One Part of the Story

The Maxine Effect: What happens to a weak priest when he encounters "THE VOLUPTUOUS LIFE."

FULL CIRCLE

"His Love is deep within me.
My heart, my soul, my being,
They resonate as one single tone in my breasts.
His words are golden arrows,
Love's golden shafts of purest light.
I know not rest.
I am his new creation.
He calls me forth to be his bride.

Warm as the glowing sun,
Bright as a thousand stars,
I give you back the love I owe.
I hear the beauty of your song to me.
I feel the power of your call to me
And in response my soul screams out, "AMEN!"

"The Ecstasies of Sybian"
by F. S. Culpa

Welcome newcomers! You are invited to browse wherev er you would like, but it might be more rewarding for you to begin with the earliest posts. Let what is good and what is pulsating inside you guide you!

The Institute of St. Sybian, Calabria, Italy

Among the orange groves and gardens near the site of ancient Sybaris in the region of Calabria, the St. Sybian Institute flourishes in its efforts to spread the message of St. Sybian and promote official recognition of her Sainthood. It sponsors many educational programs including a summer-long youth camp, and multiple seminars in the arts including music, dance, photography, the culinary arts and wine tasting. The Institute operates two seminaries leading to priesthood for young women, one on the grounds of the Institute and the other on the Sybian Estate, a retreat center outside of Chicago, Illinois, in the United States (more information on the Estate below.)




Recent Activities at the Institute

This year, we initiated what we hope to be an annual festival dedicated to St. Sybian, held on her feast-day, the day of the summer solstice. Among the events:



The young girls of Sybaris, re-enacting the “Dives of Sybian”, by which she sacrificed her own life to save the city. It is a contest among the girls to see who can stay submerged the longest.


Inaugural Performance at New Amphitheatre


Dancers at the performance of the music pageant,“MALOCCHIO DEL AMORE”, by Felix Sebastian Culpa. Years ago, the premiere performance of this composition caused a police riot, and led to the trial, conviction and banishment of the composer. This year’s performance was dedicated to the late Patrick Lockwood, who worked for the Institute as scribe and musicologist, helping to piece together the scraps of the musical score destroyed by the Poliza.


The Institute's Museum and Archives are now open!!

Also new to the Institute is the museum, featuring images of St. Sybian by artists through the ages, as well as objects of art suggestive of the “Vita Voluptua” way of life of the saint. Following are some examples:







The archives, which consist of the original manuscripts of Felix Sebastian Culpa, as well as correspondence between Felix and Mia, Maxine and Pedro, the transcript of Culpa’s trial, and his eventual pardon, is open to researchers by prior appointment only.

We're Branching Out!!!

The Sybian Estate of Chicago

Located in between unincorporated Malvina and Lunts Townships, approximately 40 miles from downtown Chicago, near the area forest preserve, The Sybian Estate affords those wishing to pursue the spiritual teachings and voluptuous practices of St. Sybian of Sybaris, a place for lush solitude and sensuous interaction with unadulterated nature. It is available for private, as well as group retreats







Ramona, High Priestess and Retreat Director



Closing Ceremonies from a recent retreat.












“ST SYBIAN SEMINARY AND PREPRATORY SCHOOL”


The Estate is also home to our Seminary and Preparatory School for young women wishing to pursue further studies in Sybian’s “Vita Voluptua.”, with the goal of becoming priestesses, as well as minors in Music, Creative Dance, Photography, Massage Therapy, the Culinary Arts and Oenology. Our catalog of Course Offerings is still being proof read and will be available soon.



Francesca, High Priestess and Director of the Education.



Spiritual counseling available from our adjunct advisors, Father Ernie Raynor (above) and his nephew, Father Jerry Raynor (below.)




Our Students





Some pictures of the Preparatory School student body

Vanessa, Pedro Yarez's Grandaughter


Chrysallis, believed to be of the direct blood-line of Sybian is a third-year student at the Estate’s Seminary.




