Hello Faith Pals,
Hope you are looking forward to a warmer week!
Firstly, I was going to fill you in on Henry Morton Stanley, the person who is responsible for uttering: “Dr Livingstone, I presume.” Well, he had a role in bringing a strange creature to the attention of zoologists. The creature was the okapi.
The okapi, a shy, solitary, elusive animal that lives among dense cover, is one of the oldest and most distinctive mammals in the world. The okapi is also known as the African Unicorn. It has earned this name due to its scarcity (it came to be understood as being as rare or as scarce as a unicorn) and because the female has a knobbly bump in the corner of its head, and the male has horn-like protuberances, known as ossicones.
This creature, which resembles a zebra, a donkey, and a giraffe, had been spoken about by central African tribes. It had been brought to Europeans’ attention back in 1887, due to Henry Morton Stanley’s book about his travels.
When Stanley had been exploring the Congo, he had heard tribes tell of this creature, which Stanley transcribed as ‘atti’(but the word the tribes used was ‘o’kapi’). Even when several skins were produced as evidence of the existence of this creature, Westerners viewed than as fakes. Referring to it as an ‘African Unicorn’ tended to reinforce its mythical status.
Its status from unknown changed in 1901 when Sir Harry Johnston, the British governor of Uganda, became fascinated by Stanley’s accounts of this animal. He had freed several Mbuti Pygmies of the Congo, caught by a showman, and they informed him of their knowledge of this creature. He also investigated other stories about the animal. Johnston received some skins, and two skulls of this supposed mythical creature, from grateful pygmies. Johnston sent parts of its hide to the British Museum. Then, after a live okapi was captured the creature was recognized as ‘real’ by scientists, and the mammal became known as the okapi (okapi johnstoni).
It is a remarkable creature, the only living relative of the giraffe, (in the family Giraffidae) is classified as a short-necked giraffe. It is also known as the ‘forest giraffe.’ It shares the giraffe’s characteristic of having a long blue tongue, and its hind legs and rump are striped black and white, a little like a zebra’s marking. It also walks like a giraffe, stepping out with the same front and hind leg on each side, rather than moving alternate legs.
It is endemic to the dense, lowland rainforests of the central and north eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. Sadly, deforestation, poaching, and mining have all led to a decline in numbers.
The okapi has its own World Day, observed on 18th of October. I thought it was worth writing about, as we near the Feast of St Francis-World Animal Day next Sunday.
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Now, here is a story passed on from a member of Heatherton-Dingley Uniting Church. I read this story in a book several months ago, so it was quite uncanny to read it again.
You many know it:
Beautiful story…. makes you understand that things happen for a reason
The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned
to their first ministry, to reopen a church
in suburban Brooklyn , arrived in early October
excited about their opportunities. When they saw
their church, it was very run down and needed
much work. They set a goal to have everything
done in time to have their first service
on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls,
painting, etc, and on December 18
were ahead of schedule and just about finished.
On December 19 a terrible tempest – a driving
rainstorm – hit the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church.
His heart sank when he saw that the roof had
leaked, causing a large area of plaster about
20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall
of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high.
The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor,
and not knowing what else to do but postpone
the Christmas Eve service, headed home.
On the way he noticed that a local business was
having a flea market type sale for charity, so he
stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful,
handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth
with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross
embroidered right in the center. It was just
the right size to cover the hole in the front
wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older
woman running from the opposite direction was
trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor
invited her to wait in the warm church for
the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor
while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put
up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor
could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and
it covered up the entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman walking down the center
aisle. Her face was like a sheet. “Pastor,”
she asked, “where did you get that tablecloth?”
The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check
the lower right corner to see if the initials ‘EBG’ were crocheted into
it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had
made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria .
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor
told how he had just gotten “The Tablecloth”. The
woman explained that before the war she and
her husband were well-to-do people in Austria
When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave.
Her husband was going to follow her the next week.
He was captured, sent to prison and she never saw her
husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth;
but she made the pastor keep it for the church.
The pastor insisted on driving her home. That
was the least he could do. She lived on the other
side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn
for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas
Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the
spirit were great. At the end of the service, the
pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door
and many said that they would return.
One older man, whom the pastor recognized
from the neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the
pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn’t leaving.
The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on
the front wall because it was identical to one
that his wife had made years ago when
they lived in Austria before the war and how
could there be two tablecloths so much alike?
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he
forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was
supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and
put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home
again in all the 35 years between.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to
take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten
Island and to the same house where the pastor
had taken the woman three days earlier.
He helped the man climb the three flights of
stairs to the woman’s apartment, knocked on
the door and he saw the greatest Christmas
reunion he could ever imagine.
T rue story – submitted by Pastor Rob Reid
News: I spoke to Joan and Russell Farr-they are doing quite well.
-Let’s keep Alan and Fredrica in our prayers as this is another big week for them, with chemotherapy and blood results.
-John Wallace is at home and wants you to know that his video will be on Facebook this Wednesday.
On yesterday’s Songs of Praise , Nigel Havers read out this portion of Isaiah:
‘but those who wait for the Lord
shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint.'(Isaiah 40: 31)
To close with St Columba’s prayer, to bring you comfort and strength during the coming week:
‘Be a bright flame before me, O God
a guiding star above me.
Be a smooth path below me,
a kindly shepherd behind me
today, tonight, and for ever.
Alone with none but you, my God
I journey on my way;
what need I fear when you are near,
O Lord of night and day?
More secure am I within your hand
than if a multitude did round me stand.
Amen.
Oh, then I remembered the connection that St Columba had with a beautiful white horse, so HAVE to include that too!
Legend
One of the most beautiful legends of St. Columba involves his white horse. When he was very old and tired
he made his way to visit his brother monks who were working in a field.
He was so weak that he could not walk but had to be carried in a cart. When he saw his brother monks he explained
that during the recent Easter celebrationhe had felt a great longing in his soul to go and be with Jesus. He understood
that he could go and be with his Lord if he wished but he decided to linger a little longer on this earth as he did not want
to grieve his brother monks during the Easter season.
At these words the monks were deeply grieved because they knew that Columba did not have much more time on
earth. He turned to the east and blessed the island and islanders who dwelt there as well as the monastery that he
had founded and nurtured.
As his death drew near St. Columba shared this secret with his companion Diarmid — it was soon to be his day of rest
this own Sabbath. He was tired from the toil of this life and his Lord had invited him to be with him. Columba understood that he would die around midnight following the footsteps of his fathers in the faith. At this Diarmid wept. Columba
tried to comfort him as well as he could.
Columba then headed back to his monastery one last time but he was so weary that he stopped to take a rest by
the side of the road. As he was sitting beside the road his white horse ran up to him and leaned his head against the
holy man’s chest drenching his shirt with his tears which poured into his lap.
Diarmid rose to push the horse away from his beloved friend but Columba stopped him saying “Allow this lover of mine
to shed his tears on my chest. For this horse being an animal understood instinctively that I was going to be with my
Lord yet you as a man could not foretell this.”
At this St. Columba blessed the white horse that had faithfully served him for so many years and the grieving horse continued on his way. St. Columba then returned to the monastery for his final Vespers (or evening prayer) service.
Later that night when the bell tolled for the midnight service Columba returned to the monastery church but collapsed before the altar surrendering his soul to God. St. Columba died in 597 when he was seventy-seven years old. He is commemorated on June 9.
(from https://www.stcolumba-oak.com/who-was-st-columba)
Blessings and love,
Barbara