Where Two or Three Are Gathered in My Name

Excerpted from the Book: Father Arseny: Priest, Prisoner, Spiritual Father


This is a remarkable story of Father Arseny which captured my heart and the hearts of many people. Father Arseny was imprisoned in the Soviet labor camps as were many of the 160,000 Russian Orthodox bishops, priests, monks, and nuns killed in the Soviet Union during the Stalin years (1924-1953). This art-scholar-turned-monk was revered for his uncompromising compassion for others under the harshest and most dehumanizing of conditions. A physically frail man, he survived numerous death threats and the abuses of his captors through a series of what could only be called miracles, many of which have been collected and narrated by those who witnessed them firsthand. The following account of one such miracle—a story that must be read to be believed—demonstrates the mysterious and undeniable power of one man's absolute faith in his Holy Father, as well as his unwavering care for his fellowman. Indeed, Father Arseny's spiritual strength consistently uplifted those who would otherwise have been consigned to a sure and hopeless death, and it continues to shine through the following pages as a profound testimony to the transformative power of one simple priest's breathtaking humility before God.

During one of the winters, a young man was assigned to Father Arseny's barracks. Aged 23, he was a student and had been sentenced to twenty years in the camp. He had no experience of camp life because he had been sent to this special camp directly from the strict Butirki Prison in Moscow. Still young, he did not fully understand what lay ahead of him. As soon as he entered the death camp, he encountered the criminals.

His clothing was still good for he had only been in prison a few months. The criminals, led by Ivan the Brown, decided to get hold of the young man's apparel. They proposed a card game with clothing at stake. Everybody knew that this lad would soon be naked, but no one could do anything about it; even Sazikov dared not intervene. The camp rule was that whoever interfered would be killed. Those who had been in the camp for a while knew only too well that if the criminals decided to play for your rags, to resist would be the end of you. Ivan the Brown won all the young man's clothes. Ivan approached him and said, "Take everything off, my friend."

At that point things started to go sour. The young man, whose name was Alexei, thought that the game had been for fun and refused to hand over his clothing. Ivan the Brown decided to make an exhibition of it. He began with mocking kindness; then he started beating him. Alexei tried to resist, to fight back, but by now the whole barracks knew that he would be beaten until he could no longer move, or even to death. Everyone sat still and watched as Ivan bashed Alexei. He bled from the mouth and face and was swaying. Some criminals mockingly urged him to fight.

Father Arseny had not seen the beginnings of the fight; he had been piling up logs near a stove at the other end of the barracks. He suddenly saw what was happening. Ivan was going to kill Alexei. By now Alexei could only cover his face with his hands; Ivan was slamming him and smashing him repeatedly. Father Arseny silently put the logs near the stove, calmly walked over to the fight and, before the amazed eyes of the whole barracks, grabbed the arm of Ivan the Brown. Ivan looked surprised, shocked! The priest had interfered in a fight. This meant he must die. Ivan hated Father Arseny. He had never dared touch him for fear of the rest of the barracks, but now he had a true reason to kill him. Ivan stopped beating Alexei and pronounced, "O.K. Pop, it's the end for both of you. First the student, then you." A knife appeared in his hands and he lunged towards Alexei.

What happened? Nobody could understand, but suddenly the gentle and weak Father Arseny straightened himself up and slammed Ivan on the arm so hard that the knife fell from his hand. Then he pushed Ivan away from Alexei. Ivan stumbled and fell, and hit the corner of a bunk with his face. Father Arseny went to Alexei and said to him, "Go, Alyosha, wash your face, no one will hit you anymore." Then, as if nothing had happened, he went back to his work.

Everyone was taken aback. Ivan the Brown stood up. The criminals did not say a word. They understood that Ivan had lost face in front of the whole barracks. Somebody discreetly wiped the blood from the floor with his foot. Alyosha's face was completely smashed up, his ear was torn, one eye was closed, and the other one was dark red. Everyone was completely silent. They knew that it was all over now for both Father Arseny and Alexei. The criminals would kill them both.

