Conclusion: a legend flavoured with wisdom

And now in conclusion, as I have done in the past when commenting on the Strenna, I offer you a legend that could sum up what I have said in this commentary.

A family
In the heart of a valley of fields, woods and meadows there lived a happy little family in a small two-storied house. There were three of them at the time: the mother and father, and a fair-haired six year old little boy. The father worked in a factory making water-taps, the mother cultivated the orchard behind the house and kept a stern eye on twelve fussy hens and a domineering rooster. The child was happy to be able to go to school, and proud that he could already write his name. He also new what “exuberant” meant.
Through the centre of the valley a bubbling stream wound its way.
The house was in a rather isolated spot and so on Sundays the small family would squeeze itself into a tiny car and go to Mass in the parish church. Afterwards they consumed ice cream or drank hot chocolate, according to the season.
In the evening the little house was always in a mild state of turmoil, because when it was the child’s bedtime there was always something he wanted to do, like counting the stars or the glow-worms, or how many little squares there were on the tablecloth.
Before going to sleep they all prayed together, and every night an angel of the Lord collected their prayers and took them to heaven.
One autumn it rained for days on end and the stream became swollen with dirty water. Higher up, mud and tree-trunks combined to form a dam, which led in turn to the formation of a muddy lake. As darkness fell, the dam gave way under the pressure of the water, and the valley began to be flooded.
The father awoke mother and child. They clung to each other in terror because the water had already invaded the ground floor of the little house and was steadily rising and getting darker.
“Up to the roof!”, cried Father. He took the boy, clinging silently about his neck with eyes full of fear, and climbed up into the attic and then on to the roof. Mother followed them.
On the roof they felt as through they were shipwrecked on an island which was growing steadily smaller, because the water continued to rise relentlessly and soon reached the father’s knees.
Father got his feet firmly fixed on the roof, embraced the mother and said: “Take the child in your arms and get up onto my shoulders”!.
Mother and child climbed up onto the father’s shoulders, as he said: “Put your feet on my shoulders and the boy’s on your own. Don’t be afraid. Whatever happens I will not leave you!”
The mother kissed the child and said: “Climb up onto my shoulders and don’t be afraid. Whatever happens I will not leave you!”
The water went on rising. It covered the father, with his arms stretched out holding the mother, and then swallowed up the mother with her arms stretched out holding the child. But the father did not loosen his grip and neither did the mother, but the water went on rising. It reached the child’s mouth, his eyes, his forehead.
The angel of the Lord, who had come to collect their evening prayers, saw only a mop of fair hair on the surface of the dark water.
He swiftly grasped the mop of hair and pulled. Behind the hair came up the child, and attached to the child came up the mother, and holding on to the mother came up the father. Neither had lost their grip.
The angel flew off and gently deposited the singular chain on a higher hill, where the water would never reach. Father, mother and child tumbled onto the grass and then hugged each other amid tears and laughter.
Instead of their prayers that evening, the angel took back to heaven their love. And all the choirs of heaven broke out into thunderous applause.
There, dear friends, you have a “parable” that is very Salesian, because the message is that by beginning with the children we “bring up” the rest of the family.
I end by renewing my good wishes for the New Year of 2006, which begins under the protection of Our Blessed Lady the Mother of God. May she teach us to contemplate the family she created at Nazareth, so as to understand its secrets and imitate it.

Affectionately in Don Bosco

Fr Pascual Chávez V.
Rector Major