Friday, August 21, 2026

SAINT JOHN BOSCO WITNESSED A GATHERING OF DEMONS AND DISCOVERED SOMETHING TERRIFYING




In 1885, Saint John Bosco had a dream that left a deep impression on him.

What he saw appeared to be a terrifying scene...

He found himself in a vast hall where a multitude of demons were holding a congress.

The objective?

To find a way to destroy the Salesian Congregation.

And so, they began to propose their strategies...

FIRST PROPOSAL: GLUTTONY

One demon proposed using gluttony to incite:

Lethargy in doing good
Corruption of morals
Scandal
A lack of the spirit of sacrifice
Neglect of the youth

But another demon replied that such a strategy would not be enough.

SECOND PROPOSAL: THE LOVE OF RICHES

The demon explained that if the love of money took hold, the following would also enter in:

A desire for creature comforts
A breakdown of charity
Neglect of the poor
A preoccupation with living a more comfortable life

But this, too, failed to convince everyone.

THIRD PROPOSAL: MISUNDERSTOOD FREEDOM

The strategy would be to get the Salesians to start:

Disregarding the rules
Shunning difficult tasks
Creating divisions among superiors
Seeking excuses to abandon their obligations

But then, another demon appeared...

And he presented what he considered the most dangerous weapon of all.

FOURTH PROPOSAL: TURNING KNOWLEDGE INTO AN END IN ITSELF

The idea was to make the Salesians study solely to gain fame and recognition.

Much knowledge...

But little service.

The goal was to make them look down on the poor and the uneducated, and to cast aside the very things for which they had been called:

Catechism for children.
Education of the poor.
The confessional.
Service to souls.

And something more: that the priests would devote less and less attention to their sacred ministry.

No more festive oratories.
No more catechism for children. No more classes to instruct the poor and abandoned.
No more long hours in the confessional.

Instead, they would devote themselves only to occasional and fruitless preaching, seeking not the salvation of souls, but the praise of men.

This proposal was met with applause by the demons.

Don Bosco then understood the danger:

Knowledge can turn into pride when it ceases to be at the service of God and one's neighbor.

And then...

One of the demons discovered that Don Bosco was there, watching everything.

He shouted and pointed at the Saint.

All the demons rushed toward him!

Don Bosco cried out:

"Leave me alone! Help!"

Finally, he woke up, exhausted from all the shouting.

The next day, he understood the message he had received:

The danger does not always lie in suddenly abandoning what is good.

Sometimes it begins when the means become the ends.

Knowledge ceases to serve one's neighbor and begins to serve pride.

Material goods cease to be a means and become an objective.

Freedom ceases to seek the good and turns into rebellion.

And rules cease to be an aid to the spiritual life.

This dream of Don Bosco remains a powerful warning:

It is not enough to know a great deal.

It is not enough to have resources.

It is not enough to be free.

Everything must be directed toward God and the service of others.

Dream 131 — Year 1885
Biographical Memoirs of Saint John Bosco, Volume XVII, pp. 385-387.

Saint John Bosco, pray for us.

Wednesday, August 19, 2026

DO NOT FEAR IF YOU SERVE CHRIST


"The Christian life is not for cowards—not for those who wish to strike a bargain with their enemies to gain a false peace, the peace of the defeated and the enslaved. Armed with faith, with prayer, and by shunning occasions of sin—remaining in a state of constant spiritual warfare—we shall triumph under the banner of our supreme King and Captain, Jesus Christ. He told us: 'Do not fear; I have overcome the world.' Let us all join the fight behind Jesus Christ, waging the great battle of faithfulness to Him until the very end!"

Father José Mª Alba Cereceda, S.J.


Monday, August 17, 2026

ABORTION: THE BORDER THAT IS ALWAYS MOVING


Massachusetts is once again expanding the legal boundaries of abortion. But behind the weeks, exceptions, and slogans lies a question that comes before all the others: what is it whose life is being ended?

Massachusetts is once again expanding the legal boundaries of abortion.

For those who support these measures, it is a matter of autonomy, access, and medical freedom. For those of us who defend human life from its beginning, it means something very different:

The circumstances under which the law permits the deliberate termination of a human life before birth are being expanded.

But perhaps we have spent too long arguing about weeks, exceptions, and boundaries.

Before asking when an abortion may be performed, we must answer a much more fundamental question.

WHAT IS IT THAT DIES?

Biological reality is the starting point.

What develops inside the mother's womb is a living human organism at a prenatal stage of development.

Zygote, embryo, and fetus are terms that designate different stages of that development, just as newborn, child, adolescent, and adult designate later stages.

None of us suddenly appeared during childbirth.

The adult who reads these words today is the result of a continuous process of development that began long before he or she could speak, think, remember, or survive independently.

Therefore, the fundamental controversy should not be whether it belongs to the human species. The real question is this:

If we are dealing with a living, developing human being, what characteristic would it have to lack in order to lose the most basic right we recognize in other human beings: that no one should deliberately end its life?

Size? Age? Degree of development? Consciousness? The ability to feel? The ability to survive independently? Being wanted?

