whale sharks and sardines

ANBA KARRAS THE ANCHORITE ......(FROM THE TRANSCRIPTS OF ST. MARY MONASTERY (BARAMOS))

....After he blessed me and I left with joy and peace. I walked for a while, and then I could not walk because I could not see my way. After a while I opened my eyes and found myself walking in front of a cave inside a rock on the mountain. I walked toward the door and I knocked and said, "Aghabi."

Right then a voice from inside spoke to me saying, "It is good that you came today Anba Bimoa God’s saint, the one who was worthy to shroud the holy body of St. Hillaria the daughter of the great King Zenon. "

I entered the cave and stood staring at him for a long time, because he was venerable and full of awe. He was a very luminous person, and God’s grace was on his face. He was full of light and of average height. He had a long beard with only a few black hairs in it and he was wearing a simple tunic. He was thin, had a soft voice and was holding a walking stick in his hand.

He said to me: "You came to me today and brought death with you, and I have been waiting for you for a long time my beloved one." Then I asked him, "What is your name blessed father?"

He answered saying, "My name is Karras."

I asked him, "For how long have you been in this wilderness? " He answered, "For 57 years I haven't seen a human face, and I have been waiting for you anxiously and happily. "

I stayed with him for a day at the end of which Anba Karras became sick with a high fever. He cried and sighed and said to me, "..and what I was afraid of all my life came to me. Oh Lord, how can I escape from your face and how can I hide? Truly how fearful is that hour. Let it be according to your mercy oh my Lord and not according to my sins."

When the sun rose on the next day Anba Karras was lying down and could not move. And behold a great light, greater than the sunlight was coming through the door. Then entered a very radiant person wearing white clothes as bright as the sun and in his right hand was a luminous cross. I was sitting at Anba Karras' feet and I was afraid and surprised. But this luminous person stepped forward toward Anba Karras and put the cross on his face. He spoke with him a lot and then gave him peace and left. I stepped toward our father Anba Karras to inquire about that person, who had all that glory. He answered with all gladness , "This is our Lord and Master Jesus Christ and this is his custom with me. He comes every day and blesses me, talks to me and then he leaves."

I asked him, "Oh my blessed father I desire to be blessed by His glory."

He answered me and said, "Before you leave this place you will see the Lord Jesus in His glory and He will bless you and talk with you also."

When we reached the seventh day of the month of Abeeb I found Anba Karras raising his eyes which were full of tears up to heaven. He sighed deeply and said to me, "There is a great pillar that fell in Upper Egypt and the earth lost a blessed Saint. The world was not worthy of one of his footsteps. He is Saint Anba Shenouda the Archimandrite. I saw his soul going up to heaven surrounded by angels’ hymns and I heard crying and mourning rising from all of Upper Egypt's earth. The monks gathered around his holy body taking a blessing from him and his body was luminous."

When I heard that, I memorized the date and kept it in mind, it was on the 7th of Abeeb that Anba Shenouda passed away. On the next day, 8th of Abeeb, Anba Karras' illness worsened and in the middle of the day a great light appeared that filled the cave. The Saviour of the world entered preceded by the Archangels Michael and Gabriel, and many angels with six wings, accompanied by the voices of prayer and hymns here and there, and with the smell of incense. I was sitting at Anba Karras' feet while our Lord Jesus Christ in all his glory was sitting at the head of St. Anba Karras, who held our Saviors right hand. He asked him for me, "My Lord and my God bless him because he came from very far cities and a long distance for this day."

The Lord looked at me and said, "May my peace be with you Bimoa, what you saw and heard you will write and preach. But you my beloved Karras every human that knows your life story and mentions your name on earth, will have my peace and I will count him with the Martyrs and the Saints. Every person that presents wine, corban, incense, oil or candles in your memory, I will reward him twofold in the kingdom of heaven. Any one who feeds the hungry or gives drink to the thirsty, or clothes to the naked or welcomes a stranger in your name’s sake, I will reward him double in my kingdom. And who writes your holy biography I will write his name in the Book of Life. Anyone who shows mercy in your memory day I will give him what the eye has never seen and what the ear has never heard and what the heart never felt. Now my beloved Karras I want you to ask me for something that I can do for you before your departure."