But in fact things turned out differently; the criminals looked upon Father Arseny's actions as bold and brave. Even though everyone feared Ivan, Father Arseny had not faltered when Ivan the Brown had held a knife, and they respected a man who showed no fear. They already knew Father Arseny for his kindness and his unusual ways; now they respected him for his courage. Ivan retreated to his bunk and whispered with his friends, but he realized that they did not really support him—they had not come immediately to his aid.

The night passed. In the morning everyone went to work; Father Arseny was busy tending the stoves, cleaning up and scraping dirt off the floor. In the evening the prisoners returned from their labor and suddenly, just before the barracks was locked for the night, the supervisor ran in with several guards. "Attention!" he shouted. All the men jumped down from their bunks. They stood motionless while the supervisor walked along the line of men. When he came to Father Arseny he began to beat him. Meanwhile Alexei was dragged from his place in line by the guards. "P18376 and P281 to punishment cell No. 1, for 48 hours, without food or water, for breaking camp rules, for fighting," shouted the officer. Ivan had reported them to the authorities. To do so was considered by the criminals to be the lowest and most despicable act possible.

Punishment cell No. 1 was a tiny house that stood by the entrance of the camp. In this house were several rooms for solitary confinement; there was also one for two people which held a narrow board instead of a bed. This board was less than 20 inches wide. The floor and walls were covered with sheets of metal. The whole room was not wider than three quarters of a yard and two yards long. Outside it was -22°F and windy, so that it was hard to breathe. You had only to step outside to become immediately numb. The occupants of the barracks understood what this meant: certain death. Father Arseny and Alexei would be frozen within two hours. No one had ever been sent to that cell in such cold. Occasionally, someone was sent to it when the temperature reached -21° or -22°, but this only for 24 hours. The only ones who stayed alive were those who could jump up and down the whole 24 hours to keep their blood from freezing. If you stopped jumping, you froze. And here it was -22°, Father Arseny was an old man, Alexei had just been beaten up, and both men were exhausted. The supervisors seized them both and started dragging them out of the barracks. Avsenkov and Sazikov dared to come out of the line and said to the officer, "Comrade Officer, they will freeze to death in this weather. You can't send them to that cell!" The supervisor slammed them both so hard that they flew dazed against the barracks wall. Ivan the Brown lowered his head. Fear gripped him as he realized that his own people in the barracks would kill him for this.

Father Arseny and Alexei were dragged to the punishment cell and shoved inside. They both fell, cracking their heads against the wall. It was pitch black inside. Father Arseny stood up and said, "So, here we are. God has brought us together. It is cold, Alyosha, and there is metal all around." They heard the outer door close, the locks click, the voices and the steps of the guards fade away. The cold seized them and constricted their chests. Through the small window with iron bars the moon shone its milky light into the cell.

"We are going to freeze, Father Arseny," moaned Alexei. "It is because of me that we are going to freeze. We are both going to die. We need to keep moving, to jump up and down, but it is impossible to keep that up for 48 hours. I already feel so weak, so battered. My feet are already frozen. There is no room here, we cannot even move. Father Arseny, we are going to die. They are inhuman, it would be better to be shot!" Father Arseny was silent. Alexei tried to jump, but it did not warm him up. It was hopeless to resist such cold. "Why don't you say anything, Father Arseny?" Alexei shouted. As if from somewhere very far away Father Arseny's voice answered, "I am praying to God, Alexei!" "What's there to pray about when we are going to freeze?" Alexei muttered.

"We are here all alone, Alexei; for two days no one will come. We will pray. For the first time God has allowed us to pray aloud in this camp, with our full voice. We will pray and the rest is God's will!" The cold was gradually conquering Alexei and he was sure that Father Arseny was losing his mind. Making the sign of the cross and quietly pronouncing some words, Father Arseny stood in the ray of moonlight. Alexei's hands and feet were numbed by the cold; he had no strength in his limbs. He was freezing and no longer cared.

Father Arseny was silent now, and suddenly Alexei heard Father Arseny's words clearly, and understood that this was a prayer. Alexei had been in church only once, out of curiosity. Although his grandmother had baptized him when he was a child, his family did not believe in God. They simply had no interest in religious matters. They did not know what faith really was. Alexei himself was a student, a member of the Komsomol. How could he believe?

