Good evening, everybody.
Today we
conclude our participation
in this wonderful event,
thanking Jesus the gifts we’ve received
and taking the opportunity to invite everybody
to dive into a sea of spiritual reflections
about ourselves
and about evolution
and spiritual growth.
But today I stand here
not as the gardener,
not even as someone responsible
for the flowers’ growth.
I stand here today
as someone who simply
arranged the bouquet of roses.
And those roses
are from the psychographed work of Chico Xavier.
They are not mine.
They are from On High.
My participation was limited
to the ribbon that fastened them all together.
And the first one is in chapter 50
of the book "Antologia Mediúnica do Natal".
It’s a message from Humberto de Campos,
who signed it as Brother X.
It goes like this:
"We were in the middle of a lively conversation
about the excess at the table
at Christmas celebrations,
with the opinion of the stern
Jonathan ben Asser,
who stated how convenient it was
that men resorted
to the sacrifice of animals
only when it was strictly necessary,
when old Ebenezer ben Aquim,
counselor of Hebrew groups
in the spiritual realm,
took the floor and spoke concisely:
‘Maybe you do not know,
maybe you do not know
how indebted to the animals we are,
as far as the Gospel is concerned.’
And given our curiosity,
he told us, deeply moved:
‘Many years ago,
I heard from rabbi Eliud,
who is now in higher spheres,
interesting minutiae..."
Details...
"...concerning Jesus’ birth.
This old mentor
of discarnate Israelites told us
that finding a place for Joseph of Galilee
and his wife
in the outskirts of Bethlehem of Judah
was not so easy.
The couple - that is, the young Mary,
whose beauty was beyond compare,
and the patriarch who had taken her for a wife,
a respectable man, well-advanced in years -
entered the town when the streets and inns
were absolutely full.
The descendants of the house of David
were gathered by the hundreds
to comply with the census determined
by Caesar’s government.
Tanned camel riders from the desert
socialized with winemakers from Gaza,
tradesmen who lived in Jericho
talked to merchants
who dwelt in Egypt.
Followed by a benevolent legion...
legion...
of wise and magnanimous spirits,
ahead of whom stood
the selfless Gabriel,
who had announced to Mary the coming of the Lord,
Joseph and his bride
knocked first of all
at the doors of the inn of Abias,
son of Sadoc,
who soon rejected them with a negative answer;
however,
laying his malicious eyes
on the young bride,
started to get insolent,
which made an aprehensive Joseph
instantly rush away.
They appealed to the services of Joran,
a usurer who rented rooms to foreigners.
The rich man considered right away
that it was impossible to accomodate them, but,
noticing the beauty of the girl from Nazareth,
drew the wrinkled carpenter aside
and asked if the girl
was a slave daughter
who could be bought for money.
Joseph, even more distressed,
moved on ahead
and bumped into the inn of Jacob,
son of Josiah,
an old innkeeper
who claimed he could not possibly
lodge the travelers.
However,
beholding the young newcomer,
impertinently inquired
how come an old man like him
had the nerve to expose such a rare beauty
in public?
Depressed, the elder endeavored
to reach a nearby inn;
however, Jacob's verbal abuse
attracted curious and idle men
who surrounded the couple,
covering them with insults.
The newcomers from Nazareth,
seeing they were the target of scorn and ridicule,
stumbled, humiliated.
Humiliated.
Gabriel, the angel,
however,
resorted to prayer,
to prayer,
asking for divine help.
And several emissaries from Heaven
manifested themselves
in the name of God,
deciding that the only,
the only safe place
for the birth of Jesus
was the stable,
therefore leading Joseph and Mary
to the rustic house
of cows and sheep.'
Ebenezer, then,
commented with good humour:
'If it weren't for the stable hosts,
perhaps... perhaps...
the Good News would have had
its appearance on earth
delayed.'"
Delayed.
