The Flaming Sword

[steph573]

This is part of the first chapter of a story I am writing. I still don't know where it is leading nor whether what I have written so far is the final product. It's titled the Flaming Sword. But I am posting it for your review. Please give me your constructive commentaries.


[FONT=&quot]“Alexia, over here!”
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[FONT=&quot]The young girl recognizes the faint whisper of an all-too familiar voice. Adroitly, a hand grabs her by her blue jeans and pulls her feet into the sewer opening. She recognizes him, it’s Richard. At the sight of his familiar face, Alexia complies, quickly enters and sets her feet on the muddy escalators. Soon after, a group of about four or five men dressed in black and green uniform comes into the scene. Their eyes scrutinize the now deserted alley. Looking intently, they notice the spots of blood spread along the rugged floor. At first, they appear sparse and distant, a sign of the frantic escapade that the girl in question was undergoing. The eyes follow the trail all the way to the cul-de-sac that terminates the alley. Then, the trail of blood doubles back. It forms larger and larger spots that become closer in distance as one follows them further along. Finally, the trail appears to stop. As the men mechanically take out their weapons, one of them, the leader, attempts to open the lid of the sewer, but to no avail. It has been locked from the inside. Finally, the unit of Special Forces leaves the scene, postponing to another time the search for the young fugitive.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]It has been about an hour since Alexia and her new found protector have been walking the secret tunnels of the underground sewer systems. The air around is humidified and mud seems to be everywhere. The tunnels and their arc-like shape are built from very large and [/FONT][FONT=&quot]amorphous[/FONT][FONT=&quot] brick[/FONT][FONT=&quot]s[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. At a closer examination, cracks ornate with mold are visible here and there. From place to place, drops of water profusely seep through from the ceiling. Alexia and Richard are walking on the cemented floor which is divided in the middle by the powerfully running sewerage. A stench elevates from the whole place which is a composite of the piercing smell of chlorinated bleach with the repugnant odor of human excretory remains. Alexia who is already suffering from a bullet wound, seems at times to be dizzied and overwhelmed by the atmosphere she finds herself in. The young girl is bleeding profusely and despite Richard’s help, who at times carries her on his back, Alexia seems to be feeling the coldness that is symptomatic of her ongoing loss of blood. From time to time, the young fugitive looks behind her as if making sure that no one is following her.
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[FONT=&quot]For a moment, her thoughts race back, back to the events of this morning. What a tragic turn of events. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Since the beginning of the persecution, the Beranger, Alexia's family, had been hiding at their friends' residence, the Fakhir. In the Northern neighborhood of Youssef Abad, where the Fakhir were living, it seemed that residential homes were in constant competition with one another. Here, houses looked more like heavily fortified castles a stark contrast to the South of Tehran which was home to the city’s poorer population. Without a doubt, their Iranian hosts belonged to the upper echelon of the Iranian social stratum. They lived in a two storied five bedroom house, with a garage that looked more like a living room and a front lawn which despite the seasons seemed to remain ever green. Since the passage of the comet however, the seasons had been altered and the temperatures had become increasingly elevated. As a result, the appearance of the front lawn seemed to have suffered from the abrupt change in the seasons. Still, Alexia remembers this morning very well. She was with Abdullah, [/FONT][FONT=&quot]the teenage son of her father’s most esteemed friend and colleague, Abdul-Aziz Fakhir,[/FONT][FONT=&quot] sitting in the beautifully tidied terrace situated at the back of the house[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. The two teenagers were discussing biblical prophecy and comparing the common articles of faith between Christianity and Islam. The Fakhir were a pious and devoted Muslim family. Like many believers, they were completely humbled and transfigured by the Day of Mercy, the appearance of the Cross of the Savior, which was visible worldwide. It was a great day of mercy, of love and of reconciliation with God and of reconciliation of humanity with itself. In reality, it was the last chance given by a merciful God tired to see His wayward sons live in continued and rebellious intercourse with sin. Yet, for all the evidence of the facts, the Iranian family found it difficult abandoning the religion of Islam for Christianity. Such reticence was understandable. For a people as steeped in the traditions of Islam and customs of Iranian culture, their protectors were proud Iranian Azeris who faithfully put into practice the commands of the Shi’a religion. Following the Day of Mercy, they had found a greater attraction towards the Christian religion and towards Catholicism in particular. But their new found fascination was held in check by decades of devoted Muslim practice, which at times, veered towards a jubilant expectation of the Mahdi, the twelfth imam who would rise to restore Islam to its former glory. On this day, Alexia’s parents were in the living room with Abdul-Aziz and his wife. They were discussing the fate of the religious minorities in Iran and were attempting to come up with means to organize the remnant religious opposition. They had made little strides. Since the last six months, the government had been crushing all sites of religious resistance to its new policy. Many Christians and other religious groups alike had been forced into hiding. Now it was [/FONT][FONT=&quot]the Beranger’s[/FONT][FONT=&quot] turn. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]On this quiet but warm morning, the Iranian Squad stormed through the door of the 3500 square feet house. They grabbed Alexia's parents by the hair and pulled Alexia out of the terrace, into the dining room, past the living room and through the front door. It was 8:20 am on September 25th 2013. That is, today. She remembers how earlier this morning she and her parents were kneeling in front of the Squad and the crowd of onlookers specially brought out of their houses by the special Iranian unit for the occasion. The latter wanted to make an example out of the Beranger to serve as a deterrent to all those of Muslim faith seeking to help the persecuted religious minorities, particularly the Christians and Catholics. Abdul-Aziz and his family were also held outside and were forced to watch, in total helplessness. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Th[/FONT][FONT=&quot]en a gun was put in Jules' mouth, Alexia's dad[/FONT][FONT=&quot].[/FONT][FONT=&quot] ''Renounce Christianity or die.'' Seeing this, Alexia's mom, Genevieve, started crying and pleading for mercy. Soon, she started mumbling names of people she knew whom she could help find if she and her family were spared. Alexia couldn't believe what she was hearing. Soon, Genevieve convinced them. The leader of the special unit decided he was going to take them all for further questioning. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Then, all [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Alexia[/FONT][FONT=&quot] can remember is a rush of adrenaline. She took to the streets [/FONT][FONT=&quot]without purpose and without direction disappointed by the turn of events. She ran [/FONT][FONT=&quot]and ran [/FONT][FONT=&quot]preoccupied with the safety of the one thing which [/FONT][FONT=&quot]irrespective of her allegiance to [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Catholic [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Christianity and [/FONT][FONT=&quot]irrespective of [/FONT][FONT=&quot]her ties to family[/FONT][FONT=&quot], still mattered to her: her life[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. Now she wonders[/FONT][FONT=&quot] whether she made the right decision. She wonders whether she will ever see her parents again.[/FONT][FONT=&quot] At this, Alexia becomes even more pensive and saddened. Now, she has to go into hiding. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]She wants to protect her life and cling to whatever faith she has left but she wonders: What if?[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Now, Alexia looks at Richard, who is firmly holding her by the hand. At this, she experiences a certain feeling of reassurance confident that the one she used to call “uncle” will now lead her into safety. Still, not a word has been said since the rescue, a sign indeed, of the seriousness of the present predicament. The minutes pass, and it seems the tunnels repeat themselves. They all seem the same in their naked ugliness and their barely lighted atmosphere. Richard seems to have become an expert in underground transport. In Tehran, few know the underground of the city as well as he does. He is a man in his thirties, slim, strong, with olive piercing eyes and a commanding voice. He has conserved the vigor of youth earned in part thanks to his extensive expeditions to many Iranian provinces, in particular, the mountainous regions of the Iranian Kurdistan. Professor Gallagher, his title, was once an accomplished cultural anthropologist who came during the latter century, to study the ancestral relationships between many of Iran’s ethnic populations, and in particular, to examine the interesting cultural patterns of the Kurdish peoples who are among the nation’s minorities. During the two decades he had spent in the country, he was unable to make significant breakthroughs in his research. At the same time, his expeditions on the field proved particularly valuable and were the catalysts of a process of personal growth that took years to take shape. Today, he is not the same man he used to be. Once a proud, adventurous and frivolous man with a volatile temper, he is now a more reserved, calm and comforting presence. In his voice, resounds the assurance of virile temerity now tempered with the affective heart of a father figure. As he looks intently at the face of the injured Alexia, he remembers his years of professorship and languidly exclaims a sigh that expresses both his regret as well as an imperceptible feeling of anticipation. Until now, silence had been engulfing both protagonists as they had been furtively moving about the underground walls of the city. Now, it comes to an end.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Here. Come in.” Richard signals to his protégé in a low voice.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The door, rusty and barely standing, creeks and opens onto Richard’s makeshift lair. The room is dimly-lit, a light produced by a battery-powered lamp placed at the entrance of the site. Immediately, her eyes are laid on three particular bodies. In front of her, a teenage boy, tanned like an Arab and dressed in traditional Iranian attire, is laying in front of her, on the cold, bare floor with a rosary bead clenched between his fists. He is sleeping. On the boy’s right hand side, a man, tall and slender, is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. He is wearing black pants and his black shirt which reaches at the end at his arm is topped at his neck by a Roman collar. Alexia immediately recognizes that he is a priest. In particular, his blue eyes attract her attention. They are quite accentuated by his emaciated face which seems to be looking intently at the young boy to whom the man directs his loving and affectionate smiles. From time to time, the crystal blue eyes close and an even more enraptured smile is made visible on his radiant face. A little away from the man, is a woman sitting on