Through the numbness and the pain from the blows he had received, Alexei could clearly hear the words that Father Arseny was saying: "O Lord God, have mercy on us sinners! Ever-merciful God! Lord Jesus Christ who because of Thy love became man to save us all. Through Thine unspeakable mercy save us, have mercy on us and lead us away from this cruel death, because we do believe in Thee, Thou our God and our Creator." And so the words of prayer poured forth, and in each of these words lay the deepest love and trust in God's mercy, and unconditional faith in Him.

Alexei started listening to the words of the prayer. At first he was perplexed, but gradually he began to comprehend. The prayer calmed his soul, took away the fear of death, and united him with the old man standing beside him. "O, Lord our God, Jesus Christ! Thou didst say with Thy purest lips that if two or three agree to ask for the same thing, then Thy Heavenly Father will grant their prayer because, as Thou didst say, 'When two or three are gathered in my name, I am among them.' " Alexei was repeating these words after Father Arseny.

The cold had taken over Alexei completely; his entire body was numb. He no longer knew whether he was standing, sitting, or lying down. But suddenly the cell, the cold, the numbness of his whole body, his pain from the blows he had received and his fear all disappeared. Father Arseny's voice filled the cell, but was it a cell? Alexei turned to Father Arseny and was stunned. Everything around had been transformed. An awful thought came: "I am losing my mind, this is the end, I am dying." The cell had grown wider, the ray of moonlight had disappeared. There was a bright light and Father Arseny, dressed in brilliant white vestments, his hands lifted up, was praying aloud. The clothing on Father Arseny was the same as the priest Alexei had once seen in church.

The words Father Arseny spoke were now easy to understand, they had become familiar—they entered directly into Alexei's soul. He felt no more anxiety, no more suffering, no more fear, only the desire to become one with these words, to understand them, to remember them for the rest of his life. There was no more cell: now they were in a church. How had they gotten here? And why was there someone else here with them? Alexei saw with surprise that there were two men assisting Father Arseny. Both were dressed in the same bright vestments and both shone with an undefinable white light. Alexei did not see their faces, but sensed that they were beautiful.

Prayer filled Alexei's being. He stood up and started praying together with Father Arseny. It was warm and easy to breathe, and happiness filled his soul. Alexei repeated everything Father Arseny was saying, yet he was not simply repeating, but praying together with him. It seemed like Father Arseny had become one with the words of his prayer, but Alexei understood that Father Arseny had not forgotten him and was helping him all the while, helping him to pray. The certainty that God existed, that He was with them, came to Alexei. He saw God with his soul. At times Alexei thought that perhaps they were both already dead, but the firm voice of Father Arseny and his presence kept bringing him back to reality.

How much time had passed he did not know, but Father Arseny turned to him and said, "Go, Alyosha! Lie down, you are tired. I will keep praying, you will hear me." Alexei lay down on the metal-covered floor, closed his eyes, and kept on praying. The words of prayer filled his whole being: " ... will agree to ask anything, it will be given to them by my Heavenly Father ... " In thousands of ways his heart responded to these words: "gathered in my name ... " "Yes, yes! We are not alone," thought Alexei from time to time as he continued to pray.

All was peaceful and warm. Suddenly out of nowhere his mother appeared. She covered him with something warm. Her hands took his head, and she pressed him to her heart. He wanted to speak to her, "Mama, can you hear, can you hear how Father Arseny is praying? I've learned that God exists, I believe in Him." As if she had heard him speak, she answered him, "Alyoshenka! When they took you, I also found God. This is what has given me the strength to live." Everything that was awful had disappeared, his mother and Father Arseny were near him. Words of prayer which had been unknown to him now rekindled and warmed his soul. It was important not to forget these words, to remember them all his life. "I never want to be far from Father Arseny, I want always to be with him," thought Alexei.

