The ruling classes should look after the spiritual and material interests of the people, by example rather than speeches.
News Desk (14/06/2021 14:31, Gaudium Press)
There is nothing more interesting than history. It records facts and situations that not even the most skilled novelist would be able to imagine.
Let us consider, for example, the small episode that happened inside a French carriage, in the middle of the 19th century, when the anti-clerical winds were still blowing strongly:
The place France, the year 1826. A spacious coach is moving in the direction of Lyon. Inside, six passengers are anxious to arrive at their destination.
One of them, already advanced in age, with an unkempt white beard, decides to occupy himself in verbally assaulting a young priest who is sitting in a corner praying his breviary.
Faced with the ecclesiastic’s silence, the anticlerical man becomes excited and begins to let his tongue run riot:
-I work in the National Administration, and I have the right to say what I think. I bet this crow can’t take it anymore and will be forced to get off at the next stop,” he says, laughing.
Along side the priest travel two well-built gentlemen who also attract the darts of the old anticlerical:
-They must be two Jesuits; I’ll bet you 100 francs that I make them jump too.
At that moment, the coach passes through one of those typical villages in the French countryside, just as the bells are ringing for the Angelus prayer.
The two gentlemen take courage and say the Angelus prayer to Our Lady, provoking an explosion of laughter and sarcasm against the “crows” in the old atheist.
But they remain impassive. They covertly exchange a complicit smile with a certain note of mischief.
– My dear Count, it’s time to say my rosary. Would you like to accompany me?
– Of course, dear Viscount.
– I will accompany you, if you allow me,” intervened the young priest.
The atmosphere changes. The anticlerical feels bad, unpleasant. Laughter freezes on his lips.
When they finish praying, the coach reaches the next stop. The priest, getting off, asks the strangers
– May I know your names, gentlemen?
– Of course. Viscount Mathieu de Montmorency, Minister of Foreign Affairs, to serve you.
– Count Veillèle, President of the Council of Ministers and Minister of Finance, at your service.
All the passengers are dumbfounded. The “official of the National Administration” doesn’t know where to hide his head. The Count de Veillèle turns to him and tells him:
-I think you have lost the bet; you must pay 100 francs.
The irreverent atheist is forced to pay the amount. The president of the Council of Ministers turns to the no less surprised priest, hands him the money and tells him:
– For the charitable works of your parish, Father.
Text extracted from the magazine Heralds of the Gospel n.2, June 2002.
The post No tempo em que os ministros rezavam o terço appeared first on Gaudium Press.
Related Images:
