Advanced Study Group of Spiritism

EDITORIAL

“In a word, that which characterizes the spiritual revelation is the divine source from which it proceeds, - that the initiative belongs to the spirits, and that the elaboration is the work of man.”

“It has caused a revolution in ideas, a revolution so great and powerful that it is not circumscribed to any one people, much less to one caste, but reaches simultaneously the heart of all classes, all nationalities, all civilizations.”

“Let us add that the study of such a theory as that of Spiritism, which introduces us at once to an order of ideas so novel and so grand, can only be fruitfully pursued by persons of a serious turn of mind, persevering, free from prejudice, and animated by a firm and sincere determination to arrive at the truth.” (my underline).

It is also essential to pay heed to the advice of one of the greatest messengers, who had come to Earth to help us in our journey towards progress and enlightenment. Here is what the great and beloved brother BUDDHA tells us:

“Do not believe in anything (simply) because you have heard it. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. Do not believe in anything because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything (simply) because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”

CHRISTMAS MESSAGE

Oh, how much You love mankind and how terribly we have misunderstood Your Immense Love!

Time, that eternal demonstration of Your wisdom; that immense proof of Your power! Time provides the continual deciphering of great problems! How has Time been looked at throughout the ages? How? You have been looked upon with certain superstitious fear. And you have been symbolized as an old man devouring his children, destroying everything, drying up the beauty and youth of man, extinguishing his affections, weakening his laws, destroying his empires. Time and Nothing have been synonymous words for mankind. But without a doubt, Nature has demonstrated always that Time is the supreme renovator of Life, and if one studies the existence of mankind, one can see that Time is the redemption of man; it is in a word, the only heritage of mankind. If all the treasures of the planet were to be possessed by a single individual, he would not be powerful, unless he had all the time he needed at his disposal. I, who have studied profoundly in those unpublished books, those palpating volumes who call themselves men, have had the occasion of appreciating the value of hours, and because of this, have considered Time as the Quintessence of God.

How many sinful beings have redeemed themselves with the passing of the years!  How many rebellious souls have finally entered into the path of God! That is why I believe that man lives always, because if he did not, how short just one period of existence would be, for he who falls into error, and then wants to lift himself up!

The bells sound the death toll! Clouds cover the horizon, frightened birds take refuge in the branches of the trees, and the wind rocks their cradles in the foliage. Dogs howl soulfully, the tempest gets closer, and memories surge into my mind....of times passed.... nevertheless, in my memory lives that afternoon.

By what strange mystery, dear manuscript, among your yellowing pages, have I not had impressions of a success, you who have formed an epoch of my life? Why at times, upon taking pen in hand, and thinking of that poor disadvantaged one, my hand has trembled and I have not been able to form even one letter? Why have I been afraid, as if  I were a criminal?  Why, in saying my prayers and upon pronouncing his name, my voice has drowned in my throat and I have remained mute, fearing that the walls of my temple will repeat my words...? For the first time in my life I feel weak and I want to conquer my weakness. I wish to add a page to the book of my confessions and my memoirs. I want men to know the disgraceful history of a rebellious spirit whose true name even to you, beloved manuscript, I ought not to confide. I wish to bequeath proof with this act, that Time is not the god Saturn who anxiously devoured his children, but instead, it is the Breath of God, fertile as the universes of the infinite.

It’s raining, the water hits the panels of my window and it seems like the drops are saying, “Do you remember?”

Yes, I remember, yes. It was a springtime afternoon, the season of the flowers, which like a capricious woman, had been covered like a mantle by winter. It rained torrents, the clouds full of electricity let fall over the earth its rays of fire, the hurricane pulled from the roots the centuries old trees which in turn flew through space with the rapidity of thought, the houses of the parish trembled as if they had a fever, and their roofs sinking with the wind, produced moans. The wind, like an insatiable monster, devoured them in its ferocious path. The church was full of the faithful who together, prayed for God’s mercy. I was in my room, deep in my meditations, asking of the Eternal that if there were anyone of our parish that was to die in those terrible moments, that I would be the elected one to go; I, who was like a dried tree which gave no one any shade, and to leave stay here those other elderly ones, who like bushy trees gave off good, beneficial shade, covering two generations. I was also thinking of the sailors who were fighting with angry waves.

