THE SILENT CRY: A STORY OF PAIN AND HOPE

The early morning wrapped the hospital in a heavy silence as Clara arrived, feeling that each step pulled her deeper into an abyss of uncertainty. She had thought that making a decision would quiet the storm inside her, but with every heartbeat, her doubts only grew stronger.

Was she really going to do this?

The voices around her were deafening. Her boyfriend, indifferent, had told her, “Do whatever you think is best.” Her friends insisted it was her right. Her mother, in a stern tone, reminded her, “A child now will ruin your plans.” Everywhere she turned, the message was clear: “It’s nothing. It’s your body, your choice.”

Yet deep inside, another voice whispered otherwise. If it was really nothing, why did she feel that tight knot in her stomach?

She hugged herself, trying to stop the trembling that ran through her. The hospital corridor seemed to close in on her, and panic began to set in. What if what she was carrying was a real life?

She tried to dismiss the thought, repeating what others had told her: that it was just a cluster of cells, that there was no consciousness, that it didn’t matter. But then she remembered something she had read somewhere:

• The heart begins to beat around the third week of pregnancy.

• Brain activity can be detected by the sixth week.

• By the twelfth week, the fetus can respond to stimuli.

If a fetus could respond, how could it be “nothing”?

She pressed her forehead against the cold wall, searching for clarity. She couldn’t think straight. Every argument clashed against her fear, her shame, and the desperation of not knowing what to do.

“You’re not ready,” an inner voice told her. “This will ruin your life. You don’t have the resources or support. How will you raise a child when you can barely handle yourself?”

But another, softer voice whispered, “If inside you there is a beating heart, a functioning brain, a being with unique DNA… do you really have the right to decide its fate?”

She swallowed hard, feeling the weight on her chest. What if she was about to make an irreversible mistake?

Her fear began to change. It was no longer just fear of having the baby, but fear of what would happen if she didn’t.

A nurse approached with a clipboard in her hands.

— “Clara González. It’s your turn.”

She looked at her, frozen. Every part of her was screaming for her to stand up, to run, to protect the life inside her. But fear kept her glued to her seat.

Then, almost instinctively, her hands moved to her belly. And in that moment, an image from her childhood surfaced: the Virgin Mary, draped in her blue mantle, carrying the Savior in her womb.

If Mary had seen her pregnancy as an obstacle, if she had given in to fear… what would have become of us?

The thought struck her deeply. If the Son of God came into the world through a woman, how could she reject the gift that had been entrusted to her?

A shiver ran through her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a comforting presence.

She was not alone. She had never been alone.

In a whisper, her lips formed the words her heart understood before her mind did:

“Mater Dei, ora pro nobis.”

The fear began to fade, replaced by a newfound strength she had never known.

She stood up, leaving behind the shadows of despair. She walked out of the hospital, and outside, the dawn painted the sky with golden hues, as if creation itself was celebrating her choice.

She had chosen life.

Though the future remained uncertain, she knew one thing for sure: she had embraced God’s plan.

And in that womb that had almost been denied, in that sacred place where God had placed an immortal soul, a new light continued to beat. A heartbeat that echoed eternal love, belonging not only to her but to the Creator who had conceived it from all eternity.

OMO

ORA PRO NOBIS

 

The Paradox of Racism

 Racism is, at first glance, a modern ideology. It is spoken of as a plague born in the Enlightenment and refined by 19th-century positivism. But its root is much older: it is the heresy of flesh without soul, of instinct without reason, of man turned into a beast who worships his own skin as an idol. It is, in the words of Saint Augustine, the pride of the City of Man that seeks to abolish the City of God (De Civitate Dei, XV, 1). And, like all heresies, it presents itself disguised as a great truth distorted into something grotesque.

