||L'Eglise Aristotelicienne Romaine The Roman and Aristotelic Church
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Localisation: Salisbury, Clifton
|Posté le: Mar Avr 20, 2010 6:51 pm Sujet du message: The life of Blessed Žaltvyksle
Hagiograhy of Žaltvyksle
The life and work of Žaltvyksle
The sun had set in the lower course of the Memel. Except for a few billows of smoke nothing moved. Some will-o'-the-wisp danced over the moor which began behind the moor.
If it had been a little brighter, a far less idyllic picture would have presented itself to the viewer. The smoke belonged to some smouldering sources of fire. Here and there a human body lay on the ground - dead.
Broken pitchforks and flails lay around. Battered by the relentless metal of sharp swords.
Quiet whimpering sounded from one of the huts that had not fallen victim of the flames.
An aged woman cried over the body of her fallen son. Her daughter was still alive, however, had been kidnapped together with all the other young women by the winners. What had happened? Orderly knights had advanced to pagan area.
Half a day's trip to the west the troop that had attacked the village took a rest and camped out. Seven distraught looking young women lay in the middle of the camp.
A young knight approached them.
He spoke with a reassuring voice and brought them something to eat. One of the girls attracted his attention. Later he would ask his commander to leave this woman to him...
Eleven months after that, at the beginning of May 1400; a small lad caught the light of the world. His mother, the Lithuanian woman, lay heavily breathing on a hard bed at the soldier's camp. The hard life in the camp completely consumed her forces. Now she was only a shade of herself. The father of the boy entered the tent and carried the woman out into the night. She had never been seen again.
The newborn child was delivered to an Aristotelian cloister.
The monk in the main entrance was the old wise father Lucius. When he saw the boy, he felt that it was his mission to care for this small person. So old Lucius took over care of the newborn.
At the age of eight months the child began to walk, three months later it spoke in whole sentences. At the age of four the old monk started to instruct the boy in writing and reading as well as in calculation. Seven years later he already read books written by Greek, Latin and German authors. He was very eager to learn and soon ventured near theophilosophoontological writings.
During the readings the boy felt an indefinable mystic strength which seemed to flow into his innermost as often as he dealt with these writings.
Thus he often caught the eyes of the farmers of the region.
At some times he was encircled by a strange light and announced the messages he took from the writings.
Quite often he marked the mistakes of the people with a sonorous voice. He talked with such a penetration that nobody dared to lay hand on him.
Since fen fire surrounded the young man at twilight he was furthermore called Žaltvyksle. [Lithuanian for will-o'-the-wisp or fen fire].
Indeed, a mounting pile of complaints by the people reached the abbot of the cloister.
Since the knights of the Teutonic Order noticeably lost influence in this part of the country, cloisters were no more firmly seated in such a way that they could risk an uprising.
Thus it came that Žaltvyksle chose to leave the cloister.
To the abbot he said, he wanted to travel „somehow to the west“. And he got on the way.
His way led him through many small villages and through wide forest landscapes. Often he found accommodation in small cloisters, remained there for some time and acquired new knowledge.
He started to write a work: "De Summa Theologica" - The summary of the apprenticeship of God. Some manuscripts of these recordings are preserved into these days.
33 years later and some hundred miles farther to the west, Žaltvyksle, a little bit aged already, standing up on a hill espied a small village: Reutlingen. He felt an uncontrollable strength which drew him to the place, nearly tugged. He felt that it was his destination to serve God, the HIGHEST, in this place.
So in August, 1454 he entered the small town and asked immediately for the way to the Aristotelian cloister.
Soon after his admission in the Order Saint Hildegard his ordination as priest followed and he got installed as priest of Reutlingen.
Žaltvyksle spent the bigger part of his time studying the books of the Order.
It did not last long, that it came to his ears, that there still were many documents which had not been translated at all into German.
Thus he asked to be allowed to take over this duty. He began to read the original documents with uncontrollable zeal and translated them.
