and this boy
yes, this boy here.

He is not here.
The train whistled and he
answered.
the call,
of desirous, burning youth.
You can call it empathy or
Even…
supplication,but it really
Is just
running away. Far:

But this boy,
yes this boy. He is in Africa.
But really he is a man,
but I call him a boy
so I can pretend I haven’t aged…

He went to Cambodia
and felt guilty about the dog.
It must have reminded him of another dog
that followed him everywhere.
He loved that dog
and he must have told it all his shattered dreams
Because he always held his cards close to his chest
and the Queen of Hearts showed her face but once.

And so this is what I am
and how I wish I could blame you for this mess
This tragedy of my own weak flesh
But in the end, fuck you
because I am the master of my own fucked up destiny.
Trust me, if have no one to blame but myself.
And you blind professors rattle on in empty halls
About the fruedianisms of inarticulate youth and how we
all wish to replace each other.
My mother is to blame
And I wasn’t loved enough
And Peter Rabbit’s trail burned to ash,
but really it’s all a bunch of bullshit
because I am what I am
And no one can stand, say I made you
and fashioned you from clay
because I’m rock.
Do you hear me?
I’m rock!

What you say?
I’m the rock around your neck…

No, I’m immovable and won’t bend
blow on with your impotent rage
I’d laugh if I weren’t so pissed
I’m that immovable force, and you just met
Me, when you passed me by on the street
And we didn’t look eye to eye…
Sometimes it’s simply better to be a stranger
or pretend that I’m not alone, and I don’t really care
because when the clock strikes twelve
It all turns to ash and the joker pawned
The crystal slipper anyway…

But it always did cut like a knife,
sharpened steel on my bones
your Judas kiss burned my flesh
and it withered and dripped from my bone
And I was that Coppelia as you pulled the string
With a jerky grace as limb moved limb

But I refuse to plead with you anymore
I’m done, do you hear!
I don’t even have the words left to say…

That boy with that arrogant toss
could not find the courage to say
or maybe his silence was the sacrifice
And his heart burned on, across the table:

Could you beat a man to death
with a microphone…?
When the Queen of Hearts meets the Spade
It’s a reckoning for a new day.

But stigmata always did leave me empty
and Thomas knows…
Yes, Thomas knows…
the reassurance of grace is half-stretched
and thin.

“What’s that?” she said as I tried to pull my blazer over the blood.

“That?  Oh, I guess I must have spilled my merlot—I’m such a klutz.”

“You’re drinking beer,” Jeff said, and I was stuck.  Thankfully, my better half sprang to my defense.

“It’s a medical condition he doesn’t like to talk about,” she said with a tilt of her head that suggested to the other couple that I wasn’t the easiest guy in the world to live with.

“What is it?” Sally asked with an aspect of sincere concern.

“Stigmata,” I said as I stared down at my Caesar salad.  I don’t like talking about myself.

“Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar salad . . .”

“But you have your glasses on,” Jeff said.

“Not astigmatism . . . stigmata,” my wife said.

“It’s kind of a skin condition,” I said, trying to take the conversational helm so I could steer it towards calmer waters.  “Hey–you like the Red Sox new manager?”

“Christ—here it comes again!”

But Sally didn’t let Jeff take the bait.  “Don’t you think you should tie a tourniquet or something?” she asked as I bled profusely from the points where Jesus was wounded during his crucifixion.

“I’m fine,” I said.  “It will run its course.”

“Are you on medication?” Jeff asked.  He’s the kind of guy who thinks there’s a modern, scientific cure for everything.

“No—there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“It’s a condition he’ll have to live with the rest of life,” my wife added.

“How did you get it?”

“Well,” I began, “in retrospect I probably shouldn’t have been such an avid student of the Baltimore Catechism.”

“A bunch of Catholic hocus-pocus gave you a skin condition?” Jeff asked, incredulous.

“I . . . uh . . . probably studied a little too hard,” I continued.  “I won highest catechism score three years in a row.  I got a little plastic statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary every year.”

“Was there something in the plastic?” Sally asked.

“No, nothing like that.  It’s just that, it laid the foundation for miraculous manifestations when I subsequently saved a guy’s life.”

“Were you a lifeguard?” Jeff asked.

“I was, so I learned mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but I didn’t use it on some chlorine-bleached blonde in a tank suit.”

“Thank God!” my wife interjected, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Instead, it was a junkie choking on his own vomit.”

“Eww!” the two women said together, instinctually.

“Weren’t you worried you’d . . . get something?” Jeff asked.

“This was before AIDS.  I didn’t think twice.  I’d had all these First Aid lessons, finally somebody was giving me an opportunity to put them to use!”

The other three fell silent for a moment.  The waiter came, cleared the salad plates and asked if we’d like another round of wine.

“YES!” the other three said in unison.  I didn’t think the story was that gory.

“So—the guy lived?” Jeff asked tentatively.

“Yep.  The EMTs said it was a miracle.  So I had the catechism statues and a genuine bona fide miracle to my credit.  I was on the fast track to heaven, and eventually sainthood.”

“If there are any Protestants watching tonight, we’re having a one-time Come to Jesus Special!”

“Wow,” Sally said.  She just got tenure at a local college, and thus appreciates independent third-party validation of one’s accomplishments.  “But—I thought you had to have three miracles to become a saint.”  That’s what the Eternal Word Television Network has accomplished in the three decades it’s been in existence; put recondite dogma of the Roman Catholic Church just a click of the remote away from suburban Protestant infidels whose “ministers” allow them to take the entire summer off from church attendance!

“Two or three is standard, it’s up to the Pope,” I said, trying hard not to sound like a know-it-all.  “But anyway, I was fine until last summer, when I saved another life.”

“Not another junkie, I hope,” Jeff said as he took a gulp of his cabernet.  He’s usually a fastidious drinker, savoring the bouquet, the legs, the nose—the entire mystical body of his wine.  I guess my story had him agitated.

“So what happened?” Sally asked, a bit breathlessly I might add.

“This kid was walking along, listening to music on his iPhone, earbuds firmly in place.  He looked to his right, saw nothing, and stepped off the curb.  What he didn’t see was a truck backing up from the other direction.  The driver was looking over his right shoulder, and the kid was in his blind spot.”

“So what did you do?” Sally asked.

“I yelled as loud as I could—the truck driver heard me and slammed on the brakes.”

“How about the kid?” Jeff asked.

“Just kept on walking,” I said, to knowing looks and bobbing heads all around, as we are all parents of teenaged boys.

St. Catherine of Siena, listening to Breviary on Tape

“And ever since he’s had this . . . condition,” my wife said, as the entrees were placed in front of us.

“You’re in distinguished company,” the swarthy waiter with the big pepper mill said.

“Like Lou Gehrig with Lou Gehrig’s Disease?” Jeff asked.

“You got St. Francis of Assisi, Saint Theresa of Avila, Saint Catherine of Siena—all had stigmata!”

“Wow!” Sally said.  “That’s pretty impressive.”

“Still,” I said, “it can be very embarrassing in social situations—like this.”

“Isn’t there any way you can stop the bleeding?”

“Just one,” the waiter said with a knowing look.  “If you think impure thoughts, the bleeding stops.”

“So . . . if he thinks of what we might be doing later tonight,” my wife began, but the waiter cut her off.

“No, madame.  It is impossible to sin by thinking of having sex with one’s lawfully married spouse.  He must think of someone else’s spouse.”

“Like me?” Sally asked helpfully.

“Yes, madame.  Enjoy your dinners.”

After the waiter departed, there was a moment of uncomfortable silence.  After poking his grouper a few times, Jeff spoke in a magnanimous tone, like the celebrity auctioneer at a gala charity benefit.

“Well, you know, it’s . . . uh . . . all right with me if you think impure thoughts about Sally,” he said.  He looked at her, she looked at him—then he gave her hand a little squeeze.

I turned to look at my wife, afraid of what I’d see, but instead of eyelids narrowed to grim little slits, I saw a look of . . . love . . . and compassion.

“I’m there for you sweetie,” she said as she grabbed my blood-stained hand.  “Go ahead—think anything you want—if it’ll help you control this awful disease . . .”

“It’s not a disease,” I interjected.

Bagnell Dam:  *sniff*

“Condition,” she said softly.  I could see tears welling up in her eyes that she fought hard to control, like Bagnell Dam at the Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri, after a heavy spring rain.

I looked at Sally, and she looked back at me with a smile.  “Please,” she said with a therapeutic tone in her voice.  “Go ahead—think of me what you will.”

Let me just say that I’m no saint.  I have fantasies about women other than my wife—but not my wife’s friends.  There’s just something—incestuous about the thought of relations within our social circle.  As for Sally, she’s one woman I dearly love to talk to; interesting, educated, articulate—so no knock against her personally either.  It’s just that—I couldn’t get it up for her, mentally speaking.

“Well, come on you two—get it on,” Jeff said as he stuffed a forkful of potatoes in his mouth.  “If you don’t hurry up, our table is going to be drenched in blood before we get the dessert menus.”

“We are almost out of lemon-scented Pledge, monsieur!”

I tried everything; French maid, naughty meter maid, Sports Illustrated swimsuit model.  Nothing worked.  I could tell that Sally was a little hurt.

“Isn’t there some image of me in your mind you could find the least little bit sexy?” she asked finally, biting her lower lip.

And then it happened.  Mirabile dictu—the bleeding stopped!

“How’d you do it?” my wife asked, amazed.

“What was it—stern Registry of Motor Vehicles clerk?  D-cup dental hygienist?” Jeff asked with excitement.

“C’mon, ‘fess up—you at least owe it to me,” Sally said.

I gulped, then swallowed.  It was time for confession.  “To you, Sister Sally of the Talbots Skirt-and-Sweater Set—I offer my most passionate devotion.”

Available in Kindle format on amazon.com as part of the collection “Fun With Nuns.”

St Francis of Assisi
(Francis Bernadone) il poverello, apostle of the poor,
patron saint of animals;
patron saint of the ecological movement1181 – 1226

I get the feeling St. Francis would look at the world today and feel disappointment, sadness, and a new energy to “Evangelize” — to spread “The Word.”

He would undoubtedly teach us to connect to Jesus Christ, to keep connected to the best of our ability every day, to cherish life even as we keep aware of death, and to refresh and renew our faith every day.

The sacraments and service to others provide us often with the Holy Spirit — which is the fuel we need to carry forward our missionary work and to keep ourselves and out families “on the beam.”

This message is a timeless message of faith, hope, belief in God, service to others and Gratitude.

On Christmas 1994, Blessed John II also gave us this message:

Christmas Message From Blessed John Paul II (1994)

**********************

Born John (later “Francesco”) Bernadone,  the future Saint came into the world in the stony hill-town of Assisi in Umbria, (Northern Italy) in the year 1181 or 1182.

Much of  his father, Peter Bernadone’s trade, was with France, and his son was born while he was absent in that country.  Perhaps for this reason the child was called Francesco, “the French man,” though his name was John. As a youth he was ardent in his amusements and seemed carried away by the mere joy of living, taking no interest at all in his father’s business or in formal learning. Bernadone, proud to have his son finely dressed and associating with young noblemen, gave him plenty of money, which Francis spent carelessly.

“Spent to much and lived life carelessly” makes St. Francis my kind of guy!

John (Francesco, the future St. Francis)  wanted to become a knight.  So he joined the war against Assisi and a town nearby called Perugia.  Most of the soldiers were killed during the fight but wealthy soldiers that had enough money to pay for their release were taken prisoner.  A year after he paid for his release and when he was leaving Assisi for a call for knights for the Fourth Crusade, he had a dream where God told him that he is going the wrong way and told him to return home.  Once he got home, he was humiliated, laughed at and called coward for not going into battle.  Also his father got angry at him for wasting his money on the amour.  Francis spent most of his time praying to God and he found a cave where he cried for his sins.  This is the part of his life where he starts to become more holy by praying to God and doing what God wants him to do.  Francis died on October 3, 1226 from an eye disease and the stigmata he received from a six winged angel while he was praying on the mountain of Verna.  Francis is the founder of the Franciscan orders and he is the patron saint of ecologists and merchants.  The national shrine of St. Francis is located in San Francisco, California.  The Basilica of St. Francis is built in Assisi.

From:

http://nguyencody.blogspot.com/

One day Francis prayed in the little church of St. Damian outside the walls of Assisi, he felt the eyes of the Christ on the crucifix gazing at him and heard a voice saying three times, “Francis, go and repair my house, which you see is falling down.”

Our thanks to:

http://www.saieditor.com/stars/assisi.html

My friend, Thomas Coipuram, who died at the age of 80 and was buried during these last eight day, told me he had a similar experience.

“I went to the Vatican in Rome. In Saint Peter’s Bascillica, I heard a voice.”

“The voice said: ‘Thomas, join my Church. Help me rebuild my Church.’”

Thomas went home proclaiming the Word (which he did for the rest of his life).

My friend Peter Tran told me; “God wants you to be a beacon!”

