I really loved and enjoyed this ten-series film.
Here are the speeches of "The Young Pope".
- Who is God?
When they asked her: "Who is God?" "God is a line that opens", replied the Blessed Juana, she was just fourteen years old, and no one understood what it was she was trying to say. And then, all the children asked the dying Blessed Juana dozens of questions: are we dead or are we alive? Are we tired or are we vigorous? Are we healthy or are we sick? Are we good or are we bad? Do we still have time or has it run out? Are we young or are we old? Are we clean or are we dirty? Are we fools or are we smart? Are we true or are we false? Are we rich or are we poor? Are we kings or are we servants? Are we good or are we beautiful? Are we warm or are we cold? Are we happy or are we blind? Are we disappointed or are we joyful? Are we lost or are we found? Are we men or are we women? "It doesn't matter", replied the Blessed Juana as she lay dying at the age of just eighteen. And she added, on the verge of death, with tears in her eyes: "God does not allow Himself to be seen. God does not shout. God does not whisper. God does not write. God does not hear. God does not chat. God does not comfort us. " And all the children asked her: "Who is God?" And Juana replied: "God smiles". And only then did everyone understand. And now, I beg all of you, smile. Smile. Smile. That's right, smile. It's nothing, it's nothing! One day I will die and I will finally be able to embrace you all. One by one. Yes. I will. I have faith that I will.
- Love Lost or Love found?
What is more beautiful, my love? Love lost or love found? Don't laugh at me, my love. I know it, I'm awkward and naive when it comes to love, and I ask questions straight out of a pop song. This doubt overwhelms me and undermines me, my love. To find or to lose? All around me, people don't stop yearning. Did they lose or did they find? I can't say. An orphan has no way of knowing. An orphan lacks a first love. The love for his mama and papa. That's the source of his awkwardness, his naiveté. You said to me, on that deserted beach in California, "you can touch my legs." But I didn't do it. There, my love, is love lost. That's why I've never stopped wondering, since that day: where have you been? Where you are now? And you, shining gleam of my misspent youth, did you lose or did you find? I don't know. And I will never know. I can't even remember your name, my love. And I don't have the answer. But this is how I like to imagine it, the answer. In the end, my love, we have no choice. We have to find.
- Peace
We are all guilty; we are all guilty of war and death. Always. In the same way, we can all be guilty of peace. Always. I ask this of you on bended knee: I'm ready to die for you, if only you will become guilty of peace. I always say to the children who write me from all over the world: "Think about all the things you like. That is God." Children like all sorts of things, but none of them has ever written that what they like is war. Now look at whoever is next to you. Look at them with eyes of joy and remember what St. Augustine said: "If you want to see God, you have the means to do it. God is love. " I, on the other hand, won't speak to you about God until there is peace. Because God is peace. And peace is God. Give me peace, and I'll give you God. You don't know how wonderful peace is. You have no idea how disconcerting peace can be. But I know. Because I saw it when I was eight years old on the banks of a river in Colorado, peace.
No comments:
Post a Comment