Some time he lived almost sustained in the scriptorium, the brothers even had to bring him meals, so that he fed himself properly. The days passed, and the translation work jerked at his nerves.
One evening, while translating a text about the ferryman, he fell asleep at torches light. As usual a candle burnt on his table. So the parchment caught fire, and the on hurrying monks were just able to extinguish the fire and rescued Zaltvyksle by a narrow margin.
After a few days sleep, which was owed to his exhaustion, he told the Infirmarius his experience.
"Brother, I have survived this fire only with the help of the angel Saint Lopas. As you certainly know, he is the angel who fetches the dead people and leads them into paradise. I have to tell you this story, so that it will never be forgotten. Listen well!
I stood on a river. Nothing could be seen anywhere except a barque on the edge of the horizon. It came up to me. As I did not know what would happen, I fell on my knees and prayed to God.
Strengthened by the prayer I awaited the things to come.
When the barque got closer, I noticed a bright figure. It began to speak to me.
"Have no fear Žaltvyksle. The LORD protects his servant on all his ways. I am Saint Lopas, the ferryman, and shall deliver the following to you."
Saint Lopas stretched his hands and passed texts in a foreign language to me. I looked at them, not knowing what has to be done.
"The archangel Michael assigned me to hand these texts to you. - You cannot read them? Listen to your heart. It knows the right meaning."
I looked at him asking myself what would happen to me now, however, he further spoke.
"Now Žaltvyksle, return back to the earth and go to work. Your time on earth will run out shortly, and the LORD will fetch you to his table in paradise soon."
And thus I felt like taken into a swirl and woke, finally, here again.
Brother tell me how much time have I lost? When can I start translating? Could the texts be saved?"
With these questions on his lips Žaltvyksle fell asleep again and only awoke a few days later.
As soon as he regained strength, he hurried immediately to the scriptorium. Luckily the important texts had been saved by the brothers of the cloister; amongst these were some that seemed not to be from this world.
Thus his purpose in life existed from now on in transferring these holy texts up to the day that the prediction of the ferryman entered.
Žaltvyksle returned home to the Almighty God father in April, 1456.
The miracle of the crying statue
It happened after the passing of Žaltvyksle...
… Henry Poing returned after a not all to long stay in church to the world and back to work. Melancholically, submerged in thoughts, he stepped in the chapel to pray. It was cold.
While opening the porch of the chapel a proper wind whistled around his ears. It might become a frosty winter.
Many worries troubled young Henry.
Of course there were the worldly worries, about his existence, his daily bread; but, nevertheless blessed Aristotle and all the holy men came to his mind again and again. Some people even stated that only by faith in HIM one was able to be, to exist.
Ergo non sum? Henry, not a heretic, but also not baptised, was deeply inflicted in an internal conflict. Do I exist? Oh, God! Am I? Send me a message; show me that I am just as human as all baptised men!
Ensnared in such thoughts, almost frozen, damp trembling, he stood before the finely built, sky-high facade.
Face to face he looked at the statues of all the saints on the church wall. One after another. Old people, venerable men, for sure.
But there! What happened to him? Warmth grew up to small Henrys heart, a magic wind flowed through his body, his veins were on fire, no cold could make him shake anymore! Žaltvyksle! A glitter lay in his eyes, on his cheeks tears could be seen, bitter happy tears!
It had not rained, the ground was dusty, how could this happen? Henry Poing felt quiet warm. The decision was made, the small shepherd wanted to join church, with one name on his lips: Žaltvyksle! You led me to the light!
All of a sudden it lightened up, clouds yielded, the sun pierced through ...
Translated by Father Blazingfast and the theologians of the Holy Office and released unto the English speaking faithful, 20th of March 1458
Former Bishop of Clifton
Former Roman Cardinal-Elector and Prélate Plénipotentiary
Former Cardinal Chamberlain of England, Scotland, and Ireland
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