I counted and recounted but, I could not add up the moans of agony which in those critical moments were being exhaled by the many families that were being ruined by the violence of the tempest.  I cried, considering so many unfortunate ones, so many lost hopes.... so much lost labor. Poor, poor workers!

All of a sudden, Miguel my old companion, who had my dog by one ear, entered telling me with fright, “Sir, Sultan has gone crazy and I do not know what is wrong with him. He entered the church and has been pulling on the women's skirts and scratching on the men's capes, running  from one place to another. In a frenzy and barking, he threw himself on top of me and I almost fell to the floor. Fortunately, with much effort, I was able to bring him here.”

I looked at Sultan, who was dripping with water and mud, and I took his head and examined his large eyes. I saw they were full of tears.  The poor animal, acting as if he understood what Miguel had just relayed to me, became still and dolefully looked at me. I, who loved Sultan as if he were an intimate friend in my life, caressed him and said,“Why do you do this to the people? Why do you upset Miguel, who gives you always from his own food? Let’s go ask him to pardon you.”

Miguel started to laugh and gave Sultan a few soft pats on his head, and he upon being caressed, started to get excited and started growling and howling again, jumping at both of us. Sultan pulled at my habit, scratched the floor with impatience, then ran to the door. He then ran at the windows as if to break the glass. Then he ran towards me again tugging at my sleeve and tried to pull me along with him. Upon seeing the way he was acting, I told Miguel,“It looks like he has seen someone who needs our help, and wants us to go save them.”

Upon hearing this, Sultan started to bark all over again. I put on my cape and pulled up my hood, while Miguel, looking astonished, asked, “Are you going crazy? Where are you going with it raining like this?”

“I am going where duty calls; we can’t be less generous than a dog.”

Miguel, without answering me, went and got his old cape, and offered himself as support so I could lean on him. We went outside and followed Sultan, who soon got lost amid the uneven roughness of the gorge, but with great difficulty we pursued him, climbing up a mountain. Halfway up, Sultan stopped and looked down at a new gorge, and started barking frantically. We did not stop, and Miguel said to me after listening for a few moments, “I believe someone is moaning down at the bottom.”

But the wind whistling through those crevasses did not allow us to hear anything. But Sultan, to convince us someone was there, looked at the ground, and started circling and descending. We followed him, guided and sustained by some angel of God, for we alone could not have succeeded in conquering such a treacherous and difficult path. We arrived at a landing place formed by the rocks, and there we found a man who moaned in anguish. Between Miguel and I, we raised him up, and as if he had been expecting us, when he felt us, he said with a stifled voice, “Thank God!” He then lost consciousness.

After a long and torturous walk, we arrived back at the church, and we tended to that unhappy one as best we could as he stretched out on a pew. He soon opened his eyes and looked on all sides.

He looked at the peasants who surrounded him, and with vigor said, “Go away from here! I do not know if I am dead or alive, but I want to be alone. Do you hear me? Go away!”

I asked all to leave the room, and  I alone stayed, with Miguel and Sultan (who by then seemed to know that his job was complete and had turned and laid down to rest).

I sat down next to the sick man and told him, “From the way you are talking, I know that you are not hurt, thanks to God.”

“There is no one on earth who can harm my body,” he said, “But on the other hand, I am hurting within my soul. Now tell me, am I dead or alive? I am totally confused.”

“You are alive, thanks to God,” I said.

“Do not give too much thanks, Father, because it would have been better if I had died. Do you know what I want to live for? To take revenge; I want to wash with blood the stain of an offense.”