THE ERROR: WHEN MAN SEES HIMSELF AS A BEAST

The Church has never denied differences between men. On the contrary: it has affirmed them

THE PARADOX OF RACISM

Racism is, at first glance, a modern ideology. It is spoken of as a plague born in the Enlightenment and refined by 19th-century positivism. But its root is much older: it is the heresy of flesh without soul, of instinct without reason, of man turned into a beast who worships his own skin as an idol. It is, in the words of Saint Augustine, the pride of the City of Man that seeks to abolish the City of God (De Civitate Dei, XV, 1). And, like all heresies, it presents itself disguised as a great truth distorted into something grotesque.

THE ERROR: WHEN MAN SEES HIMSELF AS A BEAST

The Church has never denied differences between men. On the contrary: it has affirmed them as a sign of the richness of Creation. Saint Thomas Aquinas, with the meticulousness of a celestial architect, explains that variety in nature is part of divine order and that the universe’s harmony does not lie in uniformity but in an ordered diversity (Summa Theologiae I, q. 47, a. 2). What racism does is take this diversity and pervert it, turning it into an absolute criterion, an idol to be worshiped at the expense of human dignity.

Racism is paganism in its most degenerate form. Saint John Chrysostom, in his commentary on the Epistle to the Ephesians, states that Christ’s work is to destroy the enmity between peoples (Homily on Ephesians, 5). There is neither Greek nor Jew, neither barbarian nor Scythian (Col 3:11), because what makes us human is not our blood but our immortal soul. Yet racism denies this: it reshapes the world according to the brutal logic of the tribe, of instinct, of blind biology. It is a return to the idolatrous paganism of old, except this time, the idol is one’s own race.

Saint Gregory the Great, in his letters to missionaries in England, demonstrates the Catholic response to this worldview. He does not command them to convert only pure-blooded Anglo-Saxons but rather all men who walk under God’s sun (Epistolae, XI, 4). The Church is not a nation, a race, or a culture: it is the assembly of those who seek the Truth.

HISTORY: HOW CHRISTENDOM LIVED WITHOUT RACISM

Elías de Tejada, with his relentless historical precision, dismantles the fallacy that racism is a natural phenomenon. He reminds us that in medieval Christendom, there was no modern racial obsession. In Visigothic Spain, a Goth and a Hispano-Roman could belong to the same nobility without anyone distinguishing them by blood. During the Reconquista, a converted Muslim could be noble and a soldier without being seen as foreign.

Saint Martin de Porres, son of a Spaniard and a black slave, did not see his mixed heritage as an obstacle to sanctity. More than that, in his humility and service, he made it clear that true nobility lies not in lineage but in virtue. The same can be said of Saint Peter Claver, who spent his life baptizing and serving enslaved Africans in America, reminding them that they were children of God, not human merchandise.

This was Christendom’s vision. The concept of Christendom is crucial here because it was not an egalitarian utopia without hierarchies but an order in which each people found their place, not based on skin color but on their participation in Tradition. Ethiopian black knights, Mongol soldiers in Orthodox Russia, and mixed-race saints of the New World—all were part of the same spiritual edifice, built not on the clay of biology but on the stone of faith.

THE MODERN HERESY: HOW RACISM WAS BORN FROM MATERIALISM

Modern racism is the offspring of two monsters: Enlightenment rationalism and materialist positivism. With the Enlightenment, the Christian notion of personhood was replaced by that of the “individual,” and with positivism, an attempt was made to reduce the individual to a series of biological determinants. Saint Augustine had already warned against this mindset when he condemned those who believed man’s fate was written in the stars (Confessions, VII, 6), and positivism, at its core, did nothing but replace astrology with genetics.

The French Revolution destroyed the traditional order of Christian nations and replaced it with a new myth: that of the homogeneous nation-state. It was in this context that modern nationalisms emerged, and with them, the idea that a people’s identity was not in their faith or culture but in their race. In the 19th century, this was combined with poorly digested Darwinism to produce the racist doctrines that inspired European colonialism, segregation laws in the United States, and, ultimately, the racial delirium of Nazism.

