“Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” (Acts 16:30, ESV)
In September, Sue and I ferried off for three days to the remote Orkney Islands north of Scotland. We saw all the truly breathtaking sights one should see on a short trip, but by far the most memorable moment was 10 minutes that only God himself could orchestrate.
We wandered one day after lunch to the pier in Kirkwall where ferries depart. We saw no signs of life except two young men dressed in black monk’s garb, having a meager lunch of hummus and crackers.
Conversation was easy when I showed interest in their destination. “We are on the way to Papa Stronsay, an island which our Order bought a few years ago,” one said. “We live there at the Golgotha Monastery. What brings you here?”
“Oh, we’re just tourists, although I am researching for a novel about a golf course on a mythical island in the Orkneys.” They showed me a map of their small island, which is only 180 acres. “Perfect for my golf course,” I offered, which seemed to worry them.
Turns out we were speaking to Father Martin Mary, from Oxford, England, and Brother Edmund Maria, from Kansas City, USA. I wondered to myself if the madness of golf had perhaps driven “Marty and Eddie” to this holy secluded life where double bogeys are long gone.
“So, what is the name of your Order?” Father Martin quickly answered, “Sons of the Most Holy Redeemer.” Without even thinking, I responded, “Me too. I am a son of the Most Holy Redeemer.”
Father Martin seemed puzzled. “Are you Catholic?”
Both padres smiled. Even saints need Jesus.“No, but I did meet Mother Teresa twice on mission trips to India.” He seemed impressed and the door opened for me to share my 1995 story of Mother Teresa’s gospel. Just outside her bedroom in Calcutta, she had told me, “I’m not good.” She then turned her eyes to heaven and softly said, “Jesus.” It was her short version of the gospel. Both padres smiled. Even saints need Jesus.
The conversation with the monks led me to later google the Order. I found out that their day starts with prayer at 3:15 a.m. I also discovered a mission statement that grabbed me:
Remember O Christian soul that time passes quickly and you too must soon die, be judged and enter into your eternity of heaven or hell. You have only one soul to save; that is your chief, nay your only work. For what does it profit you if, by your work, you gain the whole world which must soon end, and lose your immortal soul in an eternity of sufferings that will never end? What exchange can you give for your soul? There is none. At all cost then, save your soul.
I am still pondering the magnitude and directness of this message. It surely must underlie all human thought. It explains religion of all kinds, both true and false. It is a dormant voice in any human who has ever pondered the universe and God and eternity.
At all cost then, save your soul. I confess, I am not sure how living in a monastery in the Orkneys accomplishes that goal, but I must say, their statement has refocused me on what matters most.
As John Wesley once famously said after his failures in Georgia as a missionary, “I went to America to convert Indians, but oh, who shall convert me?”
So, I have a feeling that Father Martin and Brother Edmund have added Sue and me to their long list of people to pray for at 3:15 a.m., and that is perfectly fine with me.
But I also hear the voice of Mother Teresa when she gave the answer to John Wesley’s question in one simple word, “Jesus.” He alone can save my soul.
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Tim Philpot
December 16, 2020
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