Fereastra spre sens

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Reading time: 7 minutes

The „Carpet” of Mud

Last night I couldn’t sleep. The story of a little girl came to my mind. A girl no older than 7 or 8, with chestnut hair and large brown eyes, frightened and sad at the same time. Poorly dressed, with mud on her face and hands. She lived in a wooden cabin so small she could touch the ceiling with her hand, and through its cracks, one could see the cloudy and rainy sky of late autumn. If she opened the door, all she could see around her were bare and gloomy trees, and on the ground, a „carpet” of mud.

What could have happened to this little girl? How did she end up here? To be honest, tonight I didn’t have enough time, nor a great enough curiosity, to read the story from the very beginning. That would mean going all the way back to Adam and Eve. It’s too much. Father I. used to tell me that we must focus on the essential, so I tried to extract the essence of this story.

The Mountain „I Am Who I Am”

At one point, I see the girl on the edge of a precipice. On one side, „Lucifer’s Chasm,” for that was its name. Someone said that there lies the abyss of pride, selfishness, and self-love. There is no point in describing it; everyone can know it by analyzing their own abyss. On the other side, a tall mountain whose peak was hidden by dense clouds. It was called the mountain „I Am Who I Am.” The girl did not understand this, but she had a vague intuition that she would find something better there than what her life had been until then.

It is not known how many days and nights she climbed that mountain, how many bruises, scratches, and wounds she sustained from the steep rocks, or on how many paths she got lost through wind and rain. What is known is that, at one point, her heart felt like lead. She lay down on the carpet of cold, damp leaves and refused to get up again, even though she had a vague intuition that she could have gone just a little further.

Not long after, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, like when you know you are in a tunnel of complete darkness—a dense darkness—and you watch helplessly as someone steals your hope. As if in a dream, she felt herself at one point being lifted from the cold, damp carpet, and something very strong was gripping her waist. Her heavy eyelids barely opened, and she saw that she was a prisoner in the talons of an eagle rising higher and higher toward the sky. Once again, she felt that someone was stealing her hope, and she retreated back into a heavy sleep.

The Palace Adventure

It is not known how long that journey lasted. What is known, however, is that at one point she woke up and saw a palace rising before her. It did not seem like the palaces from her stories—it wasn’t that tall, nor did it have an elegant architecture; instead, it was a dull grey color. Nevertheless, curiosity drove her; she opened the palace door and went inside. Suddenly, a powerful light struck her. She managed to open her eyes and saw large, wide windows through which the sun entered generously. That light made the golden walls and crystal chandeliers shimmer. Yet, that bright room, flooded with sunshine, was empty. „Did I fight to get here for nothing? Is there really no one in this palace?” Looking around, she eventually saw a narrow door that could be reached by climbing many steps.

She climbed the steps anyway, reached the door, and opened it; before her lay another set of steps that spiraled up toward the palace tower, and they were very narrow. On the wall was a sign showing an arrow pointing up, which read „Hope.” She began to climb the steps. 10, 20, 30, 100… The wounds on her feet deepened, and the pain became unbearable. She stopped with a certain intuition that it wasn’t much further to the top. Out of curiosity, she looked back to see how far she had climbed and noticed, to her surprise, a plaque that no longer showed an arrow pointing up, but down, and it no longer read „Hope,” but „Doubt.” Suddenly, she lost her balance and tumbled down. 10, 20, 30, 100 steps…

The Silk Dress

It is not known how long she lay there. What is certain is that she woke up at some point in the same hall she had started from, at the palace entrance. This time, however, the hall was full of people making an incredible, joyful noise. She couldn’t believe it. People?! And joyful, at that?! She saw a small chair, just her size, in the corner of the room and headed there to sit down, apparently unnoticed by anyone.

She sat on the chair, fearful and cautious, while admiring the noisy and cheerful crowd. Suddenly, the door to the spiral staircase opened, and a middle-aged man appeared. He descended the stairs quickly, looked at her suspiciously, and headed straight toward her. He reached her and asked: „Who are you? How did you enter my palace so dirty?” The girl opened her large eyes, which filled with fear, and did not dare to say a word. The man turned furiously toward the servants and shouted: „Submerge her in water! But not in a river, in an ocean! She is very dirty! Then, give her a silk dress woven by seraphim! All children in the Palace are clean! Filth stays at the door! Come on! What are you waiting for?”

