Peace be to all, Good will to all.

Occasionally, I get an urge to send out some beauty which has come my way, so we here at SFIU will try to make this a regular feature. Everyone seems to have a newsletter today, so I trust you will enjoy this one.

May God Bless you and yours.

The Staff and
Rev. James L. Fabert, DD
Director
jlfabert@email.com

I am reminded first of my favorite Monastery story:

It seems the Monastery had fallen on tough times. All the Monks were aging, and the Abbott was feeling some arthritis pain which no amount of prayers and supplications cured.

The grounds were not as neat as they had been in times past. Repairs and money for them were hard come by. The young men were not asking to become Monks as they had before.

This night, when even the weather seemed bent against him, the wind was blowing; and raining, and it was so cold out on the mountain.

The Abbott had had tough times before, so he got down on his knees and talked to God like an old friend, which He was.

"Father God, please tell me what I need to do. You know my concerns before I speak them, but it is so good to talk to you." He waited, quiet in the stillness.

Then the still small voice said: "Go talk to your friend, the Universalist; and ask him."

The Abbott bristled at this. It was not what he wanted to hear. "That young pup", he thought.

This new Teacher he had hired recently for the sunday school classes had too many ideas for the Abbott's liking. Why, he was almost a New Ager; and the Abbott couldn't think of a worse curse on anyone.

So he said three Hail Mary's rather quickly as penance for his thoughts.

But, if this is what God wanted; he would swallow his pride again, and talk to the young man.

He made his way to the Rectory, and the young teacher was praying; without uttering a sound. He was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. More tomfoolery, the Abbott thought. But, he waited patiently for the young man to finish.

The teacher was dressed very casually, in jeans and a sweat shirt, wearing sneakers of all things. His sandy colored hair was mussed, as usual.

When the teacher's electric blue eyes finally opened, they widened quickly at the sight of the Abbott waiting for him. A big smile of welcome spread across his homely, freckled face. "The boy gives ugly a bad name", the Abbott thought; and said three more Hail Marys quickly.

The Abbott quickly explained his problem, before the young man could say anything. "You see Martin; I am at my wits end. Heavenly Father told me to talk to you and see if you could be of help?" The Abbott had completely lost his cool by now, and sorry he had come.

"Well, Abbott; I hate to put you off, but could I pray about it? As soon as I get an answer, I'll get right back to you, I promise." The boy seemed sincere enough.

The Abbott sighed: "Bless you, my son. I eagerly await any insights you might have."

"Thank you, Father Abbott. You don't know how much of a help you've been to me. I couldn't wish for a better mentor." The Abbott thought that was blarney, fresh from the land of Eire, but he had grace enough not to say it aloud. Three more Hail Marys. He made the sign of the cross and departed, with some dignity still intact.

Almost a week later, to the day and hour; the young teacher knocked on his door. The Abbott pulled it open, and quickly erased the sour expression from his countenance. "Yes, my son?"

The boy looked very somber, for a change. "I don't know what this means, Father Abbott. I've prayed about it every day this week, and I keep getting the same answer: Our Heavenly Father says "Christ is among you". That's all He said. Do you understand what it means?"

The Abbott was having a hard time keeping his blood pressure down. What impertinence! Blasphemy! He drew a deep breath, before he said something which wouldn't help the situation. "OK, Martin. Let me pray about it, and I'll get back to you. Please return to your duties, and thank you." The boy left with a wry smile.

Well, there was no doubt this is what Father God wanted. The Abbott girded his loins and proceeded downstairs to the scullery where the old Monks were lunching on dark bread and boiled cabbage. He called them to attention and explained the situation. Each Monk looked at his neighbor and said not a word. But they were thinking. That was obvious by their puzzled expressions. What if? They thought.

Gradually over the next several weeks, the Monks treated each other more kindly; were a little quicker to laugh. And - just have fun about their daily tasks.

The mood spread to the community near by. Suddenly, attendance picked up at Mass. The Abbott found his sermons were less somber, and his infrequent smiles came more often.

Then, the miracle happened. Five young men applied to become Monks, and were accepted. Yes, they brought some new ideas, but the donations increased to the point where all things came to them they needed. No more, no less; but yes; it was a miracle. They even had some weddings in the chapel, and church attendance increased.

Then, the Abbott bowed to the inevitable. The young teacher would be the new Abbott.

