What great love the Father has lavished on us by letting us be called God's children.

Daily Reflection

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The evening before, I had passed through Irafog, a small village of Negroes, ex-slaves of the Tuareg. That evening I had seen old Kada trembling with cold. I had an idea of giving him one of the blankets I had with me, an essential part of my equipment; but I put the thought out of my mind. I thought of the night and I knew that I, too, would shiver. However, I was uneasy. The little charity that was in me made me think that my skin wasn't worth more than his and that I should give him one of my two blankets.

When I left the village, the blankets were still in my jeep.

I was now lying in the shade of the great rock. I tried to get to sleep in the heat of the desert's mid-day heat. As I slept, I had a dream. I saw the rock moving and felt the boulder fall on top of me. What a nightmare! I felt my bones grating and I found myself dead. No, alive, but with my body crushed under the stone. I could not move. I opened my eyes and saw Kada shivering in front of me at Irafog. I didn't hesitate for a minute to give him the blanket that was lying unused a yard away from me. I tried to stretch out my hand to offer it to him; but the stone made even the smallest movement impossible.

I understood what purgatory was. The suffering of the soul was "no longer to have the possibility of doing what, before, one could and should have done."

I tried to think of how long I was to remain under the rock. The reply was given me by the catechism: "Until you are capable of an act of perfect love." At that moment, I felt quite incapable.

The perfect act of love is Jesus going up to Calvary to die for us all. I was being asked to show if I was close enough to that perfect love to follow my master to Calvary. The presence of the blanket denied to Kada the evening before told me that I had still a long way to go. If I were capable of passing by a brother who was shivering with cold, how should I be capable of dying for him in imitation of Jesus who died for us all?

Carlo Carretto
Letters from the desert.

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