Two Astounding Archeological Discoveries

Bones confirmed as St Paul's remains
Monday, 29 June 2009
The first scientific test on what is believed to be the remains of the Apostle Paul appears to confirm that they are genuine, the pope said.
It was the second major discovery concerning St Paul announced by the Vatican in as many days.
On Saturday, the Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano announced the discovery of a fresco inside another tomb depicting St Paul, which Vatican officials said represented the oldest known icon of the apostle.
The pope said archaeologists recently unearthed and opened the white marble sarcophagus located under the Basilica of St Paul's Outside the Walls in Rome, which for some 2,000 years has been believed by the faithful to be the tomb of St Paul.
He said scientists had conducted carbon dating tests on bone fragments found inside the sarcophagus and confirmed that they date from the first or second century.
"This seems to confirm the unanimous and uncontested tradition that they are the mortal remains of the Apostle Paul," he said, announcing the findings at a service in the basilica to mark the end of the Vatican's Paoline year, in honour of the apostle.
Paul and Peter are the two main figures known for spreading the Christian faith after the death of Christ
According to tradition, St Paul, also known as the apostle of the Gentiles, was beheaded in Rome in the 1st century during the persecution of early Christians by Roman emperors. Popular belief holds that bone fragments from his head are in another Rome basilica, St John Lateran, with his other remains inside the sarcophagus.
The pope said that when archaeologists opened the sarcophagus, they discovered alongside the bone fragments some grains of incense, a "precious" piece of purple linen with gold sequins and a blue fabric with linen filaments.
On Saturday, the Vatican newspaper announced that a round fresco edged in gold featuring the emaciated face of St Paul had been discovered in excavations of the tombs of St Tecla in Rome. It was believed to have been dated from the end of the fourth century, making it the oldest known icon of St Paul, meaning it was an image designed for prayer, not just art, L'Osservatore Romano said.
Monsignor Gianfranco Ravasi, president of the Vatican's culture department, said the discovery was an "extraordinary event" that was an "eloquent testimony" to the Christianity of the first centuries.
Vatican archaeologists in 2002 began excavating the 8-foot long tomb of St Paul, which dates from at least AD 390 and was buried under the basilica's main altar. The decision to unearth it was made after pilgrims who came to Rome during the Roman Catholic Church's 2000 Jubilee year expressed disappointment at finding that the saint's tomb - buried under layers of plaster and further hidden by an iron grate - could not be visited or touched.
The top of the coffin has small openings - subsequently covered with mortar - because in ancient times Christians would insert offerings or try to touch the remains.
The basilica stands at the site of two 4th-century churches - including one destroyed by a fire in 1823 that had left the tomb visible, first above ground and later in a crypt. After the fire, the crypt was filled with earth and covered by a new altar. A slab of cracked marble with the words "Paul apostle martyr" in Latin was also found embedded in the floor above the tomb.
Today is the feast of Saints Peter and Paul, a major feast day for the Roman Catholic Church, during which the pope will bestow a woollen pallium, or scarf, on all the new archbishops he has recently named.