So begins the story
of this warrior,
of this heroine,
of this fighter
who never took up arms.
Of this warrior who never attacked anyone,
but who accepted the greatest challenge of this planet,
to receive in her own womb
the spiritual governor of the earth,
to expose herself to all kinds of risks,
all kinds of risks,
because, for the time being,
for the time being,
the gift that Jesus can offer us
now, so far, is the cross.
So far.
He certainly has other gifts.
He certainly has
celestial sceneries waiting for us.
But he knows...
He knows that the old man who lives inside of us
needs to die
and give way to a new being.
And this process does not take place
with laughters.
Many times it takes place
at the expense of tears.
Not because of suffering coming from the outside.
No!
I'm talking about other tears.
I'm talking about the tears
of those who have to abandon vice.
I'm talking about the tears
of those who have to change 2.000 years of habits,
of those who only know to curse with their lips
and must learn how to bless,
of those who can only participate
if they can give orders,
but must learn how to obey.
I'm talking about the spirits
who need to take up fasting.
Not fasting from food,
but fasting from vice,
fasting from evil,
fasting from malice,
fasting from mistakes.
And, in that case,
this heroine,
gigantic, superb,
beautiful on the outside and wonderful on the inside,
accepted a challenge.
Motherhood is a challenge in itself,
because, as Chico used to say,
motherhood is a secret between God and women.
It's a secret pact.
And once I heard a matriarch say:
"A son or daughter is something you take out of your womb
and put inside your heart forever."
Because, to the mothers,
their children are always inside their wombs.
Always inside of them.
And the mother has a talent to live several lives.
Hers and her children's.
If you want to know something
about bicorporeality,
tricorporeality, quadricorporeality,
talk to a mother.
Because she's here,
but she's also where her eldest child is.
She's here,
but she's also where her middle child is.
She's here, but she's also
where her youngest child is.
She's here, but she's in all the places
where all her children are.
It's something
that can only be divine,
because God is also like that.
But that one in particular
would receive a different child.
Because a mother's heart is never wrong.
A mother's heart knows what is feeble
and what is strong in her offspring.
A mother's heart knows what can reap
and what will not sprout,
even though she disguises it,
even though she says she doesn't.
To our mothers,
we are gorgeous,
intelligent,
all that's nice.
But they know.
They know what abounds and what lacks.
And for that reason they suffer together,
they follow the challenges,
the struggles of life.
But it that special case,
that special woman
would receive the purest being
that has ever been on earth.
The purest.
The most noble, spiritually speaking.
The greatest intelligence
that's ever been on the planet.
It's not easy to put
so much light in your womb.
It's not easy
to sit down
at the cabinet of the governor of the planet,
looking into the eyes of Christ,
with him showing her the plan,
the strongest possibilities
and saying to her:
"The strongest possibility, the strongest,
is that I'll be crucified in front of you.
Are you prepared?
The probability
is that all beneficiaries
abandon me.
And the strongest probability, mother,
is that your sensible and pure ears
should hear the most vicious rumors about me.
Are you prepared?
Do you still wish to receive me?
Because there will come a time, mother,
when you will prefer
to be tied to the cross in my place.
And it won't be possible!
There will come a time when your mother's heart
will wish to appeal to all the kings of the earth
in order to set your son free.
And none of them will listen to you.
And the only thing to do will be
to accept."
And she accepted.
She accepted.
It's for that reason
and now I bring you another rose.
It's in chapter 30 of the book "Boa Nova".
Humberto de Campos starts off by saying:
"Next to the cross,
next to it..."
He didn't say "before the cross".
Beside it!
I understand it like this:
crucified with Jesus was Mary.
"Next to the cross,
the anguished shadow of Mary
produced a painful
and indelible impression."
You, mother, would you bear it?
Would you bear to look
into Mary's eyes that day?
Would you bear to be by her side on that day?
That figure, that shadow
produced in anyone who looked at her
a painful and unforgettable impression.