Above: Peter Tran says this is the beacon God wants me to be….

Above: This is the kind of beacon I am so far….

************************

The following is from:

http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/religion/re0238.html

Fr. William Saunders

In the year 1223, St. Francis, a deacon, was visiting the town of Grecio to celebrate Christmas. Grecio was a small town built on a mountainside overlooking a beautiful valley. The people had cultivated the fertile area with vineyards. St. Francis realized that the chapel of the Franciscan hermitage would be too small to hold the congregation for Midnight Mass. So he found a niche in the rock near the town square and set up the altar. However, this Midnight Mass would be very special, unlike any other Midnight Mass.

St. Bonaventure (d. 1274) in his Life of St. Francis of Assisi tells the story the best:

It happened in the third year before his death, that in order to excite the inhabitants of Grecio to commemorate the nativity of the Infant Jesus with great devotion, [St. Francis] determined to keep it with all possible solemnity; and lest he should be accused of lightness or novelty, he asked and obtained the permission of the sovereign Pontiff. Then he prepared a manger, and brought hay, and an ox and an ass to the place appointed. The brethren were summoned, the people ran together, the forest resounded with their voices, and that venerable night was made glorious by many and brilliant lights and sonorous psalms of praise. The man of God [St. Francis] stood before the manger, full of devotion and piety, bathed in tears and radiant with joy; the Holy Gospel was chanted by Francis, the Levite of Christ. Then he preached to the people around the nativity of the poor King; and being unable to utter His name for the tenderness of His love, He called Him the Babe of Bethlehem. A certain valiant and veracious soldier, Master John of Grecio, who, for the love of Christ, had left the warfare of this world, and become a dear friend of this holy man, affirmed that he beheld an Infant marvellously beautiful, sleeping in the manger, Whom the blessed Father Francis embraced with both his arms, as if he would awake Him from sleep. This vision of the devout soldier is credible, not only by reason of the sanctity of him that saw it, but by reason of the miracles which afterwards confirmed its truth. For example of Francis, if it be considered by the world, is doubtless sufficient to excite all hearts which are negligent in the faith of Christ; and the hay of that manger, being preserved by the people, miraculously cured all diseases of cattle, and many other pestilences; God thus in all things glorifying his servant, and witnessing to the great efficacy of his holy prayers by manifest prodigies and miracles.

Although the story is long old, the message is clear for us. Our own Nativity scenes which rest under our Christmas trees are a visible reminder of that night when our Savior was born. May we never forget to see in our hearts the little Babe of Bethlehem, who came to save us from sin. We must never forget that the wood of the manger that held Him so securely would one day give way to the wood of the cross. May we too embrace Him with all of our love as did St. Francis. To all of the readers of “Straight Answers,” I wish you a very holy Christmas.

Father William Saunders is dean of the Notre Dame Graduate School of Christendom College and pastor of Our Lady of Hope Parish in Sterling, Virginia. The above article is a “Straight Answers” column he wrote for the Arlington Catholic Herald. Father Saunders is also the author of Straight Answers, a book based on 100 of his columns and published by Cathedral Press in Baltimore.

*****************************

St. Francis’s first Manger Scene for Chritmas was life sized with real sheep, goats and cows! He wanted his fellow to see, touch and smell the smells Jesus first experienced!

Here’s a good one!

*

Above: Here’s what we have. Fairfax County said we had to get rid of the live cattle and sheep…..

**********************

So we can thank St. Francis of Assisi for “inventing” a world-wide tradition many of us share today: placing miniature manger scenes or Creche’s or Nativity Scenes in our homes or businesses.

Saint Francis also thought a great lesson: that we should cherish and respect human life at all times and constantly remind ourselves and others that we are only on this earth for a short time.

To that end, St. Francis liked to carry a human skull under his arm to remind himself of the unavoidable nature of death — and that prudent humans keep this in mind every day.

We die on God’s time, not when we so decide.

St. Francis often placed his skull on the breakfast table in front of his brothers to serve as a reminder  to keep in the good graces of God.

St. Francis also had the stigmata: the wounds of Christ in his hands, feet and side.

Padre Pio shared in this special relationship with Christ, bearing the stigmata for 50 years!

http://www.ewtn.com/padrepio/mystic/stigmata.htm

Padre Pio proclaimed:

“If you are worried, Pray. Once you are Praying, You can stop your worry.”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pio_of_Pietrelcina#Stigmata

****************************

We Are Mourning Our Dear Friend Thomas

(Please also Pray for Him)

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W. H. Auden

********************

We keep this guy around as taught to us by St. Francis of Assisi.

**********************

Merry Christmas!

And let’s not forget we are practicing “A Year of  Evangelization.”

The New Evangelization calls each of us to deepen our faith, believe in the Gospel message and go forth to proclaim the Gospel. The focus of the New Evangelization calls all Catholics to be evangelized and then go forth to evangelize. In a special way, the New Evangelization is focused on ‘re-proposing’ the Gospel to those who have experienced a crisis of faith. Pope Benedict XVI called for the re-proposing of the Gospel “to those regions awaiting the first evangelization and to those regions where the roots of Christianity are deep but who have experienced a serious crisis of faith due to secularization.” The New Evangelization invites each Catholic to renew their relationship with Jesus Christ and his Church.

http://www.usccb.org/beliefs-and-teachings/how-we-teach/new-evangelization/

St. Francis’ Manger Story:

http://davidkirkpatrick.net/2012/11/29/st-francis-
of-assisi-inspired-the-modern-day-nativity-scene/

ORAZIO GENTILESCHI
Italian, 1563 – 1639
The Stigmatization of Saint Francis
1600–1601
Oil on canvas

Sarah Campbell Blaffer Foundation, Houston

This monumental painting depicts the moment immediately after Saint Francis received the stigmata (wounds of Christ) in his hand, feet, and side. Supported by an angel, the medieval saint looks upward toward a divine light as tears stream down his face.

Despite the presence of the angel, supernatural elements are suppressed: the vision of Christ that induced the stigmata appears only as a glow in the upper left of the painting. The substantial figures, naturalism, and dramatic treatment of light in this painting reflect Orazio Gentileschi’s encounter with the work of Caravaggio, whose first public commission was unveiled in Rome in 1600. Although Gentileschi was greatly influenced by Caravaggio’s style, the exquisite lavender, pink, scarlet, and blue-green of the angel’s clothing reveal lingering elements of Mannerism in Gentileschi’s work.

“Matthew”, I said “if you really want the stigmata I’ve got some scissors back at my desk, come and see me after lunch. Or if you like we can go old school and I’ll drive you to home depot for a hammer and two nails.” To this he waves his palms in my face jokingly, and I can clearly see there are marks there. So who I am to burst his bubble?

