Our Lady of the Three Arms

For some time now, a very religious boy had begun to regularly experience apparitions from the Virgin Mary. He was overjoyed that he—a modest little boy, uneducated in religious matters—had been accorded such distinction and such a gift of grace. It didn't take him long to realize that it was the Virgin Mary appearing to him. This was because he had only just converted to the common faith and didn't yet instinctively connect certain things. He could only manage to stammer "Our Father" and "Hail Mary" from pious books, and was truly proficient only in making the sign of the cross, which he often demonstrated. His entire family had recently adopted a new faith when they arrived as immigrants from a distant land. It was then that they decided to embrace a new culture and a new religion. They did what they decided with the zeal and enthusiasm typical of new converts. Therefore, only the opinions of his friends and their parents, followed by a discussion with the school catechist, convinced our boy that it was the Virgin Mary. These apparitions continued, so much so that the boy's revelations soon became the main topic of school catechesis. While the catechist, Father, who led the lessons, was initially reluctant to explore this topic, he quickly realized that this method could significantly liven up the previously boring classes. School religion lessons became more interesting and exciting by the day.

However, there was one detail in these apparitions that might initially seem disturbing: Namely, the Virgin Mary appearing to the boy apparently had three arms. Everyone agreed that this was an oddity. However, this detail, as it soon turned out, created numerous opportunities for edifying religious reflection and further engaged the children in the subject.

"I know where those three arms come from,"

the class wise guy with a known technical talent confidently remarked during one of the religion lessons.

"Paraman" (that's our young hero's name) "isn't very good at our prayers yet, and that's why the transmission to heaven is failing." Deformed information packets must be retransmitted, vision frames overlap, and when someone moves, they may appear to have three or more arms and legs. Most of the children widened their eyes at this pseudoscientific argument, but the catechist only looked at him with pity.

"Where's the technique, and where's the religion!?" he reprimanded, trying to maintain a pedagogical understanding. At this point, however, it's worth paying some attention to the wise guy, Witek. It was a fact that at that time, Paraman wasn't very adept at religious practices. It would happen, for example, that when the whole family was praying the rosary together at home, they would stop using the cheat sheet at a certain point because by the third or fourth decade, they would fall into a religious trance and think they knew everything by heart. After a while, however, they would find themselves repeating the old "Hare Krishna, Hare Rama, Hare Shiva...". Then they would quickly return to reading.

Over time, however, they became increasingly proficient and learned more and more. Our little boy made particularly rapid progress. The resolute Anielka had her own opinion about the three arms:

"If some rascals throw a stone at the Virgin Mary to break off her arm, two new ones will immediately grow, so they know she won't let herself be hurt and so they can be on their guard!"

she said with increasing emphasis. The catechist nodded approvingly at this explanation. He liked this reasoning. Nevertheless, he decided to direct the children's thinking in even more pious directions:

"Dear children," he began, "the number three isn't just any number in our religion. What should it remind us of?

" "The Holy Trinity!" half the class shouted.

"Very good!

" "Did the Virgin Mary disguise herself as the Holy Trinity?" Agata blurted out.

"Well, let's not exaggerate. That's not what I meant," the priest replied, momentarily taken aback. "

These three arms could simply be an allusion to the Holy Trinity, which is, after all, close to the Virgin Mary." Moreover, the three arms of the Virgin Mary can symbolize the inseparability, even indivisibility, of the Virgin Mary and the Holy Trinity," he triumphed. However, he deliberately emphasized the word "can." Our catechist may not have been an eagle at the seminary, but long years of priestly practice had already made him a seasoned clergyman. He knew that in a new situation, drawing too far-reaching and too categorical conclusions, especially if they were not related to the suggestions of his superiors, could lead astray and even get him into trouble.

"And what is that red circle in the middle of the forehead?" asked the curious Alice, pointing at the blackboard. In subsequent catechesis sessions, the boy would describe his revelations, drawing on the blackboard what he had previously seen. After each apparition, he added further details he could remember. So that the image of the Three-Armed Virgin Mary, an increasingly detailed image, remained constantly before the students' eyes. Only the lower part of the figure of the Virgin Mary was surrounded by a small opaque cloud, obscuring this part of the figure.