“What manner of way to wash it away, but with assassination!” I exclaimed.

“But what would you have me do, Father?  First things first, stains on one’s honor can only be washed with blood. I will tell you my story, because for that I have come. I do not think it was coincidence that brought me to that precipice. I wanted to shorten my trip, but by running I fell, and where I fell, I believed I was suffering all the torments of hell. I struggled to climb but kept slipping. The more I tried to go up, the more I kept losing ground. My strength was leaving me and my head did not want to lift itself from its pillow of rocks. I believed that I would die before giving you my last confession, when solely to give it, is why I have come to you. I have known about you for a long time and did not want to leave this world without giving you my confession. The weight of my sins are very heavy, and only a man like you can help me to carry them. I have only two purposes to my life: confess to you today and take vengeance tomorrow.”

“You will not confess today, nor take vengeance tomorrow, because you are sick and your eyes burn with a fever, I see that you are delirious. For now I will leave you to rest, and when you have recovered your health , you will continue your journey. I am informing you that I do not want to hear your confession, I am horrified by the secrets of others. When I enter this church, I  become frightened because its echoes repeat to me the moans of an adulterous woman, the laments of a woman who committed infanticide, the cursing of assassins, and I cannot guard my mind from much more of the horrors of these memories. I’m afraid they will make me insane.”

The sick man looked around me, and said bitterly, “You're right. How many secrets are guarded within the walls of this church! The history of mankind is very sad!”

“Follow me”, I said with much eagerness,“You need your rest, you are sick, believe me.”

“Ok, I will follow you, but tomorrow you will hear me out, if not willingly, by force!”

I took him to my room, gave him some nourishment, helped him to undress and he laid down on my bed. Shortly, he fell into a disturbed sleep, while I considered him carefully. He was a man of about fifty years of age, with an arrogant air, which even while asleep, showed a semblance of high pride.

I retired to a private prayer room and there started to think, I was like a prisoner in jail waiting for the dawn [execution]. Who was that man, dear God? What new crimes will I know about tomorrow? What new enemies will I make? I know I will not be a hypocrite and will never turn over a criminal to the authorities to be put to death, because I will then be only destroying the body and placing a spirit into confusion. I prefer to work for a man's regeneration with all the might of my soul.

I like the reform of a criminal, but I do not want the horrible torments they are put through; I wish to make them think and feel. But this I do not find in the laws of the land, and that's why I resist in turning over new victims. But this causes me great concern because if there are many criminals that I have helped, how many after being helped by me, have turned to crime again because of my tolerance?

Dear God, strength is lacking in me, have mercy of my weaknesses. If I hear a confession, if I see an existence full of horrors, I then identify myself with that poor soul and suffer his remorse. Then I suffer the agony of his victims, who upset my dreams as shadows, after which I do not know what happens to me.

The hours passed and dawn came covered with a purple light that veiled the horizon, and the birds called the Father of the day, and He answered sending them the luminous rays of the sun. The sick man sat up in bed and said with a satisfied voice, “How good I've slept, Father. I feel perfectly well, and something that almost never happens did, I dreamt of my mother. Oh how sweet dreams are, I've seen her as she was!” He leapt from the bed and continued telling me, “Let’s get ready and go out, because I do not want the walls of this place to hold the echo of my voice. Let’s go to the country, and like my mother used to say, ‘it's where man is closer to God’.”

I looked at my speaker as a criminal looks at the hangman, and in the looks of that man there was an extraordinary fierceness, but he was not a repulsive being, on the contrary, his countenance had an interesting expression and his posture was distinguished, and one could tell that he belonged to high society.

I made him take some nourishment which he mechanically took, then he said without emotion, “Father, let’s go from here, they pursue me and they are near. I have never been a traitor and I do not want to pay you, after the generosity of your hospitality, with the trouble of you being imprisoned. You do not know, who you have in your house.”