Lasers uncover first icons of Sts. Peter and Paul

AP Photo/Pier Paolo Cito
June 22, 2010: ROME — The earliest known icons of the Apostles Peter and Paul have been discovered in a catacomb under an eight-story modern office building in a working-class neighborhood of Rome, Vatican officials said Tuesday.
The images, which date from the second half of the 4th century, were discovered on the ceiling of a tomb that also includes the earliest known images of the apostles John and Andrew. They were uncovered using a new laser technique that allowed restorers to burn off centuries of thick white calcium carbonate deposits without damaging the dark colors of the original paintings underneath.
The paintings adorn what is believed to be the tomb of a Roman noblewoman in the Santa Tecla catacomb and represent some of the earliest evidence of devotion to the apostles in early Christianity, Vatican officials said in opening up the tomb to the media for the first time.
Last June, the Vatican announced the discovery of the icon of Paul — timed to coincide with the end of the Vatican's Pauline year. At the time, Pope Benedict XVI also announced that tests on bone fragments long attributed to Paul "seemed to confirm" that they did indeed belong to the Roman Catholic saint.
On Tuesday, Vatican archaeologists announced that the image of Paul discovered last year was not found in isolation, but was rather part of a square ceiling painting that also included icons of three other apostles - Peter, John and Andrew - surrounding an image of Christ as the Good Shepherd.
"These are the first images of the apostles," said Fabrizio Bisconti, the superintendent of archaeology for the catacombs, which are maintained by the Vatican's Pontifical Commission of Sacred Archaeology.
The Vatican office oversaw and paid for the two-year, euro60,000 restoration effort, which for the first time used lasers to restore frescoes and paintings in catacombs. The damp, musty air of underground catacombs makes preservation of paintings particularly difficult and restoration problematic.
In this case, the small burial chamber at the end of the catacomb was completely encased in centimeters (inches) of white calcium carbonate, which under previous restoration techniques would have just been scraped away by hand. That technique, though would have left a filmy layer on top so as to not damage the paintings underneath.
Using the laser, restorers were able to sear off all the layers of calcium that had been bound onto the painting because the laser beam stopped burning at the white of the calcium deposits, which when chipped off left the brilliant darker colors underneath it unscathed, said Barbara Mazzei, the chief restorer.

On the Miracles In My Life

mir·a·cle
Pronunciation: \mir-i-kəl\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Late Latin miraculum, from Latin, a wonder, marvel, from mirari to wonder at
Date: 12th century
1 : an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs

These are the MIRACLES that have occurred in my life - the examples of Divine Intervention that go beyond the ordinary.
1. My husband. Despite the day to day drudgery of raising a family, working, maintaining a household; the frustrations of living with another person who (gasp) doesn’t think always exactly like me; the tendency to take one another for granted…. Despite all of what is “marriage” in the modern world, I have to admit that my husband is the result of a miracle in my life. God undeniably brought us together. I was a newly-graduated physical therapist living in Washington State, Rob was a newly-graduated engineer living in the upper peninsula of Michigan. I got a tax return (my first tax return from my first “real” job), and wanted to buy a telescope with it. My father talked me into buying a computer. I was literally on the internet for the FIRST TIME, when I stumbled one evening upon (through random clicking of links) the message of a “yooper”, who wanted information about moving out West. I remember he said that he and a buddy of his wanted to move West; the mountains in North Idaho were one of his favorite places on the planet. They were MY favorite, too. I felt an enormous compulsion to reply to this message for some reason. I HAD to. A friend had come over so we could go out to a movie, and I remember saying “I can’t go yet. I HAVE to reply to this message”. I HAD TO. And so I did. We began writing back and forth. This eventually led to phone calls, and I found myself talking on the phone for 8 hours at a time to this perfect stranger half a country away. It astounds me now that we had that much to talk about. After several months, Rob agreed to fly out to meet me. The first thing he insisted on doing was meeting my parents. That weekend we went camping, to the park, to the movies. The next month, I flew out to meet him and his family. By our third date, Rob had proposed, and planned to move out west. I am NOT a spontaneous person. I am not a risk taker. And yet here I was agreeing to marry a man I had spent only days with physically. We were married a year later. There are so many variables that could have been minutely different, and we never would’ve met. So many random decisions that would’ve precluded this life that I have now with my husband, the family we have made. And yet, here we are. I often tease Rob that he was SUPPOSED to be a telescope. Yet God knew that what I really needed was a husband. And I trust that He knows what He’s doing.