Lying on the floor at Father Arseny's feet, Alexei listened, half-asleep, to the beautiful words of the prayer. Father Arseny prayed, and the two others in bright garments prayed with him and served him. They seemed amazed at how Father Arseny could pray. Father Arseny no longer asked for anything, he only glorified God and thanked Him. How long all this lasted no one could say. The only things that remained in Alexei's memory were the words of the prayer, a warming and joyful light, Father Arseny praying, the two others in clothes of light, and an enormous, incomparable feeling of inner renewing warmth.

Somebody struck the door, the frozen lock squealed, and voices could be heard from the outside of the cell. Alexei opened his eyes. Father Arseny was still praying. The two in garments of light blessed him and Alexei and slowly left. The blinding light was fading and the cell at last became dark and, as before, cold and gloomy. "Get up, Alexei! They have come for us," said Father Arseny. Alexei rose. The head of the camp, the doctor, the main head of the special sector, and the Major were coming in. Somebody behind the door was saying, "This is inexcusable—someone could report this to Moscow. Who knows how they will look at this. Frozen cadavers—this is not the modern way." In the cell stood an old man in a patched up vest and a young one in torn clothes with a bruised face. Their faces were calm and their clothing was covered with a thick layer of frost.


"They're alive?" the Major asked in amazement. "How did they survive here for two days?"
"We are alive, sir," said Father Arseny. All looked at each other in amazement.
"Search them."
"Come out!" shouted one of the supervisors.

Father Arseny and Alexei walked out of the cell. The supervisors removed their gloves and started frisking them. The doctor also removed a glove, put it under Father Arseny's and then Alexei's clothing and, to nobody in particular, said, "Amazing! How could they have survived? It's true, though; they're warm." The doctor walked into the cell, looked around it and asked, "What kept you warm?"

"Our faith in God, and prayer," Father Arseny answered.

"They are simply fanatics. Send them back to the barracks right away," said one of the supervisors in an irritated voice. As he was walking away, Alexei heard somebody say, "It's amazing. In this cold they could have lived no longer than four or five hours. It's unbelievable, considering it's -22° F out. You supervisors sure got lucky. There could have been some unpleasantness in store for you."

The barracks met them as if they had risen from the dead.
Everyone asked, "What saved you?"
They both answered, "God saved us."

Ivan the Brown was transferred to another barracks within days. A week later he was killed by a falling rock. He died in terrible pain. It was rumored that his own friends had helped the rock to fall.

Alexei became a new man, as if reborn. He followed Father Arseny whenever he was able to and asked everyone he could about God and about Orthodox services.


This story was told by Alexei and confirmed by several witnesses who lived in the barracks at that time.

Says the Lord: "Where two or three are gathered in my name there I am in the midst of them; there I'll be."

Freedom

It's my first time to visit a prison jail. Gosh can't believe it's a great experience. I went to Central Women Correctional Institution together with a missionary friend. I learned she visits the prison so I presented myself to go with her. I feel so happy to see the women's happy faces. I think they feel blessed everytime someone would visit them especially if it's unexpected. We chatted happily for 30 minutes hope we could make it for an hour. I hope they've seen the face of God on us today. Hope they feel God's love. Upon seeing their happy faces I can't help but ask, "Are they really in jail???". They are physically imprisoned but their spirits are free. Free to dream for freedom. Free to dream for a brighter future despite the circumstances they're in right now. Let's include our brothers and sisters who are in jail everytime we pray. Hope they will have their real freedom soon.


I'm looking for a great inspirational story in jail and I have it, Fr. Arseny story... it's really great praise God!!!


God bless!!!

Hail to the Near Precious Present 2011

This is a warm welcome to 2011, the soon near PRECIOUS PRESENT!!! Sharing to you one of my favorite stories...

Once there was a boy. . . . Who listened to an old man. And, thus, he began to learn about The Precious Present. "It is a present because it is a gift," the contented man explained. "And it is precious because anyone who receives such a present is happy forever."

"Wow!" the little boy exclaimed. "I hope someone give me The Precious Present. Maybe I'll get it for Christmas." The boy ran off to play. And the old man smiled. He liked to watch the little boy play. He saw the smile on the youngster's face and heard him laughing as he swung from a nearby tree. The boy was happy. And it was a joy to see.

