Saints

Patroness of the Big Picture

~ amyemsal23 ~ Leave a comment

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If you follow the CGB Facebook page, you will notice that the cover photo is of now-Saint Teresa of Calcutta.  You may have also noticed the plethora of Mother Teresa posts on the page in the days leading up to her canonization.  I don’t normally buy magazines, but while I was at Walgreens I came across a Time Magazine special edition dedicated to Mother Teresa.

Yes, I really love Mother Teresa.  What’s not to love?  Her compassion for the poor and forgotten went above and beyond, her simplicity is a breath of fresh air that our materialistic society could benefit from, and she held firm to her faith in God in spite of suffering decades of spiritual darkness.
I do love her for all these reasons, but none of them are the #1 reason I look up to her.
The main reason why Mother Teresa inspires me is because she saw the big picture of God’s plan.

Mother Teresa did not help people with the intent of converting them to Christianity.  She never once said, “I will help you only if you become a Christian.”  Unfortunately, her lack of pushing conversions to Christianity is one of the criticisms launched at her.
Truth be told, Mother Teresa did seek conversions, but in a different way.

“Yes, I convert.  I convert you to be a better Hindu, or a better Muslim, or a better Protestant, or a better Catholic, or a better Parsee, or a better Sikh, or a better Buddhist.  And after you have found God, it is for you to do what God wants you to do.”
–Saint Teresa of Calcutta

Reading this quote makes me think of a particular theological principle in the Catholic Church known as “Baptism by Desire.”
Paragraph 1260 of the Catechism explains Baptism by Desire this way: “Since Christ died for all, and since all men are in fact called to one and the same destiny, which is divine, we must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partakers, in a way known to God, of the Paschal mystery.  Every man who is ignorant of the Gospel of Christ and of his Church, but seeks the truth and does the will of God in accordance with his understanding of it, can be saved. It may be supposed that such persons would have desired Baptism explicitly if they had known its necessity.”

Applying the passage above, let’s say you have a Buddhist monk who perhaps has heard of Jesus, but through no fault of his own, doesn’t know Jesus in the same way that a Christian does.  Our Buddhist monk friend does not know Jesus, but his life exemplifies Christ through loving kindness, acts of charity towards the poor and suffering, a deep commitment to protecting creation, and other noble attributes.  Perhaps at some point the Buddhist monk finds himself pondering the existence of a creator and spends his life searching for truth.  While our Buddhist monk friend does not profess belief in Jesus explicitly, he does feel the call of God in his heart and is responding to it in the best way he knows how.

Mother Teresa saw this principle very clearly.  She recognized that God’s ultimate plan went beyond the confines of religious labels.  This is why she sought to convert people into better human beings, and she did so by being a living example of the Gospel herself.  Every step she took, every decision she made, every word she spoke gave glory to God.  She saw that any time a person seeks to help others, to improve themselves and to serve humanity in their own little way, they are serving God whether they realize it or not.  She was willing to be a vessel used by God to make an impact in the slums of Calcutta.

In a way, Mother Teresa was a visionary.  She saw with the eyes of her heart and soul that a great number of people who are willing to serve one another can create a society that serves.  A society that serves is a society of God.

“I’ve always said that we should help a Hindu become a better Hindu, a Muslim become a better Muslim, a Catholic become a better Catholic.”
–Saint Teresa of Calcutta

CGB Review of Miracles from Heaven

~ amyemsal23 ~ Leave a comment

Now I’m not a doctor, but I don’t recommend climbing on trees to receive a miraculous healing.
If you’ve seen this movie’s trailer, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

This is my review of Miracles from Heaven!

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Christy Beam (Jennifer Garner) lives a nice life in Burleson, Texas with her husband Kevin and three daughters, Abbie, Anna and Adelynn (someone really likes the letter “A”). Things are fine and suburban until Anna starts experiencing serious stomach issues, which keeps getting misdiagnosed as acid reflex or lactose intolerance.  As poor Anna’s stomach swells, it is soon discovered that she has what is called Intestinal Pseudoobstruction; it basically means that she can’t digest food and is quite literally starving to death. Against all odds, the determined Christy will stop at nothing to get the proper treatment Anna needs.

The Hits
The people in this movie ACTUALLY act like real people!   You know how in a lot of Christian films like God’s Not Dead 1 & 2 or Christian Mingle the Movie, where you have the jerk atheist characters and the pure-as-pearls Christian characters?  With the exception of one stubborn intern who tries to brush off Christy’s concerns, all of the characters feel like real human beings in a real-life situation.  Nobody goes on expository spiels or launches into Biblical quotation mode; all of the dialogue and interaction are grounded in reality.  Jennifer Garner brings to the film a fierce and genuine performance as Christy.  This is an ordinary woman thrust into the nightmare of not knowing what is making her beloved daughter suffer greatly.  There’s one scene in particular where she’s tearfully describing Anna’s condition to the front-desk secretary at the children’s hospital and Garner’s quivering voice convey the depths of her broken heart.
Jennifer Garner and Kylie Rogers have believable chemistry as mother and daughter.  Not only do they (somewhat) resemble each other, but they play off of one another very well.
Speaking of which, Anna actually acts like a real kid!   Yeah, unfortunately, Hollywood screenwriters have forgotten how to write child characters.  Often times they either write them as mindlessly innocent or painfully obnoxious.  Between this film and The BFG, I’m finding more reasons to have hope in Hollywood’s ability to write children as people, not as caricatures.  Also, kudos to this film for tackling depression in children with so much tact.  There’s one scene where Anna confronts her mother with the very real possibility of her own impending end and it is heartwrenching to watch.
I appreciate how God’s involvement in the characters’ lives is kept in the background, because essentially that is how God Himself operates; behind the scenes in the silence.  By hinting at His handiwork instead of spelling it out, it reinforces that God is a gentleman, not a show-off.  He works not with roaring voices and clamor, but through gentle whispers, calm inspirations and quiet subtlety.  If you’ve ever wondered how the old adage, “The Lord works in mysterious ways” plays out in real life, I think this movie is a good demonstration of the adage.