Saint Pius X saw clearly the dangers of this materialism, vehemently condemning any attempt to reduce society to purely biological criteria (Pascendi Dominici Gregis, 1907). The Church never accepted the modern obsession with classifying men like livestock because it always knew that human dignity comes from God, not from blood.

THE TRUTH: THE ONLY HIERARCHY THAT MATTERS

Against modern error, the Catholic position is clear: the only real hierarchy is that of virtue and grace. Not all men are equal in talents, intelligence, or strength, but all share the same eternal destiny. As Saint Thomas states, inequalities in this world only make sense if they are ordered toward the common good and salvation (Summa Theologiae I-II, q. 96, a. 4).

Saint Francis of Assisi embraced lepers without asking which nation they belonged to. Saint Thomas More defended the dignity of the common man against the tyranny of a king who saw himself above the law. Saint Joseph of Cupertino, with his simple mind but heart of fire, achieved a sanctity higher than that of many scholars. Because in Christianity, the only legitimate superiority is that of holiness.

Racism, then, is a contradiction. It is a philosophical error, a theological heresy, and a monumental stupidity. It is the irrational insistence on imprisoning the spirit within the confines of biology. But the spirit is free. And Catholic truth is clear: in eternal life, we will not be asked what color our skin was, but whether our soul was in a state of grace.

OMO

BIBLIOGRAPHY

• Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae.

• Saint Augustine, De Civitate Dei.

• Saint John Chrysostom, Homilies on Ephesians.

• Saint Gregory the Great, Epistolae.

• Saint Augustine, Confessions.

• Saint Pius X, Pascendi Dominici Gregis.

• Elías de Tejada, Racismo.

THE EMPEROR WHO DID NOT BELIEVE IN PROGRESS

 

Marcus Aurelius opened his eyes and looked around. He was not in Rome, nor on the Danube frontier, nor on the battlefields against the Germans. He found himself in a world where the dignity of stone had been replaced by the gleaming emptiness of glass and metal. A world where walls were not built to uphold civilization, but to reflect its distorted image.

At that moment, his gaze fell upon an object that seemed familiar: a book. More than that, it was his own book. His Meditations, written with no intention of being published, were now in the hands of a modern man, who flipped through the pages with the indifference of a wine taster inspecting a bottle that had not been corked yesterday.

“Interesting,” the man said with a smile that barely concealed his condescension. “But it’s a bit… outdated.”

“In what sense?” asked the emperor calmly.

“Well, all this insistence on discipline, self-control, gratitude… Those are obsolete values. Today, we know that everyone must express themselves freely, without restrictions or external impositions.”

Marcus Aurelius nodded slowly, like someone listening to a barbarian explain why burning a city is better than governing it.

“So you have discovered that freedom consists in doing whatever one wishes?”

“Of course,” the man replied with self-assurance. “It’s the foundation of our time.”

“And have you also discovered that justice consists in obeying whoever shouts the loudest?”

The man frowned.

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Then what exactly have you discovered?”

“That happiness cannot depend on artificial restrictions. That the rules of the past do not have to govern us today. That each generation must reinvent itself.”

The emperor took a moment to consider this statement. He looked around and observed the crowd passing through the streets, hurried and distracted, unable to see beyond their own reflections in the screens they carried in their hands.

“You have changed many things,” he finally said, “but you have discovered nothing new. My ancestors believed that virtue was passed down from generation to generation, like a fire that is tended and kindled. You, on the other hand, believe that each generation must light its own fire and throw everything that came before it into the flames.”

“Progress requires breaking with the past.”

“Then you have turned history into a constant cycle of starting over, never learning. You have replaced the wisdom of the elders with the opinions of the crowd, reason with emotion, virtue with desire.”

The man crossed his arms.

“We don’t need lessons from the past.”

Marcus Aurelius smiled with a faint melancholy.

“That is exactly what the barbarians said before Rome fell.”