Anba Karras asked him, " My Lord I have been praying the psalms day and night and I wished to see David the prophet while I am still in the flesh. "

In the blink of an eye David came holding his harp in his hand and he was singing the psalm, "This is the day the Lord has made let us rejoice and be glad.." pslam117 v.24

Anba Karras said, "I want to hear the ten cords together with the tune and melody." David moved his harp and sang, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." pslam116 v.15

While David was singing his psalms with his beautiful voice, and while the Saint was very pleased, his soul departed from his blessed body to the bosom of our Good Saviour who took it and presented it to the Archangel Michael.

Then, I Bimoa kissed the flesh of St. Anba Karras and buried him. The Glorious Lord pointed to me to leave the cave, which I did. Then Lord Jesus Christ surrounded by His angels left in front of the spirit, among songs and hymns. We left the body in the cave, and then the Glorious Lord put His hand on the cave and it became as if it had never had a door that could be opened. All of them raised up to heaven in happiness. I stayed standing alone in that place until that beautiful view vanished from my sight, then I closed my eyes to contemplate the bright light and the beautiful view. When I opened my eyes I found myself in front of the cave of Anba Abbamoud ElKallaa. I stayed three days and then I left him and I went to Anba Samaan ElKallaa. I stayed with him three days and then I left and returned to Shaheet Mountain where my church is. There I met all the brethren and told them the life story of St. Anba Karras the Great Anchorite, and his sayings about Anba Shenouda, the Archimandrite’s, departure.

After five days we got a message from Upper Egypt saying that St. Anba Shenouda the Archimandrite passed away on the same day that Anba Karras had seen.

May the blessings of St. Mary the Mother of Light and St. Anba Shenouda the Archimandrite and Anba Karras the Anchorite be with us all.

Glory be to God for ever and ever....

AMEN.

God is faithful

A lady sat at the back of a church weeping; not entirely sure if she was praying, grieving, or worrying. The day before her husband had thrown himself off a bridge over a river and had died from his injuries.

She had prayed for him their whole married life. He was a mean drunk, a womaniser, gambler, but somehow she still loved him, saw the good in him and had kept up her prayers for him for decades, despite seeing no sign or apparent change in him. Now it seemed too late, had her prayers been in vain ?

Even though it was still early morning, the church started to fill up and a long line of penitents formed a queue along the aisle outside the confessional box.

A few moments later the Parish Priest came out of the confessional and walked down the isle towards her, stopping at her row. He sat down next to her. (She had never met him before). After a few seconds he said “He turned to God in his heart, just before his face hit the water, your prayer was answered”

He walked back up the aisle to continue his daily 18 hour stint in the confessional. (He was the Cure of Ars). 

Her sorrow turned to joy, God had saved her husband after all. God’s mercy had pursued him to the very end. 

There is no such thing as a lost cause this side of death.

Extract from a Letter from Fr Gerard Wilberforce, a priest from Plymouth Diocese.

I am writing as the great great grandson of William Wilberforce, who campaigned vigorously for the ending of the transatlantic slave trade in 1807, which ultimately paved the way for the abolition of slavery itself throughout the entire British Empire in 1833.

.

I am often asked what would be the campaigns Wilberforce would be fighting if he were alive in 21st century Britain. I believe that there would be a number of different issues - among them human trafficking and the scourge of drugs. But almost certainly at the top of the list, would be the issue of abortion.

.

There are great similarities between the status of the foetus and the status of African slaves two centuries ago.

.

Slaves were considered a commodity to do with whatever the vested interests of the day decided. Today, in our desire to play God in our embryology experimentation, with all its' unfulfilled promises of miracle cures, and our decision to abort unwanted children, we are no better that those slave traders who put their interests and world view higher than they placed the sanctity and value of human life.

.

Most people at the time didn't believe the evil of slavery could ever be defeated, as so much of the economy at the time was dependent on the trade. It's easy for us to think that is the case today with abortion, but I believe William Wilberforce would not take such a view.Whilst our hearts go out to those who have chosen abortion, there should now be much greater emphasis on the alternatives that exist.

.

Many of us would like to see far more support those who have made such a significant and difficult decision - but whilst we recognise the trauma many women have gone through, we also have a duty to 'Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves' (Proverbs 31).The Psalmist says 'My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.'

