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The Gospel of Mark

Vanakkam Father Angelito,
Yesterday afternoon after proposing to attend the program, I decided to finally look for the Bible in the room, full of boxes overflowing with books. "
Lord, if this is as important as I think it is, you will help me find the
book in this mess" I thought. The advice from the Presbyterian minister to
read the gospel of Mark and the many many men by name Mark coming recentlyinto my life must be substantiated. I dug through one suspected box and I found it, right on top, would you believe it! Wishing to be away from
the apartment I drove to a parking lot of Starbucks Coffee, sat in the
car and went through the Gospel of Mark. As I read it and the contents
began to imprint my mind very strongly, many questions and discomforts
arose. Why did Jesus keep insisting not to spread the word and yet the
people did it? Why did he curse the poor fig tree that was behaving as per
the season? Is there something in that story of fasting, bride chamber and
bridegroom for me? Is there an indicator of living life in proper proportion
for all of us, in the statement about give unto Caesar....?

In the line about the question of who baptized, is there a hint for those who
have the experience of the Lord working through them that they are better
off not giving any explanations? Not letting these to be pondered over, for
now, I made preparations to attend the Church.

Donated and picked the yellow flyer and decided to sit at the edge of the

3rd row so as to get a good view. I went through the flyer. As I sat there
quietly I felt a deeper calm coming over me. I realized that I had begun
the process of diving deep in this ocean of my mind and had reached the
still waters below. I watched people pass by. Of those that passed in front,
some would make a very half-hearted sign of the cross as they went past
the altar. "What would you do "? I asked myself. " Lord where can I look
forward to, in order to make the sign with full conviction. The answer
came " Everywhere, therefore nowhere for the sign is to be lived with
every breath you take!"

After the speaker finished the Act began. At first, when I watched the actor
my background of teaching gestural techniques came forward and thought
"He sure could use better-mimicking skills. The body and hand gestures
could with such changes augment the message so much more." Quickly the
sword of discrimination slashed through that approach reminding me that
this was not what I came here for. No longer was that important. A few
more minutes perhaps into the gospel I merged into the story fully,
with body mind and soul. My heart began to fill up with that special
brew - the love of God. As it began to overflow so did my tears. " Hold
back those tears. Do not make a scene here" I told myself. Still, my
heart kept getting larger and larger. " If you don't hold back you will
burst here to death," I said. Eventually, everything fell away. In this
huge church, there was only the Story, the Actor and my little self
hearing about the Great Divine through the words of a messenger. What a
blessing, I could remember every important word in the gospel having
read it just once. Each story, each parable, was lived there by me as
if I was transported in time and I am there in the east but the message
was alive and true, here and now.

The sounds of the organ after intermission further deepened my being into a
position of reverence to what I was receiving. The enactment came to a
conclusion. My hands did not move to clap for this was no entertainment
for me. As grateful as I was to the person I felt he was an instrument
of the Divine who gave and I received. I bid a hasty thank you and
goodbye to FatherAngelito, adding that I needed to hold what I have
(for I knew that attending the reception would take that away) . If I
had remained in the church, in that great presence, I was sure of
fainting, for my body could no longer stand straight with that much of
the brew.

I calmly thanked the actor while giving my palm and left. I drove back in the
dark, barely feeling for what I was doing with the car. Who drove the
car really? I had entered that state of simply going through the
motions. Once in the apartment I ate a banana , drank some water, my
eyes though open, were no longer seeing! This behavior of the eyes was
similar to the one time I experienced in Baliguali, Orissa after
singing a keertan on the Geet- Govindam. Then they closed and yet I
moved around. All organs of perception were in a neutral gear.

As I lay in bed I knew this was not to sleep. I took the prayer beads and
chanted to the Mother and Father of the Universe. Finished the maalaa
and then ........


2008 (?)
Mark West Area
Santa Rosa CA

enlarged amabahouse main strip
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