"With an anxious
and tortured thought,
eyes stuck to the cross
of human treachery,
the maternal tenderness
travelled back in time
in woeful recollections.
There was her beloved son
at the last hour."
To me, there was the governor of the globe.
To some, there was the theological Christ.
To Mary, there was her son.
Her beloved son.
"And the heart of that mother,
the Holy Mother,
the mother of all,
begins to recollect.
Mary let herself go
in the endless flow of memories,
recalling the wondrous circumstances
in which Jesus' birth had been announced to her..."
She began to recall
Gabriel, the angel, coming up
and talking to her.
"...admitting that God's assistance
had been undeniable
in the smallest details of her life.
At that last moment,
she remembered
the manger in its rustic beauty,
feeling that nature
seemed to wish to restate,
to sing into her ears again
the chant of glory of that unforgettable night.
Through the thick veil of tears,
she recollected one by one,
one by one
the scenes of her adored son's childhood,
observing the inner alarm
of the sweetest reminiscences.
In the smallest things,
she acknowledged the intervention of celestial providence.
However, at that moment,
her thoughts wondered
as well
through the vast sea
of the most excruciating interrogations."
She remembered Jesus
taking his first baby steps,
remembered breastfeeding him,
remembered him walking around the house,
remembered him in the carpentry with his father,
remembered him multiplying bread,
remembered him touching
someone who didn't have an ear,
or nose, or finger,
who was a leper,
and the body of that person recomposing
in front of everybody,
with a simple touch of his hands.
Five fish and he fed a bigger crowd
than this one here today.
He walked on the waters of the Lake of Gennesaret.
He cured men who had been born blind.
And despite that
he didn't do a single thing
anything,
he let himself be arrested.
He didn't resort
to any of his divine powers,
letting them crucify him.
And on that cross
he seemed to want nothing,
nothin,
but to give his testimony
to humankind.
And what does a mother's heart see?
What does a mother's heart feel at that time?
Anguishing questions, doubts.
The questions I'm about to read
are only made by those who love.
Those questions of Mary here
are not questions of one who only thinks.
If you truly
love someone in this world...
Truly!
If you truly love someone,
and this person you love the most
is murdered in front of you,
you will ask these questions.
She asked:
"What had Jesus done
to deserve such bitter punishment?
Hadn't she seen him grow with immaculate feelings
under the warmth of her heart?
From his earliest years,
when she took him to the traditional fountain of Nazareth,
she watched the brotherly affection
with which he treated all creatures.
She would frequently pick him up
on the streets of stone,
where his affectionate words
comforted those who passed by,
friendless and sad.
Destitute travellers
came to her modest house
to admire her adored son,
who knew how to dispense the heavenly blessings.
With what raptures
did she welcome the unexpected guests
that his tiny hands
led to Joseph's carpentry...
She remembered well that one day
the divine child had led to his house,
to their house, two criminals
who were publicly known
as thieves from the Valley of Mizhep.
And it was a sight to see the amorous solicitude
with which his tiny shadow
took care of the two foreigners,
as if they were his brothers."
Two thieves!
Many times she had commented on the excellence
of that holy virtue,
afraid, afraid...
the mother's heart...
afraid for the future
of her lovely son."
She looked at the boy Jesus and thought:
"This boy has no future...
I thought he'd go to college, get married,
give me grandchildren..."
"After the tender domestic scenery,
tender domestic scenery,
it was the celestial mission,
expanding in harvest
of marvellous fruit.
There were paralytics
who regained the movements of life,
blind men who regained
the sacred blessings of sight,
creatures starving for light and love
who quenched their thirst
in his lesson of infinite goodness.
What profound designs
had led her adored son
to the cross of martyrdom?
A friendly voice spoke to her spirit,
telling her of the unfathomable
and just decisions of God,
which must be accepted
for the divine redemption of human creatures."
