Since the wall of silence rises high against the truth, which, in spite of everything – the barricades, the insults, the gossip – always remains, magnificent, shining and pure, ever equal to itself, I have cut out a part of an article connected to what I saw and experienced first-hand during this scorching summer. It is of no use, it does not matter. Turbo cancers and deaths from sudden illness are everywhere anyway, and by now every family in this hapless country is weeping over sons and daughters, brothers, mothers, fathers. So it is enough for me to scroll through a Facebook group, which counts our own Marco Tosatti among its members, to look far afield and find the very same things I have written about close to home, creating scandal and commotion (all readers for Stilum Curiae!). What difference it makes, I do not know, but never mind, if it makes them happy…
So, after clicking on the group, I discover that a four-month-old baby girl has flown up to heaven, and I search in vain for details. In Cagliari an eight-year-old boy died of a sudden illness. Right, it has always happened. Then there are so many young and very young people, differently young ones, and mothers and fathers. A photographer who collapsed and died while on assignment, and all with the same story: they collapse and no rescue efforts avail. All flown up there. But woe betide you if you tell the truth, for they will pour hatred and abuse upon you (about which I care as much as I do about the affairs of Mr Ranucci and Mr Lavitola). They call you mad (and, like good cowards, they do so through an intermediary), and I, zzzzz, sleep soundly…
And then everyone blames cruel fate, without ever dipping their brains into doubt, into probability, into possibility. No and no, the Sighence is never wrong. Not even when it obliged us to drink our coffee standing up because, by sitting down, we might catch the viiiiruuuus, brrrr. And then they blame the Lord, who has absolutely nothing to do with it. Their idol is Mario Draghi, the one who said: "Whoever does not get vaccinated dies and causes others to die"… A sigh.
Men and women have done the will of Speranza (without hope) – and not the Holy Will of God, who created us healthy and strong. Made ferocious by anyone who contradicts them, they turn on the truth and would like to kill it, tear it to shreds, destroy it. But she shines, like my sweet Cecilia, in this upside-down world that has rediscovered the homo homini lupus. I suffered greatly during the psycho-pandemic, holding out, even arguing with a famous Catholic professor (whom I had so greatly admired) in favour of the vaccines, who published a book defending the gene serum made with little pieces of an aborted child. I suffered, I said, I held out, I wrote and rewrote the same piece a thousand times. Like this one. Silence has always smothered my voice. Now it is different, something has changed. Now a fire of rancour tries to shoot me down, but they do not know what it means to live in the sweet hands of the Lord, they do not know the great comfort of the Eucharist, the living desire to please Him alone. And so silence, gnashing of teeth, spittings of venom amount to nothing against the ocean of peace I feel in my heart, and my forgiveness embraces it all.