.

With abortions in the UK reaching 600 a day, it seems to me that the 'secret place', is one of the most dangerous places to be in modern day Britain. As with my great ancestor, the battle took many years, even decades. But now, with the passage of time we look back in horror at how we devalued human life. I truly believe we will look back in years to come, repent and ask forgiveness for what we let happen to the unborn child. There is something deeply depressing about a society in which abortion is so easy, yet alternatives such as adoption are made to appear so difficult.

Where are all the men ?

Recently I visited a church while the Stations of the Cross was under way and, I observed that there was quite an imbalance in the ratio of women to men, about 7:1 in fact. I began noticing this imbalance (a quick head count) at other times too; the closest call was in a prayer meeting I attend where it was 3:1 in favour of the ladies.

In another town, at a funeral, it seemed that most of the men were outside in the car park having a smoke and chewing the fat while their wives were inside.

I wonder what the reason is; some say that women are more spiritual than men, that we are more earthy, others that the church has been ‘feminised’ over the centuries and men find little to identify with anymore.

I don’t think that the first reason carries much weight, as in Jesus’s day men flocked to him, every hillside and valley were packed with men listening for hours or days on end. They even climbed trees and opened up roofs to get closer and have their needs met.

I don’t think men have changed, and Jesus hasn’t changed either so maybe we lost sight of who he is and our need for him. Maybe those who say that the lion of Judah has had his claws manicured, his teeth filled down and his mane given a blue rinse have a point.

What image comes to mind when we think of our Saviour ? Is he a wild, potent stallion galloping across a plain; or a compliant young gelding being led around an enclosure; do we think of him as being like Ghandi with a beard and a full head of hair or as someone who manufactures his own weapons and unleashes his fury on the temple shopkeepers; a man’s man with rough splintered hands who knew (however unlikely the candidate) who would win the football league last year ?

Or maybe what has men huddled in the car park or running at the fence is to do with the perception of what a Christian man ought to be. Is the objective to become a ‘good boy’ or even worse, a nice guy; or rather should we be extremely dangerous, fighters for justice and truth in the service of the most courageous of warriors and the noblest of Kings.

House of Joy

I have always admired the work of Mother Teresa and the missionaries of charity in reaching out to abandoned children and elderly and my wife and I visited one of their houses in Manila just before we got married; at that time just to drop off a few supplies of baby milk and medicines. It was almost 20 years later before we visited again but this time I came to appreciate it in an entirely different way.

As we entered I noticed an array of coffins lined-up against the wall outside the carpenters shed, and during the Mass there was an occupied one in the chapel too. But as the day unfolded and we met with many of the residents it became apparent that it was by no means a gloomy place.

We visited two teenage girls both bedridden with badly deformed limbs and unable to speak; but when my wife started to sing to them their faces lit up with beautiful smiles. It was as if light beamed out of them. A pure light, emanating from pure souls as they delighted in the hymns being sung. It was like the two of them were lamps placed at the foot of God’s throne, burning brightly as they lay there interceding, through the sufferings of their short lives, for us sinners.

Next we met an old lady, an 83 year old with a skeletal appearance, almost weightless. She was full of joy also and loved to talk and pray with us. Such a strong spirit and another beautiful (toothless) smile. Like all the residents she has nothing and no one in the world and spends her time in prayer and preparation to meet her God and be reunited with her husband and son who had gone on ahead of her.

Through the love of the missionary sisters the tragic circumstances of the lives of the residents meet the majesty of God and although time is short I believe that each one receives what they need before they die.

For visitors too the place is a great blessing. It gives you a more realistic perspective of your own troubles and a clearer understanding of what is really important in life.

On a wing and a prayer

A teacher tells how a salesman called to her school. When he produced his pen, she noticed that a Rosary beads had got caught onto the pens clip and came out as well. “you must be a Catholic” she remarked. “Not really” he said “but a lot of us owe our lives to Our Lady, and I promised her I would always keep my Rosary with me and say it everyday.

The story that unfolded ran: it was September 1940 when we joined the air force. At Halifax we were given an intensive training course because we were needed overseas. We were grouped into squadrons each of which consisted of 6 to 10 planes and each was trained to manoeuvre as a unit. About 30-50 men made up a squadron. They told us that we were going overseas and would be in action right away. We would be on nightly missions over enemy territory.