It is not known what process the girl went through, but the point is that she appeared in the hall before the middle-aged man, transformed. „Now, you will sit next to me at the table,” the man told the girl. „Well, what do you think? How does it seem to you now?” he asked her. „Why are you silent? This is a banquet, everyone is having fun! Do you have nothing to say?” „Yes, I do,” the girl said. „I want to go back home.” Suddenly, a heavy silence fell over the hall. „What?!” the man asked, indignant. „I took you out of the mud and brought you into a palace hall, and you want to go back home?! For My Name’s sake! Why?” Fearfully, the girl told him: „Because I want to bring my parents and my siblings here too.”

„Incredible!” the man shouted in indignation. „Very well! If that is what you want! The door is there! You may leave!” The girl stood up slowly and started with unsteady steps toward the exit. She was convinced she would be covered in wounds again while descending the mountain and that she would reach the forest where she had left her parents and siblings with great difficulty, or perhaps never. Yet, the last shred of hope gave her strength.

The Wings of Freedom

She opens the door, steps out, and before her appears a woman of unseen beauty, clothed with the sun and with the moon under her feet. The woman leans toward her and asks: „Where are you going?”. „I am going to bring my parents and my siblings here.” The light on the woman’s face begins to take shape and transforms into a wide smile, so warm that it melts the ice of doubt and fear in the girl’s heart. Then the Woman says to her: „If you set out on your journey, do not forget: with hope, you travel on eagle’s wings; with faith, you reach your destination; and with love, you return in safety.”

It is not known what happened to the girl. Is she on her way to the forest or back to the Palace? It is not known. What is certain, amazing, and strange is that through the darkness she found a way of communication with her Father. This way of communication has always existed and exists for everyone. Praise be to the Lord!

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Reading time: 4 minutes

A man was wandering in the desert on a scorching summer day. The sandstorm had covered all the roads, and he no longer had any clue where he was or where he was headed. He tried to look around, but the sand got into his eyes, and he could see nothing. Miraculously, the storm began to decrease in intensity, the wind died down, and the sea of sand unfolded around him, covering any trace that could have led him home.

„Now what do I do? Which way do I turn? Which direction can lead me back to civilization? How much distance will I have to cover? I have no water, no food. How long will I survive? Or, better yet, will I survive?” These questions gnawed at the man for a while. Then, he stood up abruptly: „Any direction is better than standing still!” he told himself.

And he set off, treading laboriously through the sea of sand. Looking around, an hourglass involuntarily came to his mind. Time was slipping away irreversibly, and the sand trickling through the hourglass sent shivers down his spine.

The sun slowly began to head toward sunset. „Soon, evening will fall over the desert. What will I do?” he thought. Heat and exhaustion made him stop. „I’ll rest a little, then I’ll set off again.”

He sat on the sand, breathed deeply, stretched his legs, and his eyes remained fixed on the ground, feeling an inner void engulf him.

A few steps in front of him, the sand began to move. „Oh no!” he said to himself. „Is the storm starting again?” But then, from the sand, a snake began to emerge. Its golden skin reflected the sun, giving the impression of moving gold.

The man felt the sweat on him begin to turn into ice, the blood in his veins the same; his pupils dilated, and all he could feel was his heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

But that wasn’t the only surprise. The snake raised its head, looked at him fixedly, opened its mouth, and… began to speak:

• You’re afraid, aren’t you?

Silence…

• You’re tormented by the doubt of whether I am a product of your imagination or if I am real. It’s simple. Try to move and you’ll find out.

Silence…

• I feel sorry for you, being lost here, but I could help you. I can show you the correct direction. It’s not much further. But I want something in exchange. What will you give me?

Silence…

• I know you’re thinking now about what you could give me just to escape. I’ll tell you, since you aren’t speaking: I want your brother’s life. I know he is a doctor and has sacrificed many of my brothers, taking their venom to use for medicine. What do you say? Do you value your life?

The man gathered his courage, moved his right hand, and brought it slowly to his chest, then to his neck where he wore a chain with a cross. He gripped the cross in his hand, opened his mouth, and with great difficulty began to say: „Our Father…”

The snake raised its head even higher and said to him:

• Do you really believe in those stories? Look, I am standing in front of you, I am real, but where is your Father? Why doesn’t He save you? Let me tell you a story: it is said that in ancient times, a father disinherited his son because he was jealous of his intelligence and beauty. Do you really believe such a Father will save you?

From pale, the man began to turn red with anger.

• How much longer must I endure your lies, snake? The desert is not a place of perdition for me. Now I have truly realized who I am and what is most important in life. You tell stories, but I will tell you the Truth: the One who took the venom of your brothers exposed the lie and brought the Truth, and with this Truth, He healed the wounds of the sons of that Father you speak of. It wasn’t jealousy that made Him disinherit you, but your madness. You say you are real, but the eyes of the mind can deceive if we go by appearances. I see the Father with my heart, which is part of His heart. If He were to deceive me, He would deceive Himself. A kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. And finally, my Brother, who tore away the venom of your brothers, tore away yours as well. You are powerless, snake!