The Misses
Like the Theory of Everything, this movie can be very hard to watch, primarily the hospital scenes.  One scene shows the doctors sticking a tube in Anna’s nose and her resistant whimpering had me bawling like a baby.  There are quite a few hospital scenes that are so realistic that it can be tough to stomach.  This is one of those movies where if you have or are currently caring for an ill relative, in particular a child, this might hit too close to home for you.  Granted, you may have a different experience watching this movie than I did, but

The Christian film genre could definitely benefit from more films like Miracles from Heaven.   Once Christian filmmakers focus less on bashing atheists and more on showing God’s subtle workings in the modern world, the genre will have better days ahead. Miracles from Heaven treats its characters with humanity, has a stellar and determined performance from Jennifer Garner, and illustrates that God’s miraculous doings come not as lighting or spectacle, but in the form of kindness from strangers and the bond of family during the darkest of times.

Saint Anne, pray for us.

CGB Review of The Letters (2014)

~ amyemsal23 ~ Leave a comment

“I’m a little pencil in the hand of a writing God.”
–Saint Teresa of Calcutta

This is my review of The Letters!

The Letters movie

After receiving her “call within a call” on a train to Darjeeling, Sister Teresa of the Loreto convent begins her mission to serve the poorest of the poor in the slums of Calcutta.  As her movement expands, students from the school where she was the principal join her in her work and eventually the Missionaries of Charity is born.  The world would soon come to know this little nun dressed in a white and blue sari as Mother Teresa.  In the midst of her accomplishments, Mother Teresa suffered six decades of spiritual desolation and the idea that God had abandoned her haunted her.  Despite the spiritual darkness, she continued to serve the One she loved.
I have loved Mother Teresa for as long as I can remember.  Actually, the next CGB editorial will be about Mother Teresa, as was my last editorial “Frightening Hour, Glorious Day.”  I wanted to see this movie on my 24th birthday, but unfortunately, it wasn’t playing in either of my local movie theaters.  So imagine my suprise when I was told that this movie was on Netflix. 🙂

The Hits
Juliet Stevenson–good Lord–she NAILS it as Mother Teresa.  She looks like Mother Teresa, her accent is pitch perfect, she gets the posture right; I truly felt like I was watching Mother Teresa herself.  Juliet Stevenson’s portrayal of Mother Teresa is very respectful, bringing both a tenderness and an iron will to the character.  Stevenson also brings a charisma to Mother Teresa, which explains how the character is able to draw so many people to her cause.  Also kudos to the filmmakers for emphasizing on Mama T’s humility by showing her tell a reporter who wants to interview her,  “I am but a pencil in the hand of God,” and then later,”If you want to write a story, look outside; the poor are everywhere!”  Classic Mother Teresa.  ^_^
I really appreciate an earlier scene where then-Sister Teresa, who starts off teaching at a convent school for privileged girls, sees a hungry family outside her window and brings a basket of fruits and vegetables to them.  This establishes her giving nature and heart for those in need, so when she is called by Jesus to leave the convent and go to the Calcutta slums, her quick acceptance of the “call within the call” is in-character and believable. From then on, this trait continues to be demonstrated via scenes of her teaching village children the alphabet and assisting in the delivery of a newborn whose parents opposed her missionary work.
During Mother Teresa’s ministry, India had just gained its independence.  The impact of this cultural change is mostly kept in the background, but is felt with hostile encounters with some of the locals and, in that scene I mentioned where Mama T gives food to the hungry family, a Hindu man tells her that a Catholic nun shouldn’t be roaming outside where she could get killed by protestors.  Speaking of which, one interesting thing I noticed is how the movie portrays the patriarchal culture of Calcutta.  In the few scenes where Mother Teresa must deal with suspicious villagers, she cannot get a word in until a man comes to her defense.  This is especially apparent when The Home for the Dying is attacked by Hindu protestors and all Mother Teresa and two other nun characters can do is stand there until three men intervene.  It shows that in their culture, women are silenced in the presence of men. The movie doesn’t try to make a feminist statement with this, but rather lets it be so that we, the audience, can come to that conclusion for ourselves. The Letters focuses its efforts on being a commendable character study of the small nun who would rock the boat of our materialistic society with her acts of compassion and humility.

The Misses
I advise against watching this movie on your tablet unless you have earplugs.  The dialogue can be hard to hear at times, to the point where turning the volume up more than once is recommended.
The movie is on a roll up until the third act.  After Mama T establishes the Missionaries of Charity, the film seems to just fast-forward to her Noble Peace Prize speech, which…well, they kind of botch.   It’s too short and all of her words about abortion (which are the best parts of her Nobel Peace Prize speech, by the way) are cut out entirely.
Regarding the spiritual darkness, I don’t think the movie conveys this very well.  I totally understand that Mother Teresa herself never spoke of it except in her letters to her spiritual director Father Celeste van Exem, but one scene of her just saying quietly, “Where are You, my Jesus?” or something like that would’ve solved this problem right away.  Unfortunately her dark night of the soul is only spoken of by other characters and not shown to us.  I’m sorry, guys, but shots of her walking silently by herself with a weary expression on her face isn’t gonna cut it.

The Letters serves as a good introduction to Mother Teresa and her missionary spirit. Despite some questionable story choices in the third act, Juliet Stevenson’s dedicated performance alone is a wonderful homage to the “saint of the darkness” and makes up for the film’s few hiccups.  In terms of being a cinematic in-memorium of a triumphant life, The Letters is definitely worth the watch.

Saint Teresa of Calcutta, pray for us.

What Angels See

~ amyemsal23 ~ Leave a comment

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On the day of my depature to Europe for World Youth Day the international trailer for the new Disney film “Moana” was released.  This teaser trailer shows the titular character Moana as a toddler playing on the beach when the water suddenly comes to life.  The ocean parts, surrounding her in walls of water.  At one point the ocean wave descends to her and actually interacts with her as if it [the wave] were a person.  The wave reaches down at her slowly.  When it sees that she is friendly and innocent, it fiddles with her hair and then safely carries her back to shore before returning to its natural state.

I had the trailer playing on my tablet as I made sure I had everything I would need for the pilgrimage to Krakow.  As the trailer was playing, I happened to glance up at a framed picture on my bedroom wall that shows a guardian angel watching over a little girl in the forest.