The old man also liked to watch the boy work. He even rose early on Saturday mornings to watch the little laborer mow the lawn across the street. The boy actually whistled while he worked. The little child was happy no matter what he was doing. It was, indeed, a joy to behold.

When he thought about what the old man had said, the boy thought he understood. He knew about presents. Like the bicycle he got for his birthday and the gifts he found under the tree on Christmas morning. But as the boy thought more about it, he knew. The joy of toys never lasts forever.

The boy began to feel uneasy. "What then," he wondered, "is The Precious Present? What could possibly make me happy forever?" He found it difficult to even imagine the answer. And so he returned to ask the old man.

"Is the Present a magical ring? One that I might put on my finger and make all my wishes come true?"

"No," the old man said. "The precious present has nothing to do with wishing."

As the boy grew older he continued to wonder. He went to the old man. "Is the Precious Present a flying carpet?" he inquired. "One that I could get on and go any place that I like?"

"No," the man quietly replied. "When you have the precious present, you will be perfectly content to be where you are."

The boy was becoming a young man now, and felt a bit foolish for asking. But he was uncomfortable. He began to see that he was not achieving what he wanted. "Is the Precious Present," he slowly ventured, "a sunken treasure? Perhaps rare gold coins buried by pirates long ago?"

"No, young man," the old man told him. "It is not. The richness is rare, indeed, but the wealth of the Present comes only from itself."

The young man thought for a moment. Then he became annoyed. "You told me," the young man said, "that anyone who receives such a present would be happy forever. I never got such a gift as a child."

"I'm afraid you don't understand," the old man responded. "You already know what the Precious Present is. You already know where to find it. And you already know how it can make you happy. You knew it best when you were a small child. You simply have forgotten."

The young man went away to think. But as time passed, he became frustrated, and finally angry. He eventually confronted the old man. "If you want me to be happy," the young man shouted, "why don't you just tell me what the Precious Present is?"

"And where to find it?" the old man volleyed.

"Yes, exactly," the young man demanded.

"I would like to," the old man began. "But I do not have such power. No one does. Only you have the power to make yourself happy. Only you. The Precious Present isn't something that someone gives you. It's a gift that you give yourself."

The young man was confused, but determined. He resolved to find the Precious Present himself. And so he packed his bags. He left where he was. And went elsewhere. To look for the Precious Present.

After many frustrating years, the man grew tired of looking for the Precious Present. He had read all the latest books. And he had looked in The Wall Street Journal. He had looked into the mirror. And into the faces of other people. He had wanted so much to find the Precious Present. He had gone to extraordinary lengths. He had looked for it at the tops of mountains and in cold dark caves. He had searched for it in dense, humid jungles. And underneath the seas. But it was all to no avail. His stressful search had exhausted him. He even became ill occasionally. But he did not know why.

The man returned wearily to the old man's side. The old man was happy to see him. They often laughed out loud together. The young man liked to be with the old man. He felt happy in his presence. He guessed that this was because the old man felt happy with himself. It wasn't that the old man's life was so trouble-free. He didn't appear to have a lot of money. He seemed to be alone most of the time. In fact, there was no apparent reason why he was so much happier and healthier than most people were. But happy he was. And so were those who spent time with him. "Why does it feel so good to be with him?" the young man wondered. "Why?" He left wondering.

After many years, the once-young man returned to inquire further. He was now very unhappy and often ill. He needed to talk with the old man. But the old man had grown very, very old. And, all too soon, he spoke no more. The wise voice could no longer be heard.

The man was alone. At first, he was saddened by the loss of his old friend. And then he became frightened. Very frightened. He was afraid that he would never learn how to be happy. Until finally he accepted what had always been true. He was the only one who could find his own happiness. The unhappy man recalled what the happy old man had told him so many years ago. But as hard as he tried he could not figure it out; he tried to understand what he had heard:

THE PRESENT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WISHING…. WHEN YOU HAVE THE PRESENT YOU WILL BE PERFECTLY CONTENT TO BE WHERE YOU ARE…. THE RICHNESS OF THE PRESENT COMES FROM ITS OWN SOURCE…. THE PRESENT IS NOT SOMETHING THAT SOMEONE GIVES YOU…. IT IS SOMETHING THAT YOU GIVE TO YOURSELF. . . .

