The Shroud of Turin

Easter is upon us, and for many that means special services and Stations of the Cross.  Christians have many of these special services but I would like to speak of something not exactly a tradition.  However, I have found this to be an amazing part of building a faith.

You may have heard of the Shroud of Turin.  Some will know exactly what I am speaking of while others will not.  No matter; I will take this opportunity to try and relay some key points about the Shroud.

The Shroud is a fine linen cloth measuring 14 feet three inches long and three feet seven inches wide.  This historical cloth is believed to be the burial cloth of Jesus Christ.  Initially, the cloth was probably meant for Joseph of Arimathea.  Joseph was a high ranking member of the Jewish faith at the time of Jesus, but held his beliefs in his heart.  Nevertheless, he had the courage to ask Pilate for the body of Jesus upon His death.

Many believe the cloth used was to be Joseph’s burial shroud; instead he used his own tomb and cloth for Jesus’ burial.

As the story goes, on Easter Sunday, Christ was raised from the dead.  At which time the image of a tortured and crucified man was imprinted upon the cloth. Years of research have shown that it was formed by a burst of complex radiation coming from a dematerializing body about 30 to 36 hours after death.

For many years scientist have been trying to prove or disprove this “miracle”.  Some will believe, while others will not, and still others will find that the Shroud does not bring them to a Christian faith; because their faith was already rock solid.

I would like to give you some history on the Shroud of Turin.  I hope this is of interest to you, as I have explored the topic with two very well know researchers with the Council for the Study of the Shroud of Turin.  These two wonderful people are Dr. Alan Whanger and his delightful wife Mary.

King Abgar the V of Edessa was suffering from leprosy and wrote to Jesus asking that He come and cure him of his horrible disease.  Jesus responding saying He was unable at that time; but would soon send someone.  It was at this point Jesus was going to Jerusalem to bring about His passion and death. Copies of these letters are still in existence.

Historical records show that Thaddeus, also believed to be Judas the Zealot, took the Shroud to King Abgar.  The king did have his miracle; he was cured.  As a result he converted to Christianity.  Now, at the time when the cloth was brought to Edessa it was sealed in a cloth envelope, with only the face showing.

As was the custom at this point in history, likenesses of the pagan gods were mounted above the city’s main gate.  People entering the city were meant to pay homage to the displayed gods. 

Abgar had a tile image of the Shroud face take the place of the previous display.  With the display of the Shroud face there was also an inscription above the main city gate, it read “Christ the God.  He who hopes in thee is never disappointed”.

Now Edessa was a city along the trade routes between the Mediterranean and the Far East, so that this provided for many to see the face on the Shroud.  This also explains why early icons of Jesus Christ all have similar features.  It is believed that these icons were copied from the Shroud.

When King Abgar died in 55AD, King Ma’nu, a known pagan, came into power in 57 AD.  He was known to persecute the Christians.  He wanted the new icon destroyed.  He failed in this plan since the cloth was hidden to avoid destruction.

The year 525AD brought to the city of Edessa a major flood that almost destroyed the city. Workmen repairing the city gate found the hidden icon.  By this time the city had once again returned to Christianity and was recognized as the City of Churches.

In the year 944, Romanus I, the Emperor of the Byzantine Empire, decided his last act in office would be to bring the icon to Constantinople, the capital of the Roman Empire.  Constantinople had a collection of relics and icons and the Shroud would have been a major relic to possess.

Romanus sent troops to Edessa and laid siege to the city for six weeks.  Even with the city of Edessa under Muslim rule, the people wanted to keep their treasured icon. It took many concessions and promises on the part of Romanus in order to get the people of Edessa to finally relinquish this precious relic.  There is an interest fact here about the icon.  As far as the people of Edessa knew it was only the face of Christ.  Remember the icon was sealed in a cloth envelope and had never been opened.

During the Fourth Crusade, Constantinople was overrun and many of the churches relics were carted off including the Shroud.  In 1204 the Shroud surfaced in a small village in Lirey France.  Many believed the icon was in the possession of the Knights Templar in both France and England.  It is believed that the Shroud was smuggled back to France and placed on public display.

No one is exactly how Geoffrey de Charny gained control of the Shroud, but he brought it to Lirey in 1357.  This is when it was declared the true burial Shroud of Christ.

The ownership of the icon fell to Margaret de Charny; she in turn relinquished ownership to the Savoy family, the ruling house of France and Italy.  This is when it was moved to the royal capitol of Turin Italy in 1578.  A special chapel was built for the sole purpose of housing the shroud.  The chapel is in the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist that adjoins the royal palace.