Ever since I was a kid I’ve always had a special place in my heart for angels. My mother even said, “You were always talking to angels.”  I would say the Guardian Angel Prayer every night before I went to bed.  I would draw pictures of angels, and I do remember at one point saying, “Dear God, can I see an angel one day?”
No, I have never seen an angel with my bodily eyes, but I don’t need to see one to know that they are here.

Watching the Moana international trailer and looking closely at how the ocean wave interacts with toddler Moana, I couldn’t help but wonder what do angels see when they look at us humans?   Do they scratch their head at the choices we make?  Are they curious about how we need food and rest to get through the day while they as celestial beings can go an eternity without ever needing those things?

Maybe, just maybe, when angels look at us they see us as children who have much to learn, much to discover, and whenever we lose our way, they are always ready to scoop us up and carry us back to shore.

“The whole air about us is filled with angels.”
–Saint John Chrysostom

Frightening Hour, Glorious Day

~ amyemsal23 ~ 2 Comments

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Brock Turner has been released.

I’m sure you already know who he is, but just for the sake of emphasis, Brock Turner is the former Stanford University swimmer who raped an intoxicated and unconscious woman behind a dumpster.  Today he has been allowed back out into the world for “good behavior.”

We live in a broken world.  The fact that we live in a society where if a woman reports that she has been raped she faces the possibility of having her personal history questioned, her motivations suspected and her attacker not held fully accountable, is just one of the many injustices that illustrate the broken nature of our times.

As sickening as it is, it shouldn’t come as a surprise when evil wins every now and then. The devil knows how to ensure that his dirty work is done without anyone batting an eye until it is too late to put a stop to it.  It doesn’t help that our culture gets outraged over social injustices for a few weeks only to forget about it as everyone returns to their daily routine.  Evil has its hour when good people raise their voices and do nothing.

Just behind my laptop is a framed picture of Mother Teresa.  I glanced up at it as I was typing this, but after a while I closed my laptop and just stared at it for a few minutes.  My eyes focused on her tender gaze and folded hands, her humble posture and deep compassion pooled in her eyes.
That is when it hit me.

Mother Teresa will be canonized this Sunday.

When Brock Turner saw a woman passed out behind a dumpster, he took advantage of her.
When Mother Teresa saw a dying person on the side of the road, she took them to shelter.
Brock Turner spent twenty minutes violating the dignity of another human being.
Mother Teresa spent every minute upholding the dignity of the poor and forgotten.
Brock Turner used another for his own gratification.
Mother Teresa served others for the glory of God.

Mother Teresa’s courageous humilty is the antithesis of Brock Turner’s cowardly selfishness.  The devil may jump for joy at the release of a rapist, but he burns with rage at Heaven’s rejoicing for the canonization of a heroic woman.

In the end, justice will prevail, but in a very different way.

Brock Turner has been disgraced in the eyes of the public, while Heaven and Earth honor Mother Teresa’s self-sacrificial life.

Brock Turner is free from prison bars, but wherever he goes, people will look at him and know.  In the same way that Cain was cursed to walk on earth as a fugitive and vagabond, Brock Turner will wear his crime like a scarlet letter.
Mother Teresa suffered the spiritual darkness of feeling abandoned by God, but she now walks among the angels and the saints in the Heavenly court.   Surrendering herself to God’s plan, dedicating herself to the service of the poor and destitute, all she did was give, and in the end she received the Crown of Life.

Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta, pray for us and for the conversion of Brock Turner.

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“Christ says: I know you through and through – I know everything about you.  The very hairs of your head I have numbered.  Nothing in your life is unimportant to me, I have followed you through the years, and I have always loved you – even in your wanderings.  I know every one of your problems. I know your need and your worries. And yes, I know all your sins. But I tell you again that I love you – not for what you have or haven’t done – I love you for you, for the beauty and dignity my Father gave you by creating you in his own image.”
―Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Truth Within A Tagline

~ amyemsal23 ~ 4 Comments

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A new film called The Neon Demon is now in limited theatrical release.  No, I will not be seeing the movie.  The trailer alone made me feel unsettled.
However, while browsing through Facebook, the teaser trailer of the movie’s FB page kept popping up on my newsfeed.  The caption above the promotional video caught my eye:

“The face of an angel can awaken the demon.”

As disturbing as that line is, something about it resonated with me.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that within the frightening quote lies a hint of truth.

I once had a dream where I was looking at what seemed to be a girl made entirely of light slowly spinning around amidst a deep gray fog.  I texted a friend of mine about it and his response was, “Hmm…sounds like a beacon of holiness in the midst of darkness…” Looking back on that dream now combined with The Neon Demon tagline, I think it all points to the fact that where there are angels, there are demons and vice versa.

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You and I exist in the physical world, but within our reality lies a hidden spiritual world where the forces of Light and darkness reside in oppositional existence.

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Imagine that there is a veil between our visible reality and the invisible realm, a fabric barrier that angels can pass through with no limitations, but you and I can’t even touch with our fingertips.  On the other side of the veil is an invisible realm where the forces of good and evil do not coexist peacefully, but rather do battle with one another.
On the other side of our reality is a battlefield where angels of God fight to protect us while the demons of the evil one seek to drag us down.
While we eat, sleep and go about our routines, this is taking place:
Saint Michael

Wherever there is goodness, evil is sure to follow behind like a relentless stalker.  Purity cannot flourish without corruption creeping in to put a stop to it.
However, at the same time, when corruption does rear its ugly head, purity arrives to interrupt and overtake it.
Admittedly, it is terrifying to think that darkness comes after light, that there will always be an infernal force ready to wreck havoc wherever goodness appears.  And yet, I take comfort in the fact that the opposite is true: Where darkness reigns, Light will surely intervene.
Whenever there is a Lucifer who tries to bring about division and chaos, there will also be a Michael who courageously stands up to restore peace and unity.

If the face of an angel can awaken a demon, then take heart in the fact that while the demon is rising from its slumber, the angel is already up and alert, ready to fight.

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Saint Padre Pio was a man who frequently encountered both good and evil residents of the hidden world.  Angels would greet him and demons would beat him.  He had every reason to want to avoid the spiritual world, and yet he embraced the celestial reality.