a small stool. She is wearing a long, blue robe that covers her arms and legs thus rendering her hands and bare feet almost not visible. Her dark brown hair covers her face and at times reveals a complexion that seems to be of someone who has been grieving for the past few days. Yet, a resolute peace seems to irradiate from her glance as her eyes warmly encounter Alexia’s. At the back, the corners of the dusty walls are discernible in the shade. Here and there, large spider webs decorate them giving the place the eerie resonance of a cave. Perceptible to the attentive eye, are remnants of suggestive murals and of graffiti paint which, in an effort at decency, have been scraped as best as possible from the walls. From the ceiling, drops of water rhythmically fall and hit the side of a large wooden table lying at the center of the lair. On top of it, is a metallic cup and a small plate. The air is steeped with humidity and a particular[/FONT][FONT=&quot]ly repellent odor[/FONT][FONT=&quot] that seems to originate from the floor. And yet, judging by their demeanor, the occupants of the lair seem the least bothered by its appalling condition. Richard who was holding Alexia by the hand, shuts and locks the door, and motions for her to sit on a stool in front of the little boy. Then, Richard takes his seat on the bare floor, at the left hand side of the sleeping boy, and seems to be looking inside a bag he has picked up. Alexia sits on the stool and as she looks intently at the floor, past the wooden table, two black, vapid pairs of eyes appear and seem to be scrutinizing her. A quirking noise is heard followed by the frantic waving of tails. Now she sees them. The pairs of eyes and the tails belong to two rats who in this site, like their occupants, have found a home. At the sight of this spectacle, Alexia sobs and a tear falls from her left eye.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
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[steph573]

[FONT=&quot]Then, she is interrupted in her contemplation. “Please take your stool and come sit here, so I can see your arm,” says the priest who was leaning against the wall. Alexia quickly wipes the tear off her eye, walks up to the man with her stool and sits next to him. Then, looking at her blue T-shirt, stained by spots of blood, she rolls up its sleeve and holds up her arm for the priest to see it. He picks up his glasses and proceeds to examine his patient’s right upper arm. She appears to have a significant loss of blood, a partial loss of motor control in her arm and is becoming increasingly cold. The wound, which was certainly caused by a bullet from an automatic weapon, is large and profound and reveals the possibility that a major artery might have been affected.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“My name is Father James by the way. I will see what I can do to help you.” Turning to his right side, he picks up a first-aid case. He opens it up and unfolds the tissue that is at its top. Behind it, lay various instruments, possibly surgical instruments judging by their shape and their sharpness. On the side, are various bandages of different size, laid there thus, for different purposes. Alexia feels the knife resting on her battered flesh. Suddenly, she is overcome by an overwhelming surge of electrical sensations. Then, she feels her eyes close as she is slowly numbed into unconsciousness.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Her mind wanders away and soon the fog that had been clouding her mental vision dissipates. The scene opens before a man: young, tanned, probably of African origin. He is dressed in full consecrated vestments. On his hair, still showing the good health of youth, is a white cap. From his neck all the way to his feet, he is wearing a white cassock. Held tightly at his waist, is a white sash. On his chest, can be seen a golden cross which reaches down the end of it. His feet are bare, and on his right side, are his black sandals which it seems, have been carefully set aside. An interior indication reveals that it is the newly elected pope, the Head of the Church. The young bishop is inside a church, kneeling in front of the cross of the crucified Jesus. Soon, he gets up and walks all the way to the first row of the church. There, a young woman, whose face is not discernible, is sited in contemplation and seems to be awaiting the papal benediction. She kneels in front of him. She appears to be dressed in the religious habit, with its usual black veil, the dark holy habit and the black woolen belt tied around the waist. The bishop imposes his hands on the blessed woman. Then, she gets up and the scene closes before Alexia’s vision as she is overcome with an apparent feeling of deep gratitude and of intense elation.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]In the cave, where the five occupants have taken residence, time passes by unnoticeably. But judging by his watch, Father James estimates that his patient has been unconscious for at least four hours. The surgery is now complete and Alexia is now resting on the lap of Regina, whose name still remains unknown to the rescued girl. The woman is smiling and is kneeling on the floor, as she tenderly caresses Alexia’s delicate hair which appears very untidy, and is a certain reflection of the distress she has been put through in the past hours. Regina, probably in her late thirties or early forties, appears like a mother as she sings a lullaby to the golden-haired girl, her new found daughter, who seems to be sleeping peacefully and comfortably. As Regina looks intently at the oval face, its eye lids slowly open revealing the faint hazel eyes of the young girl. Alexia finally awakes.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“How are you feeling?” The reverend asks.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Alexia appears surprised and looks at Regina who is still smiling at her. She looks at her arm and notices that it is bandaged and barely bleeding. Then coming out of her hebetude, she finally speaks.