Student of the Month



We at the Estate are proud of the way Samantha has been growing up. While it is always tempting to think of her as the “Little Samantha”, who first came to the estate as part of a field trip for Father Ernie’s altargirls, she is quickly becoming a standout in terms of physical beauty and academic achievement. Some of her poetry will be included in future editions of this newsletter. She is also at the top of the “Chants and Dance” junior postulate class. She remains the chief aid to Fr. Ernie

News of the "Not-So-Curious" Curia

Finally bowing to public opinion, and a not too subtle form of coercion by Felix Culpa, the Vatican has set up a committee
to investigate the life and character of Sybian of Sybaris, to see if she might qualify for beatification, a step along the road to sainthood, and have requested a copy of Milo’s Biographical Notes on Sybian (last posting.)



They have appointed Fr. Ted Chambers and Fr. Bruce Foster, American-born doctoral candidates at the North American College in Rome to do the initial paperwork, and report to Giovanni Cardinal Testadura and his brother, Guiseppe Cardinal Testadura (below)



The Testadura brothers have been successful in the past in tabling, and eventually losing in the paper shuffle, other populist initiatives. But rumors in the robe rooms of the Vatican have the Testaduras envisioning a “tag-team” papacy not too far down the line, and might like to ride a popular issue to the throne. If you wish to communicate directly with the Cardinals, correspondence can be sent to “The Pontifical Council on the Causes of Saints, Vatican City.”

Followers of St. Sybian have an ally in the Vatican--- a nun, a member of the order of Passionate Sisters of St Paul of the Cross, who operates in a clerical function. She has been a devotee of St. Sybian and a close friend of Maxine and Mia from before she took her vows. She is so close to the operations of the Church her codename is “Madame Curia.”





“Madame Curia” has been organizing covert devotional ceremonies, such as the one pictured above, to the veneration of Sybian and emphasizing the more physical aspects of the Creator’s gifts to his children. (One participant told me, half in jest, “Let’s just say the wine is considerably better.” )

Danny Wakes Up

The first thing that stirred me this morning---- well,noon-----was that gentle, bittersweet bouquet of the bergamot oranges. In just the short time I have been in the Calabria region (has it really only been ten days?) I have become accustomed to that “wake-up aroma” each day.





But with my eyes still closed, there was another scent floating over me, equally familiar and endearing---- that of recent lovemaking. I turned my head to the side and opened my eyes and there was Esperanza lying next to me in all her nude glory, smiling broadly. As I smiled back, she gestured with her head and I turned to the other side, coming eye to eye with Maxine equally –well, stunning. I jumped from the bed and grabbed my shirt and pants and ran outside to splash my face with the spring water, as the women giggled and blew kisses from the window. Sometimes you just know you’re in the middle of a highlight reel!
Over berries and cream, we mused over the events of the past week or so. I was certainly in open to some explanations!

Maxine showed me the Email from Father Raynor concerning Bassanni’s “Burial”, explaining that this makes Felix a free man again. As long as the bishop stays in hospitals under the name of “Culpa”, both the Italian and U.S authorities are happy not to have to track down Felix. The Vatican is happy the sins of Bassanni are locked up with him. And Felix’s knowledge of all that went on gives him valuable leverage with all involved. He even got the Vatican Curia to agree to look at Milo’s biography of St. Sybian.
But most importantly for Felix, with Sybian’s evocation of Mia’s spirit, the two lovers will truly spend their time together.


“Humanity reaches as far as love reaches. It has no frontiers except those we give it.”
---Italo Calvino


I decided to walk over to the church and revisit the scene of last night’s many events. Walking through the town, I nodded to many of the people I had seen last night, whipped in a frenzy. They were considerably calmer today. Reaching the church, I crossed myself (an old habit I had picked up from my Irish grandmother) and started down the path on the side of the church to the cemetery gate.

The area looked less menacing in the sunny afternoon. I was getting close to the site of “Bassanni’s Grave”, but everything had changed. Instead of the torn up turf and sod and soil, there was a stone statue on the spot. And no one has been able to explain who is responsible and how it got there. All Esperanza will say is, “It’s a gift!!”

From the Voices of Fireflies

We returned the coffin to the ground and covered it with the dirt and sod.
Felix turned to Milo and said,
“Uncle Milo, please show Emilio and Danny the way back to the gardens. We will follow soon. Please don’t argue.”

The three of us left reluctantly. When we got to the far corner of the church, Milo stopped us.
“Let’s wait here a bit. Something incredible is bound to happen.”