The Shroud was nearly destroyed in 1532 when a fire broke out and the silver box that held the Shroud started to burned and the molten silver fell upon the Shroud in places. It is the repaired of the cloth that some have used as a reason to believe the Shroud was a hoax.  The burned areas of the Shroud were seamed and rewoven.  It is from these area materials were taken for the radio carbon dating process.  This also explains why the results came closer to the date of the mid- 1500s.

The Shroud was moved again to safeguard it during World Word II. Then in 1983 Umberto II, the exiled king of Italy, bequeath the Shroud to the Vatican.

There is a great deal more about the Shroud of Turin that I would love to share, and I would suggest that anyone interested in learning more buy the book “The Shroud of Turin An Adventure of Discovery by Mary and Alan Whanger, on www.amazon.com.

Have a Blessed Easter and Celebrate the Risen Lord!

How do you leave your home town?

Back in 1991 I retired from my banking career. At the end of December 1994, my husband Michael took the golden hand shake from Sears. We had an entire world in front of us.  Where to go? And what would we do? 

Leaving Wheeling at the age of 43 was very hard for us.  My Dad, sister, niece, Michael’s mother and our extended families lived in the Wheeling area.  But we were ready for a change.  Looking at a pack of seeds, my husband thought we should head for a warmer climate.  This may have had something to do with him shoveling 30 inches of snow from our driveway in 1994.

So wanting to find a good location with lifestyle and economic advantages we went off to the library.  Hoping to find the best location where we could find opportunity, we passed by the magazine display.  There in living color was the best place to live in America…the Raleigh/Durham area of North Carolina.

Okay, it was a warmer climate and only eight hours from Wheeling.  So we decided we should make a trip to check the area out before any decisions were made.

The day we planned on going to North Carolina we woke to six inches of snow.  Now we thought, do we go or not.  My reaction; we packed the night before so we should go.  Of course, I was not the one who had to shovel the snow again to back out of the driveway.  But we decided to go for the adventure.  I should mention that the snow stopped by the time we made it to Parkersburg, so the rest of the journey was uneventful.

We arrived in Raleigh and got a hotel room for the next couple of days.  We started the next day by going out and having breakfast while checking out the local mall.  Michael had been in retail for 24 years, so we decided we would grab a paper and check out the classified ads.

Just as we found a parking place in the mall’s lot, a woman excitedly approached us, and with almost a full embrace said “It’s snowing; it’s snowing.”  Yes, they had enough snow to lie on top of the grass for maybe an hour.  We spent three days in Raleigh.  We checked out housing, jobs and tried to get a feel for the people.

Our next stop was Durham.  We decided to stop at the Visitors Center where a pleasant elderly man greeted us.  He told us about the places we should visit.  He told us to go to the Chamber of Commerce and check out a relocation package and suggested we leave our car to his care and walk.  When we arrived in Raleigh just a few days before we saw the smallest snowfall; but now we were walking around Durham in shirt sleeves.  The gentleman suggested we eat lunch at one of the restaurants in Bright Leaf Square area but we could not come to Durham and not go to Bullock’s Barbeque Restaurant.  Now remember we are from above that Mason Dixon Line.  To us barbeque is an adjective, but in the Carolinas it is a noun.

We did go to the Chamber and collected some information.  There was a lot to review.  We walked through downtown Durham, and arrived at the Bright Leaf Square Mall.  We had lunch while we looked over some of the material.  The people in this town were and still are very friendly.  Strangers on the street greeted you.  Now Wheeling was considered a friendly town; but Durham surpassed what we knew as friendly.

After lunch we walked back to the car and stopped in again at the Visitor’s Center and thanked the gentleman for his suggestions.

We rode around the Durham area looking at housing subdivisions and just enjoyed the rest of the day.  We then returned to the motel we were staying in Durham.  We looked over all sorts of information on both Raleigh and Durham.  By now our eyes were beginning to swim and we were getting hungry again.  So we decided to again take the gentleman’s advice and go to Bullock’s. 

We arrived and were seated immediately.  We were given menus and we looked over the choices. I am a rib fan; there was no doubt as to what I would order.  Michael isn’t like me I have a favorite I stick to it, but he eats different things all the time.  So he got the Brunswick stew and the chicken.  The food was good, and we were ready to head back to the motel and do some more reading. 