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“My head is spinning a little. Apart from that I see that my arm is no longer bleeding.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Yes, that’s good. Your head should start feeling better soon. I managed to remove the bullet from your arm. Thank God that it wasn’t in that deep. I am sorry if I couldn’t make a better bandage. We are quite limited here.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Thank you Father, may God bless you.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Father smiles and replies: “I am merely an unprofitable servant.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Thanks to the Lord and to Father, you are feeling better. It’s a miracle! My name is Regina. It is my pleasure to meet you. How old are you, may I ask?”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“It’s nice to meet you too Regina. I’m Alexia and I’m eighteen.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Richard who had been listening attentively, finally interjects:[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Here, Alexia, I have some food for you. I am sorry if that’s not much but I have to leave some for Ebrahim, who is still asleep.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Richard opens a brown bag and takes some bread out of the linen cloth that wraps it. It is traditional Iranian bread, which is usually round, flat and crusty. In this case, all that is left is a quarter of it; the rest has already been consumed. Judging by its hardness, it has been used for days, as if its users had been rationing it. Richard manages to break it into smaller pieces.[/FONT]
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“Here, take.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Looking at the piece of bread, Alexia hesitates at first. She turns to her right and encounters Father James’ reassuring glance. She looks past him and sees Regina who nods in agreement. Finally, she gathers her courage and takes the piece of bread.[/FONT]
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“Thank you Richard. Be blessed.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Alexia looks intently at the piece of bread, then slowly, and with attention, she does the sign of the cross. Everyone else does the same. She says the prayer of blessing as she had learnt from memory from the nuns during her years at Catholic school. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]She used to attend l’Institut de l’Assomption, a Catholic school located in Paris where she grew up[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. She seems to have learnt her lessons at the Institute well. Like them, her prayer, which she translates from her native french into english, is short, concise and yet eloquent.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Bless us, O Lord, for these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ Our Lord. Amen.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]As Alexia consumes the bread, she seems to be performing a spiritual exercise. She breaks the bread piece by piece and chews slowly and attentively as if to absorb all the strength from every parcel of bread she is ingesting. Everyone looks at her with affection and loving eyes. For a moment, intimate memories flood her mind and she seems visibly upset. She certainly longs for her mother land, France, and in particular her native Poitiers. At the end of every school year in Paris, the young girl, in her early teenage years, used to spend time there with her extended family: cousins, uncles and grandparents. Alexia remembers Poitiers well: a small, picturesque town which seemed more like a vibrant little village. Here, it seemed, everyone was familiar with everyone. Some of her happiest and fondest memories were spent there, in that simple locality in the western-central part of France. Now, Alexia, still so young and so full of life, finds herself on foreign soil and on unfamiliar territory. She is being persecuted for a faith she never chose but which she has grown to love and cherish. Then, Alexia wonders. She ponders about the state of her beloved land, so dear to her heart. Since the past few years, France had been going through serious social and political turmoil. Now, she is praying for the radical regime change that has happened. She hopes that France, the Eldest Daughter of the Church, under the leadership of the French king, will awake, triumphant and renewed in the sentiments of Christian love. Her thoughts fly even higher, to the realm of the spiritual. It is a pathetic yearning for redemption and for the forgiveness of her many deliberate and less deliberate faults. Yes, a heartfelt longing it is, for the King of Peace Himself and for His consoling love. Finally, Alexia appears to be transported back to her unfortunate reality. She looks to her right and encounters Father James’ glance who looks at her compassionately and smiles heartily. Looking at him, she responds in kind as if in resignation and afterwards, she continues eating. At this moment, Ebrahim who is lying on the floor turns on his other side to the attention of everyone in the room. Seeing this, Regina picks up the mantle that was covering the young boy and covers him again. Alexia is now done. She says another prayer of thanksgiving to the approbation and admiration of everyone else. As she has now regained her strength, Richard resumes the conversation.[/FONT]