Felix, Maxine and Esperanza walked hand in hand away from the grave to a small knob of a hill at the edge of the cemetery. We could see them silhouetted against a kind of incandescent sky. Felix sat on the ground in the center; from the distance we could hear him humming and beating two stones against a log. The rhythm was like a wolf's heartbeat. The women began to move smoothly around the seated Felix, and as they moved faster, they were joined by a third dancer as lithe as the other two---slender, with shoulder-length hair.
“It’s Mia! Sweet Gesu! It’s Mia!” Milo was trying to speak and catch his breath at the same time.

Sparkling lights appeared around them like some ethereal carousel, complete with the humming of wonderful melodies ----first by ladies’ voices, then by girls’ voices and finally the giddiness of children’s voices ---- changing as the carousel went faster and Felix’s tempi became more intense.


Then their voices became like the soft singing of birds, and their figures, in the half-light even began to take on avian characteristics.


As it grew dim, there was a growing, glowing light coming from meters away, over by the foothills. It was a rainbow in the deepest darkness of night. It was Sybian.


“Sancta Sybiana! Ora pro nobis!” Milo gasped, and Emilio and I instinctively crossed ourselves. Every hair on our bodies was standing on end and our hearts were matching Felix’s drumming.

The light of Sybian (Lux Voluptua) grew brighter and warmer and then, with a short explosive sound all was quiet and dark, including the lamps on the side of the church. All that was left of the figures was the dancing and glowing and whispering of fireflies.




We stood speechless--- Emilio, Milo and myself--- afraid to move. Finally Milo cleared his throat.

“Come,” he said, “ I know a great place for a drink.”

Another Email from "Padre Ernie"

Maxine:
I promised in my last Email to keep you informed of developments here in Chicago. I think you will be interested in what occurred last night. Earlier in the day I received a call from a nurse I knew at the Elgin Mental Hospital, telling me there was a patient recently admitted for “severe dementia and attempted suicide” who, though barely able to talk, was demanding to see a priest. I rushed over that night, after the nurse told me the patient’s name was “Felix Sebastian Culpa.”

The nurse, whose name is Janice, met me at the nurses’ station and filled me in as we walked down the corridor to room 309. They’ve had to keep him heavily sedated since the police brought him in with a court order for committal. The police had already filled in the admission paperwork, signed by the Chief-of-Staff of the hospital.

When I asked if she had seen any I.D., she said no.
“You said you know Mr. Culpa, Father?”
“A little. He played the organ for us on occasion.”
“I’ve got to warn you, Father, this is an extreme case, even for us. He keeps acting out these strange quasi-religious rituals, and wearing his robe like it was a cape. Usually these cases go right to the State Institution, but orders are orders.”

Janice pushed open the door to room309, clearly surprising the patient standing by the barred window, a medal on a chain in one hand, the other stroking his genitals. Startled, he moved behind the chair in his room which he had made into something resembling a makeshift pulpit.

“Mr. Culpa, look who’s come to visit”, the nurse announced.
I looked up and was staring directly at Bishop Bassanni!
“Raynor!!” he hissed, then coughed for a full minute.
“I think he really damaged his vocal cords when he tried to hang himself,”
Janice said, as I noted the rope marks on his neck.
I paused until my heart beat slowed.
“Good Evening, FELIX!” I said with exaggerated warmth.

“NOT FELIX!” he croaked, “BISHOP!!!”
He then started coughing uncontrollably again and paced back and forth, showing his missing ring finger to me and attempting to shout “CULPA, MIA CULPA!”

“Yes, Felix. We’ve all done things we’re sorry for, but God is forgiving. Let me give you my blessing, Felix.”
Bassanni came right up to my face and poked me in the chest. He cleared his throat enough to shout out three words:
“FUCK YOU, RAYNOR!”
With that he collapsed on the bed in another coughing fit, as the orderly rushed in.
“We’d better go, Father,” Janice said firmly. “It’s time for his shot. He’ll be out for quite a while.’
Back at the nurse’s station, Janice handed me an envelope.
“The orderly took this picture of Felix in "Full Bishop Mode":



"This was in the medal he always wears around his neck:"





Maxine, I’m wasting no time in sending you this. I hope this information helps bring you some measure of peace.