As we approached the checkout, a man was there to take our bill.  He looked at us and knew immediately we were new in town.  He asked if we had friends or family in the area.  We told him no, we were just considering relocation.  Now how he knew we were new amazed us.  People were lined up out the door waiting to get a table, so how did he know we were new?

Then this gentleman did something amazing.  He reached behind the chair he was sitting on and gave us a business card.  He told us that when we arrived with our things to give him a call and he would send his kitchen help over to help us unpack. 

We were in total shock, Mr. Bullock had no idea who we were, but he was going out of his way to help us.  That is when I told Michael if we move to North Carolina, we are going to live in Durham.  The people here are amazing. 

We also told everyone back in Wheeling, just how great Durham was, and most of all how Mr. Bullock treated us and how helpful he had been to perfect strangers.

To this day, I still tell the story of our search for a new “hometown”; and I also tell them of Bullock’s Restaurant and the wonderful Mr. Bullock.

Me and my Pens!

Do you buy quality pens?  Or has the world of texting and instant messages taken over your need for a beautifully crafted writing instrument?

I remember learning cursive writing.  I had a wonderful third grade teacher, by the name of Mrs. Link, who taught us to release our death grip on our pens.  To reinforce this she would walk up and down the aisle, and snatch a pen from our hand as we practiced our continual loops, circles and slanted lines.  If the pen did not release easily, she would stay at our desk and help us until we became comfortable with the process.  I remember Mrs. Link’s words of encouragement over five decades later.  It was her encouragement that probably brought the love of the written word to me.

Writing became an even bigger joy as I found quality pens.  I wanted a Cross pen for so long, and now have several; but a more recent love has been with the Waterman line.  It is so nice to find a pen that fits your hand, and feels like an extension of your being as you write.  Some people like a heavy pen, or a slim pen or maybe a roller ball over a ball point.

Now this may sound odd, but I believe that my appreciation of the written word also brought me to my love of reading.  I can remember in grade school reading every Nancy Drew mystery in the school library.   Soon I was reading everything I could find.  I was a voracious reader, which made me wonder; could I write stories instead of just writing in my journal or writing research projects in school? 

My first manuscript was written by hand.   That satisfied two things, the use of a great writing instrument and I actually wrote out a full length story.    

I must admit now, I rely on the computer to rewrite and update the story I wrote long ago.  However, I do so in a script font, and convert to Times New Roman before submitting any writings to whomever will read and judge my work.

When I started a job at a bank, I was given two pens.  Here I am over four decades later, and I still have those pens.  They were long and skinny and made of plastic.  I have changed refills in the pens many times over the years.  Would you believe after all the use those pens have been provided, they have actually molded to my hand.  This molding has made them a perfect fit for my hand.

I hope young and old alike will have the opportunity to find that perfect pen for them, and enjoy the written word as I do.

Dating in the 70’s.

I met my husband in 1969, but didn’t know his name. I was pledging a sorority at the time, and I tripped going into class. Now to hear him tell you he had nothing to do with my near fall. As I remember he was stretched out in his seat and he remembers balloons tied to my ankles. I said I was pledging to a sorority.

Early in January 1970 this same young man took me and a friend to lunch. She assumed I knew his name. I was still trying to figure out who he was, but without luck.

Then came January 31^st 1970; he called and asked me out. I said yes. Now I grew up in a strict household and my mother approved all my dates. Well, maybe she didn’t really; but it felt that way to me.

When I told her about the call and the fact that I agreed without checking with her first I expected her to be upset. Instead she thought we should “frost” my hair. This was even a bigger surprise to me. So Michael came to pick me up and Mom and I were watching him arrive at the front door from a back room window. I told her yes, this is the guy that I had gone to lunch with a few days earlier.

Michael knocked on the door and either my Dad or one of my brothers answered the door. Needless to say he was rather surprised by the blonde he was picking up that night. I had been a brunette the prior day, and now I was a blonde. I found our later he was not thrilled.

I asked him where we were going, he told me out for pizza. That seemed a safe date. So we went to a pizza parlor away from the noise of town. Afterwards, we ended up on a dark rarely traveled road. Now I have to admit I had a sheltered life when it came to dating. However, I knew enough that this could mean trouble. So I was ready to defend myself if needed.

I asked him what we were doing at the location. He said “I want to show you the stars.” I’m thinking, “I bet you want to show me the stars.” I was surprised when he got out of the car, and told me to do the same. Remember this is January, and January in Wheeling WV is not conducive to be being outside on a cold night.