We eagerly awaited our new squadron leader. As an officer he would, we believed, go straight to the officers quarters. However, this one, Stan Fulton, in full uniform, headed for our bunk house, where he settled in with the rest of us, saying “ There’s a free bunk and I am tired ! I’ll meet each of you tomorrow”.

With that, he threw his bag on an upper bunk. Our squadron leader, an officer, sleeping here with us ! We liked him at once and our admiration grew each day. That first night he knelt on the floor and prayed his Rosary in silence. Astounded we were struck dumb. When he finished he looked at us his friendly smile and said “I hope you guys don’t find a fellow saying some prayers because where we are going we’re going to need them”.

Next day at manoeuvre practice, we found that Fulton was not just our military leader, but our friend. He was one of us. He never tried to intimidate with his rank. Next night, he repeated his prayer session. Although our group had been together for 6 months, I had never seen anyone kneel in prayer, and had no idea that any of our group was Catholic.

The third night 3 of our companions joined Fulton in praying the Rosary. The rest of us did not understand, but we kept a respectful silence. We weren’t slow however on the pick-up. Soon we were all answering the Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s. So, we ended each day in prayer.

Soon enough we were to begin a series of night raids from England over Germany. The evening before, Fulton gave each one of us a Rosary “we shall be in some tight situations, but if you agree to keep the rosary with you and to pray it, I promise you that Our Lady will bring you all back safe”.

“Sure thing” we replied, little thinking we would be in action for 4 years, often in dreadful danger. At such times, Fulton’s voice would ring through each plane “Hail Mary…” and we would devoutly respond ! We must have said hundreds of Rosaries in the skies.
Ours, was the only squadron that did not lose a plane or a single life. We said nothing, but we treasured our secret weapon and knew Our Lady had saved us all

New Creation Productions: A Trusting Prayer ..a story from Zaire

New Creation Productions: A Trusting Prayer ..a story from Zaire: Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor from England to Zaire Africa, told this as it happened to her in Africa. "One night I had worked h...

Let the dead, bury their own dead

Sometimes, even in our churches we find those inclined to gossip and make mischief. There are many theories as to what underpins this tendency of course; for some its to feel superior or gain attention, for others it’s for retribution if they feel wronged in some way (hell hath no fury like a woman scorned) or to find a suitable scapegoat perhaps.

The victims of gossip can suffer a great deal as a consequence but there is a tried and tested way of combatting gossips. Silence. I have it on good authority, from one who received a good measure of false witness against him.

 When he complained to the Lord about it privately in his heart he received that he was to remain silent and to ‘let the dead, bury their own dead’. The context of the juicy gossip made this passage particularly apt and rather amusing ; truly those who engage in gossip are digging their own graves, as are those whose ear is turned and receive deceit in their hearts. Best to lend them the shovel of silence and let them get on with it!

Dying Embers

St Patrick had a vision of Ireland where he was shown the state of the Church in Ireland. At first he saw the whole land like a great furnace whose flames reached to the sky and he heard the voice of an Angel declare “such is now – the state of Ireland in the eyes of the Lord’ As the vision continued he saw it change as the centuries rolled by until eventually all that remained were a few live coals buried and burning deep in the earth. Patrick wept at the sight.

I am told that my maternal grandfather, at the end of each day, assembled his family in the living room of their farmhouse in Leitrim and they all knelt down and prayed the rosary together.

Whilst it is likely that this devotion was alloyed to some degree with obligation and perhaps fear; the discipline of that daily prayer, together as a family, kept them at peace with one another and on the straight and narrow. The house and each one in it was bathed in prayer and returning grace. Somehow, in those days this was enough to carry that generation through life and to eternity. 

The effect of that daily family prayer may not have been obvious as to its effect ; it only becomes obvious when it’s gone as in our day where families are splintered with misunderstanding, argument, separation, and divorce. Correlation between decline in family prayer and the faith underpinning it and an increase in broken families is clear enough. As most of the First World is in a similar condition perhaps we have seen enough to know it’s time to return to God and to prayer.

