“It is a beautiful dog indeed. How far is it to the hostel?” asked Brother Benedict.
“The hostel is just behind this mountain here, “said the old shepherd and pointed to the spot where the path disappeared into the trees.
“We are tired and need a rest. Are you coming with us?” asked Brother Benedict.
“No. I have to walk. I want to be at Mount Mary before sun rise,” said the old shepherd.
“So we shall see you for the celebration of Annunciation tomorrow,” said Benedict.
“Yes, you will see me at the celebration of our gracious mother of God. God bless you all,” said the old shepherd lifting his lantern whose light was flickering in the night.
The light of his lantern moved in the darkness like the Morning Star showing the way to Bethlehem.
The Return of the Enemy
The roofs of the hostel rose in the evening night. It looked like the sail of a ship anchored in a harbor after a long voyage in the sea. For Steve and the novice monks who ran up the mountains the hostel looked more like an oasis in the desert.
The hostel stood on a meadow at the edge of the mountain and had been destroyed many times by the Romans and then rebuilt to accommodate the pilgrims. The hostel was wrapped in the silvery light of the moon. Marc proudly carried the painting of the lost sheep under his right arm. He looked like an angel carrying a prayer into heaven. The painting was wrapped in a rug.
The pilgrims went into the dining room. Other pilgrims, who had arrived earlier sat around the tables eating and drinking. A middle-aged man with a black beard abruptly stopped talking and observed Brother Benedict unwrapping the painting with the lost sheep. It was quiet. Even a grain of sand falling on the floor could have been heard. Everybody was watching Jesus Christ holding the sheep in his arms. Two monks entered the dining room with another painting.
“We have brought you something,” said Brother Benedict to the hostess, and pulled the rug away from the wooden frame.
The Lady of the Mountains and her two sons moved closer to the painting. It was a painting of the last supper. The Lady of the Mountains and her family stared at the painting as if they were seeing a candle burning on a Christmas tree in a dark room.
“It is a present from the abbot and the community of Saint Peter. A gift to reward the hospitality and kindness of your family has given to the pilgrims over the years. Our prayers have gone out to you and your family. Especially when your son, Christian, was abducted by the knights of King Bloodstone,” said Brother Benedict.
“I am so overwhelmed with kindness. I have heard about the dragon kidnapping the children into the caves in the mountains of death. I pray day and night that they will be released and the terror of the dragons will end,” said the Lady of the Mountains.
“The dragon has taken Jack hostage. There are at least two dozen children in his power,” said Brother Leo.
“Yes, I have heard of Jack’s disappearance. I wake up in the middle of the night persecuted by nightmares, thinking the dragon is going to attack the hostel of our Lady soon,” said the Lady of the Mountains.
“Brother George is convinced that the hostages are still alive and well. He said that he will do everything in his power to deliver them from the power of King Bloodstone,” said Brother Benedict.
“Strange things have happened recently: the disappearance of the children and the pollution of the air, earth and water. Have you seen the trees in the mountains lately? It is spring and the leaves are not getting green. The leaves are weathering as if winter was not far away. The trees are dying. The water in the river is poisonous. Black clouds are creeping over the mountains with white and yellow swathes looking like the eggs of dragons. The end of the world must be near,” said the Lady of the Mountains.
“What is causing the pollution?” asked Steve.
“Some shepherds from the mountains said that they had spotted a huge shadow circling over Mount Mary at night time. We had the most beautiful sunrises in the mountains. But more and more often we see dark shadows hanging over the green meadows,” said the Lady of the Mountains.
“Where do the clouds come from?” asked Steve sitting at the table with a piece of bread in his hands.
“The Lady of the Mountains poured soup in his coup. “You must be hungry.”
“The Shepherds believe that the dragons of the sea of death are damaging the elements. The dragons pollute the air and the earth and the snake destroys the water,” said a pilgrim who was listening to the conversation.