2. My Boys. Rob and I tried for five long, agonizing years to start our family after we were married. After a year and a half , I realized that something must be wrong, and we saw a doctor. After exhausting his “tricks”, we were sent to a fertility specialist two hours a way. There we started down the road that so many infertile couples journey: surgery, tests, fertility drugs, artificial insemination. Yet nothing worked, and the stress on our marriage was immeasureable – financially, emotionally. After three and a half years, we were referred to a reproductive endocrinologist in a town four hours away, to begin IVF. We had heard good things about this doctor, and were assured that we would finally become the parents we had dreamed of being. The doctor told us that our chances were excellent. Our first round of IVF started without a hitch, and 11 healthy eggs were harvested. The embryologist then injected Rob’s sperm into those healthy eggs, and we waited patiently to hear about how many of our “babies” grew. No one called at the appointed time. Hours later – still no call. Eventually, we heard that not a single one of those eggs fertilized. It was a scenario that had never happened before in any of the specialist’s knowledge – the procedure normally has a 75%-80% successful fertilization rate. The embryologist was highly skilled, one of the best in the country, and yet our trial had failed more miserably than any in history. We were devastated. I remember Rob wondering whether our genetics were compatible. We assumed (although the fertility clinic denied it adamantly) that some mistake HAD to have been made on their part, because this just didn’t happen. Not only had we failed to achieve a pregnancy, but we had failed utterly. Eventually, we bought two more rounds of IVF, and decided to try again. The second attempt, three embryos fertilized, and we opted to use all three. When Rob got a job offer near his parents, we jumped at the chance, assuming that triplets were on the way and that we would need help. Before the move was complete, though, we lost the pregnancy. Heartbreak again. After moving to Michigan, Rob insisted that we have a new beginning. He was never in favor of fertility treatments, but did not want to adopt, either. That left us nowhere, if we wanted to be parents. I prayed incessantly, anguished over this. I felt so strongly called to be a mother, and yet it seemed the likelihood of that happening was quickly deteriorating. We had one more IVF attempt paid for, though, and it was our last, dim hope. I would fly back to Spokane to the fertility clinic as soon as my period started and I could start the fertility drugs. My period never came. I was furious at my body for ruining this one last chance at motherhood. In tears, I called my sister, who suggested that I take a prenancy test.  Was she KIDDING?  After all I'd been through?  I did what she said though... bought the test at the dollar store,  because I wasn't about to waste another cent on those stupid, disappointing tests that had always been negative.  This time, however... there was the faintest of second lines.  Every other test I'd ever taken had been an undeniable "negative".  I called Rob into the bathroom, asked him what he saw on the stick.  "A line".  Was there two?  Well, maybe.  We'd never had a maybe before.  That day I called the fertility clinic and told them that I wasn’t able to start the drugs “on time”, and requested a pregnancy test.  The results? Pregnant. Unbelievable.  The nurse, when she called with the results, told me she wouldn't have ordered a pregnancy test in our case, because she knew the heartbreak we'd been through, and knew it wasn't a possibility.  But I had requested it, and here we were.  Pregnant.  Without fertility drugs, without the help of medical science. God had allowed us to fail miserably at everything MAN and SCIENCE knew how to do, to show us His glory. We couldn’t do it, but God could. I firmly believe that. As I had already bought my plane ticket, I ended up flying out to Spokane anyway, and seeing the endocrinologist. He did our ultrasound, and asked “did anyone tell you that this pregnancy was unusual?” I panicked immediately. WHAT WAS WRONG?? He showed me the baby, it’s sac, it’s heartbeat. Thank God. The baby was allright. Then he said “and here’s the OTHER baby. You’re having identical twins!” We were astounded and thrilled beyond belief. God is so good!!! The doctor kept saying “Wow! I didn’t do this one? You did it yourselves?” The doctor might have thought that “we” did it ourselves, but we knew better. It was Divine intervention. We COULDN’T do it ourselves. God blessed us on HIS time, through His power – not through our own. We had to fail, science had to fail, man had to fail – utterly and completely, so that His glory could shine through. As if to leave no doubt about the nature of this amazing gift God had blessed us with, the boys were born on my birthday. Happy Birthday to me, from God. I get to be a mom.

