I have not been able to attend to my "Pilgrim's Reveries" blog these recent weeks. In the meantime I thought I'd share with you selections from Fr. Nil Guillemette's series of books entitled "God Tales for Young and Old" consisting of insightful stories or parables. I first started sending these out in year 2001 to my email list after I had gotten permission from Fr. Nil himself:
In his letter to me dated Feb. 10, 2001, direct from Loyola House, Cagayan de Oro city, Phil., he wrote:
"In answer to your letter of Feb. 1, which I received yesterday, I gladly give you permission to use my stories in your bible sharings. However, in order to discourage any illegal pirating from unscrupulous readers, please always add the proper reference (author, publisher, book, pages, etc.). As to your second question, I regret to inform you that my books are not yet being published abroad, despite my efforts to the contrary..."
About the author: "A graduate of the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome, Fr. Nil Guillemette, S. J. has spent almost two decades teaching New Testament in Vietnam, West Africa and the Philippines. His books with St. Pauls include: a Kingdom for All, Parables for Today, Hungry no more, On the Evening of the Third Day, Lion and Lamb, Through a Glass Darkly and 20 volumes of God Tales."
Please feel free to send your comments and reactionsto these God Tales.
*****
A CELEBRATION [1]
"Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come back to life again; he was lost, and has been found." (Lk 15:23-24)
*****
Many centuries ago on the island of Crete , near the city of Gortyna , there was a monastery by the name of St. Jerome Abbey, which housed a large community of pious monks. These were ninety-nine in number, to be precise, and they all vied with each other in their zeal to keep all the rules and observances of their Order. In this respect they were truly upright and virtuous men, not least of whom was Sagaris, the eldest of the ninety-nine.
In contrast with these righteous and upstanding friars, there lived next to the abbey a terrible ruffian by the name of Zeno, whose reputation for knavery and nefarious acts had spread throughout the whole area. And it was a well-deserved reputation, for indeed Zeno was a cheat, a liar, a rake, a rascal - and many other things besides.
Now, since Zeno often poached on the abbatial grounds and annoyed the monks of St. Jerome in a thousand other ways, he was often on the minds of these pious men. "Thank God," they would often think with just a touch of smugness, "we are not like that scoundrel!" And Sagaris, as the senior member of the group, would often voice the feelings of his ninety-eight brothers when he would outspokenly condemn Zeno's latest foul deed.
Now one day the Black Plague invaded the island of Crete , and like a sharp sickle it cut down everyone on its path, including all the monks of St. Jerome along with the evil Zeno. The latter, however, upon seeing all his neighbors die one after the other within the span of a few days, was gripped by a sudden fear of God's judgment, repented of his sins and died in turn after all the friars.
Of all these people Sagaris was the first one to reach Heaven, for his stay in Purgatory lasted but a few hours. After all, after having been a monk for more than sixty years, he had had ample time on earth to atone for his sins; besides, he had committed only a few of these, his life having been on the whole that of a model monk.
Because of this state of affairs, Sagaris expected a very special welcome upon his arrival at the Pearly Gates. Hadn't he kept faithfully his vows and the monastic observances for more than half a century? Surely, in his opinion, that deserved due recognition! Well, he did receive a hearty welcome from St. Peter and all the angels and the saints, climaxed with a beaming smile of approval on the part of the Trinity, but there was no red carpet treatment nor any special fuss in his honor. This surprised Sagaris and somewhat disappointed him. But his chagrin was soon alleviated by the sight of all his monastic brothers from St. Jerome arriving in Heaven almost within minutes of each other. There they were, now clothed in light and beauty: Serenus, Basilides, Besads, Lucian, Bardaisan, Phileas, Cerdo, Ater, Nemesion, Carpocrates, Marinus and all the others. Soon the group was complete.
Naturally Sagaris noticed that none of his ninety-eight companions was celebrated in any special manner, and he still wondered at this. But after a while he concluded upon reflection that, because of the sudden influx of new arrivals due to the Black Plague, the Elect had no time to celebrate in a particular way each and every one of those entering Heaven on that day. Perhaps, however, there would be a collective celebration in honor of the monks of St. Jerome as a group at least?