Of course skepticism sets in and I dispute the facts before me. Reminding him that I too have watched all the numerous crime scene investigation series that previewed an episode of: Is it stigmata or self-inflicted wounds? And in addition have been privy to partake in a fine education on this topic, compliments of National Geographic, History Channel and TeleCare; to name a few. And most importantly I own and have read (twice) the real life story of Padre Pio; whom I truly believe had the stigmata. So therefore, I convince, I am an expert on the subject.

To this he says “wait a few days, you’ll see, the Vatican will be calling me” half laughing. A half hour later I plot a surprise attack calling his extension while his Supervisor is sitting at his side. Matthew answers and I say, rather loudly, “the Pope is on his way.” He mumbles some incoherent reply and quickly hangs up the phone on me, forcing me to break out in hysterical laughter with no visible cause. All this comedy whiles the girl on the opposite side of my cubicle, that’s been listening to my every word, pretends to ignore me. She is happily convinced I’ve finally gone nuts.

It’s funny the things that make you laugh while working in an office. The atmosphere is quite unlike anywhere else. Where else can you witness character personas that change like seasons in such a confined setting; each being unable to escape from the other? Going through it every day is like being a caged animal on a short leash with pay. After a while you just have to find things to entertain yourself.

Lunch provides a serotonin kick and I start to think to myself “What if Matthew really does have the stigmata?” Legend has it there are supposedly twelve individuals at any given time on the face of the Earth who have it. If one dies then someone else gets it and so on and so on. It is not always a priest.

Padre Pio lived from 1887 to 1968 so why is it impossible to believe it could happen today; only 81 years later? Is it because we are too technologically advanced to believe in miracles anymore or too over belief in religion?  Since it’s not as “stylish” as it used to be.  Or is it because we have no faith? I hope the latter is the least true because without faith in life, in ourselves, in the World, then we are just a bunch of empty shells waiting around to die. If there are no miracles big or small to believe in then we should all just go home. But then where is home, if you have no faith?

I will not doubt my friend, as silly as it may be, if he wants to pretend he has the stigmata. I may go to Kinko’s however, to have a giant head of Padre Pio blown up to wallpaper his office with while he’s out to lunch, but I will not mock his dreams. Having this many laughs at work hasn’t happened in a long, long time for either of us. So what’s the harm in that? Isn’t laughter a miracle in itself? It happens every day and we hardly notice it anymore. Sometimes we actually feel uncomfortable in its presence. What a shame. I hear it’s the best medicine in the world; transcendental even. And free.

Copyright © Lynn Tetro 2012

All Rights Reserved

The Bodley Head, 1967, Hardback in dust wrapper.

Illustrated by way of: Black & White Photographs; Portrait to the frontispiece;

From the cover: After the Apostles, St Francis of Assisi is the most familiar and the most widely revered of the saints. He answers a need which is as real today as it was in his own time. With a poets intuition he understood that man cannot live by bread alone, that dreams and raptures are a part of his legitimate portion, and that the inevitable stresses of daily life should never be allowed to make him oblivious to beauty. Today more than ever we need to be reminded that calm can be found even in the heart of a storm.

Before turning her attention to the history of her native Russia, Miss Almedingen was a mediaeval scholar of distinction. She gives full value to the chivalric and poetic traditions which contributed so much to the saints early formation, and discards much of the rather sickly accretion of legend which has grown up around him over the centuries, for which there is little if any authority. The result is a brief, straightforward account of Franciss life which perhaps puts him into a truer perspective than ever before. Certainly it will make him accessible to many readers who would shy away from a conventional work of hagiography.

Very Good in Good Dust Wrapper. A little rubbing to the edges of the dust wrapper with fading to the spine. Text complete, clean and tight.

Brown boards with Gilt titling to the Spine. 191 pages. Index. Bibliography. 8¾” x 5¾”.

This book will be eventually reach my delightful website…(added to my Biography category.) but get 60% off buying from this very blog blog… Buy it now for just £2.60 + P&P! Of course, if you don’t like this one there are plenty more available here!

I stride
into new amsterdam
and claim
the present

Having addressed the sources which pertain to Francis’ reception of the stigmata, and having looked at some of the contemplative and meditative techniques common to the Latin west of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, we then addressed the question of the Seraph and the meanings associated with angels held by Christians of Francis’ time. With that initial groundwork, we can turn to the question of the stigmata themselves (their meaning at the time, their use by later writers, and the meanings which have emerged for us today as a result of that use).

It is important to first contextualise the word or concept of stigmata historically. How the word was used prior to Francis’ time may shed light on the context in which Francis’ contemporaries applied the term to the marks Francis bore. By looking at antecedent examples of what were called stigmata, we can better discern what was new and different about Francis’ stigmata and what similarities may link Francis to his predecessors. What were Francis’ stigmata, and what were they not? Were they actually part of an older, larger tradition? How did the symbol and meaning of the word ‘stigmata’ change as a result of Francis’ experience, or more specifically, through the portrayal of Francis experience by his hagiographers?

After this brief historical foray, a look at how Francis’ stigmata were situated devotionally among his contemporaries is in order. How do the stigmata, and specifically, how does a person miraculously imprinted with them, fit into ideas about the wounds of Christ, the body of Christ, and the imitation of Christ, all devotions popular among Christians — to an extent both Eastern and Western — of the time? Although the focus is predominately on West European experience, we must take account that twelfth century Latin Christians were also very much aware of their ongoing political connexion to the Crusader kingdoms of Outre-Mer, and the liturgical changes in both Byzantium and the West flowing from that association. One liturgical change in Byzantium which slightly predates the Crusader period (and predates the Latin occupation of Constantinople by about a century) is Byzantine devotion to the icon of Christ’s deposition; this devotion became increasingly assimilated to, even as it expanded upon, earlier devotion to the Cross.

Keeping in mind these two analyses, the larger Latin tradition of naming something ‘stigmata’ and the liturgically influenced spirituality of the Cross, a comparison of the Latin ecology of religious symbols with Byzantine devotional forms undergoing changes in the eleventh and twelfth centuries can be fruitfully undertaken. The purpose of uncovering similarities and differences between East Roman and Italian City State spirituality is to discover why stigmata appeared or ‘made sense’ in the West but not in the East, and rests on the fundamental theorem that a miracle of holiness only occurs in a context in which it can be interpreted as such without doing violence to the preceding tradition. (That thesis was developed in Abbasid period Baghdad to facilitate ongoing Muslim, Christian, and Jewish inter-religious debates; and belongs more properly to the theology of revelation, which I will hopefully explore in a later post. For the same reason, I will not address the question of deceptive or delusional miracles, which adds the question of discernment to an exploration of the theology of revelation.)

