Resisting the Deadly Poison

Today is the both the anniversary of death and the Feast Day of Saint Maximilian Kolbe, Priest and Martyr. 

Born into a poor family in Russian-occupied Poland in 1894, Kolbe was a naughty and difficult child until the age of 12 when, around the time of his First Holy Communion, he had a vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary which was to change his life:

I asked the Mother of God what was to become of me.  Then she came to me holding two crowns, one white, the other red.  She asked if I was willing to accept either of these crowns.  The white one meant that I should persevere in purity, and the red that I should become a martyr.  I said that I would accept them both.

Kolbe went on to become a Franciscan Brother and was later ordained Priest.  He undertook missionary work in Japan and India, founded religious houses and had a lifelong devotion to the Blessed Virgin. 

When Poland was occupied by the Nazis in 1939, S. Maximilian’s monastery soon fell foul of the oppressive regime, because of their publications and radio broadcasts and their sheltering of some 3000 Polish refugees, of whom around 2000 were Jewish. 

S. Maximilian was arrested and imprisoned in Warsaw, then in 1941 sent to the Auschwitz Concentration Camp, where he became Prisoner 16670.  There, his fortitude in the face of suffering and his continuing priestly ministry earned him both the admiration of fellow prisoners and the hatred of the guards, who frequently beat and abused him, once almost to the point of death.

In 1941, there was an escape from Auschwitz, and the Camp Authorities decreed that ten prisoners should be chosen for every one who had escaped, and sent to the underground bunker in Block 13, the Death Block.  As the doomed men were chosen, one cried out “Oh my poor wife, my poor children!  I shall never see them again!”  Immediately, S. Maximilian Kolbe stepped out from the ranks of prisoners and offered to take this man’s place.  The offer was accepted; the previously condemned man was reprieved, and the Saint was led out with the others to die.

Bruno Borgowiec, a prisoner who worked in Block 13, later recounted the story of Kolbe’s final weeks in these words:

In the cell of the poor wretches there were daily loud prayers, the Rosary and singing, in which prisnoers from neighbouring cells also joined.  When no SS men were in the Block, I went to the Bunker to talk to the men and comfort them.  Fervent prayers and songs to the Holy Mother resounded in all the corridors of the Bunker.  I had the impression I was in a church.  Fr Kolbe was leading and the prisoners responded in unison.  They were often so deep in prayer that they did not even hear that inspecting SS men had descended to the Bunker; and the voices fell silent only at the loud yelling of their visitors.  When the cells were opened the poor wretches cried loudly and begged for a piece of bread and for water, which they did not receive, however.  If any of the stronger ones approached the door he was immediately kicked in the stomach by the SS men, so that falling backwards on the cement floor he was instantly killed; or he was shot to death …  Fr Kolbe bore up bravely, he did not beg and did not complain but raised the spirits of the others. … Since they had grown very weak, prayers were now only whispered.  At every inspection, when almost all the others were now lying on the floor, Fr Kolbe was seen kneeling or standing in the centre as he looked cheerfully in the face of the SS men.  Two weeks passed in this way.  Meanwhile one after another they died, until only Fr Kolbe was left.  This the authorities felt was too long; the cell was needed for new victims.  So one day they brought in the head of the sickquarters, a German, a common criminal named Bock, who gave Fr Kolbe an injection of carbolic acid in the vein of his left arm.  Fr Kolbe, with a prayer on his lips, himself gave his arm to the executioner.  Unable to watch this, I left under the pretext of work to be done.  Immediately after the SS men with the executioner had left I returned to the cell, where I found Fr Kolbe leaning in a sitting position against the back wall with his eyes open and his head dropping sideways.  His face was calm and radiant.

Maximilian Kolbe died on the eve of the Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady, a poignant but fitting date for one who had dedicated his life so completely to Christ and to his Blessed Mother, and accepted from her the Crown of Martyrdom.  The man he had saved, Franciszek Gajowniczek, survived Auschwitz and was present, with his large family, children and grandchildren, when Pope John Paul II declared Kolbe a Saint on 10th October 1982.

Pope John Paul, himself a victim of the Nazis in occupied Poland, considered Maximilian Kolbe to be the Patron Saint of the 20th Century, which he called ”our difficult century.”  Kolbe himself declared that “the most deadly poison of our times is indifference.” 

At the start of a new Century, let us struggle and pray that indifference may be overcome, and the great sin of Nazism and Fascism which blighted the last century, and blights our times still, may be defeated.

Saints with Dirty Faces

Well, the Vicar’s back from Camp - we can tell because the Vicarage, beautifully cleaned, tidied and painted in her absence, is now strewn with her belongings all over again.

We’ve had a nice time with all our various guests, who have kept us well supplied with food, cuddles and entertainment.  They even tried to help us with the painting, although for some reason they seemed to think gloss paint would look better on the windowsills than in a trail of paw prints on the dining room floor.  Philistines.  We guess that what a cat considers to be artwork, a house-elf considers to be dirt.

