30/09/2018
I was praying one day like this before the Blessed Sacrament with the Liturgy of the Hours:
My eyes are tired of seeing so much light without seeing through the darkness of the world, I go like a blind man who sees. You who gave sight to the blind man and to Nicodemus as well, filter into my dry pupils two fresh drops of faith.
And I thought that those fresh drops of faith are those moments when we cry. Because yes, we have cried in India, we have cried with the joy of the neighborhood, we have cried with the sisters praying, we have cried leaning on Mother Teresa’s tomb pouring out all of ourselves there and wishing to catch at least a bit of her holiness, we have cried saying goodbye to the tuberculosis patients, we have cried before the greatness of a God who is praised and blessed in those who have shared their testimonies, we have cried making the voices off our own, we have cried with others when You have also put in their pupils two fresh drops of faith and, above all, above all we have cried prostrate before You, before Christ the Redeemer.
Jesus, there, in the Host, you overwhelm me, your two fresh drops of faith become a great river of waters that stir between the joy of experiencing Your Love, Your light, and my blindness. Why do You love me so much, God?
And yes, when they keep asking how India was and I begin to remember all these moments, those fresh drops of faith that illuminate the eyes jump out again, and make me feel strongly inside who my best friend is, how mercy has entered this house, and what great joy it is to see the “that we love each other more” come true.
My God, I need those two fresh drops of faith every time I hear “how was India?”, every moment I remember that I was in Calcutta, that I stood barefoot before You, empty of myself, and prostrate before You I asked: Help me, father. And I ask You, Jesus, for everyone, for everyone, those fresh drops of faith daily, that bet on You, a row of crazy people who follow Christ, the poor crazy drunk with love, who shout Hakuna, who shout revolution.
