After breakfast Verena took the children to the monastery for the choir classes. The abbot was leading the choir. He had a very fine ear for music and voices in particular. He recognized any change in a voice which could signal sickness. He could diagnose an illness before the deceased realized. He said that the voice was connected to the soul and that the soul gets sick before the body does. It was therefore important to treat the soul of humans to avoid sickness. Art was opening the door to the soul lying in the inner depth of the mind. The spirit was the fuel carrying the soul. The abbot was always in search of new melodies which he said were medicine for the soul. He formed the melodies into choir songs recited in the church on Sunday.
The melody was not the only gift Saint Peter received today. Two Brothers who had avoided contact with each other for years went to church together. It was as if God had swept through the minds of people cleaning away from debris which had been accumulating for years. Peter and the fishermen were confessed that the destructive shadows of the past had dissipated. Peter had been invited to Saint Peter years ago. He spent his days hanging around on the sand banks of the river before. His life was fading away. But then he met abbot Antony who invited him to move into an empty house close to the river.
A father blaming himself for the death of his son thinking that he would never be forgiven was visited by his son in a dream. He saw his son reaching out for him and falling into his arms. The father had been tired ever since he lost his son and suffered from a deep depression which was cleared away by the dream.
Brother George stood at the altar. His strong arms were resting on the pulpit.
“Glory, glory to Jesus Christ in the highest, as we celebrate the day of the innocent children today. Nothing will come between us and God. This is the beginning of an exciting new liturgical year. I can see the three kings leaving their homes following the Morning Star to Saint Peter. Mary’s Light Mass is shining like a white star at the beginning of spring where we will consecrate our new praying candles. The candle flames will carry our prayers through the Liturgical year and through the night when darkness falls on our homes. Mary will shine into our souls and bestow us with wisdom.
“The fruit of the tree of life is growing strongly in our midst. There will be plenty of fruit bestowed on all of us. The fish will fill the nets of our fishermen and they will celebrate their catch on the river bank in the mild spring evenings. The spirit is flowing from Mount Jesus to flood the valleys and saturate the earth. The cherry trees will blossom in the fresh soil and spring sun and the trout will jump over the waves of the river at sunset in the evening.
“And yes, dear friends, I can see the football game coming up during spring carnival. I can see the statue of Saint Peter standing under the mild spring sun. The statue of Saint Peter is standing firm like a rock on the altar protected by our farmers. No parishioner from any other church will touch our Saint,” Brother George got excited and swung his leg.
He kicked a hard object under the altar and pulled his leg back immediately, his face contorted with pain. He hopped on his left leg, holding his right foot, looking up at the face of Jesus Christ hanging on the cross behind the altar.
He was still skipping when he turned around looking into the eyes of the parishioners. When the pain eased he put his right foot on the floor and limped to the altar. He knelt down.
“What have we got here?” said Brother George behind the altar.
He appeared with a wagon wheel somebody had put under the altar.
“Who put this wheel under the altar?” Brother George held the massive wheel in both hands.
The crowd was quiet and nobody answered.
“Who wanted to have this wheel blessed?” he asked after a moment of silence.
His eyes went far back of the church where the farmers sat.
Jack sat next to Marc. He was looking around him. When he could not find any of his friends he said,
“I didn’t do it.” His thin brown hair fell in the wrinkles on his forehead.
“I put the wheel under the altar,” said a tall farmer.
“I wanted my cart to be blessed so it would carry a rich crop from the fields.” The farmer looked at the ground.
“Did you also put the brush under the altar?” asked Brother George holding a brush in the air.
“I did,” said another farmer who was looking timidly at the floor.
“Why did you do that?” asked Brother George swinging the brush in the air.
“I am losing my hair,” said the farmer still looking on the ground.
Brother George disappeared behind the altar. He appeared with a hammer, nails, socks, hats and a pot in his hands putting them on the altar. Then he disappeared again.
“I do not want to know who put these trousers here!” said Brother George holding a pair of men’s trousers in the air.
His last words were cut off by the laughter of the congregation.
“And I do not want to know why it was put under the altar,” said a farmer provoking another round of laughter.
“Maybe because the owner is suffering from constipation,” said somebody else.
“Is there somebody who did not put anything under the altar?” asked Brother George.
“I did not put anything,” said a little farmer who had just sold a cow.
“I thought you had thrown your wife under the altar,” said an old man.
“To receive a new broom and fly through the night,” shouted another farmer.
“This is not the right way to ask God for favors. You all know that. If we want something from God we have to pray,” said Brother George.
The church door opened suddenly. A boy entered the church saying,
“Follow me to the monastery. We have created a new song.”
The melody of the song had been growing during Advent time on reflection of the adventurous rescue of the Morning Star. Feeling of hope and despair were expressed in the long walk to rescue Christian and the Morning Star. The song expressed the waiting for Christmas during the holy Advent time. Patience was slowly transforming into a solemn peace crowned by the arrival of Jesus Christ. Brother Benedict and Steve accompanied the choir on their music instruments. The spirituality from Advent and Christmas flowed into the peaceful song.