“I would gladly let you go, happily away, without knowing. I only recommend that you do with all men, what we did for you yesterday here in this village.”

Instead of answering, he left the room, he passed Sultan and caressed him, who then walked by his side very satisfied. We all went out into the countryside without saying a word.

Upon seeing that we were outside my parish, he looked at me and said, “I know this place better than you, so I will take you to a spot where no one will interrupt us.” It was just as he said, we sat down in a ravine, and Sultan, like a forward sentinel, sat a large distance away from us.

I asked God for inspiration, and as always I felt my whole being shaking strongly and felt across my head a hand of fire, my ideas acquired lucidity and the old priest of the parish felt himself strong and rejuvenated. I looked at my companion, who was in deep meditation, and told him, “Start; but above all, tell me the absolute truth.”

“The men of my race never lie. Look at me well. Can you not figure out who I am? My name should have reached your ears many times, I am the Grand Duke, Constantine of Hus.”

As a matter of fact, his well known name was notorious, and for an instant I felt fear and horror. I felt an inconceivable terror.  But it was for an instant, because my soul became empowered with the vehement desire to know the history of that man. To me he was a castaway lost in an ocean of enraged passions, from the depths of that ocean of vices, I proposed to take him out of it all. Suddenly, I felt strong and animated, feeling able to convert the whole world. I got close to him, and taking one of his hands, while looking at him firmly, I said,“Speak. I know you, and I have had pity on you for a long time.”

“You feel sorry for me?” he exclaimed with amazement.

“Yes, I feel sorry for you. And why not, because you are poorer than the last beggar in creation?”

“Poor, me?” He asked with irony.”Surely you must be ignorant of the fact that the sun never sets on my dominions?” 

“The sun does not have to set where it has never shined,”  I said, “But, continue with your story.”

The Duke looked at me and started by saying, “I never knew my father, he died in battle. I was born on the day when they celebrated his funeral, and from what they tell me, they took me to the place of my father’s tomb and all of my father's subordinates swore an oath to me, as the only chief left of my illustrious family. There were no other young men left but I. They had all perished in the war. My mother was a saintly woman, I realize it now. I remember her telling me many times, ‘I would like, when I die, to be able to take you with me, so that your name could be lost in the shadows of the graves.’ ”

“Your poor mother, saw clearly your fatal future,” I said, “Continue.”

“When she died, I was happy she was dead, because she was the only one who would  contradict my wishes. At the age of fourteen, I was free from all tutors and had the right to the life and possessions of my vassals. There was not one wish which was not satisfied, all my desires  were always granted, and woe unto those who did not fulfill them!... So that I would have someone to inherit my name, I married a young woman of royal lineage to perpetuate my bloodline. I have always used women this way, even though I have never loved any of them. In the end, I have only looked with respect upon my three daughters because they carry my name. My first wife gave birth to a girl, and I became so indignant, that my wife disappeared from this earth because she knew I wanted her to die. When I married a second time, the same thing happened. The third time I married, again history repeated itself, and the son I wanted never came!”

“And how did you want him to come,  you disgraceful one! For if in nature, there was a ‘tree of iniquity,’ it could not proliferate,” I said.

“You can say that is true, Father, for I have been obligated to give into my desires to thirty-six young daughters of my vassals and the vast majority were barren, others died suffering, some conserved some memory of me which ended upon childbirth, because none of them has had a bastard child who has lived past its birth. I envied the lowliest of my servants, to see him play with his sons. They all have a son who will inherit their name, only mine was doomed to be extinguished.”

“It needs to be extinguished because you are the son of a loathsome family, because where you and yours have gone, there has only been a trail of blood and tears, that's why your name should be erased from the history books, so that towns will not be ashamed. But continue, you have not yet finished.”

