Two weeks ago, a small group of our loved ones squeezed into our humble dining room for a simple meal of minestrone soup laden with carrots, zucchini, an assortment of beans, and a little spinach (I am out of kale. Sigh.); homemade focaccia bread; and one lenten chocolate cake swimming in orange-flavored powdered sugar frosting, all to honor my middle son's special day. As I breathed in the scent reminiscent of "church" and placed Russell's beeswax baptismal candle into the center of his cake, we collectively sang a quite out-of-tune version of "Many Years." (Oh, Sabourins and Maddexs, where were you?) Russell absolutely beamed. It was his day. He did not have to share it with anyone. Not his older brother and not even his twin brother. While we dined on our dessert and Russell hugged the icon of his patron saint, Jared read an account of how the Church remembers St. Matthew.
The holy Apostle brought the Gospel of Christ to Syria, Media, Persia, Parthia, and finishing his preaching in Ethiopia with a martyr's death...The holy apostle converted some of the idol-worshippers to faith in Christ. He founded the Church and built a temple in the city of Mirmena, establishing there his companion Platon as bishop.
When the holy Apostle was fervently entreating God for the conversion of the Ethiopians the Lord Himself appeared to him in the form of a youth. He gave him a staff, and commanded him to plant it at the doors of the church. The Lord said that a tree would grow from this staff and it would bear fruit, and from its roots would flow a stream of water. When the Ethiopians washed themselves in the water and ate the fruit, they lost their wild ways and became gentle.
When the holy Apostle carried the staff towards the church, he was met by the wife and son of the ruler of the land, Fulvian, who were afflicted by unclean spirits. In the name of Christ the holy Apostle healed them. The miracle converted a number of the Ethiopians to the Lord. The ruler did not want his subjects to become Christians and cease worshiping the pagan god. He accused the apostle of sorcery and gave orders to execute him.
They put St. Matthew head downwards, piled up brushwood and ignited it. When the fire flared up, everyone then saw that the fire did not harm St. Matthew. Then Fulvian gave orders to add more wood to the fire, and frenzied with boldness, he commanded to set up twelve idols around the fire. But the flames melted the idols and flared up toward Fulvian. The frightened Ethiopian turned to the saint with an entreaty for mercy, and by the prayer of the martyr the flame went out. The body of the holy Apostle remained unharmed and he departed to the Lord.
The ruler Fulvian deeply repented of his deed, but still he had doubts. By his command, they put the body of St. Matthew into an iron coffin and threw it into the sea. In doing this Fulvian said that if the God of Matthew would preserve the body of the Apostle in the water as He preserved him in the fire, then this would be proper reason to worship this One True God.
That night the Apostle Matthew appeared to Bishop Platon in a dream, and commanded him to go with clergy to the shore of the sea and find his body there. The righteous Fulvian and his retinue went with the bishop to the shore of the sea. The coffin carried by the waves was taken to the church built by the apostle. Then Fulvian begged forgiveness of the holy Apostle Matthew, after which Bishop Platon baptized him, giving him the name Matthew in obedience to a command of God.
Soon St. Fulvian-Matthew abdicated his rule and became a presbytr. Upon the death of Bishop Platon, the Apostle Matthew appeared to him and exhorted him to head the Ethiopian Church. Having become a bishop, St. Fulvian-Matthew toiled at preaching the Word of God, continuing the work of his heavenly patron.
St. Fulvian the Ethiopian is also commemorated on this day.
To you precious Russell, may God grant you many, many years.
2 comments:
Many Years, precious Russell! How amazing St. Matthew's story is. Love you guys.
Awww, I so wish we could have been there! That's what I miss the most, I think - all those dinners and special occasions we shared in our bungalow! Beautiful post, Beth! Many years, Russell!
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