The Dark Knight Emerges from the Valley of Death
Fewer and fewer people attended the church from the on. Peter, the fisherman, told Brother George that he had spotted some farmers in an old house near the river. Brother George decided to go to the old house with Peter. Laughter drifted past them as they approached the old barn, which was used to store vegetables during the winter. The door of the old shed opened with a squeak. The shed was empty. A wood fire was burning keeping the shed warm. The room was filled with smoke and the smell of alcohol lay heavily in the air.
“Stop drinking! I have seen so many lives destroyed by alcohol, families torn apart. Alcohol is a demon scourging the world,” said Peter to the men sitting at the table.
They laughed.
“Sit down with us and have a glass. I have seen you drinking,” said Jack, raising his mug.
“I have a glass of beer at the carnival and Thanks- giving. Alcohol is a tyrant turning people into slaves,” said Brother George, pushing the mug away.
“Where did you get the alcohol from?”
“A man visited our village and showed us how to distill our own alcohol,” said Jack proudly.
“You should not trust any stranger coming to the village unless he is a pilgrim and familiar. And you should certainly do not any business with a man you do not know. We have too many enemies,” said Brother George walking through the barn. His heavy shoes were resonated on the wooden floor.
“Fine, fine. We will stop drinking,” said a man sitting over his mug like an old crow.
“Before you leave, I want you to tell me the name of the distiller,” Brother George putting his strong arms on the wooden table and looked in their eyes.
; “We do not know his name. He is tall and skinny and wears a black tunic. He is very kind,” said Jack.
“It is the Dark Knight rising from the Underworld. I do ask u to avoid any contact with him. He is evil and will corrupt your soul in the same way as the alcohol does.”
Brother George and Peter left the barn. When they were walking to the church Peter said,
“We have to stop them before it is too late.”
“King Bloodstone is constructing an evil plot against us. The Underworld is releasing the dark night but the gates of hell will not prevail against Saint Peter,” said Brother George, opening the door. The Morning Star was brightened the church. The scent of the Christmas tree was wrapping the altar into a celestial robe.
“It is good to see more fishermen going to church. The Holy Spirit becomes more powerful in their lives. You can be drunk of the Holy Spirit. Have as much as you like and be taken on the most amazing spiritual journeys and still work and be a good neighbor. The Holy Spirit is the blood of God. Alcohol is the blood of the devil.” Brother George removed a rosemary branch from a bench and put it underneath an icon of Mary.
“You are so right but it took me a long time to trust God. I drank because I was tired. I was tired of life. I did not want to live anymore and I wanted to put an end to my life. But then I met the abbot who invited me to Saint Peter and my life changed dramatically. Now I am asking God for help when I am exhausted and he fills me with new strength,” said Peter following Brother George to the altar.
“God has worked miracles in your life, Peter. I have seen you changing over the months. You have learnt to trust in God.”
The cry of a merle came from the nearby forest and enchanted the church. Scents and sounds were constantly changing turning the church into a symphony of the senses.
The sun sunk behind the Mountain of the Angels as the congregation followed the Morning Star from the monastery to the church. Mount Mary shone like a mystical rose in the red light of the sunset. The candles seamed the path. The procession looked like a river of light flooding into the sea. Each light carried prayers and dreams into the holy night. The church was glowing like a big red cross in the winter night.
Back in the church, Brother Martin was reading about the exodus of the Holy Family to Egypt. His words passionately painted images into the empty spaces of the church. The celebration ended in a feast. A celebration without a meal was like a candle without flames said the abbot. The young boys and girls celebrating confirmation later this year served the meals.
Verena and Christine could relax and join the congregation. They had baked ginger bread houses during Advent time together with the children of the orphanage. The many chapels attached to the main body of the church were like themes of the Bible reflecting in the liturgical year.
Brother Benedict stood in front of the altar. The sleeves of his priest gown were looking like wings. He was standing still with closed eyes like an eagle on a rock, ready to take off. Then he said:
“When King Herod realized that he had been tricked by the Wise men who did not tell him where Jesus was born, he decided to kill all the baby boys, the innocent children. An angel appeared to Joseph telling him that he had to take his family and escape to Egypt and stay there until further notice. King Herod and his soldiers sniffed through the Holy Land like hungry wolves looking for Mary, Joseph and Jesus. Joseph took the Child and His mother by night, and departed to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. It was prophesized that the Lord would call his son out of Egypt.”
After Brother Benedict had finished the abbot joined him at the altar and said:
“God has given us Brothers whose hearts are full of goodness and the earth which is rich of food. Our friends have invited us to the river to celebrate the day of the innocent children together.” The abbot and walked to the wooden gate of the church followed by the congregation.
The fishermen from the river were very shy and turned up rarely at church. They avoided all contact with the people from the village.