Yours in Christ,

Rev. Ernest Raynor
Pastor, St Joseph of Cupertino Parish
Chicago, Il USA

To the Cemetery!!!

When the crowd arrived at the Church of the Holy Innocents (known to the villagers as “St. Sybian’s”) they immediately went down the path beside the church to the cemetery. When they came to the Bishop’s grave, the rowdiness continued. While some of them were literally dancing on the gravesite, others produced shovels, and started attacking the sod and peeling it back. Things were really out of control. Soon, the coffin came into site, and a few of the men began pulling on the ropes attached to it. I could see it moving to the surface and dozens of hands working on the sealed latches, half of which were undone.












Suddenly there was a sound like the largest gong in the world being hit by a huge cannonball, and, I swear, not a leaf on a tree moved or a bird in a tree whispered. For what seemed like a half-hour, but was probably just minutes, there was total silence. Everyone turned to the steps on the side of church, where the sound had come from, and there was Esperanza, with Emilio, Pedro’s brother and owner of the estate in Chicago, by her side. There was someone behind Esperanza, standing in the shadows.

Milo had joined me, squinting to make out who it was.
“O my God, FELIX!’
Milo rushed to the steps. As he reached Felix and began to hug him, Esperanza stepped forward and commanded the complete attention of the crowd.
“You must stop. There must be no disrespect in my Father’s world. Let what is good inside you lead your actions. Malice and revenge are not gifts to be enjoyed. They have ruined our party.”

“Go. Leave us,” Felix said softly. “Sleep with the Angels of forgiveness.”
“Well,” Milo said in a firm voice, “Don’t you people have homes?”
“Not really,” I muttered under my breath as the crowd dispersed.
Felix heard me and laughed. He came over, put his hand on my shoulder, and said warmly,

“Let me guess. You’re Esperanza’s latest fuck!” and then started laughing again.






Somewhat embarrassed, the people began to go home, leaving Esperanza, Felix, Milo, Maxine, Emilio, and myself at the desecrated gravesite. The sun had now completely set, and the lamps on the side of the church were all that lit the plot.
I began to help Emilio and Felix reseal the coffin, when Maxine stopped us.

“Wait. I’ve got to see that pig one last time,” she spoke with chin jutting out.
Felix studied Maxine’s face for the longest time, then motioned us to step away.
Maxine bent down, undid the latches, flipped open the coffin lid; She let out a moan like she’d been stabbed. The coffin was filled with Chicago phonebooks.
Now Maxine searched Felix’s face for an answer.

“Not to worry,” Felix whispered as he kissed her forehead.
“Bassanni is buried,” he paused for effect.
“Just not here.”

Visitation Prelude

Father Raynor hated the drive to Elgin, and the persistent evening rain made the traffic all the more aggravating. He asked himself why it couldn’t have waited until morning, but he knew this visit simply could not wait. He needed to see the patient at the Elgin Mental Hospital immediately.

He still had a lump in his throat from when Janice Swiernowski , the Night Supervisor at the hospital, had called that afternoon. Janice was one of the first altar girls at St. Joe’s when he was assigned there. She didn’t go to church much, but they still kept in touch. The hospital had a patient who was admitted for dementia and attempted suicide; even though heavily sedated, he communicated that he wanted to see a priest. Could I do the whole staff a favor and visit this “nut case”? Father reminded Janice her hospital was full of people with mental illness.
“Father,” Janice said matter-of-factly, “This guy’s the whole basket of fruit --- a real religious nut, too.”

“Alright, Jan,” Father Raynor gave in. “I’ll come over.
“What’s the patient’s name, anyway?”
“Culpa,” Janice said, “Felix Culpa, room 309. Stop at the nurses’ station first and I’ll go with you.”

Maxine Incites the Crowd

I think it was the fifth noon of the picnic/festival/orgy. People were in various states of consciousness, but Maxine was invigorated by days and nights of feasting, drinking and sexual pleasure. She was just getting going. I made the mistake of mentioning Bishop Bassanni’s name, and whoosh! The verbal fireworks were on!
She stood up in the center of the crowd and began shouting:

“Bassanni! That bastardi!!! He was a poor excuse for a priest and a waste of skin as a man! He was certainly useless to me, always sneaking off in the middle of the night, trying to jerk off to a statue of Sybian. Imagine!! He kept me like I was some kind of fancy car. How he was able to rape my daughter Mia, I’ll never know. The one time he comes, he impregnates Mia!!! I say, ‘Good for Felix for cutting his finger off and his bishop’s ring with it!’ I should have cut off his bishop’s prick and shoved it up his bishop’s nose!!”