The man with the black beard raised his voice:
“And who is in power of the dragon? Who tells them to go out and destroy your mountains and lakes? Who do you think is bringing these catastrophes on us? Is the sign on your shields not a dragon? Are the paintings on the monasteries of Saint Mary and Mount Jesus not dragons and fish?”
“You are misinformed. An elephant and a fish are on the wall of the monasteries,” said Brother Leo.
“I am sure that the abbot and the monks know more then they admit. They must have some connection to King Bloodstone. Why do you think the abbot disappears all the whole time?” said the stranger.
“Who are you?” asked Brother Benedict.
“My name is not important,” said the stranger, starring at the wooden table.
“Get more information from the monks.”
“I have served the monastery for many years. I would have noticed if they had hurt human beings and nature,” said Brother Benedict.
“What is your degree? Have you been introduced to the secrets of Set?” asked the man who did not want to be recognized.
“We do not believe in degrees. We do not follow Set, the Egyptian God of chaos and his followers. We seek the wisdom of God and worship the only true God, the god of Abraham and Jesus Christ. We are also venerating Mary, the Angels and Saints. We do not strive for power and control of the material world. We are searching for wisdom as wisdom is the gate to heaven,” said Brother Benedict.
“Some of the monks also worship Sophia,” said the stranger.
“Apostle John called Mary, the virgin Sophia. She is the incarnation of the wisdom of God. She is part of God and the bringer of the Holy Spirit,” said Brother Benedict.
“Do you also serve King Bloodstone?” asked the stranger.
“We never have and we never will. King Bloodstone is a false God. He is the angel of death. He controls the material world and denies the spiritual world of God.”
“The dragon is powerful and might bring you big fortunes,” said the stranger sneering at Brother Benedict.
“The dragon takes away from the poor to give to the rich. Greed hangs around his neck like a tombstone. Never is never enough and the end of never is hell,” said Brother Benedict.
“Has anybody been to the celebration of the guardian angels this year?” asked Brother Leo.
There was silence.
“I have not been there personally but I have seen some pilgrims recently who went there and brought me this painting,” said the Lady of the Mountains and pointed to the painting on the chimney breast.
The yellow color of the fire blended in with the red colors in the picture depicting the three arch angels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael.
“If God and angels existed why did the guardian angels not bring the children back to their families? Why are they not helping Jack?” asked the pilgrim of death.
“Excuse me. These men together with Brother George, Maurice and Julian rescued my son from the dragons in the Underworld,” said the Lady of the Mountains.
“You believe in phantoms,” said the stranger. There is no God, angels or saints in this world. There is no mercy, kindness and love. Everybody is fighting for himself and the strongest will survive and reach the top to drink the blood of the dragons. The more we drink, the stronger we become. Having mercy for the poor is self-pity as you can only perceive what is in you. The disappearance of the poor is a normal process as the weak needs to make space for the stron
g.”
“I will talk with you about evil when you are sick. We are born weak and die weak. We need somebody to care for us when we are babies and we need somebody to care for us when we are sick. Weakness is our nature otherwise we would not need our god, Jesus Christ,” said Brother Benedict.
“We cannot answer these questions today. The children are tired and should go to bed now,” said Verena who did not want the children to be exposed to the discussion any longer.
Steve sat on a tree trunk in front of the hostel. The moon stood high over the mountains. It was quit. He could hear the voices of the pilgrims. A gentle wind blew through the pine trees surrounding the hostel. Steve heard the voice of an owl. The meadows floated like islands in the moonshine.
When Brother Benedict went back to his friends, the stranger had disappeared.
Brother Leo came into the dining room.
“What is going on here? Why did you dispatch monks to the village?” asked Brother Leo, who was becoming very unsure about the situation.
“I did not want to tell anybody but there is evidence that the monastery of Mount Mary is going to be attacked at the feast of Annunciation. I sent a message to Brother George asking for help,” said Brother Benedict.
“How do you know that the monastery is under threat?” asked Brother Leo.