To accept the will of God,
even when we cannot understand it.
That's the greatest challenge of the spirit
in the journey of evolution.
To accept the will of God
even if you don't understand anything.
Anything!
That's the supreme challenge of faith,
to surrender.
Because faith does not mean believing.
That's theology.
The word faith in Hebrew,
in Greek and in Latin,
the word faith means trust!
Trust.
To surrender.
Do you trust? Do you jump?
Do you surrender?
Will you surrender?
That's the challenge of the immortal spirit.
That's the challenge of Mary of Nazareth.
"Her heart burst
into storms of irrepressible tears;
however, in the shrine of her conscience,
she repeated her statement of sincere humility:
'Let it be done to the slave according to the will of the Lord!'
With a devastated soul,
she noticed that Jesus had reached the last frontier
of unspeakable torments."
It was the end.
Or rather it was the beginning!
"Some of the most violent among the people
multiply the blows,
while spears cross the air
in bold and sinister threats.
Ironic remarks were randomly uttered,
tearing her sensitive and affectionate soul.
Amidst a few of compassionate women
who followed her anguishing trance,
Mary noticed that someone had softly laid
his hands on her shoulder."
It was John.
John the Evangelist.
"...who, overcoming the criminal cowardice
into which the other companions had sunk,
reached out to her his loving and grateful arms.
Silently, the son of Zebedee
embraced that torn maternal heart.
Mary let herself be embraced
by the dear disciple
and both of them, both of them,
at the foot of the cross,
in a pleading gesture,
anxiously searched
for the light of those merciful eyes..."
Who's the frail one here?
The crucified one?
The mother and now the foster son
before the crucified.
He was the strong one.
They searched for his eyes...
"... at the height of his torments.
It was then that the forehead
of the divine condemned
slowly moved,
showing that he noticed
the anxiety of those two souls
in utter dismay.
'My son, my beloved son!',
exclaimed the martyr,
the martyr,
in distress, before the serenity
of that look of unaccountable melancholy.
Christ seemed to meditate
at the height of his pains,
but, as if he wished to demonstrate,
at the very last moment,
the greatness of his courage
and his perfect communion with God,
he replied with a significant move
of his watchful eyes."
My God, there isn't one word in excess here.
"'Mother,
mother, there is your son.'
And addressing the apostle in a special way,
with a slight nod of the head, said:
'Son,
son, there is your mother.'"
You won't read that...
You won't read that in the story
of any human being on earth.
You many consult all the books in the planet,
all the grand souls that have stepped here,
that story you'll never read again,
because it's unique.
That's never happened
and will never happen again!
This is celestial.
"Mary wrapped herself in the veil of her painful tears,
but the great evangelist understood
that the Master, in his very last lesson..."
A Master who, even agonizing on the cross,
still teaches a lesson.
"... he taught that the universal love
was the sublime capstone of his work.
He understood that in the future, in the future,
the light of the kingdom of God
would reveal to everyone
the need to end all selfishness
and that, in the shrine of every heart,
there should be the most abundant share of love,
the most abundant share of love,
not only for the family circle,
but for all the destitute in the world,
and that in the temple of every house
there should be real brotherhood,
so that mutual assistance
would be carried out on earth,
without the need of outward buildings
consacrated to faltering solidarity.
For a long time,
they remained there
in silent prayers,
until the lifeless Master
was taken down from the cross,
before the storm sank
the tormented scenery of Jerusalem
into a deluge of shadows."
A deluge of shadows,
because we had banished light from the world!
We banished light from the world.
"The years began to roll by,
silent and sad,
to the anguished longing of her heart."
Mary went to Ephesus
and John the Evangelist got involved
in that community
which is so special to all of us.
Because we are called by God...
sometimes we're called to sew,
not to reap.
In the small church of Ephesus...
Today we complain:
"Only 30 people came today, so few."
That should be a crowd in the church of Ephesus.