The unhappy man was now tired of looking for the Precious Present. He had grown so tired of trying that he simply stopped trying. And then, it happened! He didn't know why it happened when it happened. It just…. Happened! He realized that the Precious Present was just that: THE PRESENT. Not the past; and not the future, but THE PRECIOUS PRESENT.

In an instant the man was happy. He realized that he was in the Precious Present. He raised both hands triumphantly into the cool, fresh air. He was joyous--for one moment. But then, just as quickly as he had discovered it, he let the joy of the present moment evaporate. He slowly lowered his hands, touched his forehead, and frowned. The man was unhappy--again.

"Why," he asked himself, "didn't I see the obvious long ago? Why have I missed so many precious moments?" "Why has it taken me so long to live in the present?" As the man remembered his fruitless travels around the world in his search for the Precious Present, he knew how much happiness he had lost.

He had not experienced what each special time and place had to offer. He had missed a great deal. And he felt sad. The man continued to berate himself. And then he saw what he was doing. He observed that he was trapped by his guilt about his past.

When he became aware of his unhappiness and of his being in the past, he returned to the present moment. And he was happy. But then the man began to worry about the future. "Will I," he asked, "be able to know the joy of living in the Precious Present tomorrow?" Then he saw he was living in the future and laughed--at himself.

He listened to what he now knew. And he heard the wisdom of his own voice. "It is wise for me to think about the past and to learn from it, but it is not wise for me to be in the past, for that is how I lose myself.

"It is also wise for me to think about the future, and to prepare for my future, but it is not wise for me to be in the future, for that, too, is how I lose myself. I lose what is precious to me."

It was so simple. And now he saw it. The present nourished him. But the man knew it was not going to be easy. Learning to be in the present was a process he was going to have to do over and over, again and again, until it became a part of him. Now he knew why he had enjoyed being with the old man.

The old man was totally present when he was with the younger man. The old man was not thinking about something else or wishing that he was somewhere else. He was fully present. And it felt good to be with such a person. The younger man smiled at himself, the way the old man used to smile. He knew. "I can choose to be happy now, or I can try to be happy when. . . or if. . . ."

The man chose NOW! And now the man was happy. He felt at peace with himself. He agreed to savor each moment in his life…. The apparently good and the apparently bad…. Even if he didn't understand. For the first time in his life, it didn't matter. He accepted each of his precious moments on this planet as a gift.

"I know that some people choose to receive the Precious Present when they are young, others in middle age, and some when they are old. Some people, sadly, never do. I can choose to receive the Precious Present whenever I want."

As the man sat thinking, he felt fortunate. He was whom he was where he was. And now he knew! He would always be whom he was where he was.

He listened again to his thoughts. "The present is what it is. It is valuable. Even I do not know why. It is already just the way it is supposed to be. When I see the present, accept the present, and experience the present, I am well, and I am happy. Pain is simply the difference between what is and what I want it to be.

"When I feel guilty over my imperfect past, or I am anxious over my unknown future, I do not live in the present. I experience pain. I make myself ill. And I am unhappy.

"My past was the present. And my future will be the present. The present moment is the only reality I ever experience.

"As long as I continue to stay in the present, I am happy forever, because forever is always the present.

"The present is simply who I am, just the way I am, right now. And it is precious. I am precious. I am the Precious Present."

It was as though he could hear the old man talking. And then he smiled. And his smile widened. And he laughed. He felt great joy. He knew he was listening, not to the old man…. But to himself.

It felt good for him to be with himself--just the way he was. He felt he knew enough. He felt he had enough. He felt he was enough. Now.

He had finally found the Precious Present. And he was completely happy.

Several decades later, the man had grown into a happy, prosperous, and healthy old man. One day a little girl came by to talk to him. She liked to listen to "the old man," as she called him. It was fun to be with him. There was something special about him. But she didn't know what it was.

