When the great god Tupa made the world, there was only day. In the beginning there was no night. The daughter of the great cobra, Cobra Grande, was concerned for her husband, the Caboclo. Mother Earth provided him with game, fish and rich soil, but he worked constantly. Since the night did not exist, he did not know when to rest.
One day, the Caboclo's wife asked his friends to search for her mother, Cobra Grande. She would know the secret of the night. They paddled their canoe a long distance and found the great cobra curled in the sun on the shore of a lake. The caboclos told her of her daughter's worry and of her request to learn the secret of the night.
The cobra slithered to the bottom of the lake. After a long time she surfaced with a nut – the fruit of the tucuma palm – in her mouth.
"You must not open the nut. Only my daughter will have the power to open it so that the darkness, and nothing else, will escape from inside."
As the caboclos paddled home, they became very curious because of the strange sounds that came from the tucuma nut. Although the great cobra had warned them not to break it open, they were overcome by curiosity. Unable to resist the mysterious noises, they broke open the nut.
Darkness immediately fell on the world. Not only darkness, but also from inside the nut there emerged the night creatures, swooping bats and screeching owls, crawling creatures and wild forest cats. The great cobra did not know the secret of how to put the night creatures back inside the nut.
"Someday," she said, "the son of Tupa will come to visit us. Then all that our people fear will be hidden again in the tucuma nut."
translated by Bishop George Marskell, SFMDeep in the Amazon, the Tucuma palm tree produces a thick, black nut which is fashioned locally into jewelry as a poignant symbol of solidarity. Roman Catholic Bishop George Marskell, SFM, a Scarboro Missioner from Canada, landed in Brazil in the 1960s and stayed until his death in 1998. The bishop turned the black ring into a personal reminder for the preferential option for the poor. There is a story that he traded in his gold episcopal ring for one of these simple black rings to make the point of his commitment to the poor. He was the bishop serving the rural Amazon in Brazil for over 19 years.
Now, thanks to Fr. Robert-James, OPC, the Anthonite brothers are joining in solidarity for the Christian ethic of preferential option for the poor. I wear my tucuma ring on my right hand, showing my love for God's poor and reminding me of my vows.
3 comments:
Thanks for sharing your life with the poor, and for sharing the journey with the Anthonites.
Anthonite, eh? Guess that makes me an Anthonite Father. I like it!
Antonite... Always wondered about what to call myself. Thanks!
You know I am technologically challenged! Yep, it was me! Still glad to know I am an Antonite!
God's peace!
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