I mean 30 workers,
not people in need, who were thousands.
But my friend,
at that church
was once Nestorius.
Today we know him
by the name of Emmanuel.
At that church
was once Polycarp of Smyrna,
Nestorius' mentor,
a direct disciple of John.
At that church
was once Irenaeus bishop of Lyons,
who would found the church in Lyons.
More details in the book "Hail, Christ".
At that church,
I don't know by what name,
was someone we call today
by the name of Eurípedes Barsanulfo.
So I would say that
some very special students attended that school.
Very special!
Very much so!
John the Evangelist presiding over the works,
Holy Mary welcoming the needy.
Now, that maternal heart
proved by fire,
a polished diamond,
shining bright.
"To that loving mother, whose dignified soul
observed that the generous wine of Cana
had turned into the wine of martyrdom,
time always signaled
greater longing in world
and increasingly higher hopes in the sky."
When she looked at the world, she felt longing.
When she looked at the sky,
at the stars, she felt hope.
"She remembered her baby Jesus,
just as at that night of prodigious beauty
when she received him in her maternal arms,
illumined by the sweetest mystery."
Now just picture it!
Picture it! Newborn Jesus!
Wrapped in rags,
in Mary's arms...
Can you picture that? No! Only she.
Only she!
That scene, only she!
Only she could project that scene here now.
"It seemed that she could still hear the bleating of sheep,
which hurriedly came near the cradle
that had been improvised.
And what about that first kiss,
made of tenderness and light?"
The very first kiss she gave him,
the first cuddle,
or as they say in the Northeast of Brazil,
the first sniff.
Only she!
"The recollections involved
the distant reality
of singular charms
to her sensitive and generous heart.
Then it was the river of memories
ceaselessly flowing
into her soul,
rich of sentiment and tenderness.
Her soul,
rich of sentiment
and tenderness.
Nazareth came back to her mind
with its sceneries
of happiness and light.
The modest house,
the friendly water fountain,
the sincerity of affections,
the majestic lake of Gennesaret
and amid all those details,
her adored son,
working and loving,
building the highest
concept of God among men on earth.
The highest concept of God!
Sometimes it seemed she saw him
in her dreams filled with hope.
Jesus promised her
the enchanting delight of his presence
and took part in the caress of her reminiscence."
Time went by,
the church of Ephesus demanded
more and more of John the Evangelist,
and Mary began to spend time alone."
Solitude!
"Soon the news were spread out
in the neighboring areas of Ephesus.
She had received a pilgrim
and had been able, with her maternal tenderness,
to console that suffering spirit.
So he came back to the town
and told everyone that small house
was the House of Holy Mary.
And the news gained importance.
Lines of sufferers,
of downhearted people,
mothers who had also lost sons,
people who had lost their beloved,
souls who were experiencing
pain, suffering...
They went up to Mary in her small house,
on the top of that hill.
It was still possible at the time
to see the Mediterranean sea
not too far away.
Nowadays it's miles and miles away.
So one of them thanked her
in a really inspired manner,
he said:
"Madam, madam,
you are our Master's mother
and our Holy Mother!"
It only took this rhyme and the verse caught on.
Our Master's mother and our Holy Mother.
And Mary became the mother of all.
During the day, endless lines of sufferers,
and she embraced them all, like a mother.
And when she heard them for a long time,
each one narrating
their rosary of sufferings, of struggles,
she always used to say:
"My son, this too shall pass!
This too shall pass."
Because no distress remains.
I remember an old lady
that I met when I first heard of Spiritism,
at 15 years old.
A kind, generous old lady.
And she always used to say,
following this advice of Mary's:
"My son, in the end, it all works out!
If it didn't work out, it's because it's not the end."
And I... with the arrogance
of every young person of fifteen...
If you're fifteen or past fifteen,
you know what I'm talking about.
There's even a writer who says...