"It's a ruby ​​stone," the priest replied without hesitation. "Usually, in images, it's the prominent part of a crown. Here we have Our Lady without a crown, which perhaps our Paraman hasn't noticed yet and hasn't drawn. But," after a moment of reflection, he added, "It could also mean that Our Lady doesn't want to display pomp, but merely signal the existence of a crown as a symbol of power. A crown without a crown...

" he wanted to continue, but finally bit his tongue, fearing he might be speculating too much.

Finally, it happened that during one of the apparitions, Our Lady of the Three Arms spoke. It wasn't a significant message. She merely said, "You are a man" (although at first the boy understood that she had said, "I am a man!"). After a moment, she added, "Don't give up!" and disappeared. It's perhaps worth noting that neither the catechist, nor the parents, nor the teaching staff ever had any doubts about our Paraman's boyish nature. During recess, for example, he and other boys would often run up to unsuspecting girls. They would all simultaneously pull their hair and then quickly run away. These and other typical boyish pranks, committed regularly but without significant aggression, clearly indicated the purity of our boy's orientation. The catechist, moreover, believed and insisted that the words of the Virgin Mary should be understood solely and exclusively in their spiritual meaning: "You are a man" means "be brave," courageously face the wickedness of this world, help the weak, and courageously defend centuries-old traditions. In turn, "don't give in" means don't succumb to the temptations of the modern world, to an easy but sinful life. I think the reader will agree that this time the priest's interpretation was exceptionally clear and to the point.

Intuition told Paraman that the words he had recently received were only the prelude to a more significant message. Therefore, he intensified his efforts to further his knowledge of the faith and religious practices, so that in a short time he had learned most of the catechism, memorized many prayers and hymns, learned the principles of the liturgy, and even began reading some of the saints' histories. When the same Three-Armed Virgin Mary appeared to him the next time, he felt more confident and was the first to speak:

"Hail, Immaculate, Mother of the Holy Rosary, I am unworthy of you, but may I be granted the grace to know your words." To this, Our Lady replied:

"You must be confusing me with someone else! I am the one of the sacred cows!"

Our Paraman was overjoyed that this time he had probably received a serious, yet very mysterious-sounding message. He memorized it carefully, so he could proudly present it in religion class the next day...

Our catechist came from a poor rural family and from his youth was instilled with the discipline of early rising and hard physical labor on the farm. As a young boy, he often grazed cows. This led to a deep respect, even reverence, for simple agricultural work. This did not change after entering the seminary and then after his ordination. He never hid his origins, preferring folk common sense to intellectual discourse—"peasant reason," he often said. At the seminary, he often experienced patronizing treatment from the more intellectually sophisticated seminarians. He felt they treated him with superiority. He felt worst in the company of those alumni who came from families where priestly traditions had been cultivated and passed down from father to son for generations. They were the most self-righteous, confident in their careers. They often made him painfully aware that he was inferior.

When our priest heard Paraman's account, an old grudge from his youth resurfaced. Clearly moved, so much so that the children were initially a little frightened, he began to speak:

"Listen, kids! People these days are so arrogant and conceited. They see someone poorly dressed, or with a thankless and underpaid job, and they immediately look down on them. They have no respect for hard

physical labor. They arrive in expensive cars right up to the church doors, cram into the front rows of pews, leer at everyone during services; and they think they've got God by the feet and have all of Heaven in their pocket.

But my dears," he pontificated, "those who think they've succeeded and are assured of heavenly recognition because they're so talented and perfect are the first to miscalculate in the afterlife." Because the Lord Jesus,

and especially the Mother of God, often prefer the company of a humble, poor man, quietly fulfilling his duties. They even prefer to fix their gaze on some wretched animal rather than look at those arrogant faces.

Silence fell, as the children no longer wanted to annoy the catechist with prying questions that day. Moreover, the reasoning was abundantly clear.

"Look at our Paraman," the priest added after a moment. "Poor, modest, hardworking, he helps his parents with the farmyard. And even though he has only just learned about our faith, the Mother of God has already placed her trust in him. Think about it, why?"