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[FONT=&quot]“So, Alexia, it has been a while since I saw you. I used to see you and your family at mass every Sunday, and even during the week. You were a good, practicing Catholic family and were very engaged in church activities. Then, I lost sight of you. I heard your family had moved to another part of Tehran but gave no indication as to where. It’s been three years.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Yes I know, it’s been a long time. The truth is, mom and dad were having marital problems. Mom threatened dad with divorce if he did not change his alcoholic ways. I didn’t even know about it. Then we had to move because they wanted to start a new life. I'm sorry we didn’t give any news but my parents were so ashamed by their problems that they thought they could no longer be examples in the church. You were like an uncle to me. But my parents, especially mom, didn’t like you that much. They always thought that you were a hypocrite. After all, you had never been married and many people thought that you were leading a disordered lifestyle. But today, I look at you and I see a different person…”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Yes, the Lord has certainly changed me. I cannot begin to tell you, how much good He has done in my life. But that’s not what we should be talking about. I want to know how the government found out about you. And what has happened to your parents? Why are they not here with you?”[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
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[steph573]

[FONT=&quot]“Well, since the new law was passed by the government, our family had been keeping a low profile. We had stopped going to church for fear that we might be put to death. We tried to hide as best we could and took up residence among some Muslim friends. But somehow, the government found out where we were staying. This morning, the Iranian Special Forces came to our friends’ house. We knew that sooner or later, they would come and force us to deny our faith like all the other Christians. The Iranian Special Forces brought us outside in front of the people for them to see it. Then, we were told to renounce Christianity in front of everyone so as to humiliate us. Yes, my parents felt very humiliated. They didn't know what to do so they said nothing. The Special Forces started threatening us at gun point. Then after a few minutes, my parents started crying and pleading for mercy. Mom started saying she wanted to offer our help to find other Christians. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. When he heard them, the leader of the Iranian forces said he was going to take them for further questioning. When I saw that, I got up and I started running. I guess that I just panicked. In that instant, I forgot all about prayer, about silence, about God. I feel so ashamed. Will God ever forgive me for having denied him the opportunity to make me a martyr for his cause? I hope He does, because I need His forgiveness. Then, they went after me. On the way, they shot me in the arm and they said to each other that they just wanted to slow me down. They said they wanted to take me alive also. I didn’t know what to do. I ran and I ran and it’s as though they were having fun hunting for me because they were taking their time. Then, I reached that alley where you found me… I am so grateful to you Richard. I owe you my life. God only knows what would have happened to me if I had been caught by the Squad. Maybe I should have stayed behind with mom and dad. Maybe I should have accepted my fate, in prayer and resignation as though it was God’s will. Who knows? O Father, I think I have committed a very serious, mortal sin. Will God forgive me?”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“He forgives. He always does. Do you want me to hear your confession?” The Reverend asks, in a worried tone.[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]But Alexia replies in a timid voice, that seems to reveal her slight French accent:[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Father, I’m not ready yet. The weight of my sin is crushing me and I can’t find the strength to say “Lord, please forgive me”.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“It’s alright my daughter. I will pray for you. Let me know when you are ready.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Yes, Father.”[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]At this moment, Richard intervenes:[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]“Do not be afraid, the Lord forgives, that is, if you are truly repentant. Perhaps, your time had not come yet. You have grown so much. I am pleased to see that you are maturing into a young woman. I have been trying to smuggle Christians into hiding since Parliament passed the Act for the Protection of the True Religion [/FONT][FONT=&quot]six[/FONT][FONT=&quot] months ago. As you well know, it requires all minority religions to renounce their faith and submit to the religion of Islam. In this way, the Iranian government believes it is preparing the way for the Mahdi, the messiah who is to come and extend Islam to the ends of the world. As Christians, we certainly do not believe in any of this. There are so few of us in Iran but from what I have heard from reliable sources, some who are Christians and others who are Muslims, a few Christians have gone into hiding. Some are hiding in the graveyards of the big cities, some in the country side, others are even attempting to cross the border. The government is aware of this, and does its best to keep us disorganized and unable to operate together. As you know, many churches have been forced to close and the majority of Christians and Catholics in particular, have had to compromise their faith and convert to Islam. All of this, they did just so that they could stay alive. What a shame! Doesn’t the gospel call on us to be strong and perseverant in our faith? Alexia, I fear for your parents and hope that they will not be used in order to infiltrate the remnant of the Christian communities. I hope they will not be coerced into denying their faith. Be strong in the faith Alexia and God will take care of the rest. Right, Father?”[/FONT][FONT=&quot]