What, then, was similar in both the East Roman Empire and the Italian City States, in terms of religious expression and symbolism? Would Francis’ stigmata have been understood in the Byzantium of the Comneni [dates], or is the phenomenon of stigmatism confined to the West for reasons of prior tradition and later devotional elaboration?

Understanding Francis’ stigmata as both unique and, from a thirteenfth-century Latin perspective, a miracle of holiness forms the final portion of this post. What were the subsequent Latin interpretations of Francis’ stigmata? How were they brought into the theological tradition of the West? How do these medieval Latin interpretations relate to Byzantine models of spirituality and holiness from the twelfth century through the close of the Palaiologan dynasty? Can a certain rapprochement with Byzantine spirituality and theology of today be considered, or is the repudiation evinced by the author the Orthodox Word article the only way to understand the phenomenon of stigmatism, particularly in Francis’ case, but also in the lives of subsequent stigmatists such as Catherine of Siena, who lived during the Great Schism following the Babylonian captivity of the papacy in the Renaissance, and Padre Pio in the twentieth century?

I. Word-concept of stigmata, historically: Peter Damian. Imitatio in Alsace.

In her wide-ranging and very thorough From Judgement to Passion: Devotion to Christ and the Virgin Mary 800 -1200, published in 2005, Rachel Fulton devotes significant space to an examination of Peter Damian (d. 1072) and his hermits. Peter Damian is significant for her purposes inasmuch as with him, devotion to Christ as Judge becomes fused and turned towards devotion to the Passion, the Cross being the judgement seat from which the world and its corruption is judged. The shift is interesting to consider in the light of Peter’s own seemingly judgemental sermons and his involvement in the Gregorian reform movement, a movement which set the stage for the spirituality and emphases of practice in the Latin West for the following three centuries.

One example of Peter’s devotion to the judgement-eschatology as it is linked to the Passion will suffice here. Presenting a long prayer by Peter contained in one of his letters, Fulton notes that Peter’s prayer ends with an exclamation that just as he is signed with the mark of the cross and thereby ‘configured to the crucified in punishment,’ so may he deserve to be the companion of the Arisen in glory.’ (Damian, Opusculum 50 (Letter 66) ch3, PL145, col 735, quoted in Fulton 2005:104f.) We thus see that for Peter, conformation to Christ in his passion, through penitence or self-mortification, one is led through death to transformation in Christ at his resurrection. Here, we see also how Latin and Byzantine emphases began to depart in emphasis, the Latins linking the Passion to the Resurrection as a necessary part through which the individual Christian, too, must pass.

More important to our purposes, however, what seems to be the first known reference to ‘stigmata’ appears in the vita of one of Peter’s monks at Fonte Avellana, where Peter’s reforms had taken root (Fulton 2005:101f, 105, 116, 460). Among the monks there was a former hermit called Dominic Loricatus (d. 1060, Oct 14), ‘Loricatus’ deriving from the chain mail he wore as a hairshirt. Fulton quotes from his vita:

“Dominic bore Christ as the crucified Judge, his body so tortured that it ‘bore the stigmata of Jesus’ for he had ‘fixed the sign (vexillum) of the cross not only on his forehead [at baptism], but printed it on every part of his body’” through self-mortification.

The idea of bearing the marks of Christ seems to hearken back to Paul’s statement in Galatians 6:17, associated at the time of Peter with the sort of self-mortification in which Christ’s power is made manifest or complete. This idea was already set out in Peter’s prayer, referenced above. Fulton, referencing Constable (1995), cautions that while “here, in Dominic’s vita, we encounter ‘the first known reference to what may have been the reproduction of Christ’s stigmata on a living person,’ … it is hard to know how descriptively Peter intended the allusion to Paul’s stigmata. (Constable. Three Studies in Medieval Religion and Social Thought. 1995. cf Elm ‘Pierced by Bronze Needles’ J. Roman Studies 1987:139 – 55.) In other words, Dominic’s stigmata may simply be an overall allusion to the ‘suffering servant’, and not to the five wounds of the crucifixion, which is what Francis’ stigmata specifically reference. This then raises the issue of the sheer novelty of Francis’ stigmata: actual marks of Christ were reported on his body.

In the eleventh century, ‘stigmata’ seems to reference asceticism undertaken in imitation of the sufferings of Jesus. It appears to be a general term, not linked to the Wounds of Christ. However, by the thirteenth century, as explored by Bynum in “Women mystics and Eucharistic Devotion in the Thirteenth Century” (reprinted in Lock and Farquar 2007), Beyond the Body Proper: Reading the Anthropology of Material Life, 202-212; from Chapter 4 of Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval Religion, 1991.), the term seems increasingly confined to the five wounds of the Cross.

Setting up the context of this imitation, Bynum clarifies that “Illness and asceticism were … imitatio Christi, an effort to plumb the depths of Christ’s humanity at the moment of his most insistent and terrifying humanness — the moment of his dying.” (Bynum 2007:206) Bynum’s focus in the article is on the Eucharistic spirituality of thirteenth century female mystics, some of whom, like Gertrude the Great, were later canonised. “For thirteenth-century women this humanity was, above all, Christ’s physicality, his corporeality, his being-in-the-body-ness; Christ’s humanity was Christ’s body and blood.” (Bynum 2007:204). (Exploring the divergence between Byzantine and Latin eucharistic devotional theology must await another post; the devotion of the women Bynum treats in her article may not have made sense in the Byzantine contexts contemporary to them.)

Self-mortification in such a context was not viewed as a means to uproot lust, nor destroy the body or physicality as such, in contrast to such earlier ascetics as Jerome. Instead, it was meant as an aid to conform the practitioner to the Incarnation. As Fulton glosses Bynum’s work, Bynum traces how people ‘explored boundaries between body and person, person and God.’ (quoted in Fulton 2005). Devotion thus takes the doctrines of the Incarnation, the Church as the Body of Christ, and the individual’s participation in that corporeality as a means of self-transformation, as starting points for a deeper engagement of the person with the divine life.

After presenting various examples of Christ’s humanity in the visions of these mystics — as an infant in the host, for example — Bynum writes, “No religious woman failed to experience Christ as wounded, bleeding and dying. Women’s efforts to imitate this Christ involved becoming the crucified, not just patterning themselves after or expanding their compassion toward, but fusing with, the body on the cross. Both in fact and in imagery the imitatio, the fusion, was achieved in two ways: through asceticism and through eroticism. Thirteenth-century women joined with the crucifix through physical suffering, both involuntary and voluntary — that is, through illness and through self-mortification… We see this particularly in the case of stigmata, where it is sometimes not only impossible to tell whether the wounds are inner or outer, but also impossible to tell how far the appearance is miraculous and how far it is self-induced.”