“Do not fear him (devil). Trust more and more in Jesus, who never leaves you alone when confronted by Satan.”
–Saint Padre Pio of Pietrelcina

The next time the devil hisses at you, “Where Jesus is, I am,” just smile and say with confidence, “But where you are, He is.”
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Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel and Saint Raphael, pray for us.

Victim Soul Chapter Six

~ amyemsal23 ~ 7 Comments

 

Gemma-14
[Author’s Note: This chapter will focus on Gemma’s commitment to chastity, a virtue that was near and dear to her heart.  Satan would attack her chastity by using his powers to “rep­resent lurid objects to her imagination and appeared to her himself, uttering vile words…” Upon reading this, I knew that there was a danger of becoming graphic in my descriptions.  I came to the idea that I should keep my description of the devil’s temptations as broad as possible, focusing more on Gemma’s reactions and determination to overcome them. My research cites these incidences in broad terms, so how the temptations occurred is my interpretation.  During these attacks, Gemma would call out to Jesus, the Virgin Mary, her guardian angel, and her patron saints for help, and one (or more) of them would come to her aid.  Because I reestablish (then-Venerable) Gabriel Possenti’s character in the chapter’s opening, I decided to have her call out to him to end the attack].

Sitting on her bed, Gemma turns the page of “The Life of the Venerable Gabriel of the Sorrowful Mother.”  She holds it tenderly to protect the worn pages.  Her fingers settle on Gabriel’s picture.  His soft brown eyes give a quizzical expression, as if to ask her a question.  Her mouth lifts into a peaceful smile as she focuses on her “bookmark,” which is the woolen heart badge of the Passionists.  She sets the book down on her lap and rubs the badge, feeling the soft wool pressed under her fingertips.  Placing it to her heart, she closes her eyes and remembers how it came into her possession.

1899
A soft light slipped through her closed eyelids.  Sighing heavily, Gemma slowly rose from sleep, opening her eyes to a blur of white incandescence.  Her eyes made out a silhouette standing at the foot of her bed.  Her vision cleared to reveal that the silhouette was Venerable Gabriel Possenti.
“My protector,” she said in a hushed breath.  As she sat up, a million thoughts swirled through her mind. Gabriel smiled and approached the side of her bed.
“Gemma, make willingly the vow to become a religious.”
“Why?”
Gabriel leaned forward and kissed her forehead.  “My sister,” he whispered as he reached his hand to his habit and removed the Passionist heart badge.  He placed it on the sheet above her chest.  As he vanished into thin air, his parting words etched into her mind: “My sister!”

“Huh?  What’s this?” Gemma opens her eyes when she notices that she can feel her hair on her shoulders.  She reaches back to retrieve her hair tie only to feel talons drumming against her back.  She hunches forward, away from the talons.
“Daydreaming, are we?  Never let the devil catch you idle, Gemma!  You of all people should know that.”
She looks up and sees that Satan’s hand is outstretched with her hair tie in his waiting palm.  She places her hands on her legs, keeping her body still as stone.
“What, you can’t take a hair tie from me?” He drops it to the floor.  “It is not going to turn into a snake, I promise.”
Gemma keeps her eyes on her pillow, even as it darkens with his shadow.  She clutches her book, keeping it guarded near her heart.
“Why am I not surprised that you are reading about that boy again?” Satan hisses, his disgust directed at the young man who had saved her from darkness once before.
Gemma grimaces when she feels the sleeve of her mantellette robe being tugged.
“Please don’t touch me,” she says in a firm voice.
“Your precious Jesus has given me permission to treat you however I want!” he snaps.
“You still have to obey Him, though.” She smiles at the knowledge that he could only attack her within the boundaries set by the Almighty.
She knits her brow at the devil’s sudden silence.  No hurtful remark, no unsettling growl, only an abrupt quiet.  Before she can question whether he was still there, she flinches when she feels a tap on the side of her head.
“You still haven’t gotten past that one time I gave you a migraine!” Satan laughs.
Gemma holds her head, waiting for pain.  She raises her eyebrow when it doesn’t come, but her curious expression is short-lived.  Within her mind’s eye, she sees a vile image of of unclothed people engaged in sin, accompanied with a sinister cackle.
“STOP!” She shakes her head and holds up her hands.  “Keep your mind under control, Gemma,” she whispers.  Resting her palms on the top of her thighs, she takes deep breaths and relaxes her shoulders.
As she exercises detachment, the tension gripping her is relieved and tranquility sets in. She redirects her thoughts to a reassuring Jesus reaching out His pierced hand to her, to a smiling Mother Mary opening her mantle to wrap her in, to anything holy she can think of.  A warmth rises within her soul, creating the sensation of pure light caressing her.  This interior exercise causes the image to dissipate until there is not a single trace of it within her memory.
She opens her eyes to a scowling Satan.  His sudden sly smile frightens her, but her poise remains.  “You think you can resist my most powerful method of temptation?” With the wave of his hand, Satan causes Gemma’s chair to move from her table to the middle of her room.  “You are strong, Ms. Galgani, but no one is invincible against lust…” An unseen force pushes her off the bed and thrusts her into the chair.  “…not even you.”
Gravity presses down upon her, rendering her immobile.  Her calm breaths change to hyperventilation.  She sees Satan approaching her slowly, his piercing eyes stare directly into her soul.  “Yes, I can see your soul right through those luminous blue eyes of yours…” Her throat tightens while her forehead pounds with a migraine caused by the weight of evil.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Gemma,” his soft voice, dripping with malice, is sickening to listen to.  She feels his talons on her tense shoulders.
“You are too old to remain as innocent as you are.  Allow me to open your eyes…” With the wave of his hand, strange figures appear and perform impure dances in front of her.
Immediately Gemma shuts her eyes and turns her head away.  She clenches her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to distract herself with discomfort.  She grinds her teeth when she feels a powerful curiosity creep into her mind.
“Your mind is wandering, isn’t it?  You’re curious about the image I am projecting…” She keeps her head down.  “Be with me, Jesus.  Please be with me…” she begs in a hushed voice.  “What are you so upset about?  There would be no shame in taking a quick look. It’s not like you would physically committing the sin of fornication.” Feeling a pit in her stomach, she endures his shameless chuckle.
She hears Satan snap his fingers.  In seconds, suggestive words escape the mouths of the impure figures.  Gemma tries to cover her ears, but the force that is holding her down keeps her arms pinned to her sides.  “Oh, I’m sure the good Lord wouldn’t smite you for taking a quick peek…”
She wishes she had her cross, rosary, scapular; any of her sacramentals to hold onto. She clutches the sides of her mantellette robe, focusing her attention on the smooth fabric. She feels his talons grab her by the chin and lifts up her head.
“OPEN YOUR GODFORSAKEN EYES, YOU SPINELESS WRETCH!” She jumps at the furious volume of his voice, but her eyes never open.
“Very well…”
She feels his sharp talons pinch her ear.  She cringes at the provocative utterances he whispers to her.  As her mind spins, she feels as if her soul is swimming the stormy seas with reckless abandon.  Her racing heart thrusts itself against the inside of her chest like a prisoner pounding at the cell door.  When she dares to open her eyes, the Passionist heart badge is lying near her feet.
“VENERABLE GABRIEL, HELP ME!” She musters the strength to throw herself off of the chair and runs to the wall.
“You…” the devil growls.
She turns around and sees Venerable Gabriel’s back turned to her.  Reaching out his talons, Satan tries to tower over him, but the young holy man remains unmoved.  His head raised, his soft brown eyes stare directly at the evil one.  Satan leans in on Gabriel’s face, as if trying to intimidate him with snarls and threatening looks.  Never flinching, never looking away, Gabriel stands his ground.
Gemma clutches to her heart, where within she can feel the clash of two forces; the conflicting sensation when chaotic darkness and peaceful light collide.  When her pounding heartbeat calms, she rises to her feet.
Venerable Gabriel disappears, but Gemma is ready.  “Satan, I rebuke you in the Name of Jesus Christ!” she makes the Sign of the Cross.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Satan collapses to the floor.  Gemma makes the Sign of the Cross a second time, causing him to trip over himself as he struggles to get away.
“YOU FOUL WITCH!” Satan curses as he covers his ears and violently shakes his head in rage.
“Be gone!  You have already been defeated by Christ’s mighty sacrifice!”
“I will come back for–“
“Leave!” Her face is stoic as she faces her weakened foe.  As sheer hatred spews from his eyes like venom, his muscular body trembles when she makes the Sign of the Cross for a third time.
A chuckle escapes her as she catches the contorted look of dread on his face.  Her laughter is all that drowns out the faint echo of his deep growl as he disappears.