“Yes, Alexia, be strong and do not fear, for the Lord will provide. Put your faith into Him and He will watch over you. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Yes, as you have seen, [/FONT][FONT=&quot]the Lord is coming. Already, His Enemy has set his plan in motion and is preparing the way for the Son of Perdition, the Antichrist. He is already in the world, but is acting in the background. Before the Sun of Justice, [/FONT][FONT=&quot]that is, Christ, [/FONT][FONT=&quot]shines high on the horizon, Darkness must first overcome the world. The Son of Satan will have his cruel but brief reign on this earth. Then the Restoration of the Kingdom will come. Still, the signs are already here[/FONT][FONT=&quot], and some have already come to pass pointing towards the Second Coming. “You will hear of wars and reports of wars; see that you are not alarmed, for these things must happen, but it will not yet be the end. Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be famines and earthquakes from place to place.” It seems that during the past few years, the words of our Lord in Matthew 24 have been brought to fulfillment. Devastating hurricanes, destructive wildfires, terrible earthquakes, catastrophic volcanic eruptions, entire cities razed, entire countries on the brink of annihilation, entire continents put to the test. All this time, the Lord was reshaping the entire earth. Remember the December 2011 earthquake that split the coast of California in two. Remember the tsunami in Japan that wiped out entire cities including Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Remember the countless hurricanes that eventually brought the United States to its knees. Then, there was the paralysis of the entire financial system, followed by global economic collapse. Indeed, our Lord was signaling the end of Babylon and of all its structures of sin. There is order in everything, even in God’s Justice: first, the economic, then the social, and finally, the political. As our Lord predicted, you will hear of “wars and reports of wars”. Remember the downfall of America, my beloved home. Remember how Russia and China invaded the world. The terrorist attacks in Europe and in Paris in particular, the now forgotten city. O, what happened to your splendor, what happened to your once admirable beauty? Paris, Paris. Foreign occupation followed, assisted by revolutions in Saharan and black Africa. Ah! I can still hear the cries of a people thirsting for the last remnants of human freedom. And we cannot forget the Middle East, and the renewed violence between the Palestinians and the Israelites. The world was in disarray. It’s as if the seals had been forcefully opened and the Red Rider had been given new power over the earth. Chaos was everywhere and it is as though a hurricane was passing over the whole of humanity. Amidst this crisis the Enemy was sowing the seeds of hatred and division in an attempt to draw even the Church into confusion. Those final weeks that led up to the Great Event were catastrophic, especially for our Mother, the Church, the Bride of Christ. Our Holy Father understood the signs of the times. He grew bolder, stronger in faith and opposition and calumny towards his person and towards the Church grew fiercer. He proclaimed the final dogma, the final glorification of our Queen and Mother, the Holy Virgin. In a matter of days, revolution broke out in Rome. He was forced to flee and as Pope Pius X saw, “pass over the dead bodies of his priests.” A frightful crisis it was, the Church persecuted and on the verge of extinction. As you all know, what followed was confusion among the sheep, divisions among the clergy, and entire religious orders on the brink of schisms as voices calling for a new leadership made themselves heard. As many prophets and seers had revealed, they organized a false burial of our Holy Father, as if he were dead. So many acts of cowardice by the clergy, as many in order to escape persecution, renounced their faith. There was heroism too, especially among the laity, but too often this was overshadowed by the chaos that reigned. Amidst this frightful crisis, our Lord, Master of all and Lord of creation gave a Manifestation of Himself. During the week preceding the Great Event, we heard all over the news, of the approach of a comet. Many of us, who had been saddened by the events occurring in the world, did not understand what this new occurrence meant. And the eye of the hurricane passed over humanity. That Day will forever be engraved on the memory of Humanity. It was on that Day that History was changed, that the destinies of nations were altered and that God without a shadow of a doubt revealed His Presence and His Existence. The Great Day! O, what a Day. It was a painful Day, but salutary nonetheless. Amidst the conflicting cries for mercy and the raging insults, an immense, radiant Light ripped apart the great darkness that had been engulfing the whole earth since the beginning of the day. It’s as though Eternity had entered into the very fabric of Time. A great white Cross, as high as the firmament, was seen by everyone, rich or poor, young or adult, clergy or laity, powerful or ordinary. Everyone saw Him, the Son of Man, mounted on his Throne, the Great White Cross on which He is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. His glory shone and from the Body which was suspended on the wooden Tree, dripped drops of Blood, which fell to the ground and on the foreheads of many. Then, each of us was given an interior vision of his sins. And He asked me, “Why do you persecute me?” What a harrowing moment, to be placed in front of the King of Kings, the Just Judge and having to give an answer for my repeated faults, for a life of lies, of sin, for a priesthood of duplicity, for a ministry of cowardice. The rest, as you well know, is History. Brothers and sisters, I repeat again: do not fear. The Lord is here, present, and although it seems that the Evil one and his servants have the upper hand, our Victory is in the Lord and is already assured. O, how I would willingly give my very life for the cause of the gospel. I do not fear death; rather, I embrace it, and seek it, above all, in the mortification of the self. Let your hearts and your spirits be renewed in the hopes and the aspirations of the Kingdom. It is the reason we exist, it is the reason we suffer, it is the reason we hope: to enter the Kingdom of our Lord, where we will be at Peace for all eternity. Fix your eyes on the Cross, where lies our salvation. Remember the sufferings at the Garden; meditate on the Passion, on the pain of our Lord and the martyrdom of our Lady. We too, must go through that Passion. The Church is called to enter into that Passion with the Lord, to participate in his sufferings, in order to redeem what can be redeemed for the Lord. Do not be discouraged if only a few are saved. Rather, rejoice, and give glory to God Most High, who grants that we participate with His Son in the Redemption of the world. The world is already lost, already it is on the path of Perdition, but souls can still be saved. Souls! Brothers and sisters, souls! Love one another, as the Lord has loved us. Pray, pray incessantly that you may not be tempted. The Enemy of God is here; he scrutinizes us and is always ready to test us in our faith, in our hope, and in our love. Now, let us unite in one spirit and pray once again in the words our Savior gave us."