Then the man stood up courageously, grabbed the snake by the neck and tail, lifted it above his head, and threw it far away.

What happened next to the man is not known, but even if he wandered through the desert further, he knew the true Way within his heart. The Truth set him free from fear, and he understood that his life is precious to the Father.

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Reading time: 6 minutes

A Mysterious Sculptor

Av-Yotzer is a sculptor who has never known fame, being known only by his family and a few friends. A middle-aged man, he has appeared unchanged for as long as I have known him. Sometimes he seems to look right through you; at other times, he seems to gaze into the very depths of your soul, where no one else can penetrate. He lives at 3 Eden Street, in the heart of the city. His house has an architecture that calls to mind the Renaissance period. The lower part of the house is made of rough stone, but as it rises, the stone becomes increasingly fine and polished. The entrance doors are tall, preceded by a dome supported by two columns. The house is built around a square inner courtyard, far from the noise of the street, where Av-Yotzer has his creative studio.

I met him personally only recently when, while I was recovering from surgery, my husband asked him to sculpt an angel for my collection. He sculpted an angel kneeling with eyes closed and hands clasped as if in prayer. I placed it on the nightstand beside my bed, and whenever I look at it, I feel the pain caused by my illness decrease in intensity, and I, too, can join my hands in prayer.

The Mystery in the Creative Studio

A block of marble, nearly as tall as Av-Yotzer, stood in the middle of the inner courtyard. It had a rough shape, and I did not know his plans. He hadn’t told me what work he intended to carve from that stone. Next to the marble was a table with all kinds of tools a sculptor might need. He looked carefully at the table, chose a heavy, sharp chisel, and then began to analyze the stone from every angle. At one point, he stopped, fixed his gaze on a single spot on the stone, and slowly began to carve.

The first strike of the chisel made me freeze. It wasn’t so much the sound of the tool as it was a cry of pain heard from deep within the stone. Fear paralyzed me. I refused to believe the cry was coming from inside the marble and comforted myself with the idea that it came from somewhere else. But every blow Av-Yotzer struck against the stone triggered another cry of pain.

A strange mixture of curiosity and fear kept me glued to my chair, my eyes fixed on Av-Yotzer and the stone, losing all sense of time. The cries that followed every strike did not seem to disturb the artist, who continued his work with infinite patience. The dust, the noise, and the exhaustion from the effort did not seem to touch him as he precisely calculated his blows and carved the stone.

The Soul Within the Stone

His face bore an iron determination and a certainty that what he would bring out of that marble would be a masterpiece. Still, I wondered: perhaps Av-Yotzer knows what he is doing, but I do not understand where he wants to go, and above all, I do not understand where these cries are coming from. At one point, I gathered my courage and asked him:

• Av-Yotzer, where are these cries coming from?
• From the stone, he answered impassively.
• I don’t understand, Av-Yotzer, how can a stone cry out? It is against the laws of nature. Only humans have voices, I told him, intrigued.
• If you have patience, you will understand.
• Av-Yotzer, I have patience, but if there is a person inside crying out in pain, how can we be indifferent and not do something to help?
• We cannot help if we do not cast the stone aside, and for that, focus and patience are needed, because one wrong strike of the chisel could end their life.
• Fine, Av-Yotzer, but how did that person end up inside the stone?
• Through a long process. The stone gradually deposited itself upon their body.
• And how do they have air? I asked him.
• They anesthetized themselves, like the crucian goldfish that survives without oxygen under the frozen surface of the water.
• Strange, I replied.
• What caused the stone to deposit on their body?
• The first layer that formed on the body was caused by fear. The people who were supposed to care for them abused them. Then, pride followed. Living in isolation, he believed he was special, above everyone else. He began to believe that everything around him was his due, and he fell into licentiousness. Having a shred of conscience, he stopped, but soon fell into despair. That is the thickest layer. Being so closed off, he became envious of others’ achievements. Refusing the lifelines I reached out to save him, he slipped into sloth, and there he remained.
• It’s amazing, Av-Yotzer! I am very curious to see what that person will look like after you remove all the layers.