Victim Soul Chapter Five

~ amyemsal23 ~ 4 Comments

 

Saint Gemma Galgani with Jesus (2)[Author’s Note: In this chapter, Gemma refers to Satan as “Chiappino,” which means “burglar.”  The only artistic liberty is that while my research states that one of the devil’s tactics was to attempt to turn her against her spiritual director Father Germano, it is not clear whether this happened as one incident or a series of incidents.  For the sake of brevity, I will be depicting this as one event.  My research states that Satan resorted to violence when Gemma “persevered in writing.”  However I decided to have Gemma politely tell him off for the sake of her character development.  Finally, this chapter will be the first time that Gemma looks Satan in the face.  Up until this point, I have had Gemma refuse to stare at her attacker.  However, in the upcoming chapters she will be seeing him in different forms (a dog, a giant, etc.) so I figured that now is the time to have her (and the reader) see the prince of darkness in the flesh].

A black bird sits on the window frame, whistling a cheerful melody.  From her table, Gemma glances up at the feathered creature, greeting it with an affable smile.  “You can go wherever you like.  Why here?” she asks softly.  The bird tilts its head, as if puzzled by her words.  She looks back down at her paper and resumes working on her letter to Father Germano.

“For some days, Chiappino has pursued me in every guise and way, and has done all in his power against me…”

She jumps when the bird lands itself near her candle.  She takes deep breaths as she carries on with her writing.  The endearing pitter-patter of the bird’s sticklike feet fills the silence of her bedroom.

“This monster keeps on redoubling all his efforts to ruin me and tries to deprive me of whomever directs or advises me.  But even should this happen, I am not afraid…”