“There is something that I still have to tell you. Three daughters, I have from my three marriages. While I have not loved them much, I have respected them; so that they would not darken my name with their weaknesses and frivolities (all women are the same) I made two of them enter into a convent, the eldest one stayed by my side to help me commit a new crime. A man more powerful than I, because of his social position, seduced her. After doing so, since he is married, he abandoned her. But him, knowing that when I would find this out, that I would take my vengeance, left and accused me of being the leader of a group planning sedition. By doing so, he was able to take over most of my possessions, which is how I came to know of my dishonor. Therefore, rounding up my followers, I wrote to that thief who boldly defiled my daughter, asking him to come to my main residence so that I could prove to him that I was no traitor, sending him my guarantee, which he accepted.”

“He came to my estates because for such a reason no one would refuse, but he came with an army superior in number than the one guarding my territories. Seeing this, I knew full well that he would soon be master of my castle. I sent one of my heralds with a note, telling him that I myself, would throw him the keys to the main gate of my castle. He put his tent on the banks of the river. I went to the highest tower of my castle accompanied by my daughter, who was shortly to give birth with the fruits of his dishonor and mine. There, with my one strong arm, I lifted my daughter in the air and threw her out into space. Her body was lost among the waves of the river, as I yelled three times, ‘There you have the keys to the fortress of Hus’. Without wasting any time, and followed by the most brave of my captains, I escaped through an underground passageway, while my solders defended, hand to hand, their master’s castle.”

“Do you know why I escaped? Because I wanted that man to feel the same pain that I did. I wanted my vengeance to be fulfilled, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.  I wanted for one of his children to be dishonored as mine was, and I was able to carry out my intent. I then let him know what I had done, calling him to combat man-to-man. I was ready for him, but fearing my strength, he did not come. He sent his emissaries which I was able to scoff at. He that does not want to die like a nobleman, will die like cowards and traitors. I will follow and overtake him, and I kill him, then I will come here Father, and end my oppressed life, and you will be the only one who will pray for me. I know that you will not refuse burial in sacred ground to one who has committed suicide. They speak highly of you, that's why I have come, because I need to die by the side of one who can prepare me for that trip where no one knows where it ends. They say there is a hell, if there is, I am sure that I will go there. If  I'm to be cursed here on earth and excommunicated, I want it to be done by a truly great man, one who people say you are.”

I was absorbed in thought; I looked at that man and I saw pass in front of me, pale shadows in the form of women, young and pretty. Some extended their arms menacingly around the head of that nobleman, others cried, sending him a kiss of peace. I marveled, silently enthralled, comprehending that surrounding him were spiritual souls. A figure that was in mourning, approached the duke and cried with great lament, leaning its face on the head of the sinner. This was the soul of his poor mother, I thought to myself, for only a mother can pardon the iniquities of a man. The figure responded to my thought, and redoubled its caresses, and it reached for my hands in a gesture of entreaty. I then felt something that I had never felt before, I thought of my mother whom I had never seen, my heart sobbed deep within my chest, and I almost envied the luck of that unfortunate one, because he was still loved by his mother.

The duke looked at me and wondering about my strange my silence, he said with  impatience, “Father, what say you?”

Upon hearing him I returned to the real world, I was only left seeing his mother, who rested on the shoulder of the Duke of Hus.

“Do you remember at times your mother?” I asked.

“Yes, many times. Why do you ask?”

“While you looked at me, did you think of her?”

“Yes, for the past few days she has not left my mind. Since I have been thinking of leaving this earth, it's not strange that I think of she who brought me here. Poor woman, she was almost right. If I was not to have anyone inherit my illustrious name, I would have been better off if I had left with her. But what's done is done. Now, I only hope for you to do two things.”

“What are they?”

“Your excommunication, because I know your blessings are impossible, and your solemn promise that you will bury me in holy ground, and put a cross on my grave.”

“The last is granted of course, but I will tell you that to me, all ground is sacred because it all receives the divine reflection of God’s gaze. Regarding your first request, I cannot concede it because there is no man on earth with sufficient authority to consecrate another in the name of God, not even to cast an anathema to fulfill an order by the Eternal.”

