The meaning and value of the story of Saint Christopher
The story of Saint Christopher is a story of the misunderstood boy. Many a child is misunderstood by parent and teacher, and, like St. Francis of Assisi, is driven from home and yet makes a great success in life.
The story is an epitome of a man’s life. Christopher in his boyhood had strength—he worshiped strength—he could not find normal means of recreation, so he did evil. His hero, the German Emperor, represents the interest of the child from eight to twelve years, with splendid physical health, with moral and religious nature undeveloped. Christopher followed the normal impulse in serving the German Emperor. The adolescent boy in high-school period, is represented, in a way, by the second hero that Christopher served, a devil, a mischief-maker, but as the boy grows out of that he catches a glimpse of the moral hero just as Christopher did when he heard of the man of Galilee.—Ed.
Once on a time, a long time ago, beyond the seas, there lived a boy named Christopher. As he grew up he was unusually strong and giant like. He drove the cattle to field and lived in the mountains and on the plains. Being alone much of his time he had little opportunity for play or sport with other children, and when he came home his parents did not play with him or entertain him, and so he sought recreation where he could find it in other places. He was full of energy and his parents frequently scolded him, which drove him off to himself in bad moods. On one occasion he tied the cows’ tails together, just to hear them bellow. On another occasion he set fire to a forest, all in sport, because he had no one to join him in better things. His stepmother scolded him and punished him so that he would frequently go away alone or join bad companions in mischief. Finally, one day, quarreling with a man, he killed him because of his greater strength.
Fearing to return home, he wandered in strange lands, sometimes working for his living, and sometimes living on what was given him. Wherever he went people admired his broad shoulders and manly form, for he was giantlike in size.
One day he heard of the Emperor of Germany, who was king and the mightiest man in all the world. As Christopher admired and worshiped strength, he wanted to see and to serve the Emperor. At last after long journeys he came and stood before the German Emperor and offered his services. The Emperor was at that time waging wars for his kingdom, and when he saw Christopher, giantlike and strong, he admired him and readily accepted his services, taking him along as a bodyguard. Christopher was delighted and threw his whole strength into the service of the Emperor and did many wonderful deeds.
So strong was Christopher that frequently he would bear on his shoulders great logs, place them across gullies and ravines and build a bridge for the army to pass over. The Emperor frequently talked with him and encouraged him, all of which immensely pleased Christopher, for he thought, “I have at last found him who is most worthy of worship and service.”
But on one occasion as the Emperor was riding near a forest, Christopher noticed that the Emperor made the sign of the cross and turned aside from the dark forest and went in another direction. Christopher said to the Emperor: “Why did you turn back from the forest?” The Emperor said: “The devil lives in that forest and I fear him.” “What,” said Christopher, “afraid? I thought that you were afraid of nothing!” But the Emperor said: “This demon of darkness is very strong and I fear him.” Then Christopher said: “If you are afraid I wish to leave your service and join myself to the devil, because I do not want to serve any but the strongest.” Whereupon the Emperor paid Christopher his wages and reluctantly parted with him.
Christopher turned his face toward the dark forest, plunged into its depths, and finally found a black altar, whereon the devil had sacrificed the bodies of people. Hard by he found the devil and offered his services to him. Right gladly the devil took him into his fellowship, and straightway took him on trips of deviltry and mischief. But one day they came along by a hill in an Eastern land. On the top of the hill there stood three crosses. The devil turned aside as if in fear. Christopher was quick to notice this and he said to the devil:
“Why are you afraid?”
Then the devil said: “On that middle cross was crucified a man who is greater than I, and I fear him.”
“What,” Christopher said, “you afraid? Why, then, I am done with you; I want to serve him who is not afraid.”
And so he parted from the devil and as he went away the devil laughed and mocked him. Christopher wandered a long time, inquiring here and there for the man who had died upon the cross. Finally, one day he found a priest, who lived in a cave that opened upon a beautiful river. Tired, footsore and weary, he sat down at the invitation of the priest, who brought him refreshing water from the spring and gave him food. After he had rested a moment, he said to the priest: “Can you tell me about the man who died on the cross?” for Christopher had never heard of this man until the devil had told him. “Yes,” said the priest, “right gladly will I tell you the story of his life.”
Then the priest told Christopher how the man of Galilee had lived, and toiled, and suffered to make the world better; how he was crucified, died, and rose again. The story was a new and beautiful one to Christopher, the wonder of it! The priest told him that though this man was dead, his spirit was still in the world to make the world better. Then Christopher said to the priest: “He is the one that I wish to serve. How can I serve him?” Then the priest said: “You see this river?—there is no bridge for the people to cross; it is wide and at times dangerous. If you would serve him, help those who try to cross the river. You are tall, with broad shoulders and mighty strength. Day after day people as they travel through this land come to this river but cannot cross—you can help them across, and in that way you will serve him who, though dead, still lives.”
That pleased Christopher so that he built a house of logs and boughs by the river’s side, and when people came to the river he would wade through the water, take them on his shoulders and bear them across. Years passed by; Christopher grew grey in the service of humanity and his Master. Those who saw him day after day admired him and looked for him and he became a friend of all the country, loved by all.
One dark night when Christopher lay upon his bed, he heard some one calling, like the voice of a child: “Oh! Christopher, kind, good Christopher, come help me across!” Christopher arose from his bed and seizing his great staff, waded through the water until he reached the other side of the river, but there he found no one; all was silent, save the ripple and murmur of the waves along the river’s margin. “Strange,” he said, “I thought I heard some one calling.”
After looking all around, he said: “I must have been mistaken,” and waded back through the water to the other side of the river and lay down upon his couch again. But soon thereafter he heard the same voice calling: “Oh! Christopher, kind, good Christopher, come help me across!” “Strange,” said Christopher to himself, “some one must be there,” and seizing his staff he again crossed the river.
But no one could he find, all was silent. Above his head the stars shone, and he said to himself: “Strange it is I cannot find him who called me.”
He went across the river and laid down upon his bed again. He had not been lying there long before he heard the voice calling him a third time: “Oh! Christopher, kind, good Christopher, come help me across!” Christopher sat upon his bed—he was troubled. “Strange,” he said, “some one calls me and yet I cannot find him.” But again seizing his staff he said: “I will make one more trip.” When he reached the other side of the river, there he saw a little boy, and he said: “My little man, where were you,—twice I crossed the river to find you?” The little boy said: “I was here.” And then Christopher bent low and took the little man upon his shoulders and waded through the water, but the boy grew heavier until he seemed as heavy as a man. When Christopher reached the other side and put him down and turned to look to see why, what seemed to be a little child should be so heavy—lo! he was more than a child; a young man in appearance, with a shining face, and he said to Christopher: “I am he whom you serve; bury your staff and after a certain number of days buds will appear thereon.” Then he disappeared, vanishing as a mist, or as a shadow, though Christopher saw not. He went and lay down upon his couch and slept in great peace of mind and body.
Years passed. Christopher was still beloved by all the people and faithful to his work, but his days were numbered. Though somewhat feeble, he still bore the people on his shoulders across the river. One dark stormy night, when the wind roared through the treetops and the rain fell, Christopher, lying upon his bed, heard a voice call. He tried to rise and answer; he did go in response to the voice, but it was his spirit only that went, the last call had come to him.
The next morning the storm was gone and the sky was blue. People came to cross the river and called as usual to Christopher, but there was no response. They thought perhaps he was asleep and went to the cottage. There they found him-— asleep, but it was the long sleep. And a smile was on his face. Because of his service to the people they afterwards called him Saint Christopher.