“By the way you jumped just now, I would have thought that the little bird was one of my minions…” The bird darts out the window and into the morning light.
Gemma lowers her head when she feels him standing next to her.  Chills run down her spine when he places his talons on the table, dangerously close to her elbow.  She feels the weight of his infernal shadow looming upon her.
“Ignoring me is not going to make me disappear.”
Gemma ponders her options.  Within her mind, she remembers Jesus in the desert, facing the temptations of the evil one.  She rubs her trembling hands.  “If my Jesus had to face you, then I must do the same.”  She rises from her chair and turns around, looking directly at the prince of darkness.
“Dear God…” she steps back as tension’s grip takes hold of her body.
Satan’s ashen lips curve into a sinister grin.  “Your God isn’t here, child.  Only me.”
Gemma keeps a stoic expression on her face as she watches the demonic creature with skin the color of shadows pace around her.  She swallows, trying not to think of the pain that he could inflict upon her with his sturdy fingers.  She shudders at his black, tattered wings; wings that had once been magnificent, but lost their beauty once he rebelled.  When she notices the seething lust in his iridescent eyes, she turns her head to the crucifix on the wall.
“I notice that you don’t own a mirror.  Are you afraid that I’ll send my demons after you through the glass?”
Gemma keeps her focus on her Lord.  ‘My Jesus, I trust in Your protection.’ she thinks to herself.
“What a shame.  If only you could see what a beautiful girl you are…”  The devil reaches for her chin, but Gemma turns her body away.  Satan rolls his eyes and focuses his gaze upon her letter.  He pricks at the paper with his talons as he skims through it.  “Oh, Father Germano, Father Germano, please come and save me, for I am but a poor and helpless child being tormented by big bad Beelzebub!” His mocking spiel is accompanied with dramatic gestures.
Gemma looks at her letter, inhaling through her nostrils.  In a split second, she snatches the letter off of the table.  She rushes to her drawer and pulls out a cross.  She holds it up between her eyes.
Satan laughs, “You and your guardian angel need to learn to relax.”  He walks away from her and lounges against her door with his muscular arms crossed.  “Go ahead, work on your little letter.”
Setting down her cross, Gemma holds up her head.  For a moment, her eyes narrow with contempt.  ‘I shouldn’t give him the power to upset me,’ her conscience speaks.  She softens her face into a nonchalant expression.  Her heart continues to race, but she maintains her poise.  With her back turned to the devil, she sits herself down and begins writing.
“Now I may be the ‘father of lies,’ but even I know when a certain spiritual director may not be the best one for you.”
The pen in her hand never stops moving.  She glances up at the window, almost wishing that the little bird would come back.  A silent creature would make better company than the corrupter of souls.
“One of my fellow demons was listening in on dear old Germano’s homily, and he told me that the man is quite fanatical.  I can see why he would have you feeling so stressed and uptight…”
Gemma dips her pen into the ink.  After letting the ink settle on the pen’s tip, she starts writing again.  She hears Satan tread across the room.
“You excelled in music, French and arithmetic as a child, am I correct?”
She responses with a careless, “Mm hmm…”
“So you’re obviously intelligent, despite acting like a dumb mute,” his words “dumb mute” emphasized with a threatening snarl.  “It is a travesty that such a refined woman like yourself is being subjected to the ‘counsel’ of the delusional Germano.”
She sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.  His growl frightens her, but not a single bead of sweat is visible on her face.  She feels his talons grip at the back of her chair.
“Say, has your precious spiritual father given you any strategies that could help you deal with me?” She hears him drum his talons against her chair as he waits for an answer.  She rubs her nose to relieve an itch and says nothing.  “I’m going to take your irritating silence as a ‘No…'” Satan shrugs, “Seems to me that Germano may be a good listener, but not the best advisor.” Gemma leans forward to keep her back from making contact with his talons.
“I was able to open Eve’s eyes to a wealth of knowledge in the Garden…“
“And all of humanity fell because of it,” she laments in a hushed breath, repulsed by his pride in the downfall of mankind.
“I could open that sweet and innocent little mind of yours to a world of knowledge if you allow me to be your teacher…”
She feels his talon pressed against the side of her head.  She tenses, bracing herself for a violent migraine.  “You can relax.  I’m not going to induce another headache,” he assures with an unsettling chuckle.
Gemma bites her tongue when he runs his talon down her hair.  As her heart pounds, she sits up straight and folds her arms on the table.  She tilts her head slightly to where she can only see the devil from the corner of her eye.
“Excuse me, but are you finished speaking?” she asks politely, catching the look of surprise on the devil’s face.   “You may do what you wish, but please let me write.”  Her shoulders loosen as she finishes up her letter.  The peace that follows lasts longer than expected.  She is almost tempted to look over her shoulder to see if the devil is still there, but shakes her head, deciding to enjoy the silence instead.
Her pen is ripped from her hand in a fierce swipe.  She sees it released from Satan’s hand as it flies across the room.  His face contorted in rage, Satan grabs her letter and proceeds to tear it in half.  As he rips it to shreds, his piercing eyes bore into hers.
Before she can do anything, he grabs the back of her chair and pulls it out from under her.  The wind is knocked out of her as her back hits the floor.  As she tries to collect air into her lungs, she feels his claws scratch against her scalp as he pulls her by the hair.  She grits her teeth as her scalp burns from being dragged by the hair.  With great force, he throws her against the wall.
“WAR, WAR AGAINST YOUR FATHER, WAR AS LONG AS HE LIVES!” Satan screams as he disappears into a burst of flames.
Some time passes before a shaken Gemma is able to stand up.  As her beating pulse calms, she collects the shreds of paper from the floor and disposes of it.  She walks to her drawer and pulls out a new sheet of paper.  Sitting down at her table, Gemma flexes her quivering fingers.  All is quiet as she rewrites her letter, though the devil’s words remain in her mind.
“Believe me, to hear this despicable wretch, one would think that his fury was rather against you than against me,” she writes to Fr. Germano, her spiritual father.
She folds up her letter and slides it under her candle.  Rising from her chair, she looks around the room.  There are no demons coming for her, only deep shadows in every corner.  Fixing her gaze into the darkness of her bedroom, Gemma lifts her cross from the table and presses it against her heart.

Victim Soul Chapter Four

~ amyemsal23 ~ Leave a comment

St_Gemma_with_Angel_22

[Author’s Note: Gemma’s guardian angel is introduced in this chapter.  Originally, he was going to be an off-to-the-side character, but after learning of Gemma’s deep bond with him, I asked God to help me incorporate her guardian angel into the story.  My research confirms that one evening, after taking a particularly terrible beating from the devil, Gemma was unable to move.  Her guardian angel picked her up and put her to bed, then stood watch for the rest of the night.  There are three artistic liberties taken.  The first is the conversation that takes place between the guardian angel and the devil.  This sequence has been created to develop the guardian’s angel character.  The second is the insertion of Gemma’s quote “Oh God, I am weak….give me…a little strength.  No matter what will happen to me, all is for You.”  This is a documented quote from her.  It was said while she was in a state of ecstasy.  However, I made the decision to insert it here to show Gemma’s resolve.  Finally, the third liberty is what Gemma says to her guardian angel about almost giving in to the devil’s temptation when she was ill.  This was created to reestablish Gemma’s motivation for remaining strong against the devil’s abuse.  In addition, I realized that I needed to show their rapport].

