The cabinet
maker’s story
Henri Ravier was a 28 year old
cabinet maker and joiner in 1870 when he was called to measure up a coffin for
a seven year old boy. As he bustled about with his mate in the courtyard a
couple of doctors emerged from the house discussing the death certificate.
“Nothing could
have been done to save the child.”
“Not even if
we’d been called earlier. Do you agree with my diagnosis of meningitis?”
“I’m sure
you’re right.”
“Anyway, the
little glass of eau-de-vie that father Chapas gave us wasn’t bad was it!”
And so without further thought to
child or grieving parents they left. No sooner had they done so than two young
men hurried up.
“It took ages
to find you. He must be dead by now. The doctor said he’d been in a coma. Do
you know what that is?”
“It’s nothing, nothing!
But we must hurry!”
They knocked at the door and a man opened
up who obviously knew them.
“Monsieur
Claude, we’ve just heard the news and have
come to offer our condolences.”
“That’s very good
of you, Nizier. Come on in. He’s on the bed.”
Nizier Philippe also greeted Madame
Chapas, who did not speak.
They mounted the stairs. The mother passed them in the passageway and
opened the bedroom door for them.
The 21 year old Nizier Philippe
crossed himself and indicated the others to sit. Then he presented Madame Chapas with a
strange question:
“Are you
willing to give me your son now?”
She answered “Yes” almost
automatically.
Nizier stood before the child’s bed in
contemplation for a few moments, and then said in a clear voice: “Jean, I
bring your soul back to you!”
Amazingly, the chalk white face of
the body began to regain colour, looked
up at Nizier Philippe, and smiled.
The strange question Philippe directed
at the child’s mother harked back a few years to when she had asked his help
when her husband fell ill. On that occasion he had simply said “Go home and
make him some soup and he will be all right.” And so it had occurred. But when
asked how much she owed him he replied: “Nothing, but you can give me your
son if I ask for him.” An enigmatic remark, all the more strange coming
from a young Nizier Philippe who could have been no more than a teenager at the
time.
No more was said until little Jean
Chapas grew up. Like his father and grandfather before him, he sought the life
of a waterman on the great rivers of the Rhône and Saône. But having passed the necessary examinations
– he would then have been aged about 20 and the year 1883 – his mother received a message from Monsieur
Philippe: “Tell your son to come and see me tomorrow, I need him.”
The informal apprenticeship he had thus
begun as a spiritual healer was not an easy one. The boy put himself completely
at the disposal of Monsieur Philippe but the first day passed with nothing for
him to do. The same thing happened next day. Then on the third day he was sent
on a few errands, to buy tobacco, some postage stamps, and deliver a prescription.
Then little by little he was admitted to minor jobs at public meetings.
For several years he diligently
performed all the tasks set him by Monsieur Philippe, some of which involved
some kind of testing. One day, for
instance, Monsieur Philippe received word from a lady who was very upset by the
loss of her hair. He told Jean Chapas to buy some lotion at a pharmacy and take
it to her, and then meet him at a café where he would be waiting.
Jean Chapas found on his arrival
that the woman was in complete despair and threatening to throw herself from
the sixth floor of the building. For a whole hour he tried to reason with her, far
beyond the time fixed for meeting Monsieur Philippe. Eventually he arrived,
very late, to find his master still there, smoking his pipe but frowning
heavily. Jean Chapas tried to explain what had happened but Monsieur Philippe
cut him short and reprimanded him. He should have realised it would have been quite
easy for him to have stopped the woman’s hysterics from a distance if he had
been informed of them. So...“When I give you a time to meet me, be there!”
Eventually Monsieur Philippe, in the
presence of his girl friend, gave him a kind of rosary he had fashioned, a cord
full of knots, with the instruction “Take this for an hour each day to your
room; and when you reach this knot here, you will be in the presence of the
Holy Spirit.” Presumably he did so,
but he never spoke about it to anyone.
Eventually, in February 1894, after
a decade of gradually increasing responsibility, Monsieur Philippe presented
him at a public meeting with the words, “From now on Monsieur Chapas is
charged to do what I have done up to now ...We are fishermen come to fish for
those that would escape”. And the following year he announced that “from
now on great powers are granted to Monsieur Chapas. Whom, however, he
always referred to his as“the corporal!” By all accounts – no light rank!
From Thursday 13th
December 1894, Henri Ravier began to fulfil his mission of taking notes of meetings and carried on through until 31st
March 1903. They are not as comprehensive or systematic we might wish but the random
jottings of a retired carpenter and joiner. There are about a hundred of them
altogether, the first taken at typical public meetings but later moving on to events
at practitioner classes laid on at the recently founded School of Magnetism.
His sense of their importance is however revealed by his referring to himself
as Jean-Baptiste Ravier. He
was one of a growing band who tended to regard Maïtre Philippe as a second
coming of Christ. Not a view that was
shared by the man himself – although he had occasional apparent lapses as when
he reportedly said that it had taken him several years to find a mother and
father who had the single forenames of Marie and Joseph. I suspect a certain
sense of irony in his make-up. But raising people from the dead was not in the
gift of any old spiritual healer! And Jean Chapas died a second time in the
typhoid fever epidemic of 1899 and was once again resuscitated by Nizier
Philippe after a death certificate had been issued. Which led Jean Chapas, who
also had an ironic sense of humour, to refer to himself ever after as “a
dead man on leave”.
After a lifetime of continuing
healing ministry, increasingly haunted by precognition of the coming 2nd
World War, he eventually died a third and last time in September 1932, whilst fishing
beside the Rhône. His master, also a keen fisherman, had once predicted “Jean, you will just
have time to get your coat and rod and follow me.” He arguably chose a good
time to do it as the Holocaust gathered strength in Europe!
References: Confirmation de l’Évangile par les actes et les paroles de Maïtre
Philippe de Lyon by
Jean-Baptiste Ravier (Le Mercure Dauphinois 2005) and Vie et Enseignement de
Jean Chapas, le disciple de Maïtre Philippe de Lyon by Philippe Collin (Le
Mercure Dauphinoise 2006).
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