me. And in that well, there is God. Sometimes, I manage to reach Him. But more often, stones and rubble block the way, and God remains buried. Then, I must clear the path again.”

Expanding one’s gaze

Over time, Hillesum realized that the spiritual life is about continuously uncovering this inner source.

“I will help you, my God, not to be extinguished in me. But I can guarantee nothing. One thing, however, becomes increasingly clear: it is not You who can help us, but we who can help You—and in doing so, help ourselves.”

What began as fleeting moments of connection with God evolved into an ongoing dialogue, shaping the last months of her life.

“My struggles take place on an inner stage, against my personal demons. To fight among thousands of frightened people against fanatics who seek our death, no—that is not my battle. I am not even afraid; it is strange, but I feel so peaceful.”

She recognized the source of this peace: “God, I thank You for all the strength You give me: the inner center from which my life is governed is continually growing in strength and radiance.”

How does one remain attuned to this vast inner space and to the goodness of God discovered in all things? By expanding one’s gaze. Even as she saw German soldiers patrolling the streets, she also noticed the jasmine in bloom and the clouds drifting past a rooftop.

Even in the Westerbork camp, where so many around her were falling into despair, Etty Hillesum continued to see beauty. She observed the birds in the sky, “the purple lupins standing calmly in the evening sunlight beyond the barbed wire.”

Astonishingly—and perhaps incomprehensibly to those who have never experienced it—she found deep joy even in the camp.

“The fields of the soul and the spirit are so vast, so infinite, that this small pile of discomfort and physical suffering barely matters,” she wrote. “I do not feel deprived of my freedom; ultimately, no one can truly harm me.”

Opening to Self, God, and others

“In the abyss of the Holocaust,” noted Dutter, “Etty maintained a sense of life’s beauty because she had learned to keep God alive within her. Whether in Amsterdam or the camp, she no longer felt imprisoned, for the interior space she had cultivated was vast enough to live within.”

The wellspring she had uncovered in herself also nourished others at Westerbork. Having made peace within, she became deeply available to those around her, offering warmth and compassion.

“If I love people so intensely, it is because in each of them, I love a fragment of You, my God. I search for You in everyone, and I often find You. And I try to bring You to light in others’ hearts, my God.”

To all, she offered the hospitality of her heart: “I want to be a refuge for the best part of you—the part that is certainly present in each of you. I do not have to do much; I just want to be here.”

Brief biography

Etty Hillesum (1914–1943) was a Dutch Jewish writer whose deeply introspective diaries, written during World War II, offer a powerful testament to spiritual resilience in the face of unimaginable suffering. Born in the Netherlands, she studied law, psychology, and Slavic languages, but it was her personal transformation amid the Nazi occupation that defined her legacy — demonstrating how inner strength and spiritual depth can transcend even the darkest moments of history. Initially struggling with inner turmoil, Hillesum embarked on a profound spiritual journey, influenced by Jewish heritage, Christian thought, and mystical traditions. Rejecting hatred, she cultivated a deep sense of love, acceptance, and inner peace, even as persecution intensified. In 1942, she voluntarily worked at the Westerbork transit camp, offering support to fellow Jews. Despite opportunities to escape, she chose to share the fate of her people, perishing in Auschwitz in 1943. Posthumously published as An Interrupted Life, her diaries continue to inspire readers worldwide.