THE CATHOLIC CROSS

Carrying the Christian cross means dying to one's own desires and suffering persecution for the sake of faith to the point of losing one's life if necessary in order to follow Christ by obeying the great mission of going and making disciples of all nations. (See: Matthew 28:16-20).

THE GREAT DEVOTION

"I am about to go to heaven. You are here to say that God wants to establish the devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary in the world. When you go to say it, do not hide. Tell all the people that God grants us graces through the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Let them ask her for them, that the Heart of Jesus wants the Heart of Mary to be venerated at its side, let them ask for peace from the Immaculate Heart of Mary, that God entrusted it to her. If I could put into the hearts of all the people the light that I have here in my chest, that is burning within me and makes me enjoy so much the Heart of Jesus and the Heart of Mary..."

Words of Saint Jacinta Marto to her cousin Lucia, both had the privilege along with Saint Francisco Marto of contemplating the Blessed Virgin Mary in Cova da Iria.

The Rose and the Fire

Sofía walked briskly, as always. High heels, a designer bag hanging from her wrist, and a coffee in the other hand. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she didn’t care. Lately, her life had been running on comfortable inertia: fashion, social media, parties, music. Everything seemed designed to be seen, to be shared. She was beautiful, and she knew it. But in the last few months, an uncomfortable feeling had been growing inside her, like a murmur she couldn’t silence.

The whole world applauded her, but something inside her felt empty.

That day, she decided to take a detour through a solitary park, with ancient trees that seemed to whisper stories of the past. That’s when she saw her.

Sitting on a stone bench, an old woman was twirling a withered rose between her fingers. Her hands were wrinkled, yet there was something serene, something unbreakable in her posture. Sofía couldn’t help but stop.

—“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”— the old woman said without looking away from the flower.

Sofía nodded, though in reality, the rose looked like it was about to fall apart.

—“It was cut days ago, yet its fragrance still lingers,”— the old woman continued. —“It no longer has yesterday’s freshness, but it still gives off its essence.”

Sofía frowned.

—“And what will happen when it no longer smells?”

The old woman looked at her with clear eyes, so deep that Sofía felt a strange vertigo.

—“It will turn to dust. Like all things that remain only on the surface.”

Sofía shivered.

—“I don’t understand…”

The old woman smiled tenderly, but her gaze was firm.

—“Today, beauty has become a disguise, a deception. We’ve been convinced that to be beautiful is to attract attention, but they never told us that the body is just a wrapping. We were trained to show ourselves, but not to be. We were made to believe that we are valuable for what we reveal, but never for what we conceal.”

Sofía felt a lump in her throat.

—“And what’s wrong with beauty?”— she asked, with a more defensive tone than she intended.

—“Nothing,”— the old woman replied. —“The problem is when beauty is emptied of meaning. When you use it as bait instead of as a gift. When a dress does not enhance dignity but destroys it. When a woman ceases to be a mystery and becomes a display case.”

Sofía felt the ground become unsteady beneath her feet.

—“Women today are like plastic roses,”— the old woman continued. —“They look perfect, but they have no fragrance. They don’t die, but they don’t live either. They don’t hurt, but they don’t love. They have traded fire for artifice, essence for image.”

—“But… isn’t it important to feel good about oneself?”— Sofía insisted, looking for a way to defend herself.

The old woman tilted her head gently.

—“Yes, but tell me, is feeling good the same as being free?”

Sofía opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say.

—“Today, they tell you that you are free if you can do whatever you want with your body,”— the old woman continued. —“But true freedom is not following desires that others have planted in you. It is choosing what is good, even if no one else does. It is knowing that you are more than a dress, more than a like, more than a well-shaped body.”

—“But if I dress nicely, what harm is there in that?”— Sofía insisted.

The old woman smiled gently.

—“Nothing, my child. God Himself clothes the lilies of the field in beauty. But notice: their beauty is not forced, nor fake, nor does it provoke disorderly desires in others. They grow with dignity, with grace. True beauty attracts the soul, not just the eyes. Have you ever wondered if what you wear leads someone to look beyond your body?”