A very intelligent writer who says:
"If I were half the hero
my son thought I was
when he was seven,
and half the idiot he thinks I am
now that he is fifteen,
I would be above average as a person."
So at fifteen,
we are extremely arrogant,
tremendously!
I looked at all that and I said: "How corny!"
"It all works out in the end..."
It all goes wrong in the end, right?
Nothing comes from where you least expect.
Or like that Brazilian song goes:
"Anything can happen tomorrow, even nothing."
And she said:
"It all works out in the end.
If it didn't work out, it's not the end yet."
Two years went by and I went to see her at the hospital,
she had terminal cancer.
I paid the visit on Sunday,
on Tuesday she discarnated.
And the day I went to visit her,
two days before she discarnated,
she already on morphine to stand the pain,
I asked how she was.
She looked into my eyes and said:
"My son, in the end it all works out.
If it didn't work out, it's not the end yet."
And that was registered in my mind.
Two days later I was at her funeral.
Three years went by,
I was at a mediumistic meeting,
and an old lady gave a communication
and it was simple:
"This is so-and-son.
Hi, Haroldo, my son,
didn't I tell you it all works out in the end?
Didn't I tell you it all works out in the end?
So you see! It worked out!"
Or when Chico was going through troubled times
and he says to Emmanuel:
I would like to ask you something,
if you could help me...
I don't know if you can,
but if you can't,
you can forward it to our superiors.
I would like to receive a direct message from Maria.
A little word, however brief, from her!
For these pains I've been going through.
How about that!
His brother had discarnated,
his brother's wife had been committed
to a psychiatric hospital
and left him a child with cerebral palsy.
José was his right-hand man
at the Luiz Gonzaga spiritist center.
He was the one who screened,
who prioritized, who talked to people.
He was Chico's means of support,
and Chico loses this brother.
And there's the nephew to take care of.
And Emmanuel tells him:
"My son, I'll ask,
I'll plead, I'll do my best,
I'll forward it to our superiors."
Some time later Emmanuel comes back and says:
"Chico, your wish has been granted.
I'm back with a message to you from Mary.
She asked me to tell you: 'This too shall pass.'"
So Chico wrote on a piece of poster paper
and pinned it in his bedroom:
"This too shall pass."
And it did. It did!
There would come other pains,
because, like Emmanuel says,
once you overcome a problem you should expect another.
Because problems
educate our ability to discern,
to feel and to think.
So she would always say:
"This too shall pass."
On that heavenly sky of Turkey,
bordering Greece,
much like Sacramento,
only without the sea, what a pity.
You look at the starry sky at night...
Especially her, in a small house at a hilltop.
It was getting dark, she received the last pilgrims
and placed all her hopes in the sky.
Because I don't know if you've noticed,
whatever happens here,
no matter how messy things are on earth,
the sky is in absolute order.
Even if down here men devour one another,
slaughter one another,
the sky is the reflection
of the most absolute order.
It's the reflection of God,
convoking people to organize themselves,
convoking people
to bring order to their inner selves.
So then Mary placed her hopes.
But...
a ragged pilgrim comes,
very miserable, mistreated.
And he calls her: "My mother!"
Like so many others.
But that was a singular pilgrim,
'cause he began to speak of the sky,
delicately comforting her.
And he inspired profound affection in her.
"He commented on the divine blessings
which await all the devoted
and sincere children of God,
meaning that he understood
the tenderest longing of her heart.
Mary was thrilled with the touching surprise.
Who could be that beggar
who soothed the secret pains
of her nostalgic soul, with balms so sweet?
No one had ever come up to her to give,
but always to ask for something.
However, that unknown traveller
poured into her soul
the holiest consolation.
Where had she heard that tender and sweet voice
at other times?
Tender and sweet voice.
What emotions were those
that made her heart jump at such caresses?
Her eyes were wet with joy,
although she could not explain
the reason for her emotion.