“Well then, what good do priests serve?”

“They serve, if they are good, to console, to instruct humanity, to incite mankind in the eternal progress of life, and conduct him along the shortest path on earth towards the promised land.  The day will come when priests will no longer be necessary because each man will fulfill his duties, and that is true priesthood. But, until that beautiful day arrives, a certain group of men, dedicated to study and to worthy causes, will still be what reigns in the world. At times, there will be scandal, because in our badly organized society, this will always happen when there are extremes.”

“Well, if you do not want to absolve me, or excommunicate me, what then do you have to tell me?” he asked. “What is your opinion about my life?”

“What do you want me to say? A life of iniquity and  horrible crimes! But not all are like you, many have resisted the vices of this epoch. Centuries from now, there will not be such criminals as you. Noblemen will no longer have the power they have today, the serfs of today will be rescued by world progress. Women will recognize their duties and reclaim their rights, and they will not be like they are today, poor toys of men for their depravity.  You have come to earth at a bad time, you disgraceful one, because your spirit was ill-disposed for all these inconceivable things and has been able to satisfy its sinful appetite, because all that has surrounded you has cooperated with you, regarding your desires and it has led to your perdition.”

“What is there after this, Father?”

“Eternal progress, because natural reason dictates it,” I said. “You and I have been born in the same epoch, but of different classes. The rulers of the church are not underprivileged because
you know that many are rich and they commit abuses. Why were you born with evil inclinations, and I with good ones? Why have you given into the whirlpool of passions, while I have been wise to control mine? Why will you die cursed by many, while I will be buried with a whole town crying and mourning my memory?  Why this privilege for me, when both of us were born into this world under the same conditions?”

“If we both were born from a woman, why has the incentives for pleasure and power been with you (which are nothing else but elements of perdition) and for me, wisdom, reflection, and all the means to follow the true path?  If we were not to have another lifetime, why should you be so disadvantaged and I be so fortunate? Is it possible this is God’s justice towards His creatures?  No, it cannot be, our life should continue because if it did not, I would then deny the existence of God, and He is undeniable because all of Creation demonstrates His Existence.”

“You ask, ‘Is there something after this?’ Yes, there is eternal life and the indefinite progress of the spirit. You cannot continue to be the accursed of the universe, while I, your brother and son of the same Father (because we two are the sons of God), will die surrounded by the children of my parish and because of memories of me, many honest men will be left crying.”

“You have to aggrandize your spirit, because evil is not eternal in Creation. God creates but does not destroy, consequently, the spirit has to harmonize itself with what has been created, because as a thinking being and an intelligent entity, he is the complement of the divine work. You will live again, and you will pay one by one, one after another, all the debts which you have contracted, and the day will arrive when you will be your own master. As of today, you have been the slave of your passions, tomorrow..... they will be your slave, and you will dominate them with your will, as I have dominated mine.”

Puzzled, he asked, “I will live again, you say? What live? Conserving the memory of my existence? Of this life which so torments me....! Listening always to those faraway voices that continually tell me ...‘Cursed one! Cursed one’!”

“No, you will not hear them. God is merciful with those that are repentant, and if you wish, from this day on you can start to live a new life. Renounce that name that has made you commit so many crimes, and which has given you such an odious notoriety. Let your lineage die, be reborn, and if yesterday you were the whip of humanity, possibly tomorrow, a few poor persons will be appreciative of you and put a few flowers on your grave.”

“Do you want me to enter a monastery?”

“No, I want you to work and be useful to the poor and disadvantaged, because work is the prayer of Mother Nature.”

“Talking to you, I almost forgot I have something to do.”

“You have now nothing to do. I have no power to pardon you, nor mock you, but I can impede your committing a double crime.  Think of tomorrow, your mother's soul has conducted you here for your rehabilitation, let’s start it. Do you have any money left?”