Sofía lowered her gaze, unsettled.

—“But… fashion changes,”— she whispered, more to herself than to the old woman.

—“And truth does not,”— the old woman replied firmly. —“Do you know why the world insists so much on undressing women? Because nakedness is not just physical, it is spiritual. The more the body is displayed, the less the soul is valued. The more it is shown, the less it is protected. And the less it is protected, the easier it is for people to treat it as a disposable object.”

The air grew heavy.

—“We have forgotten that the body is a temple,”— the old woman continued. —“And one does not enter a temple in just any manner, nor does one allow just anyone to profane it. A woman who dresses with dignity respects herself, and those who respect themselves teach others to respect them.”

Sofía felt the urge to argue, to justify fashion, to talk about freedom. But a part of her knew she had no answer.

—“And what does it mean to burn?”— she finally asked, her voice weaker than she expected.

—“To burn means not to fear the truth. It means that your beauty is not a lure but a reflection of what you are inside. That instead of attracting glances, you illuminate souls. That you become a woman who inspires others to look upward, not downward.”

Sofía looked at her reflection on her phone’s black screen. Her tight clothes, her rehearsed pose, her perfectly outlined lips. For the first time in years, she felt that none of it truly represented her.

The old woman extended the withered rose. Sofía took it in her hands. Gently, she brought the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. It still smelled of something.

—“Roses are not born to decorate shop windows,”— the old woman whispered. —“They are born to be a garden, to be a fragrance, to be fire.”

Sofía lifted her gaze, but the old woman was gone.

Only the rose remained.

OMO

Happy Saint Valentine's Day!!

 According to tradition, Saint Valentine risked his life to marry couples in a Christian way during times of persecution. He finally gave his life in martyrdom, which is the highest manifestation of love. The love of this holy priest for Jesus Christ and for defending the Sacrament of Marriage inspires us to elevate human love to the heights of divine love for which we were created. Christians should take advantage of this feast to recover the Christian sense of love and marriage in the light of Christ.

I AM GOD’S WHEAT: MARTYRDOM AS A TRANSFIGURATION IN CHRIST

At the dawn of Christianity, when the blood of the just stained the arenas of the circus in crimson, voices arose—not pleading for mercy, but for consummation. They were the martyrs, witnesses in the highest sense of the word, whose souls, enkindled with divine love, longed for their passage as the deer thirsts for the living waters. Among them shines with singular splendor St. Ignatius of Antioch, who, foreseeing the nearness of his sacrifice, uttered words that echo in eternity:

“I am God’s wheat, and I must be ground by the teeth of wild beasts to become the pure bread of Christ.”

What is this cry if not the supreme expression of faith reaching its peak? It is not lamentation, nor resignation, nor mere natural courage; it is the voice of a soul that has grasped the deepest mystery of Christianity: to die in Christ is to be reborn in glory, to be ground is to be transformed, to disappear in oblation is to find the fullness of being.

Martyrdom is the highest configuration with the Redeemer; it is the ultimate and perfect expression of love. The world sees it as a defeat, but the Church sings it as a triumph; the persecutors believe they are destroying, but they are merely purifying; death seems to devour the just, but in reality, it exalts them.

1. God’s Wheat: Martyrdom as an Eucharistic Sacrifice

St. Ignatius does not merely accept martyrdom; he desires it, embraces it, and prays for it—not as one who despairs of life, but as one who has understood that the true meaning of existence is not in preserving it but in offering it. His metaphor of wheat holds sublime symbolism: the martyr is not a condemned man but bread in preparation; he is not a helpless victim but a voluntary holocaust.

Sacred Scripture gives us the key to understanding this mystery:

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)

The Church has always understood that in the offering of the martyr, the sacrifice of Christ is prolonged. The Eucharist is the center of Christianity because it is the living memorial of the Sacrifice of Calvary; but martyrdom is its realization in the flesh of the saints. This is why the early Church celebrated Mass upon the tombs of the martyrs: in them, what was mystically accomplished on the altar became visibly manifest.