[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]Everyone, moved by the words of the priest, looks at his radiant face and his crystalline eyes as an expression of visible expectation overcomes him. Then, they intone the prayer together, slowly but intently:[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Our Father, who art in Heaven. Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespassed against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]

 

[steph573]

[FONT=&quot]And joy seems to reverberate in the air. Soon, a faint melody arises from Regina’s heart. It is a song of thanksgiving, sung in an unknown Iranian dialect. At the sound of her voice, everyone seems transported by an eminent joy. The song which she sings from memory seems to take her back to familiar memories. She seems to remember the chant from the habitual weekly mass she used to take part in at the Holy Apostolic Catholic Assyrian Church of the East. She used to attend the celebration with her husband George, to whom she had been married for twelve years, and her two children, Josh and Joshua. Like every ordinary Catholic family, she used to attend mass on every Sunday. And like every ordinary Catholic family, her spiritual life and that of her husband and children was lacking. Yes, they were ordinary, well-meaning and yet spiritually malnourished. She remembers her hurried prayers in front of the Blessed Sacrament, her absent-mindedness at mass and her scant visits at the sacrament of confession. She remembers one particular day, on which it seems, the seeds of her definite conversion were planted. It was on a Saturday, February 13th 2011. She was at confession, kneeling in front of the window of the confessional. She remembers how, for the first time, she seemed to open her heart to the Reverend.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Bless me Father, it’s been, it’s been …” She paused for a couple of minutes.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Speak my daughter. You should not be ashamed of confessing your sins to me.” The voice of the priest is calm and reassuring. In his voice, is recognized the waning strength of age. Judging by his looks, he seems to be in his late sixties, or his seventies.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Ok. It’s been two years since my last confession. I don’t think I should be doing this but, it’s my husband. I haven’t told him yet but, I want a divorce.” Regina is pensive for some time then she resumes.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“I am tired of feeling unappreciated. Truth is, I don’t think he loves me. We used to be in love now our life seems without love, passion, or feeling. I want someone who is going to be there for me. I am a good wife, I am a good mom but why is it that he is not interested in me anymore? It’s always about work, work, work. He is barely at home to take care of the kids. We don’t talk anymore, we just go to bed together and that’s it. He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t love me.”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Regina sobs, she cringes, and finally she starts crying abundantly. Her voice is trembling and barely audible.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“I just want… I just want to be loved. Is there someone out there who cares about me?”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The woman is visibly upset; she remains silent for some time. Finally, the priest addresses her.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“You know, just because you do not communicate with your husband, does not mean he does not love you. In relationships, women bear a lot of burdens. But men also bear their own. Instead of wanting to receive love, why don’t you focus on giving love instead? You say you are a good wife and a good mom, but I also want you to be a good Christian.”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“But Father, how do I do that? Am I not already a good Christian?”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“My daughter, I want you to pray. Pray for your husband, for your marriage and also for your children. Divorce will not solve your problems. It will only create new ones. Only Christ can save your marriage. For your penance, I want you to go in the chapel, and find there the prayer to St Joseph. I want you to pick it up and pray it in front of the Blessed Sacrament. St Joseph does not disappoint and the Lord will surely hear your prayers. Can you do this?”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Yes, yes Father. I think so.” Says Regina, as she wipes her tears from her eyes.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot] “Will that be all?” Asks the priest.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Yes, Father, that’s all.”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Good. Now, would you recite for me the act of contrition?”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]Regina, [/FONT][FONT=&quot]quite[/FONT][FONT=&quot] surprised, starts mumbling. She confuses words revealing her lack of knowledge. Then, the priest recognizing her inability says it with her.