Golden memories woke up in the sun inviting the soul for a new spiritual journey the next morning. Peter welcomed the village people who had followed his invitation. The fishermen served fish with garlic and fresh herbs and baked potatoes. After the meal Peter said,
“Thank you all for coming to our village. We are very grateful that you have allowed us to be part of your community. Saint Peter is the only village that accepts us. I know how it feels to live on the dark side of life as many of you do too. But we have learnt that we can make a difference with the help of our friends. We were starving when we arrived. Now we have enough to eat. I still remember when I came to the village. The abbot gave us a painting from the mountain of memory showing Jesus with the disciples Simon, John, James and Andrew who used to be fishermen before becoming disciples of his Holy Mission.”
The winter struck with all its might and snow fell on Saint Peter. The farmers could not work because of the snow. The Dark Knight was spotted at the barn where the men distilled alcohol. In the village again which worried Brother George. There were unrests at the old barn at the river.
The wind howled through the village of Saint Peter like a hungry wolf ready to attack anytime soon. The people stayed in their home in their living rooms close to the chimneys. The monks from the monastery made sure that everybody had enough to eat during these cold winter days and visited each house several times a day. Grandparents stayed in the houses of their children, telling stories from the past to their grand-children. Stories they had heard from their fathers and fathers and their fathers. The stories originated at the beginnings of time. It was as if the heat of the fire was releasing the stories of the mysterious mountain forests kept secret for hundreds of years. Brother Benedict travelled from house to house to make sure everybody was doing fine.
People walked to the heavy snow which fell overnight so they could listen to the stories of Benedict in the evenings. Brother Benedict had recorded all the stories he had heard from the people of the region. It was a beautiful collection of fairy tales and horror stories which frightened even Brother George. Brother Benedict had an uncle who was a monk and had told him mysterious tales about the Mountain of the angels. The rooms of the monastery were changing into oceans and the imagination of the listeners into vessels sailing over the ocean from one adventure to another.
Epiphany
The time was passed quickly thanks to the fascinating stories. Then the feast of Epiphany arrived.
Brother George was preached about Revelation, about the seven sprits of God and the seven gifts to the churches. He talked about the rescue of the Morning Star being one of the seven gifts of God to the churches. After the ceremony the congregation gathered in the church room to eat sweet bread which had been especially baked for this occasion.
In the evening three men arrived at the monastery of Saint Peter where they were welcomed by the abbot. They all had a different complexion and came from different parts of the world. Their names were Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar. Melchior was the king of lights and had been living in Jerusalem. He brought myrrh to Saint Peter.
“How did you find the way to our village?” asked the abbot.
“We were prisoners of King Bloodstone and heard of the courageous rescue of the Morning Star. We took advantage of the confusion and followed the Morning Star to Saint Peter,” said Caspar, who had been living in Africa before being abducted by King Bloodstone’s soldiers. He brought incense to Saint Peter.
“We all have come to Saint Peter to seek shelter from our enemies. United we can prevail against our enemies,” said the abbot welcoming the three kings with open arms.
“You are very kind. There are more gifts in front of the monastery. We have brought you the white stone, the crown of eternal life and the hidden manna to be put under the Christmas tree,” said Balthazar, who had been a treasurer in Persia before being taken prisoner by King Bloodstone.
The visit of the three men
revived the spirit of Christmas travelling through the Advent Time to Christmas. The light of the Morning Star fell like gold dust on the memory of the believers travelling through the Advent time.
“God bless you for your generosity. We will treasure your gifts,” said the abbot.
“Just make sure that all the pilgrims seeking the love of Jesus Christ have access to these gifts,” said Melchior.
“We will treasure your gifts and make them accessible to our pilgrims.”
“It must be difficult to protect the artifacts,” said Caspar.
“It is difficult indeed. We are defending our village against the Romans. The monks in the monasteries help us to defend the treasures against our enemies,” said the abbot.
“Why are the Romans so determined to bring the relics into their possession?” asked Caspar.
“They have different motives. The Romans are afraid of Christianity because they can see the positive impact it is has on people. King Bloodstone realizes that the power of God is crushing his controlling spirit and his aim to exploit people. The Saints are rising in the villages liberating the souls which are trapped in hell because they have never been shown the way to heaven. The Romans have seen Jesus Christ rising and devastating the army of evil on the way to heaven. King Bloodstone believes that the artifacts will inspire Christians to build tools to fight for humanity,” said the abbot.
“What gives you the courage to resist?” asked Caspar.
“The churches are powerhouses of the Holy Spirit. Our prayers are the soil for the Holy Spirit to produce fruit,” said the abbot moving the rod into the air as if he was warning somebody. The upper part of the rod had the form of a fish as displayed on the walls surrounding the monastery.
“How do you stop the army of evil attacking your villages?” asked Caspar.
“The Holy Lance of Longinus and Maurice and his six thousand, six hundred and sixty-six soldiers from the Theban Legion in Egypt are protecting us. Maurice is their leader and one of the bravest knights the world has ever seen. King Bloodstone is afraid of the Holy Lance empowering people to become creative and destroy the ancient structure of evil.” The abbot pointed to the mountains in the north with his rod.