FRIDAY FUNNY

Yesterday at supper Ivy suddenly asked me when exactly was the night of the Ghost of Midnight Chow(sic). Of course I replied, "WHAT???" It turns out that, several years ago, while bored, Evan concocted some sort of story about the Ghost of Midnight Chow and Ivy had thought it was a real holiday. Wanting to share his widespread following, I contacted Evan, who denied having spread the nasty rumor. After careful consideration, he researched his topic, and this is what he came up with (tongue firmly in cheek):


For Ivy,

The Ghost of Midnight Xioa arrives on the Eve of the Forenight of the Great Inquisitional Purge at precisely 11:59.

The Story of Midnight Xioa is very complicated. He was born in Madrid as Solomon Sanderson Piltdown to Jewish parents on May 5, 1460. He spent his early years working in the market, selling the olive oil that his grandparents sent from Greece. Now this olive oil was famous for working miracles. People would bake their food with it when they wished to cure an illness. The reason this olive oil worked miracles for those who had true faith was because the olive garden that Grandma and Grandpa Piltdown ran originated with a single olive from the bush which Jesus prayed by on the Mount of Olives. Solomon was a good worker, but he was often caught talking to the customers about the story of the olives more than actually selling them.

When he turned 12, his parents gave him money to visit his parents in Greece. On his way, after many months of travel, passing through what is now Albania, he stopped at the Ardennes Monastery. Here is a link to some pictures of the monastery http://www.galenfrysinger.com/berat_albania.htm. When he told Archimandrite (Abbot) Phonius about his journey, he became very quiet and began to weep. Confused, Solomon asked the holy man what was wrong. Phonius replied, "This story is yours, my son, but it is not over yet. The Lord has granted me, humble and unworthy as I am, a vision. In a dream, Saint Catherine the Great came to me and said, 'Phonius, you will meet a young man in three years time who will roam the earth until all time. He will herald the destruction of many souls. Pray for him.' Also, she told me that I would die within a week of meeting you."

Horrified, Solomon cried out, "But sir, I am still young, and I am seeking the true story of the Mountain. How can I bring destruction?"

"My son," the Archimandrite replied, "you do not bring destruction, but remembrance. It will be your eternal life to remind the world of the horrors that are to come. And of my death, I weep for joy. The Lord hath granted me to know the day of my death, so I can prepare myself for our meeting."

"But what is this great destruction I bring?" asked Solomon, his heart shaking.

"You do not bring it, but must remember it. Those who claim to serve the Lord will take the lives of others into their own hands, cursing themselves forever and destroying many lives. It is now time for Compline (evening prayer service--very beautiful), let us go into the chapel of St. Mary."

The Archimandrite died within the week, as predicted. Deeply moved by their conversation, Solomon stayed at the monastery and devoted his life to prayer, pleading with God to free him from his burden. After three years, he was sent into the far east to establish a mission in China. When he arrived in Kashgar, the far western edge of China, he was captured by a group of local militia. Taken to the city, he remained in prison for many months. However, this prison cell reminded him of his cell back at the monastery and only encouraged his prayers. Struck by his resilience after 10 months of bread, water, and a hard stone floor, the Chinese officials asked him, "What manner of man are you that you spend endless days without sleep, stay silent in the midst of torture, and always act as though you owed us something, even though you are our prisoner?"

Speaking in their own language, he said, "I have no mind nor no heart but to beg relief of myself. I cannot blame anyone for what they do when I am the greatest of sinners. That is all I have to say."

Struck by this, they gave him the name Xiao, released him, gave him a horse and food for many months of travel, then sent him on his way. Reluctantly, for he still wished to fulfill his original mission, he returned to Ardennes and thence went to Mount Athos. He spent one full year there, living isolated, very sorrowful and repentant, crying out constantly for God to order him in another way. One night, as he prayed, Saint Catherine appeared and spoke to him. "Solomon Xiao," she said, "you must go to Spain this day to undertake your work for the Lord." With great joy, he told his abbot the vision and began his journey back to his homeland.

The year he arrived, 1478, Pope Sextus IV had given his permission to Ferdinand and Isabella to begin the Inquisition. Unlike previous Inquisitions, this was entirely under the royal authority and was not supervised by the Pope. Particularly close to Solomon's heart, the Inquisition pursued converts from Judaism to Christianity and Greeks in Siciliy and Italy. As he had recently arrived in Spain from Greece, he was immediately arrested and brought before the jury of clergy who would decide his case. The day before his trial, he was placed on a rack for the first four hours of the day, hung by his big toes for the next four, dragged behind a horse for the next four, then the process was repeated. Yet, when he arrived in court, his face seemed to be shining and he stood erect before them.

The high judge arose and, with a stern face spoke, "You are accused of high blasphemy against God and the Holy See. You are a Jew, a heretic, and the highest of sinners. You shall be sentenced to die if you cannot defend yourself against these accusations. What have you to say?"

Solomon Xiao crossed himself three times, bowing low to the floor with each sign, prayed the Lord's Prayer, and began, "By birth I am a Jew; I do not deny it. One cannot affect the nature of his birth, nor would I wish it if I could. I stand in the land of my birth and will not deny my heritage. I am accused of Heresy, against which I cannot argue. I do not know the arguments of Theologians. I cannot read. I cannot defend myself academically, but can look only into my own heart. Thus, I turn to the third accusation: I am accused of being the worst of sinners. My friend, I thank you for your depth of insight. For many years I have prayed unto the Lord and cried out, 'I am the sinner of sinners, Lord hear my prayer and strip me of my pride and lies,' and now I see that he has answered my prayer, for I stand bare and unhidden before you and the world. In these things, if I deserve to die, let it be so. I ask only one favor, forgive me and pray to God for my soul."

Five minutes passed, and passed again before the judge could speak. Gathering himself, he turned to the audience and jury. "As you can see," he said softly, "this man is humble. He does not speak highly of himself and has no pride. He is more like unto our Saviour than any in this room in this. Yet, he does not deny the accusations. According to the law and Holy order, we must purge every heretic in this land." Turning to Xiao, he spoke thus, "My brother, any sins that I commit against you, forgive me all. I act upon the order of divinity and not of my own making. A final time I must ask--I must beg--will you renounce your former life and turn to God?"

Xiao hung his head and did not answer. In sadness and with tears of sorrow, the priest-judge asked for a sword. Walking to Xiao, he said, "I myself will do this act, and take the sin upon myself, that no other may bear it. Forgive me." Then he plunged the sword through himself and Xiao in one stroke, then fell to the ground next to him. Xiao, though pierced through the heart, looked upon the body of the judge, began weeping, then slowly walked out the door. One minute later, the clock struck midnight.

Though he was assumed dead, Xiao appeared the following year to two young girls in the city who had been in the crowd. They describe the occurrence in their joint writing, The Appearance at Midnight of Solomon Xiao: "Sitting upon the curb, eating the leavings of wealthy men, we turned and saw the man of the year before. He sat on the walk between us, weeping. We asked him what he was and why he was here, he spoke thus, 'I am sent to instruct you in the way of remembrance. You must strive to open the way of safety for those who are pursued by evil.' He then arose and walked into the air" (49). This first sighting of Midnight Xiao was not the last. Each year, upon the night of his death, precisely at 11:59, he appears to two young girls to remind them of the Inquisition and direct them how to act. If the children show no memory of the past at all, he provides horrific images of torture and sin from the Inquisition and begs them to remember. His visits last no more than one minute, but are remembered for life.

Let us all remember the death of Midnight Xiao and those sinned against in those sad times.

-Evan Chastain
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