Nevertheless I got out of the car. He immediately started pointing out the various constellations in the sky. I have to admit that I was somewhat surprised, but also relieved.

When we got back to my home, we said good night and I went inside. Sure enough, there was Mom waiting for me. “Well, what did you do tonight?” she asked. I told her we went for pizza and then out to look at the stars. Mom being silly said, “So, that is what you call it now.” I explained that he truly did show me the stars. Of course, as a mother she wanted to know exactly what we did while star gazing. So I asked her to step out on the back porch. I showed her the same stars that Michael had shown me. Mom thought it was hilarious. However, to this day I can spot Orion’s belt with no trouble.

Now, here we are years later; and on January 13^th we will celebrate 39 years of marriage. I guess you could say our destiny was written in the stars.

2012; here it comes ready or not!

Well, 2011 has slipped through our fingers. I would venture to say we all had some good moments and maybe one’s that were not so great. Only you can decide if it was a good year or not.

Now you must decide how you will approach 2012. Set your mind as to how to advance with the New Year. We are as happy as we chose to be, regardless of circumstance. Granted there are some of us that will face situations that are sorrowful and frightening; but it does not mean we can not look for the good things in life. Everywhere we look we should see the wonders of life. The tulips coming up in the spring, the budding of new life on trees, warm tender breezes on our face, these are the good things that we can enjoy.

Many of you will remember the terrible fires that occurred in San Diego area a few years back. Do you remember the young mother whose house burned to the ground? As she walked along with a news anchor she was asked how you start over after such a disaster. The young mother picked up a ladle then said, “I guess you start with a ladle”. She had reason to sit and cry, but did not do so, because she was ready to go forward.

For those of you who have followed my blog, and read of the accounts of my Dad may remember how remarkable he was in his life. He had injuries from the war that plagued him all his life. However he never complained. This gentle person always saw his glass as full.

There was a situation when he was doing poorly. My niece called him and asked if she could come over and fix him lunch. Dad agreed, and she went to his house and asked what he wanted. His request was simple; he wanted some chili from a can heated up and some toast and coffee. My niece sat with him as he ate, and he was so happy. He told her how lucky he was to have a granddaughter that was loving enough to come fix him lunch, and how good it was to have such fine food. I don’t know about you, but canned chili would not be my idea of “fine food“. Still he was a simple man who believed you should fulfill your needs not your wants.

This was only one instance in which he kept his glass full. Other events would have to been evident at the last week of his life. When asked by a nurse how he felt, his answer was “a little rough today”. Surely if he could see the glass half full on his worse days, we can see the same.

I try to follow suit in my life. I should see my glass as full. He gave me a great attitude to follow. He loved God, his family and life in general. This was a man whose life was worth emulating. Always ready to give, never asking in return and being happy with his station in life.

Dad continues to lead me by example as I look back on his life, as well as the young mother amid the destruction of the fire. Life is what you make of it, and we chose; is the glass full, half full or half empty.

Wishing Everyone a Happy, Safe and Prospers New Year, and hoping your glass remains full all year.

As always,

Jan

How Far to Wheeling

I thought I would write about one of the funnies from my childhood. Well, not funny to everyone who fell into this trap.

I grew up in Triadelphia, WV a small town on the east side of Wheeling WV. It was a coal mining town and on hot muggy days you could see the coal dust hanging low over the valley to the east of town. It was a town with its own flavor and characters.

We lived next to a gas station. I won’t name the brand but…“you can trust your car to the man who wears the star“…OOPS! Dated myself there didn’t I?

Now our town was as dull as the flat head of a nail. When I was around 7 and not allowed to venture outside our yard, entertainment was to see how many different state license plates went by the house.  Another point dating me, the interstate highways had not been constructed yet. We saw tons of traffic on National Road that passed in front of our house. No wonder our house was so dusty; heavily traveled National Road in the front and the rail road behind the house. The railroad is now gone and one of the town wonders decided to buy the land and put mobile homes on that track of land behind all the houses.

The gas station next to our house would hire neighborhood guys to work the pumps. Remember full service at a gas station? We often talked with these guys and my sister ended up marrying one of them, but I’m off point. Anyway, by the time I was 14 I too would talk with the guys since they all lived within a shout of our house. One particular young guy just thought it was terrifically funny to give misdirections. Wheeling was west of Triadelphia, and you could easily walk to the outer edges of Wheeling. My friend would be happy to provide the full service that stations did back in the day and his service included giving directions. A traveler would ask “How far to Wheeling?” he would tell them they had already passed it.