3. Quinn’s Kidney. We knew before the boys were born that there was water on their kidneys. It was a difficult pregnancy, I had gone into labor at 22 weeks, and was on bedrest alternately at home and in the hospital for the remaining 12 weeks of the pregnancy until the boys were finally born 6 weeks premature. We were told not to worry about the boys’ kidneys – they wanted me “calm” to keep the contractions under control, and assured me that by the time they were born, the kidneys would be normal. In the NICU, however, the hydronephrosis was found to persist, and both boys ended up getting kidney infections – extremely dangerous for preemies. There was talk of flying them to Ann Arbor for emergency surgery, but the nephrologists eventually thought we should wait until they were big enough to handle such major surgery. We soon found out that each boy had a “dead” kidney, and would need it removed. That was scheduled soon after their first birthday. The surgeries were long (5 hours each) but successful. Colby’s other kidney was fine, but Quinn’s remaining kidney was still had grade IV-V reflux (the same as the kidney that Colby had removed). He continued on daily antibiotics, and we were told he would need an additional surgery when older to correct the problem. If the reflux persisted uncorrected, he would most likely need a kidney transplant. For another year we watched Quinn closely, had regular tests to assess the damage to his remaining kidney, gave him daily medication. When visiting my parents one spring, however, my mother asked if we could have Quinn anointed at church. I was skeptical, but thought there was no reason not to. The priest called us up during the service – Rob holding Quinn (who was fussing and crying, and had spent the first half of the service in the narthex so as to not disrupt everyone else), my parents, Colby and I, and my sister’s family. We were asked to lay our hands on Quinn as the priest anointed him with oil and began praying. It was no ordinary prayer. Father Jack prayed under his breath, but I could tell it was not English he was speaking – he was praying in tongues. Quinn, surprisingly, fell immediately into a deep heavy sleep in Rob’s arms. He didn’t awaken for the entire rest of the service. Rob leaned over to me and said “something happened. I could feel it. He just went so instantly calm.” After the service, my normally reserved husband went up to Father Jack THREE TIMES to thank him, and to tell him that he knew “something happened” during the anointing. I, however, remained hopeful, but wasn’t counting on anything concrete. A month later, we were back in Michigan, and it was time to have Quinn’s annual kidney study done at a hospital two hours away. The doctor started the procedure, and then asked me “What am I looking for again?” I told her grade V reflux. She was quiet. An hour later, she said “Well, I don’t see anything.” Nothing? Not at all???? “There’s no reflux here.” He was healed. Completely. I remember calling my mom, and she started crying. “It’s a miracle!” I have the xrays from before and after, which I keep up in my closet as physical proof (mostly to myself) of this miracle. A follow up visit to our nephrologists downstate confirmed the healing. I remember asking him “does this happen? Can grade V reflux just GO AWAY on it’s own, within a month?” He said “Well, it DID happen, so it must be possible.” That’s all he would say on the matter. Whenever I recount Quinn’s kidney history to other doctor’s now, they always ask me when his corrective surgery was done. I told them never. He was healed. They invariably are shocked that the healing occurred without surgery, which reaffirms my conviction yet again that God is good and works extraordinarily in our lives.