Her face swells from where his fist struck.  The bruises pulsate with a throbbing pain that spreads throughout her body.  Pressing her worn hands against the cold floor, her fingers quiver as she struggles to support her own weight.  She feels blood trickle from her nostrils, creating miniscule crimson puddles on the floor.
“That’s enough for one night, wouldn’t you say?”
Gemma can feel his fiery eyes cast down at her.  She glances up and sees his immense shadow looming over her.  “My–my Jesus…my Jesus, please…” she struggles between breaths.
Her body becomes rigid when he kneels down beside her.  She is too weak to stop him from cupping her chin into his talons.  “Your God does not care about what happens to you.” Satan releases her chin and stands up.  He turns to leave, but then stops and turns his head.  “My offer still stands, Gemma.”
She keeps her eyes on the floor.  “Just kneel before me.  Pledge your allegiance to me and I will protect you.  You won’t have to suffer for some dead carpenter if you just–“
“No.” Gemma raises her head and darts her eyes to the crucifix on the wall.  “Oh God, I am weak….give me…a little strength.  No matter what will happen to me, all is for You.”
A sudden force pins her to the floor.  Staring up at the ceiling, she clenches her fists, bracing herself for more pain.
“Hmph, suit yourself, little one.”
She shuts her eyes the minute his body whirls around, his fist aimed high.  The thud rings against her ear.  She opens her eyes and sees that his fist has just barely missed her face.  As he disappears into a swirl of smoke, the echo of his vicious cackle remains.
Weakness has rendered her immobile.  She turns her head and sees a sizzling hole where the devil’s fist landed.  Her beating heart drums in her ears.  She glances up at her extinguished candle as it sits barren and alone on her small table.
A flame flickers on the wick as warmth takes hold of the room.   A glowing set of feet stand on top of the sizzling hole.  Gemma sighs in relief to see her guardian angel.  She feels one of his feathers gently brush her bruised cheek.  “Angel, I can’t move.”
Her guardian angel kneels to the floor.  He wipes the blood from her nostrils with his sleeve.  The blood dissipates into the fabric until it completely disappears.  Reaching underneath her, he lifts her in his arms, cradling her.  “Sleep, my child.  You have nothing to fear.” His ethereal light dulls every ounce of pain that has ravaged her body. Gemma takes deep breaths as she is lowered onto her bed.  A strange chuckle escapes her lips.
“What makes you laugh, Gemma?”
Lying flat on her back, her eyes bore into the ceiling.  “To think that I almost surrendered to that monster…” She closes her eyes, sinking into the painful memory.

“I can take away your suffering, Gemma.  Whatever you desire, I will grant you.  If you submit to me, obey me, do as I say, I will see to it that your body never betrays you again.”  He opened his palm and reached out to her.  “Just take my hand and I will free you from your misery.”
Gemma kept her eyes on the ceiling.  Desperation began to drown her.  As if her body was moving without her consent, her hand lifted.  She pulled back, clenching her fist.  She relaxed her hand, leaving it mid-air.

When she opens her eyes, she sees her guardian angel holding up his hand, “Leave in the past what belongs to the past.  He will attempt to use your weakest moment against you, my dear.  Accept that you have been forgiven by our Lord and go forward.”
She turns her head to the candle’s dancing flame.  “If this is how he treats those who oppose him, imagine how he treats the ones who do exactly as he says.” A chill runs through her body at the thought of being a follower of darkness. The idea of the almost haunts her; almost taking his hand, almost pledging her allegiance to Hell, almost trading her eternal soul for temporary comfort.
Her guardian angel pulls the sheets up to her chin.  His hand touches her head. “Remember who are you and Who you belong to.” He points at the crucifix, “Before anything else, He is a savior.  He will not let you fall.”
Gemma looks at the crucifix, mentally absorbing every detail of Jesus’ body.  She touches her cheek, realizing that the swelling is gone.  Looking at her arms, she can see that the bruises are no more.  As tears of joy pool in her eyes, her face brightens with a tender, assured smile.  She places her hands over her heart, “Oh Jesus, I see You as greater than all the treasures on earth.  Yes, my sweetest God, my most lovable Jesus: to my eyes You are greater than the greatest treasures on earth.” She notices that her stoic angel’s mouth has lifted into a smile, as well.  As she drifts off to sleep, she hears his wings stretch out, shielding her from the terrors of the night.

Her guardian angel holds his sheath, ready to strike any demonic forces that draw near.
“And how is our little Gemma?”
The guardian angel faces the prince of darkness with a stoic expression.
“Oh, relax.  I’m not going to throw her across the room.”
The guardian angel crosses his arms, “You beat this woman for over an hour.”
Satan rolls his eyes, “You angels of God are no fun.  At the very least, allow me to check up on the poor girl,” he reaches out his claws for Gemma’s forehead.
The guardian angel grabs Satan’s wrist.  Within seconds, his light burns the devil’s skin.
“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” Satan recoils to the floor, clutching his bubbling wrist.
The guardian angel pulls out his sword and points it at the enemy.  A brilliant light shimmers off the blade, blinding the devil.
As Satan recovers, the guardian angel stands above him.  He looks back at Gemma, who is sound asleep.  He hears Satan beginning to stand and faces him.
“Hmph, you’re just as much of a menace as Michael!” Satan hisses as he props himself up.
“Why do you want this daughter of God?  Many people have fallen into your hands and the whole earth is yours.” The guardian angel places his sword back in his sheath.  “Are the ones who already reside in Gehenna not enough for you?”
Satan walks over to the candle.  He runs his talons over the small flame, releasing a dark plume of smoke into the air.  The guardian angel clears the smoke with the light of his sword.
“Hell is populated by my easiest targets.  Many of them made the quiet and comfortable journey into my hands.” He raises his talons and points at Gemma, “Imagine the glory of snatching away one of God’s finest…” A sinister smile plasters his face.  “I would love nothing more than to look a former servant of God in the eye and say, ‘Welcome to Hell.'” Satan narrows his eyes, his unflinching focus set on the holy woman.  “Hmph, I almost pity the poor child and how she allows herself to suffer for a being she cannot see.” The guardian angel tenses when he sees a spark of lust in the devil’s eyes.  “She is quite lovely…”
The guardian angel stands in front of Gemma, blocking her from the devil’s line of vision.  “Leave. Now.” The guardian angel once again withdraws his sword and presses the tip of the blade right at Satan’s throat.
Satan smirks as he steps back.  He glances at the crucifix, but can only look at it at a second before it burns his eyes.  “Whether it is a docile girl who prays or an abrasive drunkard who lies and cheats, I want everyone to be as far away from the Almighty as possible…” The devil turns his back to the guardian angel, then stops and tilts his head slightly.
“I won’t stop until everyone burns.”

