A thirsty cry opened the gates of Paradise.

 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.