“Yes, I have some.”

“Good, starting today you will go from here, and in the best way possible you will realize your new life. You will start a rumor (because with money anything can be got) that you have died at the hands of some bandits and that they have even taken your corpse, and what with wars and disturbances these days going on, for this plan, this is in your favor. I will disguise your face with a copper-colored dye, one that I will give you. Then you will come back, where there are fertile lands which only await good laborers, and you will occupy yourself in the work of agriculture. There are many poor peasants here who would love to work. You also will work the land. And how good it will be, during your honest labors, for you to sweat, when previously all you have caused to flow are the many tears and blood of your victims. I have confidence in your word to me, you will return. If you do not, you will be the one who has sinned, not I. If you kill that man and commit suicide afterwards, your spirit will suffer horribly, and you will feel all the agonies that you have made those poor young women suffer, who have died in shame and great pain. If you return, you will prepare your soul for a much more tranquil death. You are free to make the choice!”

The duke rose and told me, “I will return. If I am to live always, I'm tired of suffering.”And covering himself with his cape, he left swiftly and the spirit of his mother left with  him.

When I was left alone, I cried with such a lament of my soul, that like a blessed rain, it alleviated my sorrow. I saw in the far off future new persecutions for me, because I was snatching away from the state’s justice, a prisoner of the highest nobility. But what did I care, if, by my actions I was to prevent two crimes from being committed, and at the same time, assist a poor man to think of his redemption, one who has been delusional since birth?

Many days passed, and some months, when one afternoon, a man from the parish brought me a message. It was a letter from the duke in which he told me he was coming soon. He told me, that upon my advice, he was pretending to no longer be of the white race.

A month later, he arrived with one of his most faithful servants, who like his master appeared to be Ethiopian. The duke did not look himself; his hair was cut short, his hands blackened, and although he appeared vulgar, he was now humble. Effectively, the last vestiges of the Duke of Hus were gone.

When he saw me, he threw himself in my arms, and said in my ear, “I must confess that more than once I hesitated to come, but you won, the only will who has ever overcome mine.”

“Let’s give thanks to God, Master John,” I said,“If you don’t mind, you can go by this name.”

“Agreed. Now, all names are the same to me. Now tell me what my duties are.”

“I have already indicated what I have planned for you, but follow them only if you wish it. I  did not call you to my side to live oppressed, but only to save you from committing a double crime, to work the land, and possibly, sow some good for heaven.”

Four years later, one beautiful springtime afternoon, some of the village people came to me,  grieving deeply, saying that Master John was dying. I went with them, and I directed myself to the  Abbey of Saint Isabel, which had been converted into a model farm. That work, which had beautified that ancient building which had fallen into ruin, was where a multitude of families had found a means of subsistence.

A great commotion had taken over that farm. The men spoke mysteriously, women were crying and were telling the children not to make noise so as to be respectful of Master John’s peace and quiet.

When I entered the room of the sick man, he awoke, and taking hold of one of my hands, he told me with a solemn voice, “Father, your prophecy is going to be fulfilled. I'm going to die, but they will cry for me. I see how upset these poor people are and I hear their laments.... Oh, how beautiful it is, to be loved! On the table you will find my will. My heirs will be the farmers. Why did I not get to know you from the moment of my birth, dear Father Germain? How good it is, to be good, my father!” And, while resting his head in my arms, he died.

My prophesy was fulfilled; on the shoulders of peasants was carried the last duke of Hus, taken to his humble tomb, and grateful beings covered it with flowers and several families blessed his memory. A wayward spirit has now begun to realize his faults.

I hid an outlaw; I took a criminal from the hands of human justice because I did not want to take away from him his legitimate heritage, that rich, unappreciated treasure, called TIME!

Forgive me, Lord! They accuse me of breaking the laws of the land, but I firmly believe that I do not violate Yours....