St Patrick’s vision did not end in unhappy defeat, in his vision after the darkness; a light arose and began to grow again until Ireland returned to its ‘first state of all-pervading fire’

Sr Euphraxia

Chapter XXVI (from stories of the desert fathers/ sisters)

One day the gatekeeper came to the abbess with an urgent message.

"My lady," she said, "there is a woman standing weeping outside the gate with her child of about eight years old, paralysed, deaf and dumb."

The abbess knew by the revelation of the Spirit that Euphraxia had been given the grace of the Lord against demons.

"Ask Euphraxia to come here," she said to the gatekeeper. And when she appeared she said to her:

"Go and take that child from his mother and bring him here."

She went out to the gate and when she saw the child, paralysed and trembling, she was over come with compassion, heaved a deep sigh and made the sign of the cross over him.

"May he who created you heal you, my son," she said.

And she picked him up and took him to the abbess. While she was carrying him the boy was healed and began to cry for his mother, which gave Euphraxia such a start that she dropped the boy on the floor. The boy immediately got up and ran towards the gate, still crying for his mother. Meanwhile the gatekeeper ran to the abbess to tell her what had happened. The abbess called the mother of the child.

"Now look here, my sister," she said, "Have you come here simply to pay tricks on us?

"In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, my lady," said the mother, "that child has never walked or spoken a word until this present moment. But when that other sister picked him up he began to speak! She was so startled she dropped him on the floor, but the child got up immediately and ran to me, your servant."

"So then, he is completely restored to you!" she said. "Take him and go in peace."

Which she did, and departed glorifying God.

Economics of Corruption

I had the opportunity to join a medical mission recently, just as a roadie, moving supplies and equipment but I was able to see the best and worst of humanity all in one place.

The doctors, dentists, and nurses were giving their time and expertise for free to the poor community and a wealthy sponsor paid for the medicines and transport. Several hundred people came and received whatever treatment they needed but could not afford… which was a wonderful thing to see. As Christians the motivation of the workers was really to bring the love of God to the people through sharing their skills.

The venue was a primary school and we set up shop in the different classrooms for the various services on offer. I couldn’t help noticing how run-down the place was though. In the classroom I was based in for example there was only 1 light fitting that still worked, the ceiling fan was broken, the roof in the bathroom was full of holes and as it rained that day was unusable. The only classroom equipment was a broken cassette tape player with the door missing and a circa 1990’s computer which I am sure had little purpose.

In the afternoon a convoy of brand new, top of the range, 4x4 vehicles descended on the site. The local politicians had arrived for an impromptu photo shoot, to pretend to their constituents that the medical mission was their initiative. Suddenly it was clear where the budget for the school had gone. Low level politicians receive a minimal salary but, as Cardinal Tagle put it recently (at the Eucharistic Conference in Cebu), they often use the budget as their own ‘piggy bank’. Even the cost of one of these 4x4’s would be more than enough to cover the repairs needed by the school, fans and light bulbs, corrugated iron roofing and enough left to fill it with books and computers. As a friend pointed out, ‘the politician’s children don’t go to that school though’

It was a stark contrast for me to the see selfless service of the medical teams up close to the rank self-interest of the officials.

Here in the Philippines, So few, steal so much, from so many. 

The Machine Stops

I was waiting for the elevator (lift) one morning and when it arrived and I stepped inside it said ‘sorry for keeping you waiting’. I have come to doubt her sincerity..

It put me in mind of a short story I read years ago, written in the early 1900’s by E.M Forester called ‘The Machine stops’. Science fiction in its day but having re-read it, it sent a chill down my spine as I recognized so much of my own daily life in its pages.

It describes a world fully connected by ‘the machine’. People living in subterranean condominiums, communicate through a screen, take courses, talk instantly with anyone around the world, push a button to get food or other necessities, never go outside or have real human contact and simply recycle the same ideas over and over at the expense of original thought. It sounds familiar.

In the US it was reported that young-teens are checking their social networking sites (Facebook and twitter particularly) with smart phones up to 100 times per day. I got on a bus the other day and every occupant was glued to their smartphones, I could have walked in with a rocket launcher over my shoulder without being spotted, even the driver was checking his phone while another line of smart-phone zombies filed in behind me.