Now, just as Sagaris was speculating along these lines, all of a sudden God the Father stood up from his great throne and taking by the hand both His Son and the Holy Spirit, announced to all the heavenly court, "Let us celebrate!" And, without more ado, the Three Persons began a merry dance of joy in which all the Elect were invited to join.
"Ah," Sagaris thought with satisfaction, "that celebration must be in honor of the ninety-nine of us from St. Jerome Abbey, absolutely as I figured." However, just in case he might have missed the arrival of some great saint and that the ongoing celebration would actually happen to be in the honor of that great saint, he decided to check it out with one of the angels employed in delivering messages, posting news bulletins and in general insuring the well-being of the heavenly inhabitants.
"Pardon me," Sagaris asked a splendid shaft of light as it was passing by, "but could you tell me in whose honor is this celebration?"
The angel stopped in his tracks, as if caught by surprise. "Certainly. It's in honor of Zeno, the former sinner who lived near your abbey. He was just converted a few minutes ago. And, naturally, whenever something like that happens, we always throw a big party."
Sagaris was astonished. "Why?" he asked.
"Why?" the angel repeated. "Well, frankly, I don't know. It's one of those mysteries about God that finite minds like ours have trouble penetrating. In fact, it's strange that you should ask, because it seems you humans have an edge over us when it comes to such matters."
"Oh? Why is that?", Sagaris insisted.
"Because of your biological set-up. You humans have sons and fathers. We don't," the angel answered. Then, seeing that Sagaris still didn't understand, he explained further. "I'm referring to something that God told me one day in a private conversation, precisely because I had wondered out loud before him about his strange habit of making such a fuss over a converted sinner. Well, he said something like this. A human father takes a great deal of pleasure in seeing his children living with him in close harmony. But, if one of them happens to stray away and becomes estranged from the family, the father will grieve over the absent son until he returns home. However, when the prodigal does return and falls in his father's arms, the latter experiences at that moment more joy than over all his other children who have never left home." The angel paused, then shook his luminous head in puzzlement. "When God gave me that explanation," he continued, "I told him quite candidly that I had absolutely no idea of what he was talking about. And do you know what God did? For a moment he only smiled. Then he added with great gentleness, `Of course you cannot understand any of this, because you have never been a father. But a father can.' That's word for word what God said. Does it make sense to you?"
Sagaris didn't answer. He just turned around and walked towards the center of the celebration. He felt a bit ashamed for having forgotten the parable of the Prodigal Son so soon upon arriving in Heaven. But, on the other hand, not having ever been a father himself, that was not too surprising. It also explained why he had failed to understand God's reaction to Zeno's conversion. Now, however, he understood. The fact was that God was Zeno's father. That explained the celebration.
Well, in that respect nothing much has changed since Zeno's time. God always reacts like a father. Why? Because he happens to be one.
In contrast with these righteous and upstanding friars, there lived next to the abbey a terrible ruffian by the name of Zeno, whose reputation for knavery and nefarious acts had spread throughout the whole area. And it was a well-deserved reputation, for indeed Zeno was a cheat, a liar, a rake, a rascal - and many other things besides.
Now, since Zeno often poached on the abbatial grounds and annoyed the monks of St. Jerome in a thousand other ways, he was often on the minds of these pious men. "Thank God," they would often think with just a touch of smugness, "we are not like that scoundrel!" And Sagaris, as the senior member of the group, would often voice the feelings of his ninety-eight brothers when he would outspokenly condemn Zeno's latest foul deed.
Now one day the Black Plague invaded the island of Crete , and like a sharp sickle it cut down everyone on its path, including all the monks of St. Jerome along with the evil Zeno. The latter, however, upon seeing all his neighbors die one after the other within the span of a few days, was gripped by a sudden fear of God's judgment, repented of his sins and died in turn after all the friars.
Of all these people Sagaris was the first one to reach Heaven, for his stay in Purgatory lasted but a few hours. After all, after having been a monk for more than sixty years, he had had ample time on earth to atone for his sins; besides, he had committed only a few of these, his life having been on the whole that of a model monk.