St. Ignatius grasped this with all the lucidity of a soul inflamed by God: his death was not annihilation, but transfiguration. Just as wheat is ground to become bread, so he would be ground to become a perfect offering. He does not cling to life because his heart beats with the certainty that by dying with Christ can one reign with Him.

2. Martyrdom: Total Union with Christ

The world does not understand martyrdom. To the earthly mind, death is always an evil, a failure, an irreparable loss. But Christ has completely overturned this vision:

“Whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)

St. Ignatius is a soul wholly possessed by this truth. He does not fear the beasts, does not resist torture, does not seek escape. On the contrary, his only concern is that the faithful in Rome, moved by human compassion, might intercede to save him. That is why he writes to them with fervor:

“Let me be an imitator of the Passion of my God.” (Letter to the Romans, 6)

Here lies the heart of Christian martyrdom: it is not merely a heroic death, but a full identification with Christ crucified. St. Thomas Aquinas explains that martyrdom is the highest form of charity because in it, man offers his life out of love for God (Summa Theologica, II-II, q. 124, a. 3).

Indeed, the martyr does not merely imitate Christ; in him, the mystery of the Cross is fulfilled. As St. Paul teaches:

“I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” (Galatians 2:20)

This is why St. Ignatius does not fear, does not lament, does not waver. His flesh will be torn apart, but his soul will unite irrevocably with the Beloved.

3. Martyrdom as a Seed for the Church

Rome believed it was eradicating Christians by handing them over to the sword and the flames, but in reality, it was multiplying them. In martyrdom, the mystery of Christianity was revealed with power: death does not conquer, the Cross does not destroy, and blood does not extinguish faith—it enkindles it further.

The blood of the martyrs is the seed of Christians.

St. Ignatius was not defeated in the Roman circus; he was crowned in eternity. He was not devoured by beasts; he was absorbed into glory. His martyrdom was not the end of his mission but its highest fulfillment.

The beasts have perished, the emperors have fallen, the colosseums are ruins, but the faith he confessed with his blood remains alive. His cry continues to resonate in the Church:

“I am God’s wheat, and I must be ground by the teeth of wild beasts to become the pure bread of Christ.”

May his testimony enkindle in us the ardor of the martyrs. May his example inspire us to live our faith with radical commitment. May his voice remind us that only in Christ is true life found.

OMO

Bibliography

• St. Ignatius of Antioch, Letter to the Romans.

• St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, II-II, q. 124, a. 3.

• The Holy Scriptures (Vulgate version and traditional translations).

THE DULL SADNESS OF THE MODERN AGE

I. THE STRANGE SERIOUSNESS OF A WORLD THAT THINKS ITSELF CLEVER

One of the most baffling mysteries of modern society is its inability to laugh with genuine joy. It’s not that people don’t make jokes—they do, constantly—but rarely with true delight. Instead, modern humor is bitter, calculated, and, above all, sad.

There was a time when men laughed because life was a gift and the world a stage full of surprises. Today, the modern man laughs with a bitter smirk, as if trying to prove that he is too intelligent to take anything seriously. He has turned humor into a tool of sarcasm and disdain, a shield against the terrifying possibility of happiness. Because, in the modern mind, to be happy is to be naive, and to not take oneself too seriously is a sign of low intelligence.

This obsessive seriousness is the clearest sign of a world that has lost its grasp on reality. Because only those who possess the truth can laugh at everything without fear.

II. THE SADNESS OF THOSE WHO BELIEVE IN NOTHING

The problem with the modern world is not just that it lacks humor, but that its own philosophy makes it incapable of finding any.

To laugh, one must at least momentarily accept that the world is something good. And that is precisely what the modern man cannot do. If life has no purpose and the universe is a meaningless accident, then any expression of joy is, at best, a foolish distraction and, at worst, an offense against reason. The modern world is incapable of spontaneous joy because it has convinced itself that nothing is worth celebrating.