Bynum goes on to quote a thirteenth century Alsatian author who wrote of the local nuns, “‘In Advent and Lent, all the sisters, coming into the chapter house after Matins, or in some other suitable place, hack at themselves cruelly, hostilely lacerating their bodies until the blood flows, with all kinds of whips, so that the sound reverberates all over the monastery and rises to the ears of the Lord of hosts sweeter than all melody…’ And she [the Alsatian author Bynum just quoted] called the results of such discipline stigmata.’ Francis ended his life in the first quarter of the thirteenth century; whether these sisters had heard of Francis or not, the evidence provided by this author suggests a wider idea of what constituted ‘stigmata’ than the spontaneous appearance of wounds on Francis’ body: any self-mortification in imitation of Christ’s passion was enough to be called, ‘stigmata’.

Two cases from the early fourteenth century also support that idea, and show how the term ‘stigmata’ becomes constrained to reference only the wounds in Christ’s hands and feet; both cases are from nearly a century after Francis’ death, and thus the term may have changed its meaning due to how the term was applied in Francis’ cases specifically. Bynum notes the case of Lukardis of Oberweimar [d. 1309], who ‘drove the middle finger of each hand, hard as a nail, through the palm of the opposite hand, until the room rang with the sound of the hammering; and stigmata ‘miraculously’ (says her thirteenth century biographer) appeared. Beatrice of Omacieux [fl. 1305, diocese of Grenoble, thus 80 years after Francis] thrust a nail completely through her hands and only clear water flowed from the wound.” (Bynum 2007:206. I would note this point corresponds to the acupuncture point PC-8, ‘LaoGong’, and avoids hitting major blood vessels in the palm; thus while the people of the time might consider it miraculous, today it would not, and we would say only lymphatic fluid drained from the area).

The difference between Francis and all the cases mentioned above — Peter Damian, Dominic Loricatus, the Alsatian nuns, Lucardis von Oberweimar, and Beatrice d’Omacieux — is that Francis did not take up a specific re-creation of the five wounds himself, whereas in the case of the others, particularly the last two, the physical imitation was clearly self-initiated.

When and how did this devotion to the Imitation of Christ originate? Is it aberrant? How can it be understood in Byzantium, if at all? A follow-up post may plumb the beginnings of this devotion to the Imitatio Christi (in addition to a whole series exploring the fifteenth century’s peculiar forms of Christianity — the century which gave rise to the Reformation); for now, however, let us return to the task at hand: clarifying what Francis’ stigmata were and what they were not, so that we can see what was ‘miraculous’ for his contemporaries about their appearance on him.

In terms of the larger tradition, the stigmata were associated with the Cross (by the date assigned to their appearance) and love (by the image of a Seraph, and by commentary of the hagiographers) rather than judgement or punishment (though the Alsatian sisters seem not to have seen their self-flagellation as punishment, but rather as Imitatio). They were treated as a seal indicative of conformation to Christ’s life.

What is different, however, is that Francis’ stigmata were not self-inflicted, according to the evidence we have in Thomas of Celano and Julian of Speyer. These stigmata were not taken upon himself by Francis himself — no self-flagellation or self-piercing is recorded in the context of his reception of stigmata, although Francis’ efforts at self-mortification earlier in his life were clearly noted. Additionally, the wounds seem to have contained nails which were not removed (not removable?), and the wounds did not heal.

It seems, then, that Francis subscribed to the earlier notion of stigmata evinced by Peter Damian and Dominic Loricatus, namely, a general self-mortification, or specifically in Francis’ case, devotion to ‘Lady Poverty’, rather than the later versions taken up by Lucardis of Oberweimar and Beatrice of Omacieux. Bonaventure’s statement made at the beginning of the Legenda Major bears out this interpretation: “[Francis] paid great attention to the mortification of the flesh so that he might carry externally in his body the cross of Christ which he carried internally in his heart.” (Legenda Major 1.6) Thus again, we see self-mortification as a form of voluntary Imitatio Christi, conforming to an interior bearing of the Cross Francis carried inwardly; the stigmata were unwilled, though accepted, marks of that interior devotion, impressed by all early accounts through the vision, if not the action, of the Seraph. The novelty of the five wounds specifically on Francis’ body therefore become not Imitatio so much as a surprising Transformatio in Christe.

Francis’ stigmata fit into the larger tradition of Imitatio Christi; the peculiar manifestation of the wounds in Francis’ case, however, moves beyond imitation and enters the realm of transformation. The transformative aspect is especially emphasised by the commentators, particularly when they describe the conformation of Francis’ external body to his interior life. Thomas of Celano, for example, describes the origin of the mystery (or sacrament) of Francis’ stigmata to the Cross rooted in Francis’ heart, “And therefore did the stigmata shine outwardly in his flesh because within that deeply planted root [the Cross] was sprouting in his mind.” (The phrase could plausibly be rendered in Anglo-Greek as ‘the noetically sprouting root of the Cross shone outwardly in his flesh’.) The image would be taken up again by Mirandola’s image of seeds bearing fruit — transforming one into an angel or Son of God, as described in the previous post on angels. No longer is the idea of angelification primary; with Francis, theosis, divinisation in the form of the Crucified and Resurrected Christ becomes visible.

Thomas of Celano refers to Francis’ stigmata as a mystery or sacrament, the transformation of the lover into the Beloved through or by means of his reflection of the Cross. I hesitate to use the scholastic definition of a sacrament as ‘the making visible of an invisible reality’, as the scholastic movement is only just beginning during the lifetime of Thomas of Celano. Nevertheless, Thomas does accept the stigmata as a revelation of an interior grace; merely the reason for its revelation at the time are concealed, as he exclaims in Chapter 154: “Be this alone announced to human ears, that it is not yet wholly clear wherefore that mysterious thing appeared in the Saint; for, as revealed by him, it derives its reason and purpose from the future. He shall prove true and trustworthy whose witness shall be Nature, the Law, and Grace.”