One day, the little girl began to really listen to the old man. Somehow she sensed something important in his calm voice. He seemed very happy. The little girl couldn't understand why. "How could someone so old," she wondered, "be so happy?" She asked and the old man told her why.

Then all of a sudden, the little girl jumped up and squealed with delight! As the girl ran off to play, the old man smiled. For he heard what she had said: "Wow!" she exclaimed. "I hope someday someone gives me the Precious Present!"

Have a blessed and prosperous New Year to all.

God bless us!!!

A Blessed Christmas!!!

God is Love

Christmas is all about love
Christmas is thus about God and Love
Love is the key to peace among all mankind
Love is the key to peace and happiness within all creation
Love needs to be practiced - love needs to flow -
God bless to all mankind...


Have a blessed and merry Christmas!!!

A Christmas Story: Raul’s Candle

There is a beautiful legend and inspiring legend about the poor people who lived in a forest village in old Romania. Their poverty was clearly reflected in the old ramshackle church which stood near the town plaza. The poor people were very ashamed of their old church. When visitors came to the town, they often said very apologetically: “Someday when we are rich, we are going to build a beautiful cathedral like the one in the capital on the other side of the forest.” Because they were so poor, they couldn’t afford to build a magnificent cathedral by themselves. So on special occasions, like Christmas, they often walked through the forest to visit the cathedral rather than pray in their old run down little chapel. They thought they ought to pray in a great cathedral on Christmas day, rather than in a cheap little chapel.

One cold, dark Christmas eve, a boy named Raul was walking all alone from the squatter’s village to the cathedral in the city. Because it was a very dark and freezing winter night, he was carrying a little candle with him to light his way along the forest path. Back in the village, Raul’s mother was terribly sick and dying of cancer. Raul wanted to bring his candle to the cathedral, place it on the altar, and pray for his mother’s cure.

As Raul passed through the darkness of the forest, he heard a moan from beyond the bushes. He was frightened by the sound (he thought it was a wild animal) and started to run away. But he tripped and fell by the edge of the path. There he saw a little boy sitting alone under a big oak tree. The little boy said: “I’m afraid! I’m lost in the forest! I can’t find my way home! Please give me your candle so I can find my way home to mommy!” “This candle is for MY mother” Raul said. “I have to take it to the altar of the big church in the city so that she will get well and won’t be sick anymore.” “But it’s Christmas Eve,” the little boy said. “I have to go home to Mommy, too.” Can’t you give me your candle, please? Raul thought for a moment, and then with a very sad look on his face, he gave the candle to the little boy. The boy smiled at him and said: Thank you! You can go back home now. Your mommy will live! She is waiting for you.”

Raul ran home through the dark and found his mother waiting for him. She was smiling and singing and cooking supper in the kitchen, as though she had never been ill. “Let’s go to our little chapel for Midnight Mass,” Raul’s mommy said, and “thank the little boy of Bethlehem for curing me.” So Raul and his Mommy went to the shabby little church in the village to say “Thank You” to Jesus.

When they entered the dinghy church, the chapel was practically empty because nearly everyone in the village had gone to the cathedral in the city for Midnight Mass. But when they walked into the chapel, they were nearly blinded by the light which streamed from the altar. Bathe in the splendor of that magnificent light, the little old church was as beautiful as the big Cathedral in the city. “Look, Raul,” his mother exclaimed, “there is only one little candle on the altar! How can one little candle make such a glorious light?” Raul was too awed to speak. He just kept staring at the candle. As he knelt in front of the altar, he saw that the one little candle on the altar was his little candle – the one he had given to the little boy in the forest.

Light just one little candle in church this Christmas, and the world will be full of light. May we always reflect the Light of JESUS to others!!!

Have a blessed and happy Christmas!!!


God bless!!!




(Taken from Fr. Joseph Galdon's book LAUGHING CHRIST)

My New Blog

I have a new blog, JOURNEY TO FINANCIAL FREEDOM.

Check it out guys.

Be blessed.

God bless!