When men of old drank wine, they sang and toasted with joy because the wine was a gift. The modern man drinks to forget. Before, festivities were a reflection of gratitude; today, entertainment is merely a way to anesthetize oneself. The difference is simple: the man who believes in God drinks with joy; the man who does not drinks in despair.

III. HUMOR: A MATTER OF MENTAL HEALTH

In a sane world, laughter is a sign of sanity. Not because everything is funny, but because everything is meaningful. True humor arises from the ability to see life from the right perspective, to understand that the world is at once serious and ridiculous, profound and lighthearted, divine and human.

The saint and the wise man can laugh because they know man is small and yet, miraculously, loved by God. The madman and the proud man, on the other hand, never truly laugh, because they believe the universe revolves around their own gravity.

This is why the modern man—who thinks history begins with him and that the fate of the cosmos depends on his social media debates—is incapable of lighthearted laughter. He has made seriousness into a religion and has banished joy to the margins of childhood and ignorance.

But joy is not a sign of foolishness; it is a sign of sanity.

IV. ONLY THOSE WHO HAVE THE TRUTH CAN LAUGH

Laughter is not just a trait of human nature; it is proof that there is something in the universe worth celebrating. It is the spark that confirms that reality is neither a trap nor a nightmare, but a story with a purpose.

This is why saints have always been the most joyful. Because their joy does not depend on circumstances but on the certainty that truth exists and that God is good.

The modern world mocks faith, but it is incapable of laughing with the freedom of a believer. Because the one who possesses the truth can afford the luxury of laughing even at himself, but the one who has made relativism his only truth must cling desperately to his own importance.

When a Christian laughs, he does so with the confidence of a child playing in his father’s house. When the modern man tries to laugh, he does so like someone whistling in the dark to hide his fear.

V. THE SECRET OF JOY

The secret of joy is simple: not thinking oneself the center of the universe.

The man who sees the world as a gift is happy because he understands that his role in this story is that of a character, not a frustrated author trying to rewrite the plot. He does not need to pretend that everything is under his control, because he knows the script has already been written by someone infinitely wiser.

Christianity has always been the religion of joy because it is the only one that has a real reason for it. It not only offers an explanation for existence but a reason to celebrate it. It not only answers suffering but redeems it. It not only understands death but conquers it.

This is why the Christian can laugh freely, while the modern world, with all its science, progress, and technology, remains as dull as ever.

Because nothing is more boring than living in a world without meaning.

VI. THE WORLD HAS BECOME SERIOUS BECAUSE IT HAS LOST GOD

The problem with the modern world is not just that it has stopped believing in God but that it has taken itself too seriously. And a world that takes itself too seriously is a world doomed to sadness.

Before, men could laugh at their own flaws because they knew they were not the center of existence. Today, the slightest joke is taken as an offense because every man has turned his opinion into a personal dogma and his ego into a religion.

The world has banished laughter because it has lost humility. It has exiled joy because it no longer knows how to be grateful. And it has murdered humor because it has forgotten that reality is far greater than our intellectual pretensions.

But laughter will not disappear. Because truth, in the end, always triumphs.

And when the world, tired of its own dullness, rediscovers the greatness of simplicity, the wonder of the ordinary, and the immense joy of being a creature in the house of its Creator…

Then, it will laugh again.

OMO

BEWARE OF MODERNIST HERESY! POPE SAINT PIUS X WARNED US THAT IT WAS THE SUM OF ALL HERESIES

 

THE DUTY OF PRAYING DAILY FOR THEM

 

REVERENCE AND LOVE

 

The Father’s Blessing

It was a warm night at the grandparents’ house, filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and the soft creaking of the wooden floor. Sofía, a ten-year-old girl with dark hair and bright eyes, was sitting on the couch with her grandfather, Don Joaquín, a man with a white beard and a gentle voice who loved telling stories under the glow of the lamp.