In the Mirror

Av-Yotzer sank back into silence, and as I watched the marble block closely, I noticed it beginning to take shape; the details of a human face were emerging in relief. It was a face that, strangely, seemed familiar. And then, at the end of the polishing process, my vague sense of familiarity turned into wonder, and wonder soon turned into shock. It was as if a mirror had been placed in front of me. The statue represented a woman dressed in a golden silk dress, seated in an armchair. Just like me! Then I looked at the facial features: large brown eyes, a rounded nose, well-defined lips. Wavy, chocolate-colored hair. I don’t know how long I remained frozen, but at one point I felt I could breathe again, and I asked Av-Yotzer:

• Av-Yotzer, how is it possible? The woman you brought out of the marble is me!
• I haven’t finished the polishing process yet, Av-Yotzer told me. There are still a few details that will make the difference, and my breath will give her life. Barely recovering from the shock, I asked him, bewildered:
• And what are these details?
• Well, he told me, I have transformed fear into courage, pride into humility, licentiousness into freedom, despair into hope, envy into compassion, and sloth into diligence.

Looking into his eyes, I realized that as he spoke, he was watching me with infinite tenderness. Then he said:

• This is how I created you from the very beginning, but I left you free to choose what you would do. After I finish the final touches, this woman will remain a statue that you can take home. I will leave you free again so that, following her model, you may remove the layers that keep you captive yourself. You have the breath of life from me, and that is enough for you.

“I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” (Ezekiel 36:26)

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Reading time: 4 minutes

I was recently diagnosed with hip osteoarthritis (coxarthrosis). This disease creates pains that sometimes feel like they take your breath away, limiting your movement to absolute rest. Lying in bed, I fell asleep and had a dream. This is what happened:

“A Ravishing Beauty”

I was lying in bed, feeling my body as if it were gripped in a vice because of the pain. Suddenly, I felt a breeze. I looked toward the window to see if it was open. It wasn’t. My gaze was drawn to a light that was seeping more and more through the ceiling, which was slowly disappearing until, behold, before me unfolded a sky so beautiful, clear, and blue.

The room’s window opened, light poured in, and with it, an eagle appeared, perched right on the windowsill. It was so large that the rays of light could hardly penetrate the room. Its yellow eyes with black pupils looked at me with coldness, but at the same time with a kind of curiosity, as if asking me: “What are you doing? Pitying yourself?” I looked back at it, curious and impressed by its beauty. It had a white head and tail, while its body and wings were black as a deep night. Its talons were long and curved, and looking at them, they brought to mind the expression: “ravishing beauty.”

Although I had shivers down my spine looking into its eyes and at its imposing appearance, at one point, I felt a strong temptation to approach and stroke it. Despite the pain, I made an effort to get out of bed and drew near, but the eagle turned its head toward the sky that had melted the ceiling, spread its wings, took flight, and began to glide above my room, continuing to watch me.

Between the Abyss and the Heights

Suddenly, the idea came to me to immortalize the moment—after all, you don’t see an eagle gliding above your room every day, in a sky that has just made the ceiling vanish. I went to my desk, sat down, took a pen and a piece of paper, and began to describe the astonishing image unfolding before my eyes.

At one point, I felt the floor tremble and begin to disappear, leaving only the section where I was sitting at the desk. I looked down and saw a chasm so deep that I forgot myself, feeling only a warm breeze rising from the depths. I heard the sound of wings; the eagle began to soar higher and higher toward the sky, and my vision became so sharp that I could see it in the smallest detail, even as it moved further and further away from me.

All at once, the words of Saint Paul the Apostle came to mind: “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9). The higher the eagle soared, the sharper my gaze became as it followed him. As he rose, pulling my gaze along with him, I felt the pain begin to vanish, giving way to a pleasant sensation of fascination and freedom.

Peace in the Storm

On the sky, however, black clouds begin to gather, and the wind grows increasingly stronger. A torrential rain begins to fall from the clouds. The storm unleashes its fury, but the eagle does not lose its balance; it does not hide among the rocks, but continues to fly, and the powerful wind pushes it beyond the clouds to where the sky is clear and blue.

I remembered the peaceful sleep of Jesus in the boat on the turbulent sea during the storm. The eagle’s peace was just like the peace of Jesus—undisturbed by the threatening storm, knowing that the gale is but an impulse to soar even higher in spirit. King David was in a similar „storm” when he said: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”

Reality with Wings

The eagle soars higher and higher, but my eyes grow tired; I close them and wake up in my room. I try to move, but I feel the sharpness of the pain. I look up and see the ceiling; I look toward the window and see it is closed; I look at the clock and see the second hand moving with a defying precision. I make an effort to stand up, I reach the mirror, and I am left perplexed: my hair was white, and in place of my arms, black wings had grown.