[I should have warned you when Maxine has been drinking and gets riled, she can be quite blunt.]

“Bassanni ordered the Poliza to shut down Felix’s concert -----his great masterpiece, “MALOCCHIO DE AMORE”---------- and had all the music and instruments burned in a heap!” (The crowd jeered lustily.)

“Bassanni demanded that Mia get a cheap abortion from the village
’dentist,’ because ‘Holy Mother the Church’ doesn’t allow abortions.
Well, does it allow its bishops to murder? That’s what he did to Mia!”
(The crowd was now on its feet, jumping up and down.)

“How many young boys and girls did he toy with? How many widows paid for their food and rent by kneeling in front of him?!” (Now both Maxine and the crowd were getting carried away.)

“Bassanni doesn’t deserve to be buried in the sacred ground of the Cathedral!
His bones should be thrown into the dump!”

And with that the whole crowd, wine bottles in hand, marched off in the direction of the church cemetery.

Trying Out the New Digital Camera...

The Streets of "Old City" Sybaris







Esperanza made me post these pictures of us.





A snapshot from our welcoming party.

Initial Posting from Daniel Pierce

This is my first posting as “Scribe” for The Sybaris Institute ( Calabria, Italy) and the Sybaris Estate (Chicago) since taking over for the late Patrick Lockwood. I will try to follow his example of scholarly research and faithful reporting.
I have accompanied Milo and Maxine back to Italy, along with Esperanza, the leader of this “Sybari-Nova” group, followers of the teachings and example of “Saint Sybian (not recognized by the Vatican, but certainly venerated in the hearts of people in the Calabria region of Italy and the Chicago area of the U.S.)
And just as I showed Milo around Chicago, he has been returning the favor, showing me some of the ruins of old Sybaris and the surrounding area.




We have only been in Italy for 6 days. We were welcomed here with what Americans would call a “picnic”, except it lasted for three days and nights and I’m suspicious that somewhere in one of the gardens here it might still be going on. There were close to a hundred people on the grounds of the institute which they share with the Bergamot Orange Presses ---“The Scent of the Saint” ----so you can imagine the aroma.
There has been an abundance of fresh fruits, cheeses, breads, and wine---lots of wine. No hangover, though, because in Sybari everyone can sleep until noon. Back before its first destruction in 720 B.C., the Sybarites passed what amounted to Western civilization’s first “noise ordinance”, barring noisy crafts such as carpentry and smithery ---- even roosters! –from the village. They continue to enforce that ordinance today.

These are people who indeed know how to enjoy what “The Father” has given them, something they refer to as “THE GIFTS.” There has been much singing and dancing, with a lot of couples (and trios, and quartets!) wandering off into the groves and nearby hillsides. (I must admit to all of you up front that Esperanza took me back there several times----- and several other ladies of the village also.) This has been no “Cum-bay-ah” cookout like back in Cedar Rapids, Iowa!

Phantom 309

The orderly was almost finished with the early morning rounds, making sure all was secure at the Elgin Mental Health Center. Sometimes staff or visitors would leave a door ajar. The State would have his ass if one of the patients wandered off.
Coming down the East Corridor, heading for the nurse's station (he could hear the muffled sound of the going-away party for Janice), he noticed the door to 309 was open and he could see the patient tossing and turning in bed. He went in and checked the chart at the foot of the bed. The patient was grunting and trying to mouth something.

"What's the matter, Mr. Culpa? What are you trying to say? Ah, your morphine bag is empty. Your chart says to increase your dosage. Is your pain getting worse, Mr. Culpa? The nurse will be here soon. Try to relax, Mr. Culpa."

The patient kept struggling to speak, even as he heard the orderly's footsteps fade away down the hall. Finally,with great effort, he forced enough air up his windpipe to sound the words:

"I AM NOT CULPA!"

But there was no one around to hear.