What we receive through these devices is often inaccurate or low quality information and yet people have a tendency to trust what they see on Facebook, it can be quite hard to discern fact from fiction. Pictures with mis-quotes are all the rage, quickly followed by a cat video and then a high resolution photo of somebody’s egg and chips; a stream of inaccuracy, bland entertainment and trivia. It’s a sort of junk food for the mind and we are feasting on it to the exclusion of a more nutritious diet.

 It’s worth assessing how much time we are using up (the supply is limited) with these devices as compared with say spending time with loved ones, time in prayer, in something socially useful or going off-line altogether and enjoying nature perhaps.

Our reliance (and addiction) to these very new technologies is already disturbing. We will need to be intentional and deliberate in disconnecting from them frequently in order to use them rather than be controlled by them. 

Vengeance or Forgiveness ?

An inmate at a jail in the Bronx had an interesting insight, distilled from his life experiences:- “When someone wrongs us, we want the maximum amount of punishment. But when we do wrong, we want the maximum amount of understanding and forgiveness.” As a teenager he was robbed of his paper round earnings of $27 by 3 older boys. He got a knife, found them and stabbed all three and this began his own criminal life.  His response or reaction to the evil inflicted on him took him down that same road.

A former inmate from Manila city jail that I met recently had a different story. He was framed by an acquaintance for a multiple murder, a forced confession under torture was obtained by Police officers eager for promotion and he was sentenced to death by electric chair. (This was during the Marcos era when the death sentence was still used). He spent the next 6 years on death row, mostly in solitary. During that time, through the Prison ministry and a life in the Spirit seminar, he had a conversion and was able to forgive the people who had contributed to his woes. He accepted all as coming from the hand of God, whilst still pleading for his life to the new president. Soon after, his appeal was referred to the Supreme Court and he was found not-guilty and released. Since then he travels between jails to reach out to inmates, telling his story and bringing them what little relief he can, grateful to God and compassionate to his brother inmates, whose sufferings he understands all too well.

How we respond to the evil we encounter in life has a profound effect on the result.

For the Lenten season this year I was inspired to pray for the people who had caused pain and suffering in my life, I decided to have Masses offered for the more malevolent and malicious among them. And as I prayed during these first weeks of lent, I found many names and faces from the past come up who still had some capacity to affect me as I relived the incidents and then prayed for them. For example I thought of a sadistic school teacher, a false friend, an overcritical work colleague, a bully during my school days. The worse they were, the more I pitied them. Forgiveness is a must as we need it too, from those we have wronged and of course from God. 

The healer

When we are told ,  “…in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Phil 4:6) we know it makes sense, perhaps by faith or experience and yet can become forgetful and rely instead on our own understanding, perhaps it’s part of our terminal independent streak

.

A few months ago I woke up with a sore thumb. The knuckle was stiff and it was painful to move. Either google or Facebook led me to believe that it might be arthritis or gout and I should drink plenty of water. It didn’t work. So I took the unusual step of visiting the doctor, who prescribed some pills. They didn’t work either. After many months it dawned on me that I had not really mentioned it in my prayers so my wife got a bottle of blessed oil and prayed over my thumb for healing.

At this point I would have been quite satisfied with a common or garden complete miraculous healing of the pain and symptoms.

After the prayer it was still sore. So I figured I would have to carry this cross a little further and we went out for a walk. Or perhaps I should say we were led by the Spirit, because the Lord had a much more spectacular healing in mind.

To escape the searing heat of summer we soon ducked into an air conditioned shopping centre and strolling through its endless corridors walked up to a Pizza restaurant I had never been in. We usually avoid all fast-foods but before you could say cholesterol, we were locked in to its tractor beam and found ourselves seated in front of two freshly baked pizzas. It was, without exaggeration, the most delicious pizza I have ever tasted, heavenly. But the full significance of this event was not revealed until the next morning.

When I awoke and tried to wiggle my fossilized thumb, it was pain free, no longer stiff, with a full range of movement again. The Divine Physician had written out his prescription “take 2 pizzas and call me in the morning” which of course I did; to thank Him. The pain never returned.

It was a really funny answer to prayer but when you think about it, whilst doctors have a certain generalized knowledge of how the body works and its various malfunctions; only God has the big picture and He knew what vitamin or mineral or other ingredient was missing from my system that a pizza could replenish. How much more then can He provide solutions to all our needs if we entrust them to Him in prayer.