Remembering that during his last apparition, the Mother of God had made it clear that flowery titles were not appropriate, the next time the boy only greeted him modestly. He added

only a few more words regarding his recent progress in religion. After a moment, he heard another message:

"You will explore the Faith of the Fathers and teach it to others!"

This was said with a clear emphasis on the word "fathers." At the same time, Paraman noticed that the Virgin Mary... seemed to be standing on one leg. For a moment, the mist surrounding the lower part of her figure cleared, and that was how it looked. Perhaps

she had been standing like that all along? However, he didn't dwell on it any longer, as he was already consumed by the desire to analyze what he had heard. The astute Paraman guessed that these "Fathers" (in the plural) were the key to

understanding the entire message. "I have one father in my family," he mused, "but we sometimes call a catechist "father." That makes two. Or does anyone else count here?... Damn, I almost forgot the most important thing: there's also this Father, or

God the Holy Father. That makes three in all!"

His little boyish mind couldn't think of anything more.

The next day at school, the catechist praised Paraman for his inquisitiveness, corrected some inconsistencies, and began to explain to the whole class

as clearly as possible which fathers he was referring to and what Our Lady had urged Paraman to do yesterday:

- I have already said that such holy words should be understood primarily in a spiritual sense. Paraman's fathers in this spiritual sense, at least since he accepted our

faith, are the Fathers of the Church. He explained slowly

so the children wouldn't get lost in his argument. "So, the most important saints, especially Saint Augustine and Saint Thomas Aquinas... Those two are enough for today... But my dears," he paused to allow the children to concentrate, "don't think that getting to know

Saint Augustine's works is like reading "The Coot from the Ida" before a Polish lesson, or even completing a series of retreats led by our reverend Dominican father." The monk the catechist mentioned was known for preaching with his eyes closed, during which the faithful would repeatedly stand up because it seemed the end was over and it was time to profess their faith. But that was just a dash.

"My children," he continued, "exploring Saint Augustine's thoughts can be a lifelong challenge." When we were studying Augustine in our third year of seminary, we would wake up

at three a.m. every day to participate, even before the lectures, in numerous prayers and devotions, with the intention of understanding something. I myself, I must admit—here he allowed himself to be intimate—felt a growing emptiness in my mind. But there were those—he emphasized immediately, raising a finger—

who understood a great deal of it, recognizable by their distinctive gait. These, on the other hand, unfortunately, were unable to convey this knowledge to others.

The catechist further suggested that perhaps Paraman would be the chosen one in the future, one who would be able not only to understand the teachings of the Church Fathers but also to effectively pass them on. Perhaps, in the future, he would also courageously oppose

the many newfangled tendencies with the true faith of the Fathers.

"For now, one way or another, we must continue to learn the catechism, read the lives of the saints, and be diligent in other classes at school," he concluded.

During subsequent apparitions, the Blessed Virgin Mary said nothing to Paraman, merely gazing at him with increasing intensity. Instead, the boy reported on his current progress in religion

and other school subjects. These apparitions became increasingly brief. Finally, the day came and the apparition, when Paraman immediately realized that the Blessed Virgin Mary was already bidding him farewell and that he was seeing her

for the last time. The Blessed Virgin Mary waved at him first with her hand, then the second, and finally the third. The waving of the third hand was essentially a wave from top to bottom, as if to say,

"I guess it's not worth saying anything to you anymore!" Such a gesture further saddened our boy. But what could he do? Paraman knew he had to accept this, be brave, and continue consistently doing what he had been doing until now: that is, above all, learning.

And that's essentially the end of this story...

But if the sensitive reader feels embittered or confused by this ending,

they should kindly consider that God's plans do not follow paths marked by human logic. Moreover, the ancients had already observed that the gods most readily

chose simple, uneducated people as their messengers and emissaries, often completely unaware of what was happening in the world around them. At the same time, they usually refrain from engaging scholars of holy books or in-depth experts in religious doctrines and practices, that is, those people who, it would seem to us,

should be most on friendly terms with these gods.

Similarly, our Paraman experienced the greatest graces at a time when he didn't really know "what" and "what."

So it has been for centuries! Although... actually... no one knows why.