Clearly our guests are unacquainted with the story of Saint Alexander the Charcoal Burner, whose Feast Day it is today.  Alexander was born in the 3rd Century into a rich pagan family, and was well educated; but when he converted to Christianity, he left his wealth and took a job in the city of Comana as a charcoal burner.  It was a particularly dirty and unpleasant job, and Alexander was well known to the townspeople for being exceptionally filthy and ragged.

When Saint Gregory the Wonderworker came to Comana and asked the townspeople to elect a Bishop for themselves, they suggested a number of possible candidates, all of whom were rich, influential and powerful, but none of whom were suitably qualified in terms of education, spirituality or holiness.  In the end, Gregory told them to ignore outward appearances, and present him with the most spiritual person in the city.  The townspeople lost patience with him and, as a joke, dragged forward their dirty charcoal burner.  But when Gregory interviewed Alexander, he found him to be a man of learning and prayerfulness, and promptly consecrated him as Bishop.

Alexander shepherded his people wisely for several years, until he was arrested during the persecutions under Emperor Decius and martyred (in the usual ironic fashion) by being burned alive.

S. Nikolai of Zica, a 20th Century Bishop of the Serbian Orthodox Church, wrote of the Saint in his Prologue of Ohrid, composing this hymn of praise:

Men look upon clothes and the face,
But God looks at the soul and the heart.
Glorious Alexander, a charcoal-burner was:
With the charcoal-burner, the body is blackened
And from soot, which water cleanses;
In the sinner, the heart is darkened
Which only the fire of faith can cleanse,
The fire of faith and the cry of repentance.
It is easier to cleanse the skin of a charcoal-burner
Than the blackened heart of a sinner.
Alexander, with humility, covered
In a cave concealed, as a hidden flame
For laughter, to the gullible world, he was.
The world did not see; Gregory saw,
With an acute spirit, the charcoal-burner discerned
And in him, found a saint,
In the dark cave, a beautiful flame,
Beneath the mask of insanity, great wisdom,
Beneath the dirty soot, a pure heart,
A royal soul in decayed rags.
That the light be hidden, the Lord does not permit,
At the appropriate time, the light proclaims,
For the benefit and salvation of men.
All is wonderful, what God judges.

Long Time No Blog

Yes, we know you’ve all missed us terribly, but there have been mitigating circumstances.  The sun’s been shining.

Well, OK, most of the time it’s been bucketing down with rain and freezing cold, but it hasn’t deterred us from doing our duty patrolling the garden.  Frankly, there’s just no time to sit at the computer when there’s so much to do outside. 

  We’re pleased to report that the neighbourhood cats have mostly got the message that the Vicarage garden is strictly invitation-only, but it’s still necessary to keep them in check.  Then, of course, we have to keep the lawn trimmed and check on the bird feeders in the trees.  Really, it’s quite exhausting.

And to cap it all, the Vicar seems to be channelling the spirit of Gerald Winstanley and has become a Digger.  Every day, another tree or plant seems to disappear from the garden, only to reappear in the ever-growing pile of cuttings by the pigshed.  The Vicar is often to be seen wielding either spade, fork or (most alarmingly) saw, and eyeing up every branch with a malevolent glint in her eye.  You’d think that the parishioners might put a stop to this one-priest environmental disaster - but no, they seem to be actively supporting it.  Visitors are forever dropping in with loppers, lawnmowers and shredders, apparently eager to do their bit for the deforestation of Forton.

Of course, there is one major benefit to all this - the acquisition of a new friend, who goes by the enigmatic name of Bayleaf the Gardener.  He is often to be seen working away in the garden, sawing branches and chopping wood.  We like him very much, although he does seem to have some funny ideas about removing branches from our prized Sumac, which serves as both climbing frame and birdwatching hide.  We’ll have to see about that.

On the home front, things are moving on apace too.  The Vicar has finally realised that she is useless at housekeeping, and has acquired a House-Elf.  This is excellent news for us, as we can now actually see the floors, and we get lots of extra cuddles in the bargain.  The Vicar has promised to supply some elf shoes and a hat with little bells on, so we are hopeful that our elf is here to stay.

The Fab Four have also managed to convince the Vicar to do a bit of decorating (after all, we’ve only been here six months…); and so we finally have some dining room chairs, and a brand new living room to enjoy.  Sadly, they are all still using brushes and rollers to apply paint, which we have already demonstrated is a very silly way of doing things.  By the time we got round to glossing, it was up to Martha to show them the way - using the whole left side of one’s head and body is just so much more efficient.

 With all this work on the Vicarage, we thought it was time to open the doors a little and show some folks around.  Our Name Day - the Feast of Ss. Martha & Mary - is 29th July, but since the Vicar is selfishly going to be away in Morland (again!), we decided to hold our celebrations a little early.  Here are a couple of snaps of the happy event (courtesy of the Cellarer, of course):

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

Trinity Sunday

“In this Trinity, none is afore or after other;

none is greater or less than another.”

 As in the Holy Trinity, so in this Parish.