And they all lived happily ever after, and God smiled and said it was good. Jesus asked Miriam to sing a new song, and the Angels sang harmony.

Do you want to know Jesus as a friend; a brother; a son; a poet?

From the Aquarian Gospel - A letter to His Mother -

30:15 * Jesus said: "Then let the past go with the past; rise from the cares of carnal things and give your life for those who live."

30:16 * "And if you lose your life in serving life you; will (be) sure to find it in the morning sun, the evening dew, in (the) song of bird(s), in flowers, and in the stars of night."

- on the death of His Father.

"He who Knows does not speak."

"He who speaks does not Know."

From: The Tao

Psalms 46:10, "Be still and know that I am G-D," or

Psalms 37:7, "Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him."

In essence this refers to "contemplation" pure and simple--an inner silence and waiting for the manifest guidance of the Holy One, with attentive mind, soul and spirit, in purity and deep devotion.

This spark, within each of us, is a source of divine wonder and splendor, which through prayer and ecstatic dance, may more fully enlighten our face, showing us the holiness within which we dwell.

The "great way" is through deep inner prayer, in which that spark longs to return to its supreme Source. The soul, in inward contemplation becomes a Throne and the light of the Shekhinah rests above the head and flows with luminous joy through and about the devout, deep in prayer.

[ from the Kaballah, Hebrew Mysticism ]

Well, as I understand the situation, the Pope had a few spare moments in his busy schedule, and He decided to have some fun; so He told the Driver to get in the back of the Limo, so He could drive.

The Driver shrugged, took off his uniform cap and jacket, folded them together for a pillow; then stretched out in the back for a nap. He spread the Pope's purple lap robe over him for a blanket and was immediately asleep.

The Pope removed his hat, buckled his seat belt; and took off up the California Freeway; with a big grin on his broad face.

He dialed in some american Blues music, and kept on going; without checking the speedometer. Soon he observed the flashing lights and siren of a CHIP Motorcycle coming up fast behind him.

He looked down and noticed the speedometer was reaching toward 100 mph. He knew he was in trouble. So, he slowed gradually; and pulled off the Freeway to a controlled stop.

The CHIP Officer approached the drivers door courteously, removed his sunglasses; and tapped on the drivers window. Of course, he checked out the back seat and noticed the figure; wrapped in the elegant silk robe, asleep on the seat. He shrugged mentally, and waited. The Pope finally found the button controlling the windows, and rolled all of them down with the wrong button. That tipped off the CHIP Officer that he wasn't dealing with an experienced driver. So, very carefully, he unstrapped the big pistol on his hip. The Pope saw him, and started perspiring rather more profusely than normal. He licked his lips; and said: "May I help you, Officer?"

The Officer, a devout Catholic; but a typical cynical Californian; watched his reply carefully. "You were speeding, Sir. Could I see your documents, please.?" It was then the Officer recognized the driver. His eyes noticeably opened wider than normal. Few things shake up CHIP Officers, but he had never met the Pope before. The Pope passed the necessary papers to the Officer carefully. Yep. It was Him, all right. The Pope of the Roman Catholic Church. The Officers mouth was very dry, his thoughts racing. Who was in the back?

The Officer wanted no part of this traffic stop. It was time to call in the Supervisor. "Would you wait inside the vehicle; please, Sir. I'll be back with you soon." The Pope nodded, and wiped his face gratefully with a white handkerchief. The Officer very carefully checked the sleeping figure on the back seat again, stalked back to the Cycle; and picked up the radio mike - out of hearing of the Limo.

"One William 7, calling one Adam 12."

The reply from the Lieutenant was quick, but curt. "I'm right in the middle of something right now, is it really important?" His comely secretary was bent over the bottom file drawer in his office.

"Yes, Sir. I have a code eleven, Mile marker 137. I believe you should handle it, Sir."

"OK, Who is it? The Mayor or the Governor? What did they do anyway?"

"Neither one, Sir. It's the Pope of Rome, Sir. You see, He was in one Hell of a hurry, and there is someone asleep or dead; wrapped in a royal robe in the back seat. I was afraid to ask Who it was."

{ My apologies to the Pope. He has my utmost respect. I also know He has a great sense of humor. -jlf }

[ One Possible New Translation From The Aramaic*** OF THE LORD'S PRAYER ]