It was then that the anonymous guest
held out his generous hands
and spoke to her with a strong tone of love:
'Mother of mine, come to my arms!'
At that moment she saw the noble hands
that were held out to her,
in a gesture of the loveliest tenderness.
Filled with comotion,
deep comotion,
she saw in them two wounds,
like those her son had on the cross.
And instinctively, turning her anxious eyes
to the feet of the friendly pilgrim,
there she also noticed the ulcers
caused by the spikes of torture.
She could stand no longer.
Understanding the amorous visit
that God sent to her heart,
she cried with infinite joy:
'My son! My son!
What ulcers they gave you!'"
She couldn't accept the...
Her mother's heart could not accept
those injuries.
"And rushing to him,
as a loving and attentive mother,
she wanted to make sure..."
Women are sly, aren't they?
"... touching the wound that had been made
by the last spear, near the heart.
Her tender and thoughtful hands embraced him,
in the shadow visited by the moonlight,
anxiously searching for the ulcer
that so many tears had provoked
in her maternal affection.
The side wound was also there,
under the caress of her hands.
She could not command her intense joy.
In a loving impulse,
she made a movement to kneel down."
She wanted to kneel down
before the spiritual governor of the planet.
"She wanted to embrace the feet of her Jesus,
kiss his feet with tenderness.
He rose, however,
and surrounded by a halo of celestial light,
kneeled down at her feet
and, kissing her hands,
told her in loving rapture:
'Yes, my mother, it's me!
I've come to take you,
for my Father wants you to be
the Queen of the Angels in my kingdom.'"
Mary stumbled, fell to the ground,
and agonized for three days,
filling John the Evangelist's heart with apprehension,
until she detached herself from the physical body.
When she awakens in the spiritual world,
a legion of angelic spirits,
martyrs of Christianity,
illustrious figures of the newborn Christianity...
It was a spiritual entourage!
Then they asked:
what was her first wish?
What did she want to do?
And her mother's heart
recalled
that John the Evangelish had told her
that, around that time,
a group of Christians
would be slaughtered in Rome,
for, at that time already,
Christians were used in a public spectacle
of cruelty and meanness.
She only had to think,
she only had to make the wish
and the entourage began to move
towards Rome.
And that celestial caravan
entered the Roman prisons.
And there were the Christians
who would be slaughtered.
And those angelic beings began to console,
to instill courage,
resignation, hope...
But Mary's attention was turned
to a thin young woman
with disheveled hair,
gloomy, in tears,
in very low spirits.
Her maternal heart
wished to stop that young woman from suffering.
What Mary felt like doing,
she, who experienced suffering
in its highest degree,
maybe giving in to her maternal impulse,
wished to remove,
remove, take away,
remove that spirit from pain,
set her free,
not allow that young woman
to go through that suffering.
But then she remembered
that only the pain in the world can regenerate us,
that people don't become strong and experienced
if they don't experience sacrifice,
renunciation, selflessness.
Because God did not create children made of crystal.
He created indestructible diamonds!
We are indestructible!
Our physical bodies may be torn away,
we may be crushed
with the utmost cruelty,
and we'll still stand!
Because we are diamonds
out of God's hands.
And there is no chisel,
there is not one difficulty
that can make us tumble.
We may cry,
we may stumble,
we may feel out of spirits,
even lose hope at times,
but never tumble.
Never.
So when Mary
reached that understanding
of the function of pain in the world,
because pain makes us human,
pain makes us become real people...
When pain comes, illusions jump out the window.
Vanities, pride,
superiority and arrogance die out!
So, noticing that pain
has its sacred role
Mary whispered in the young woman's ear:
"Sing! Sing, my daughter!
Let us lift up our spirits!
Let us convert our pains on earth
into joys for heaven!"
And even today,
if you're walking around absent-minded
and you hear a choir singing,
be suspicious,
it may be some new whisper of Mary
in your ears.
Thank you very much. Good evening to all.