4. Reagan’s Prophecy. I felt enormously blessed by the gift of our sons, their miraculous entrance into our lives. The fear of never being a mom was so tangible, that I gave thanks to God outloud every day that He honored me with my boys. I couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that someone was MISSING. We weren’t complete yet. I felt a little greedy about that. God had already granted me a miracle. And I wanted more??? I had always wanted four children. Rob, however, was perfectly content (or overwhelmed) by our two rambunctious boys. He didn’t want more. This again caused tension between us. I KNEW someone was supposed to be there, and felt like God was telling us that we weren’t done. Rob was convinced it was my biological clock speaking and not the Lord of Hosts. I knew I wanted four kids, but I felt like we were only missing ONE – that, to me, was proof that my “feeling” wasn’t of my own origin. Anyways. When the boys were two and a half, I was at work one day when a truly amazing thing happened. I was doing therapy with a 10 year old autistic boy, when he suddenly stopped, looked at me, and said “Monica, who’s going to be my therapist when you have the baby?” I was shocked, but said “I’m not having a baby. You don’t have to worry about that.” He was insistent, though, and very worried about who would be his therapist when the baby arrived. I tried to divert the conversation, thinking it inappropriate. He would not be diverted. “Matthew, I’m not having a baby.” “Yes you are,” he replied. “It’s a girl. Monica Jr. She’s standing there waving at me! See? She looks like you, and she’ll be born in November.” This was September when all of this occurred – further proof that this young man was just being silly. He would not let up the entire hour, no matter how many times I tried to change the subject. He was so INSISTENT, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being spoken to by more than a 10 year old boy. The next morning, I gave in and took a pregnancy test. I was, indeed, pregnant. And, if Matthew was right about the rest of what he said, we were having a girl. The November thing? Well, maybe he was just being silly. This baby would be due in May. Well, late in October, I miscarried. Turns out it was a molar pregnancy – just an empty sack. We were, of course devastated. The next time I saw Matthew for therapy, he looked at me and said “Where’d the baby go? Is she born?” I told him she was up in Heaven. He just shrugged, and said “Oh. She was supposed to be born in November.” He never said another word about it, and not long after moved out of state with his family. I was devastated once again, but felt guilty about my grief – how greedy was I to want more than what God had already granted me? After all we’d been through with the boys? The feeling wouldn’t go away, however, that someone was MISSING. I felt it so strongly, and yet Rob was adamant it was my DESIRE for another child talking, and not something more. Tension grew between us again. Finally, one day, Rob said “Fine. If you can get pregnant before you turn 35, I’ll consider it. Otherwise, you need to give up this idea of another child forever.” I knew my fertility was poor. We’d been married almost 10 years by that time, and I’d been successfully pregnant only once, despite being open to pregnancy for most of that time. So I prayed. I remember distinctly one day praying to Mary – something I am admittedly not in the habit of doing. I remember praying “Mary, you are a mother, and know the desires of a mother’s heart. If you see fit to ask your son to bless us with another child, I would be truly thankful.” That was it – my simple prayer. On Easter Sunday, 2 months before my 35th birthday, I gave in and took a pregnancy test - certain that it would be negative just as every other disappointing test had been before it. This time, however… it was positive! I was ecstatic!! How fitting to find out about new life on Resurrection Sunday!! Even more surprising, our first ultrasound showed us that we were having identical twins yet again. What a roller coaster. At 9 weeks, however, I lost one of the babies, and was again on bed rest for a short time. That’s when it occurred to me… I had always wanted four children, but strongly felt like God only promised us ONE more. It helped me through that miscarriage, that promise. And despite early labor pains that threatened an early October delivery, we made it until NOVEMBER, and gave birth to a baby GIRL. Just like Matthew had said we would. Little Reagan Anne, who looks a whole lot like her Mommy.

A Catholic Apologetic, written for my children, when they are old enough to understand.

I heard an analogy the other day that seemed particularly astute, given the misperceptions and vilification of the Catholic church from those outside her walls. The analogy had to do with windows – particularly stained glass windows. From outside a church, a stained glass window is unreadable, dark. The picture in the window can’t be seen, it’s message hidden. From inside the church, however, with the Light of the outside sun (I could say “Son”) to illuminate them, the stained glass windows come to life, and their full glory revealed. So it seems to me that the only way to truly see the fullness of God’s glory is from inside His church.

I’ve been thinking about some simple facts lately, which compels me again back to the Catholic church. One is this verse:
Matthew 16:16-19
16Simon Peter answered, "You are the Christ,[b] the Son of the living God."
17Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven. 18And I tell you that you are Peter,[c] and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades[d] will not overcome it.[e] 19I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be[f] bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be[g] loosed in heaven."

I ask myself, WHICH church can trace itself back directly to Jesus through Peter? Which lineage is recorded in an unbroken line, and ends up directly at the grave and physical remains of St. Peter himself, deep within a church at the Vatican? Not to a man establishing a denomination – not 200 years ago to a Joseph Smith, or Charles Russell. Not 500 years ago to John Calvin or Zwingli, Henry VIII, or Martin Luther. But back, all the way back, greater than 2000 years back, to the very person who soaked up the same air as Christ Himself, and was granted by Christ His authority hold the keys to Heaven.