“I saw the eyes of chaos in the black clouds” Brother Benedict said. “King Bloodstone is observing the monastery to launch an attack. He hates Mary because she has rescued our souls in the past as and will do so again at the celebration of All Saints with her son, Jesus Christ. You can only get to the father through the son and you can only get to the son through the mother. King Bloodstone wants to kill Mary so she cannot give birth to Jesus Christ.” Brother Benedict reading in Revelations.
“Then the dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth, so that it might devour her child the moment he was born. She gave birth to a son, a male child, who “will rule all the nations with an iron scepter. And her child was snatched up to God and to his throne. The woman fled into the wilderness to a place prepared for her by God, where she might be taken care of for one thousand, twelve hundred and sixty days. Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But the dragon was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him,” said Brother Benedict and closed the Bible.
“Revelations 12 is going to be revealed to us tomorrow. Let us get some sleep. We have to get up early in the morning,” said Brother Benedict leaving the dining room.
A wonderful day awakened in the mountains and valleys. The dew dripped down from the grass. Little drops where scattered over the meadows glittering like diamonds in the morning sun. Cold air was rising from the grass. For a moment winter emerged from the sea of the seasons again. Winter was jealous of his younger brother spring grabbing the sunlight from his hand. Spring appeared in his colorful dress full of joy and strength fighting against his brother for the crown of the seasons.
The sun rose higher and higher whilst the seasons were fighting. The valleys woke up from deep dreams and nature reached out its hands to the sun. A mild wind carried the strong scent of wheat and corn over the valley.
The Monastery of Mount Mary
Brother Benedict stood in front of the hostel, starring down into the valley. The day was clear and he could see the Mountain of the Angels in the distance between meadows and fields stretching like a bow over the valley. Benedict’s heart was filled with deep joy and he started praising God.
After breakfast the pilgrims walked into the morning. The Lady of the Mountains stood in front of the hostel waving goodbye.
Hundreds of pilgrims came from the valleys to celebrate the feast of Annunciation at Mount Mary. The prayers of the pilgrims blended into the warm morning like a melody directed by an invisible conductor. Each pilgrim played a different instrument. The pilgrims prayed out of the depths of their hearts and souls. Brother Benedict was praying the Rosary. His voice became stronger and stronger. He closed his eyes. The catharsis of the mind cleansed his soul to receive the wisdom of God. When he opened his eyes again he recognized the Mountain of Jesus in the far distance. He saw the cross on Mount Jesus stretching into the blue sky. An image of pilgrims carrying the cross to Mount Jesus on Easter passed his mind. His thoughts fell into the memory of his soul. Christmas was still resonating strongly in his memory. He prayed for Jack and all the children who had been kidnapped by the dragon.
Verena always knew when Brother Benedict was praying for other people. He closed his eyes and poured his entire heart in his prayers.
“What makes you so compassionate, Benedict?”
“It is not me. It is the compassion of Mary who has compassion with all the beings on earth. I see how she is puts the prayers of her children on the altar of God. She is the intercessor of our prayers because nobody has more mercy with us than the mother of God and her son, Jesus Christ.” Brother Benedict bent his head like a little boy who had been caught doing something wrong.
“God condones whatever we have done,” Sister Verena said. “He loves us and forgives us. Dark is the prison where there is no prayer, never ending is the night for a forgotten soul, where there is no tear from a mother who doesn’t care. Mary cries for all of us. Her tears are cleansing the sins of this world and taking away the father’s anger for when we went against his law. She wiped the tears from his face when he lost his son dying on the cross.”
The paths merged together and became broader. They reached the plateau of Mount Mary. The monastery rose like a flower on the horizon. The church in the middle of the monastery was like the blossom of the flower. Mighty walls rose into the sky protecting the monastery of Saint Mary from the attacks of the Romans and King Bloodstone. Pilgrims from the surrounding villages streamed towards the monastery of Mount Mary to celebrate Annunciation together. They were carrying paintings with themes of the Bible. A boy carried a picture showing Jesus Christ feeding the crowd. The community where he was living had a bad harvest and not enough food. Another group carried a picture with a woman touching Jesus Christ. Some people in that congregation were struggling with faith. The soul paintings were a reflection of the needs of people and their congregations. These needs were reflected in messages from heaven, the soul paintings revealing dreams before King Bloodstone had a chance to twist the dreams and turn them into nightmares.
The prayers of the villages flowed into the monastery like rivers into the sea. The soul paintings became visions and the visions new ventures providing food and richness for the people.
Armed monks guarded the entrance of Saint Mary‘s monastery. A statue of Mary with a crown of twelve stars stood in a green park in front of the church. The monastery of Mount Mary was much bigger than Saint Peter.
Marc and little Catherine were carrying the painting of the good shepherd to the church of Saint Mary. A monk took the painting and attached it in the tunnel underneath the monastery. Underground tunnels were connected the monasteries and villages together. Thousands of soul paintings expressing the joy and sorrows of the communities decorated the walls of the mountains.
Mary carried the prayers of the faithful to the altar of God. Mount Mary had become a museum of prayers inviting the pilgrims to contemplate and create new associations with the Holy Spirit. The stories of the Old and New Testament melted together like the mountain streams flowing into the Rhone.
The Purification of the Virgin Mary
Dozens of pilgrims flocked into the cathedral in the middle of the monastery. The pilgrims attended mass before taking the last station of the pilgrimage. A path in the East wing of the church led into the mountain to the shrine of Saint Mary.
After the ceremony of Annunciation the priest said.
“You are n
ow welcome to undertake the last station of your pilgrimage to the Madonna in the grotto.” He opened the heavy wooden door in the east wing, saying.
“Holy Mary mother of all martyrs; how much blood has to be shed until he earth finds peace?”
A tunnel appeared. The excitement was rising as the first pilgrims entered into the darkness.
Steve and Catherine followed the pilgrims through the gate into the mountain of Mary. The monks in the monasteries had carved all the miracles of Saint Mary in wooden plates. There were paintings showing Mary with Jesus Christ in her arms. The first icon of the virgin mother holding the child Jesus on her arm was painted by Saint Luke the apostle. Mary said that her grace would accompany the icon and the Saint.
Steve walked slowly through the tunnel of love. He read the messages on the wall. He felt as if he his soul was swimming through a sea of compassion.
The tunnel led into the heart of the mountain. The pilgrims were closely connected to each other’s emotions melting into a body of joy and happiness. An angel was rising from these feelings. Dark shadows were emerging on the walk to the inner self, feelings of grief and bitterness surfaced. The hard feelings evaporated like water on a hot plate when being confronted with the body of joy rising in the presence of Jesus and Mary. Sorrowful and joyful emotions were following each other like snow and summer rain. Christmas merged with Easter opening the mind to new spiritual seasons. The liturgical year with all its feasts bore individual emotions which were playing in harmony together like symphonies of feelings. The world turned around. What was outside was suddenly inside the heart. Emotions were streaming through the mind like tears of joy and sadness. These feelings were lifting the spirit into the mystical world of Mary. The spiritual experiences flowed through the memories like the water of the mighty Rhone River. Along the river shore grew beautiful gardens rejuvenating the mind of the pilgrim. The farmer’s hand tired from lifting heavy weights was strengthening. The back pain of a lady disappeared.
“Praise Mary and all the angels in heaven,” shouted a young man, falling to his knees. His face was filled with compassion and joy shining like a red tomato in spring. The tunnel of love went deeper into the mountain. Water dripped from the walls. Steve was holding Catherine’s hand enjoying the emotions embracing him like a waterfall. The Holy Spirit fell on his soul. The sensation took his breath away. Catherine looked in his eyes, feeling as if she was swimming in a mountain lake at sunrise.