Victim Soul Chapter Three

~ amyemsal23 ~ 4 Comments

St_Gemma_Galgani

[Author’s Note: The first artistic liberty taken is that Satan’s words to Gemma, “Do you not see that this Jesus does not hear you, and wants to have no more to do with you.  Give up, and be resigned to your unhappy lot” have been inserted into the opening scene.  My research confirmed that this is one of the many insults hurled at her by the prince of darkness, but when exactly it was said is unknown.  The second artistic liberty is that after Gemma fails to receive Communion, she sees Satan’s silhouette in a dust fog.  This sequence has been created to foreshadow the epilogue of Victim Soul, which involves a stare-down between the two characters].

“Dear Monsignor Volpi, I must I tell you what happened last night.  I never went to bed, because the Devil frightened me with his blasphemies, and I thought he was in the room; I could neither sleep nor pray.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Watching the candle’s restless flame, Gemma sits frozen at her desk as the screeching, maniacal laughter of the devil pierces her eardrums.  Her trembling body trapped in a hunched position, her lips are pressed against her folded arms.  Gripping her scapular in her hand, she dares not to look for her adversary.
“Do you not see that this Jesus does not hear you, and wants to have no more to do with you.” 
The darkness infused with his words shake her to her core.  Gemma shuts her eyes, which swell with coming tears.  She slowly turns her head to the crucifix, from where her beloved watches her.  “My Jesus, I know You are with me now,” she whispers.  She takes deep breaths as she struggles to fight the dread and loneliness that threaten to consume her troubled heart.  She jumps when she feels a tug at her hair, but refuses to turn around.
“Give up, and be resigned to your unhappy lot!” The devil’s words are a diabolical hiss that seep into her conscience, furthering her fright.  His presence ceases, but the sting of his cruelty settles in her bones.

Fingers of morning light peer through the stained glass windows.  The altar ahead is a blur in her line of vision.  Gemma’s head turns to the stained glass window next to her pew.  She rubs her eyes.  “Wake up, wake up,” she murmurs to herself.  She freezes when she feels a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right, Ms. Galgani?” asks a female voice.  As Gemma glances at her shoulder, for a moment she sees not a hand, but dark talons clutching her.
She shakes her head and looks back at her shoulder.  There are no talons, only the hand of a woman with a round face.  ‘Just like mother,’ Gemma bites her lip. “Yes, signora,” she answers with a meek nod.  She switches her gaze to the altar before she can be questioned further.

1885
“Come here, my darling Gemma…”
Seven-year old Gemma sat herself on Mother’s lap.  She rested her head against mother’s sturdy shoulder. 
“I have prayed so much that Jesus would give me a little girl,” Mother stroked Gemma’s hair.  “He has given me this consolation; it is true, but too late.  I am ill…” her mother’s chest rises as she inhales.  Tears begin to swell, making her eyes look like small pools of grief.  “…and I must die.  I must leave you.” Mother gripped Gemma’s tense shoulders, “Oh, if I could only take you with me!  Would you come?” 
“And where are you going?”
“To heaven with Jesus and the angels…”

A single tear escapes from her eyes.  Gemma wipes it away as quickly as it came.
It is time to receive the Eucharist.  Gemma’s face lights up with a peaceful smile.  Standing at the very end of the small line of parishioners, she raises her eyes to the large crucifix, placing her hands over her heart.  She turns her head to the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which stands by the stained glass, shimmering in colorful incandescence.  “Oh, my Heavenly Mother,” she says in an affectionate whisper.
Looking back at Jesus on the crucifix, she lowers her head as an aching sadness begins to overwhelm her.  As she draws nearer to the priest, the sensation of sinking oppresses her.  ‘My sins, my imperfections put Him there…’ “I put Him on that cross…” she closes her eyes, envisioning Mary cradling the mangled body of her Son.
When the Precious Body is held before her eyes, she turns her head away.
As if her body is moving without her, Gemma realizes that she is running out of the church.  Throwing open the doors, she is blinded by the scorching rays of daylight.  She whirls her body back and forth, trying to remember where she is.  A sudden gust of wind kicks a cloud of dust into her face.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Rigidity takes hold of her.  Within the fog she sees a dark silhouette.  Time seems to have come to a halt.  For what feels like an eternity, the world consists of a frightened girl and an entity of darkness standing opposite of each other with only a fog of dust dividing them.
Gemma turns her head, then pauses.  Inhaling air and dirt, she slowly looks back and straightens her shoulders.  The silhouette has vanished, but the cackle continues to ring as a faint echo.
Tightening her lips, she holds up her head.  As her racing heart calms and the tremors throughout her body cease, she moves ahead to the church.  She opens the doors and returns to the line.
The minute the Eucharist passes her lips, her heart is kindled with a tender flame that burns as passionately as her love for her King.

Back at home, Gemma carries a bucket filled with water to the house.  Her eyes downcast, she watches her step to avoid spilling.  Her nostrils fill with the crisp air of springtime.  Opening the door, she treads down the hall, where she stops at a portrait of the Sacred Heart.  Closing her eyes, she places her hand over her heart.  “Jesus, make haste, give me the grace to be ever united with You, in such a way that I may never be separated from You!”
There is a whooshing sound, which is followed by what feels like an array of fiery fists striking her shoulder.   Overcome by white hot pain, Gemma collapses to the ground. Though the fearsome rage of the evil one is palpable, she dares not to look and see if he is physically present. When she finally does look up, she sees that the bucket remains intact with the water perfectly still.  She smiles as she lifts her gaze to the Sacred Heart.

Gemma’s letter to Monsignor Volpi verbatim:

“I must I tell you what happened last night.  I never went to bed, because the Devil frightened me with his blasphemies, and I thought he was in the room; I could neither sleep nor pray.  I did not make my meditation, nor pray from 11 am to 12:00.  I went to church, but when the time came I felt I could not go to Holy Communion. I came out of the church and I heard the Devil laughing very loudly. I understood why, went back to church again and received Holy Communion.  Jesus told me had I not conquered that morning I should never have done so…Yesterday morning my aunt asked me to draw a bucket of water; I filled it and bringing it back had to pass before the picture of the Sacred Heart. I saluted Jesus with these words: ‘Jesus, make haste, give me the grace to be ever united with You, in such a way that I may never be separated from You!’  Just after I had said this I felt a series of sharp blows on my shoulder, so that I fell to the ground, but without breaking anything.”