Today, instead of the usual theological thoughts or even complains about the inexorable heath, I'd just like to leave here a moment we had.
We usually pray in a small chapel where the capuchin monks used to pray parts of the liturgy of the hours. We've had some people with us in prayer, but the one that touched me particularly was a muslim that lives with us, that just wanted to share with us this moment. There are places in Africa where religious persecution is rising and where it is a death-threatening problem (Mali and Nigeria come particularly to mind), but there also many places where people have been used to grow up side by side together with people of different faiths. One ivorian girl told me that there are muslims and christians, but in the end, it is God that must juge. A nice sentiment to share.
Regardless, this evening, because we had to take some people to a center that shelters the homeless, we arrived terribly late to our house, which impelled us to shorten our prayer and do it in the bedroom.
It was just a bible in the floor between us facing eachother. We sang some chants and read the bible passage of the night, but I really felt an enormous bliss. In this utter simplicity, poverty even, our prayer truly felt that it was all we needed to have the Holy Spirit amongst us (we appropriately sang vieni spirito creatore).
And it is in our poverty, in our weakness, in our frailty, in our smallness that God shows His merciful face.
A blessed night
Francisco
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