Because of this state of affairs, Sagaris expected a very special welcome upon his arrival at the Pearly Gates. Hadn't he kept faithfully his vows and the monastic observances for more than half a century? Surely, in his opinion, that deserved due recognition! Well, he did receive a hearty welcome from St. Peter and all the angels and the saints, climaxed with a beaming smile of approval on the part of the Trinity, but there was no red carpet treatment nor any special fuss in his honor. This surprised Sagaris and somewhat disappointed him. But his chagrin was soon alleviated by the sight of all his monastic brothers from St. Jerome arriving in Heaven almost within minutes of each other. There they were, now clothed in light and beauty: Serenus, Basilides, Besads, Lucian, Bardaisan, Phileas, Cerdo, Ater, Nemesion, Carpocrates, Marinus and all the others. Soon the group was complete.
Naturally Sagaris noticed that none of his ninety-eight companions was celebrated in any special manner, and he still wondered at this. But after a while he concluded upon reflection that, because of the sudden influx of new arrivals due to the Black Plague, the Elect had no time to celebrate in a particular way each and every one of those entering Heaven on that day. Perhaps, however, there would be a collective celebration in honor of the monks of St. Jerome as a group at least?
Now, just as Sagaris was speculating along these lines, all of a sudden God the Father stood up from his great throne and taking by the hand both His Son and the Holy Spirit, announced to all the heavenly court, "Let us celebrate!" And, without more ado, the Three Persons began a merry dance of joy in which all the Elect were invited to join.
"Ah," Sagaris thought with satisfaction, "that celebration must be in honor of the ninety-nine of us from St. Jerome Abbey, absolutely as I figured." However, just in case he might have missed the arrival of some great saint and that the ongoing celebration would actually happen to be in the honor of that great saint, he decided to check it out with one of the angels employed in delivering messages, posting news bulletins and in general insuring the well-being of the heavenly inhabitants.
"Pardon me," Sagaris asked a splendid shaft of light as it was passing by, "but could you tell me in whose honor is this celebration?"
The angel stopped in his tracks, as if caught by surprise. "Certainly. It's in honor of Zeno, the former sinner who lived near your abbey. He was just converted a few minutes ago. And, naturally, whenever something like that happens, we always throw a big party."
Sagaris was astonished. "Why?" he asked.
"Why?" the angel repeated. "Well, frankly, I don't know. It's one of those mysteries about God that finite minds like ours have trouble penetrating. In fact, it's strange that you should ask, because it seems you humans have an edge over us when it comes to such matters."
"Oh? Why is that?", Sagaris insisted.
"Because of your biological set-up. You humans have sons and fathers. We don't," the angel answered. Then, seeing that Sagaris still didn't understand, he explained further. "I'm referring to something that God told me one day in a private conversation, precisely because I had wondered out loud before him about his strange habit of making such a fuss over a converted sinner. Well, he said something like this. A human father takes a great deal of pleasure in seeing his children living with him in close harmony. But, if one of them happens to stray away and becomes estranged from the family, the father will grieve over the absent son until he returns home. However, when the prodigal does return and falls in his father's arms, the latter experiences at that moment more joy than over all his other children who have never left home." The angel paused, then shook his luminous head in puzzlement. "When God gave me that explanation," he continued, "I told him quite candidly that I had absolutely no idea of what he was talking about. And do you know what God did? For a moment he only smiled. Then he added with great gentleness, `Of course you cannot understand any of this, because you have never been a father. But a father can.' That's word for word what God said. Does it make sense to you?"
Sagaris didn't answer. He just turned around and walked towards the center of the celebration. He felt a bit ashamed for having forgotten the parable of the Prodigal Son so soon upon arriving in Heaven. But, on the other hand, not having ever been a father himself, that was not too surprising. It also explained why he had failed to understand God's reaction to Zeno's conversion. Now, however, he understood. The fact was that God was Zeno's father. That explained the celebration.
Well, in that respect nothing much has changed since Zeno's time. God always reacts like a father. Why? Because he happens to be one.
End Notes:
1. Fr. Nil Guillemette S.J., "To The Ends Of The Earth, God Tales for Young and Old," St. Pauls Makati, Philippines, 1993, Chapter, 24, pp. 148-151.