For Thomas of Celano, Francis is an exemplar of the Christian life. Francis’ behaviour and the symbolic importance of the stigmata were used in teaching the faithful. From a literary structuralist viewpoint, this can be seen in the arrangement of additional chapters treating Francis’ stigmata (e.g. ch. 98). These chapters are associated with Francis’ behaviour following the appearance of the stigmata, i.e. the remaining two years of his life, during which time Francis diligently concealed the marks from strangers, and even those closest to him were unaware of them for a long time. The chapters are placed so as to follow sections counselling against vainglory, and to precede those which discuss the virtue of hiding virtues; the climax occurs in chapters which praise humility and caution against trusting in one’s own opinion. In the entire series of chapters, we see an ongoing emphasis in Christian spirituality, drawn from Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and Tax-Collector, against self-aggrandisement in the name of righteousness. The implication is that while Francis could have been tempted to boast of the stigmata and proudly bear them, he did not; rather, Thomas writes, “He exerted himself in every way he could to hide it,” because he did not want to lose the grace through the favour of human beings. “For he had found by experience that it is a very evil thing to impart all things to everybody.” At the same time, Francis did not think it wise to conceal ‘revelations’ from others. In the Second Life, chapter 102, Thomas writes, “In many matters he had learnt his opinions by revelation, but yet he would bring them into discussion and prefer the opinion of others. He believed his companions advice to be safer… He used to say that anyone who kept back the treasure-chests of his own opinion had not left all for the sake of God.” In other words, a theology is being drawn from Francis’ life, whose sanctity and embodiment of particular virtues confirms previous ideas regarding them. Francis, in keeping with Gospel precepts about not boasting about grace, was afforded additional graces. This was proof enough for Thomas to hold Francis up as an example for readers to learn how God rewards those who follow His counsels.

“And indeed the glorious life of this man sheds clearer light on the perfection of earlier saints; the Passion of Jesus Christ proves this and His Cross makes it most fully manifest. Verily our venerable father was signed in five parts of his body with the token of the Cross and Passion, as if he had hung on the cross with the Son of God. This sacrament [mysterium] is a great thing and makes known the majesty of love’s prerogative; but therein a secret counsel lies hid… wherefore it is not expedient to attempt much in praise of him whose praise is from Him who is the Praise, the Source, the Honour of all, the most mighty, giving rewards of light…” (Thomas of Celano, First Life of Francis, Part 2, on the last 2 years of Francis’ life.) Key in this passage are the links drawn between the union of earlier saints with Christ’s kenosis as expressed in the Passion (the term at Thomas’ time can include the Resurrection, although the two — Passion and Resurrection — slowly separate into their own respective, overlapping domains), through whose reconciliation grace flows to humanity; between love, the Cross, and sacramental mysterium; and between the singular favour with which Francis was loved and how that love given to him to love Christ was manifested outwardly in his body. These links are drawn more fully by Bonaventure, as presented previously. One additional example here must suffice.

In Bonaventure’s account of Francis’ reception of the stigmata, he relates that at the end of forty days, Francis comes down from the mountain as a second Moses, bearing the image of the crucified as engraved in his body by the finger of God, glossed “when the true love of Christ had transformed his lover into his image.” The finger of God, of course, is the Seraph or the action of the Seraph in imprinting the marks of Christ’s wounds on Francis, the symbolic image of love; while the transformation is of Francis’ physical body into the image of the body which Thomas the Apostle saw and sought to probe. From imitatio Christi, Francis came to experience transformatio in Christe. Bonaventure makes a further leap, however: just as Christ is the giver of the law of grace, so also Francis inaugurates the physicality of that grace, becoming like a second law-giver, but a law which must be embodied. Unless the idea of law be attached to fear and punishment, Bonaventure adds another motivation: love, specifically, God’s choice to impress the marks of the Passion on Francis. Bonaventure emphasises becoming Christ, shifting from earlier Augustinian images of the Trinity manifest in humanity. A possible counterpoint to Richard of St Victor as well may be detected, inasmuch as the transformative power of grace operates on both mind and body.

As for later commentators, I have already posted how Olivi exalts Francis on the basis of his perfect Imitatio Christi, placing Francis in the sphere of the Seraphim. Mirandola, likewise, uses Francis as an example of how the seeds of virtue planted during one’s life can bear fruit in the divinisation of sainthood.

Why did the phenomenon of the five-wounds stigmata appear in Italy, then, and not in the East Roman Empire?

And I’m not entirely sure I succeeded!

First imagine sitting in a run down, abandoned building alone. You’ve been there for a while, it’s one of your favorite haunts. All of a sudden a booming disembodied voice starts speaking to you!

Yeah, that’s a little scary.

And this happened to St. Francis! A lot of people know about this story. St. Francis frequently would pray in the worn down church of San Damiano, and one day as he sat there and prayed a voice spoke to him from the cross. In this case it wasn’t a haunting ghost, but it was Jesus. St. Francis was instructed to “go and rebuild My church”. Francis took this statement quite literally and set to work rebuilding the dilapidated San Damiano. Eventually he realized Christ had meant the Church as a whole.

Although this has become a key part of the mythology of our brown robed holy man, I guarente that in that first moment of hearing the voice, Francis was probably a little frightened.

Second I want to take you to a bit of a slasher/ Saw movie type world where you have to go around with gory, bloody wounds that you may have given to yourself.

Again, this is an episode of St. Francis’ life.

I trivialize it there, but in actuality this was practically the penultimate reward from heaven. I’m talking about the Stigmata; the wounds of Christ.

While alone praying Francis was visited upon by an angel affixed to a cross. This angel bestowed upon Francis five wounds, corresponding to the wounds Christ received whilst affixed to His own Cross, one in each hand and foot and one on his side. Francis would reportedly have these the rest of his days.

A nonbeliever might say that Francis gave these wounds to himself to further emulate his idol; Jesus Christ.

I tend to be in the Angel camp myself.

Another horrifying experience of this saint’s life might be his time as a prisoner of war. Though scary and psychologically scaring, this kind of fear isn’t really Halloween relatable, but none the less I bring it up.

Did I miss something? Let me know!

Also, what-if anything- are you doing for Halloween??

Pax Et Bonum from your FranciscanAutobot!!!!

Last week, I visited St. Francis’ sanctuary in La Verna. The weather that we happened to be blessed with served to transport us back to the thirteenth century.

I was surrounded by mist, stone, and mountain.

We were led on a tour by a Franciscan priest, who shared the fascinating history of the convent itself, and the life and message of St. Francis.

After studying St. Francis for the last two semesters, this experience was very intense. I was overwhelmed with this sense of mysticism, standing close to the spot where he allegedly received stigmata, the tunic he wore– still stained with his blood, where he rested his “tired donkey” while he was fasting, and the rock that turn soft as he jumped from a cliff after being tempted by the devil.

