The best prayers come from those who have nothing left
to lose but their souls.
You see hearts that are barren, yet within them roses
bloom.
Young people, boys and girls, seeking out the priest
to speak with him, to find the truth their souls are searching for.
There are these young people, too.
These are miracles.
A young person stops you and says:
“I want to talk, Father, something is weighing on my
conscience and I want to tell you.”
Yes, that kid!
From the café, with an earring in their ear or
eyebrow.
With a tattoo of a forgotten love and headphones
blasting Iron Maiden.
You’re talking to a group of young people in a café
and you feel the table with the frappés turning into a little chapel of
Christ’s presence, because let’s not forget: “Where two or three are gathered
in my name, there am I among them” (Matt. 18:20).
And to walk into the church and not have time to dodge
the jabs, especially from people who are “close to the priest” and “the
church.”
And to have a theological discussion with the rocker kid
you never would have imagined in your wildest dreams.
And yet, amidst this quagmire, baptism speaks within.
A prayer, perhaps, from a grandmother, a mother
kneeling before the icons, begging not for brides, grooms, jobs, or money, but
for repentance and the Kingdom of Heaven.
A candidate for sainthood in search of a spiritual
home.
These are miracles.
That little lamp in the heart that hasn’t gone out
yet—and is rekindled by a prayer.
And then it begins to illuminate the human heart, so
that the world may smell of truth.
And this “bad boy” of the world begins to see the
forgotten treasure within him and goes to the confessor to have it polished so
it shines again.
These are acts of repentance!
From those whom the world had already written off, but
who, in God’s eyes, are among the bravest.
It makes you see God’s presence as a “gentle whisper”
in thirsty souls.
And on the other hand, you see the lady in the suit, a
fan-shaped pastry in hand, begging Christ at every prayer for rabbits with
stone-hard hearts, just so the world can smell her selfishness.
And as soon as she sees the child with the earring,
she’ll say: “That little brat, eh, what do you expect from so-and-so’s son.”
And whenever she sees you, she’ll say with the
saleswoman’s smile: “Your blessing, Father.”
And after 30 years in the church, she hasn’t
understood a thing.
She feels that with a few donations and some Epitaph
decorations, she has a VIP spot in paradise.
Poor woman…
In the end, God is where He cannot be seen.
He hides and shines within the stillness of silence.
Something like the sun.
When the sun rises, it makes no noise; it does not
speak like the waves or the wind.
It simply reveals itself through its radiance and
warmth.
That almighty presence of His is enough.
That is how Christ acts.
He comes when those who are truly thirsty call upon
Him.
But when the self-righteous and the Pharisees provoke
Him, He withdraws,
because the space is closed to Him.
Let us not forget, my beloved, that Paradise was
opened by a thief with a single “I remember.”
A thirsty cry opened the gates of Paradise.
