In the tenth century, during his early patriarchal visits, Pope Makar ElShabrawy the 59th pope announced that he would pass by his native village Shobra Kebala in Kwessna. The news was also delivered to his mother that he would visit her as well.
When the Pope entered the village with the bishops and priests and headed to his mother’s home, he found her weaving with tears in her eyes. Expecting a warm welcome, the Pope stood watching his mother who only kept crying as she continued weaving. Ashamed of her attitude and thinking that she didn’t recognize him, he asked, “Don’t you recognize me Mother? I’m your son.”
She replied, “I do son, but you don’t know what you’ve become. You’re happy because of your position but my grief over you is great. I would have preferred to see you in a coffin instead of being happy with the vainglory. Don’t look to what you have achieved but cry and be sad for you’re now liable for all the sins of those who praise you.”
The Pope and his crowd paused and tears filled their eyes. These words were forever present in the Pope’s mind.
O’Lord, make sour vainglory for me.
O’Lord teach me not to be overwhelmed with people’s praise or criticism,
But only to be occupied by each person’s salvation.
When Your Spirit works in me, I would willingly die for anyone.
O’ Lord, may I die that all would live.
Grand me to carry Your Cross so that all be blessed by Your Resurrection.
Prepare my soul to meet You.
Grant me faithfulness in the earthly little
So that I enjoy the eternal greatness.
An Extra Feast Please?
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