Don Tonino Bello
Beloved, do not obey my duty as a bishop if I told you "Merry Christmas" without giving trouble.
I, however, I want to annoy. In fact, I can not stand the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving to ask innocuous greeting, formal, imposed by the routine schedule.
flatters me even the possibility that someone kicks the sender as junk.
Happy Birthday uncomfortable, then, my dear brothers!
Jesus was born to give you the love life of a sick selfish, absurd, with no vertical forces and grant you to invent a life full of giving, of prayer, silence, courage.
The children sleeping on the straw to take away sleep and face
feel the pillow of your bed hard as a rock, until you have given hospitality to an eviction, a Moroccan, in a poor passing.
God who became man makes you feel the worm every time your career becomes an idol of your life, overtaking, the project of your days, back in the next, an instrument of your staircase.
Mary, who found only in the dung of animals with tenderness the cradle where lay the fruit of her womb, forcing it through his eyes hurt to stop the yearning of all the laments Christmas, as long as your conscience hypocritical to accept that the bin trash, the incinerator a clinic to become a grave without a cross of life suppressed.
Joseph, that in dealing with a thousand camera is the symbol of all his father's disappointment, upset booze of your dinners, reproaches the warmth of your bingo, causing short circuits to the wasting of your lights, until you leave undermine the suffering of so many parents who shed tears for their children without a secret fortune, without health, without a job.
The angels promise peace to the war still bring your peace of mind incapable of seeing that sleepy little farther than a span, with the aggravating circumstance of your complicit silence, it consumed injustices, people are evicted, you fabbricano armi, si militarizza la terra degli umili, si condannano popoli allo sterminio della fame.
I Poveri che accorrono alla grotta, mentre i potenti tramano nell’oscurità e la città dorme nell’indifferenza, vi facciano capire che, se anche voi volete vedere “una gran luce” dovete partire dagli ultimi.
Che le elemosine di chi gioca sulla pelle della gente sono tranquillanti inutili.
Che le pellicce comprate con le tredicesime di stipendi multipli fanno bella figura, ma non scaldano.
Che i ritardi dell’edilizia popolare sono atti di sacrilegio, se provocati da speculazioni corporative.
I pastori che vegliano nella notte, “facendo la guardia al gregge ”, and scrutinize the morning, you give a sense of history, the thrill of expectation, the joy of abandonment in God will inspire a deep desire to live in poverty which is the only way to die rich.
Merry Christmas! On our old dying world, hope is born.
I, however, I want to annoy. In fact, I can not stand the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving to ask innocuous greeting, formal, imposed by the routine schedule.
flatters me even the possibility that someone kicks the sender as junk.
Happy Birthday uncomfortable, then, my dear brothers!
Jesus was born to give you the love life of a sick selfish, absurd, with no vertical forces and grant you to invent a life full of giving, of prayer, silence, courage.
The children sleeping on the straw to take away sleep and face
feel the pillow of your bed hard as a rock, until you have given hospitality to an eviction, a Moroccan, in a poor passing. God who became man makes you feel the worm every time your career becomes an idol of your life, overtaking, the project of your days, back in the next, an instrument of your staircase.
Mary, who found only in the dung of animals with tenderness the cradle where lay the fruit of her womb, forcing it through his eyes hurt to stop the yearning of all the laments Christmas, as long as your conscience hypocritical to accept that the bin trash, the incinerator a clinic to become a grave without a cross of life suppressed.
Joseph, that in dealing with a thousand camera is the symbol of all his father's disappointment, upset booze of your dinners, reproaches the warmth of your bingo, causing short circuits to the wasting of your lights, until you leave undermine the suffering of so many parents who shed tears for their children without a secret fortune, without health, without a job.
The angels promise peace to the war still bring your peace of mind incapable of seeing that sleepy little farther than a span, with the aggravating circumstance of your complicit silence, it consumed injustices, people are evicted, you fabbricano armi, si militarizza la terra degli umili, si condannano popoli allo sterminio della fame.
I Poveri che accorrono alla grotta, mentre i potenti tramano nell’oscurità e la città dorme nell’indifferenza, vi facciano capire che, se anche voi volete vedere “una gran luce” dovete partire dagli ultimi.
Che le elemosine di chi gioca sulla pelle della gente sono tranquillanti inutili.
Che le pellicce comprate con le tredicesime di stipendi multipli fanno bella figura, ma non scaldano.
Che i ritardi dell’edilizia popolare sono atti di sacrilegio, se provocati da speculazioni corporative.
I pastori che vegliano nella notte, “facendo la guardia al gregge ”, and scrutinize the morning, you give a sense of history, the thrill of expectation, the joy of abandonment in God will inspire a deep desire to live in poverty which is the only way to die rich.
Merry Christmas! On our old dying world, hope is born.
MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Peace and good.
Peace and good.
0 comments:
Post a Comment