He would tell them to go back out of the station, turn right, east not west, go to the first traffic light, turn right and go about “X” number of miles. Well, there were a few small towns between Triadelphia and the first traffic light. Yes, he sent them in the opposite direction.

In the evening after he was done sweeping the front of the station, he would stop by and tell us how many travelers he had given directions to that day or that week. I would ask him, “Aren’t you afraid they will come back this way and come looking for you.” He was never worried “By the time they know they went the wrong way, most likely they don’t stop again. If they do I will just I meant to say turn left.” I guess that is why I learned to read a map. I wasn’t going to take a chance of finding this type of a character in my travels.

Life might have been boring in our little town, but some of the residents had their own version of entertainment.

Happy Motoring and either have a map or a GPS!

Augie's World War II Experience

Preparing a 19 year old for war takes more than boot camp and a back pack filled with K-rations, chocolate bars, and some cigarettes. In the case of this one young American, Augie took on the responsibilities with a kind heart. But how do you prepare someone to make the ultimate sacrifice or take a life.

This happened as his platoon was combing the hillside in Nice France for enemy soldiers which, of course, they did encounter. Two German soldiers were captured and made to empty their pockets.  Augie noticed the one soldier was just as young as him and just as scared. Alw ays the gentle of heart, he put two fingers to his lips and made the international sign language for a cigarette and the young soldier nodded yes.  As the young American offered one of his “Lucky Strikes” opposing soldiers came over the hill and seeing the scene before them they opened fire.  Augie was hit in the thigh and was on the ground when they were overrun.  The enemy then marched the now captured US soldiers around a brick wall of a ruined structure and proceeding with the policy of “no prisoners”.  They then returned to the one wounded American. When another enemy soldier put a gun to Augie's head the young soldier he had tried to help protested and stopped the execution.  He gave the injured American some cigarettes, some water and a bit of food then he and the troops left.

Stranded on the field alone, wondering, praying and slipping in and out of consciousness, Augie struggled to eat what little was left him and dress his wound with sulfur powder from his pack.  At one point he woke to find a bull snorting over him. After three days laying in a ditch, pretty much helpless, he heard voices.  They were speaking English so it was a good chance they were Americans.  However, he waited until they were closer and when he saw their uniforms he called for help.  Finally, by the grace of God, his kind action towards the young enemy soldier was repaid.

Days later Augie found himself on a medical ship for transport back to the states.  He wanted to know where they were going but it was against the rules to reveal the destination.  That however did not stop him from asking every chance he could.  As it so happened there was a custodian in his ward who had a favorite song.  As he mopped the floor and changed the beds he constantly sang “Georgia on my mind”. It was not until they made port that Augie realized the song was more than a favorite; it was a message for him.  They were now in Georgia.

As he lay in the hospital Augie recalled his drill sergeant's advice who told the recruits never to write home and tell their families that they were sick. His logic was by the time the family got your letter you would be just fine and making your family worry for nothing.

Following the advise he received in boot camp, Augie decided after three months it was safe to call home.  When his sister Lizzie answered the phone he said “Hi Liz” only to have her drop the phone and run off screaming.  His father Giuseppe picked up the phone to address the caller.  Augie said “It’s me Pops”  to which his father thought it was not funny for someone to call and claim to be his son.  So his response was “You son of a Batch”.  He could not say a certain swear word; it always came out as “batch”. Finally his sister Anne got on the phone and found out that it was indeed Augie who was calling.  She told him to call back after she calmed the family down. Augie was unaware that the family had received a letter from the State of West Virginia Department of Assistance revealing that the office had “ learned with regret that their son had given his life in the service of his country.”

Needless to say joy soon over took the family and they thanked God for Augie's safe return.  With their youngest child in a hospital in Georgia, Giuseppe and Angela made one of the few trips outside their small town of Triadelphia WV to be with their son, the platoons sole survivor.

As Augie lay in a ward of wounded vets he heard the door burst open and a familiar voice came booming through the ward “Where isa my son?” Now his parents were with him. His father’s first reaction was to flip back blankets and say “You gotta you legs?” Once he was satisfied that his son was safe and whole he went off to entertain the remaining troops in the ward.

Augie eventually returned to Triadelphia, family and friends. Without the compassion he showed on the battlefield, I would not be here to tell you this story. My Dad, Augie Montalbano, was a wonderful man, and we have many stories of his love and compassion and some just plain orneriness as a child. 

Happy Veterans Day!

With Love,

Jan Montalbano O'Kane