“Grandpa, will you tell me a story before bed?” Sofía asked, settling into his lap.

Her grandfather smiled and stroked her hair.

“Of course, little one. But first, tell me—did you ask your father for his blessing?”

Sofía lowered her gaze and fidgeted with her feet.

“Hmm… no. Sometimes I forget, Grandpa. Mom says that God watches over me anyway…”

Her grandfather frowned with tenderness and, with a sigh, took her hand.

“Let me tell you a story, but listen carefully because it’s about something very important.”

Sofía nodded curiously.

The Secret of the Blessing

A long time ago, in the land of Canaan, there was an old man named Isaac. He had two sons, Esau and Jacob. One day, when Isaac was very old, he wanted to give his blessing before he died. Now, a father’s blessing is not just nice words, Sofía; it’s as if God Himself speaks through him. The Bible says that Isaac laid his hands on Jacob and said:

“May God give you the dew of heaven and the richness of the earth—an abundance of grain and new wine. May nations serve you, and peoples bow down to you…” (Genesis 27:28-29).

“Did it work, Grandpa?” Sofía asked, her eyes wide.

Her grandfather nodded.

“Of course, my child. That blessing stayed with Jacob all his life, and his descendants became God’s chosen people. But this isn’t just an old story. In our faith, when a father blesses his child, it is God Himself who extends His hand. Saint Thomas Aquinas said that earthly fatherhood is a reflection of God’s Fatherhood (Summa Theologiae II-II, q.102, a.1).”

Sofía frowned.

“So… it’s like God is speaking through Dad?”

Her grandfather smiled and tapped the tip of her nose.

“Exactly. It’s a great mystery, but that’s how God designed it. Do you remember what the Bible says? ‘Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land the Lord your God is giving you’ (Exodus 20:12). It’s not just a suggestion—it’s a promise.”

“And what if I don’t do it?”

Her grandfather sighed.

“The Bible also says that ‘a father’s blessing strengthens the houses of his children, but a mother’s curse uproots their foundations’ (Sirach 3:8-11). When a child despises their father’s blessing, it’s as if they are closing the door to a gift from Heaven.”

Sofía looked down at her hands, deep in thought.

“But Grandpa, sometimes I feel shy asking Dad for his blessing… what if he doesn’t care?”

Her grandfather shook his head.

“Don’t believe that, my child. A father’s heart fills with love when his child asks for his blessing. Do you remember when Jesus was a child and lived with the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph? The Bible says that ‘He was obedient to them’ (Luke 2:51), meaning He honored and obeyed His parents. And if the Son of God Himself did this, how much more should we?”

Sofía remained silent, pondering.

“So… if Dad blesses me, will God protect me more?”

Her grandfather nodded with a big smile.

“Of course. Listen to what Saint John Chrysostom said: ‘Children who despise their parents’ blessing are like those who reject God’s blessing’ (Homily on Ephesians 20). When your father places his hand on your head and says, ‘God bless you, my child,’ it’s as if God Himself is embracing you and covering you with His mantle.”

Sofía felt a lump in her throat. She thought about all the nights she had gone to bed without asking for her father’s blessing.

“Grandpa… I think I’m going to ask Dad for his blessing.”

The old man kissed her forehead.

“That’s what I wanted to hear, little one. Go with confidence, because when you receive his blessing, you also receive God’s.”

Sofía ran down the hallway and found her father reading in the living room. She stopped in front of him, nervous.

“Dad… can you bless me?”

The man looked up, surprised, and then smiled. He stood up, placed his hand on his daughter’s head, and with a firm voice, said:

—May the Lord bless you and keep you.

—May the Lord protect you and defend you.

—May He show His beautiful face to you and have mercy on you.

—May the Lord bless you and give you peace.

Sofía felt a warmth in her chest, as if an invisible light surrounded her. She closed her eyes and, for the first time, understood the power of those words.

From that night on, she never went to sleep without her father’s blessing.

And God was with her every day of her life.