I have heard people outside the church claim time and again that Paganism crept up inside the Church, distorting it beyond all recognition, and that the church, millennia after inception, needed to be “restored” or “reformed”. I cannot deny that the Church can stray, has strayed, and is made up of sinners and frail human beings. The church is not the pristine bride Christ commissions her to be. What I DO know is that Christ NEVER LEFT THE CHURCH, never repealed His blessing of her. I know this because of the “new and everlasting covenant” He established with His church. I know this because He promised to be with us, until the end of the age. I know this because He sent the Holy Spirit, the Advocate ( John 14: 16And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever— 17the Spirit of truth. ) Even when the Church sinned, even when the gates of Hell TRIED to prevail, they didn’t. Because Jesus said they couldn’t. He is stronger. I often wonder, for those so convinced that Christ abandoned His church to paganism for millennia…. at what point do they think He left? Or rather, when did the Church leave Christ so completely… when did the “divorce” occur? At the time of Constantine? Before that? After? Did the church really only “last” for 300 years, despite Jesus Himself promising that it would last until His second coming?

I go back to the writings of the Early Church. Any “reformation” needs to “reform” back to an original, or it’s nothing more than a change to something new and novel. Are we “restoring” or are we “changing for our own reasons?” So the writings of the Early Church NEED to be crucial to us. This may not be the full revelation of God the Father through the Son, with the help of the Holy Spirit, as sacred scripture is. But it is a history of the early church, their beliefs, their practices. It is Christianity in it’s infant, pure form. And it is worthy of study. It is UNDENIABLE that those Christians were “catholic”, in every sense of the word. That church was sacramental, believed in the literal Power of God to act in every day lives of it’s people, through the authority invested in the church. That church believed in the actual and true presence of Jesus Christ, body, soul, and divinity, in the Eucharist and wine. That church knew liturgy, was solemn and sacred. That church had a structure, an organization, and that church was centered in Rome, because that’s where Peter was. That church believed in a communion of saints, living and dead, that could pray and support each other, petition to God on each other’s behalf. Undeniably.

It’s possible to think, however, that none of this is important. That regardless of these facts, the “culture” of the Catholic church is such that it doesn’t "speak” to me. It’s too solemn, not joyous enough, not friendly enough, boring. The people are hypocrites, the structure leads to corruption. Whether you believe that as true or not, I would argue that it is all CULTURE. It is not what is important. It is environment. That is the result of frail human beings. And culture can be changed, is changing at any given second. The church itself, though, is unchangeable. It hasn’t changed substantially, theologically, liturgically, in over 2000 years. It is the church established by Christ Himself through St. Peter, and that is enough for me. Because Christ promised never to leave it.

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE UNASHAMED .
I AM A PART of the Fellowship of the Unashamed.
The die has been cast. The decision has been made. I have stepped over the line. I won't look
back, let up, slow down, back away or be still.
My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is in God's hands. I am
finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, the bare minimum, smooth
knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, mundane talking, frivolous living, selfish giving, and
dwarfed goals.
I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, applause, or popularity. I
don't have to be right, first, the best, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live
by faith. I lean on Christ.s presence. I love with patience, live by prayer, and labor with the
power of God's grace.
My face is set. My gait is fast, my goal is heaven. My road is narrow, my way is rough, my
companions are few, my Guide is reliable, and my mission is clear.
I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I
will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the
table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.
I won’t give up, shut up, let up or slow up until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid
up, and spoken up for the cause of Christ.
I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till He comes, give until I drop, speak out until all know,
and work until He stops me.
And when He returns for His own, He will have no difficulty recognizing me. My banner is
clear: I am a part of the Fellowship of the Unashamed.
Adapted from the original (author unknown) by Patrick Madrid