"O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee. And I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all Good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy Grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen."

At the end, as the priest blesses her, Regina does the sign of the cross and [/FONT][FONT=&quot]appears[/FONT][FONT=&quot] moved. A tear falls from her eye and it seems as though she has for the first time had an encounter with [/FONT][FONT=&quot]D[/FONT][FONT=&quot]ivine [/FONT][FONT=&quot]M[/FONT][FONT=&quot]ercy. She gets up from her kneeler and proceeds to[/FONT][FONT=&quot] walk[/FONT][FONT=&quot] away from the confessional.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Thank you Father.”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Yes, my daughter. And pray for me for I am a sinner.”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The scene slowly fades away from Regina’s mental picture and she finally appears transported back to her surroundings. The woman has finished her lovely song but it seems to linger and vibrate in the air around her as she hums it on her lips. Her mind seems to open again to reality. She looks to her left and sees Alexia kneeling in front of the priest. The young girl is murmuring religiously as the priest attentive and compassionate, hears her confession. It is an exchange of love and also of affection, which elevates Alexia’s mind and seems to transfigure her whole being. In her resolute contrition, the young [/FONT][FONT=&quot]girl[/FONT][FONT=&quot] is inserted into the presence of the Lord as her soul and body are plunged once again, in the unfathomable ocean that is the Divine Mercy. The atmosphere of the cave takes on a most serious character, as the priest invested by and acting in persona Christi pronounces the solemn words of absolution. Regina who has been watching the whole scene, now turns her attention elsewhere. She sees Richard sited on the floor, his head bent down and reading holy Writ. In the posture he has taken, he appears like a monk and like a scholar absorbed in scriptural study and contemplating the holy Word in its simplicity and its profundity. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]A sudden thought then overwhelms Regina. She now appears very saddened. At this time, her thoughts harken back, back to six months ago. March 23rd 2013. She was visiting some Iranian acquaintances, sharing with them her new-found love for the Lord. History was changed then, and all over the world it seemed that, there resounded the glories of the Lord. It seemed, at first. But in Iran, things would soon begin to change. On that day, occurred something completely unexpected. Her husband, George, was at home with his two children doing bible study. Like in many parts of the world, the day was exceedingly warm, a condition that was a result of the passage of the immense comet which had entered in collision near the earth two months prior. The Thompsons, as they were known, lived in the affluent northern part of Tehran, in the neighborhood of Shahr-e ziba. The Thompsons were quite affluent themselves, living in a two storied four bedroom house situated on an elevated hill that gave a fascinating view of the city. George and his children were in the living room sitting in their familiar leather sofa. They seemed to be delighting in the precious pearls hidden behind the simple stories of gospel truth. On that fateful day, tragedy would strike, harshly, unexpectedly. According to the testimony of Regina's neighbors, George, Josh and Joshua were brought outside the newly-mown courtyard. Kneeling on the floor, they were held at gunpoint by three men in blue and green uniform. The Thompsons, all Americans, were all summarily mandated to renounce their Christian faith and confess Islam. ''I testify that there is no true god but God and that Muhammad is his Messenger'', were the words demanded by the commander, Nassir. For the people present, it was a harrowing experience. At these words, George with a calm, collected voice intoned a beautiful prayer that surprised his assailants. Then, he terminated with the last confession of faith of his life. He was shot immediately. Seeing their father dead, the two children, Josh, 11, and Joshua, 12, gathered their courage. In unison, they recited the symbol of the apostles almost betraying in their voice the joyful expectation of their recompense: Heaven. They raised their eyes heavenwards and soon, a puddle of blood was seen on the floor. The two children had died a martyr's death, a hero's death.
[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]Regina sighs. Her complexion is an admixture of deep mourning, of intense solitude and of apparent lassitude. Richard notices and finally asks:[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]''Regina, are you okay? You don't seem well.''[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]''I'm fine, I'm fine.''[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]''Do you want me to pray for you?''[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]''No, Richard. The Lord is already watching over me. Instead, I will pray for you.''[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]As the two persons are about to open their mouth further, a small yawn is heard. Ebrahim awakes to the surprise of everyone present.[/FONT]