See photos from the editorial here >> Praying for Sunday with Shimona Henry

designs by Brandi Rawluk (veil & rosary)

makeup & model: myself

photography: Shimona Henry

(openlinknight weeksixsix http://dversepoets.com/ )

Mano Poderosa The All Powerful Hand

Dipinto di arte religiosa messicana risalente al 19°secolo, autore ignoto. Sulla punta delle dita c’è il Cristo affiancato da genitori e nonni, Anna e Gioacchino. La mano con le stigmate evidentemente rappresenta la crocifissione e la sofferenza di Cristo, mentre i sette agnelli che bevono il sangue derivano dal “Libro delle Rivelazioni” meglio noto come “L’Apocalisse di Giovanni”. Il dipinto si trova attualmente al Brooklyn Museum a New York.

Approfondimento:

Brooklyn Museum – New York: http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/visit/

Pagina dedicata del Brooklyn Museum:

http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/objects/766/Mano_Poderosa_The_All-Powerful_Hand_or_Las_Cinco_Personas_The_Five_Persons#

Libro delle Rivelazioni – L’Apocalisse di Giovanni:

ita: http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apocalisse_di_Giovanni

eng: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Revelation

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Howdy Myst,

The Great Smoky Mountains National Park…..at last, but wait a minute we have just heard a Camp Story that will cross crease everybody’s ass cheeks! Billie Holiday Blue has been telling us of a collision with Christ (Dude carrying a cross) in the Park yesterday. “Yeah, apparently this poor old fella, on some kinda pilgrimage, didn’t have a backcountry permit…..so the Rangers kicked him out.” “Oh sweet Jesus…..you mean a National Park Ranger decided someone reenacting the Messiah’s march needed a backcountry permit?” “That’s what he said, yep” “So this old dude, carrying a cross and walking down the side of the road…….”

The restaurant door opens and here comes these three Camper / Outdoorsy Chicks……beauties, but straightforward about it (no dazzle, no razzle). “Howdy miss, howdy miss and howdy…..” “Mom” said the older sisterish one. “Really?” Head tilts to side “Mom?” The thing about Ridicu – Moms love him, but not this one. Maybe it’s the way we are all so close to Billie Holiday Blue, (people can get prickly if they think you are messing with their Bugs) they just stare at us for a couple a seconds more then, “they’ve been talking to the VW!” We scan the three as the words are spoken – nobody’s lips are moving……ventriloquist ? Telepathy ? Then we notice the youngest lady is holding a pet carrier and inside is the whitest, most fluffy bunny we have ever seen, but it’s the hateful look in his eyes that are his most striking feature.

“Billie Blue, tell Momma true” said the Mom. Billie knows she has been caught “I had to get it off my chest, Kimmie Lou here saw it written all over my face – it isn’t just a scratch or a dent……it’s Stigmata!” The Bunny is clearly annoyed, his expression sours, “hey, I recognize these guys…..they set up by the group area last night!” Momma’s eyes narrow, “are you camping at Cades Cove Campground too?” We talk, it turns out we are camped a few hundred feet from the girls, introductions are made – Momma is Campfire Cuisinator (apparently she only cooks outdoors). The Lone Lunch Ranger has this OCD thing where she has to order last at Restaurants and then get something completely different from everyone else. Spoof is holding the bunny cage, half of the stuff in Spoof’s back-pack is hair styling gear (how did she get the bunny that white and fluffy?). The Lone Lunch Ranger and Spoof refer to the bunny as Bunny D……when we ask what the “D” stands for it is Campfire Cuisinator’s turn “he is Diabolical – it’s not entirely his fault though.”

Everyone looks down for a few seconds, there is a palpable rage coming off this little creature in the cage, but when he speaks, he is matter of fact. “I Shape-Shift between this body, an Alpaca and a Horse” says Diabolical “imagine all the nervous energy of a Horse……when I go Bunny, it gets crammed into a very small package – out comes some pretty ugly emotions.” Diabolical isn’t making apologies, he is just owning up to being horrible at his most compact – he’s kind of refreshing, probably an old soul who’s just having a stretch of delinquency at times. “We have dabbled in a little Megalomania here and there…….putting yourself in charge of everything can be a bit of a pressure cooker too.” “Well that settles it” says Campfire Cuisinator, “I make a Kick Ass Megalomaniac Macaroni – how about dinner at eight?”

We finish running some errands around Townsend, including scoring some Fudge for dessert (the girls tell us not to bother because they are making ice cream tonight – yeah right). Back inside the park we decide to run Cades Loop before getting back to the Campground…..probably the most picturesque afternoon on the whole trip and of course the Samsung Galaxy 3′s battery has faded. Just before the campground we spot Lone Lunch Ranger riding a handsome Black and White Paint Horse (Diabolical?). We pull out and wave them over.

The Horse is named Shadow……he’s the Bunny, just all mellowed out, “hey guys, hi Kimmie Lou.” Lone Lunch Ranger stretches back in the saddle “howdy folks…..say, back there at the diner – you didn’t think Campfire Cuisinator could be my Mom right.” Ridicu opened this can of worms, but as usual, he is silent when things get sticky, “she does look too young to have teenage daughters.” Lone Lunch Ranger dismounts, “Spoof is her daughter, they adopted me five years ago…..I’m an Orphan, I’ve lived in sixteen Foster homes until I was 14.”

Kimmie Lou’s side stand kicks out – she is telling us this Kid needs to talk. “Spoof just turned 15, Campfire is 29…….I met Spoof at a Summer Horse Camp, we hit it off right away.” Shadow’s reins get wrapped around Kimmie Lou’s handlebar, we all sit on a bench 3 feet away, “we are Adoptees too – kinda lucky though……just one Foster home, then Adopted at 8 months.” Ridicu and Lone Lunch Ranger then go on and on about being Adoptees – it was kinda nauseating, finally Kimmie Lou interrupted, “But everybody’s Indivisible……go on tell her……about That Which Is Whole.”

We lay everything out, Lone Lunch Ranger grasps the concept right away, she’s a pretty sharp kid, “how do you guys know that this isn’t just something you have made up to combat your isolation and despair?” Mmmmm, we hadn’t thought of that………”ah….well…..” Kimmie Lou chimes in again, “the Aliens – tell her about the Aliens and the End of the World!” So in another 10 or 15 minutes we have her completely up to speed. Shadow even senses the truth we speak, “TWIW cannot be accessed by a single being or singular theology……..that’s why I hit him.” Everybody looks at Shadow, Kimmie Lou asks “hit who?” Shadow tilts his head, “yesterday, in the car – as Diabolical…….I grabbed the wheel, I hit Christ.”