‘The Fires of Deliverance’

 

Those days are terrible to remember,

The days when the servants of Lucifer

Persecuted the remnant of the Godly

And anyone else with a shred of sanity.

‘Many are the sorrows of the righteous,

But the Lord will deliver him from them all’ –

So it happened here with us at the South.

I the sinner, Monk Maximus, testify to this.

 

By twenty thirty-one, the Christians

And all others friendly toward tradition

Were driven into ghettos by mob thuggery,

Medical mandates, and government and business wokery.

But this was not enough for the satanic

Techno-fascists who controlled Washington City

And the State capitals:  The filthy dogs

Forestalling Progress had to be put down.

 

In the aforesaid year, the President,

Buttigieg – may posterity never forget

The enormity of the evil committed,

Nor shrink from praying for mercy for a soul so corrupted –

Issued his Emergency Executive Order

To eliminate all threats to future happiness:

To attain the next stage of Evolution,

The opponents of Reason and Science

Had to be removed from history, he declared.

 

By the Order he swiftly and solemnly signed,

Every adult and child was legalized

To kill any ‘retrogressive elements’

Who refused to accept the rational settlement.

The Enlightened Ones in every State

Met the news with diabolical glee,

And taking up whatever arms they had at hand,

Knives and hammers, guns and gasoline,

They hurried to the ghettos to murder

For the sake of enhancing the common good.

 

There was a flight to the wilderness;

Our little Orthodox monastic presence

Here in Monteagle, Tennessee, was quickly filled

With refugees fleeing the armed evangels.

The respite they had gained was short-lived,

As the marauders were soon within sight from our gates.

Into the church!  No room to spare but no one left out.

The abbot Father Chad with the other priests

Encouraged the faithful, and rallied us

To meet death unafraid.  Confessions were heard,

Baptisms performed, Communion received.

 

As their discordant shouts and other noises grew louder,

We fell before the icon of the Most-Pure Mother,

Whose name is ‘The Joy of All Who Sorrow’,

And asked that, God willing, we would see tomorrow:

 

‘We have no other help, we have no other hope,

Apart from thee, O sovereign Lady.

Come to our help! We hope in thee

And in thee we glory.

Let us not be confounded,

For we are thy servants!’

As we prayed, a rumbling was heard in the sky,

Which grew so loud that it stopped the commotion nearby.

Then suddenly, with no forewarning, streams of fire

Shot down from the heavens, engulfing entire

The assailants bearing down upon us.

Our eyes could hardly bear the light, which contrasted

So sharply with both the heavy darkness outside

And the dim candlelight shining around us within.

But as quickly as it all had begun,

The fire and thunder just as quickly faded.

 

Father Chad, finding voice, ordered the doors unlocked

And quickly stepped outside to gauge our lot.

Not an enemy was left standing;

All had been reduced to cinders smoking.

He re-entered, grave and silent.  But then he beamed,

And told us to rejoice, for our prayers

For deliverance had been heard.  We spent

The remainder of the night offering

Hymns of thanksgiving to the Theotokos

And to her Son and our God, Jesus Christ.

 

When daylight came again, the men were enlisted

To gather the remains of the fire-blasted

And bury them on the hillside fronting the forest.

We found that they had become like stones of the hardest,

And with much effort of hands, backs, and barrows,

Committed them to the earth with prayers for their forgiveness.

Back at the monastery refectory,

We were made aware of more distant happenings.

The miraculous fire had not occurred only here:

Many other places had witnessed it besides,

With the same results.  President Pete

Was one of the most prominent ones felled by it.

The cumulative effects of these events

Were the end of the persecution

And of Abe Lincoln’s forced collective.

 

For days and weeks the evil men who survived

Sat stupefied, but when they revived,

They had no desire to continue the Gnostic

Project the New England Yankees thought salvific.

The natural cultural forces latent

In the States and regions took over from there.

Several new confederations were formed –

‘Out of one, many’ – the old motto reversed.

 

Glory to God, our Dixieland is one of them.

There is much to do, but at least one will not be condemned

For saying a kind word about Jefferson or Lee,

And the surviving statues, books, and paintings

Of the authentic Southern past stand in public sight

Once again without dishonor or fear of desecration.

Here at our Monteagle monastery,

The Joy of All Who Sorrow icon

Has become an object of reverence

For all Southrons, and a great pilgrimage

And festal celebration are held every year

In honor of the miracle of deliverance

Granted to so many through our Panaghia.

And by the prayers of the same Ever-Virgin Mary,

The South will grow and abound forever in the Grace of God,

The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost – Amen!

--

Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!

Anathema to the Union!