Every answer requires us to justify why that particular characteristic—and not our human condition—should determine who deserves protection.

Biology tells us what is there.

The moral question is what we owe it because it is there.

MASSACHUSETTS: THE BORDER MOVES AGAIN

Massachusetts has once again expanded the legal window for abortion, including beyond 24 weeks.

The boundary moves again: greater decision-making latitude and fewer specific restrictions.

From a pro-life perspective, this means expanding the circumstances under which the law permits the deliberate killing of human beings before birth.

But it would be a mistake to think that our problem begins at 24 weeks.

It does not begin when the child can survive outside the womb.

It does not begin when the child reaches a certain size.

It does not begin when its appearance makes it easier to recognize it as one of us.

It begins with the existence of the new human organism.

That is why Massachusetts should not lead us merely to ask:

“How long will they allow abortion?”

The truly difficult question is:

Why should there be a stage of human life during which deliberately ending that life is considered a right?

AT 24 WEEKS, THE CONTRADICTION BECOMES VISIBLE

Imagine a child born extremely prematurely.

Doctors and nurses rush to save the child. An incubator maintains the baby's temperature. A ventilator may help the baby breathe. The parents watch every movement.

Every hour matters.

Every gram gained is celebrated.

And medicine is right to fight for that child.

Advances in neonatal medicine allow some babies born at around 24 weeks to survive.

Now imagine another human being of a similar gestational age who remains inside the mother.

What has changed in that human being's nature?

Its location.

Birth changes many things, but it does not create our humanity.

The child who leaves the womb was already human before leaving it.

We may employ extraordinary human and technological resources to save one child while the law permits, under certain circumstances, the deliberate termination of another human life that remains inside the womb.

The legal situation changes.

The location changes.

The individual's human nature does not.

And although late abortions may constitute a small proportion of the total, that does not resolve the problem.

Statistics answer:

How often does it happen?

They do not answer:

What is happening?

The rarity of an action does not determine whether it is just.

But neither should we make the opposite mistake and focus only on late abortions. If the individual we observe at 24 weeks is human, that same individual was also human weeks earlier.

Size does not confer dignity.

Neither does age.

WHAT ABOUT EXTREME CASES?

Rape, incest, abandonment, poverty, illness, and devastating diagnoses.

It is easy to write those words. It is much harder to live through those realities.

A woman who has been raped deserves justice, and her attacker deserves the full weight of the law. A sick mother deserves the best medical care available. An abandoned woman needs material, psychological, and family support. A family facing a terrible diagnosis needs counseling, medical care, and, when appropriate, perinatal palliative care.

There is nothing pro-life about abandoning a woman in such circumstances.

But tragedy changes the circumstances; it does not change the nature of the child.

The father's crime does not make the child guilty.

Poverty does not make the poor person less human.

A disability does not erase dignity.

Neither does illness.

We must also distinguish between deliberately causing an abortion and suffering a spontaneous pregnancy loss.

One thing is being unable to save a life.

Quite another is intending to end it.

“MY BODY, MY CHOICE”

A woman's body belongs to her.

But her child is not an organ of her body.

The child is inside her and depends upon her to an extraordinary degree, but dependence does not mean identity or an absence of dignity.

A newborn is completely dependent on others. A person with profound disabilities may depend on others throughout his or her entire life. An elderly person with dementia may require assistance even to eat.

We do not conclude that the greater the person's dependence, the lesser his or her right to live.

We should uphold precisely the opposite principle:

The more vulnerable a human being is, the greater our obligation should be to protect that person.

Why should that principle be reversed before birth?

WHAT ABOUT THE WOMAN?

This is a necessary question.

There are women terrified by a pregnancy. Poor women. Abandoned women. Women who fear losing their education, their jobs, or the future they had imagined. Women facing illness and terrible diagnoses.

They matter.

A society that calls itself pro-life and then abandons the mother has understood only half of its obligation.

We must accompany her, provide material assistance, hold the father accountable, facilitate real alternatives, improve adoption processes, and provide medical and psychological care.

And that responsibility does not end with birth.

But the question “What about the woman?” has another dimension that we almost never hear:

What about the girls who never had the chance to be born?

Among aborted human beings there are also female human beings.

Where do they stand when we speak about women's rights?

A little girl who dies before birth will never march for her rights. She will never vote. She will never attend university. She will never discover what her vocation might have been.

We will never know whether she might have become a doctor, lawyer, teacher, scientist, religious sister, entrepreneur, mother, or simply an ordinary woman who would have loved and been loved.

But she did not need to become any of those things to have value.

Her dignity did not depend on what she might one day have been able to do.

It depended on who she was.

The mother matters.

The daughter matters too.

The human response should not be to pit one against the other, but to say:

“Your life matters. And your child's life matters too. We will abandon neither of you.”

NEITHER WANTED NOR UNWANTED: HUMAN

One child may have been awaited for years. Another may arrive unexpectedly.

One may be conceived in a stable home. Another may be conceived under terrible circumstances.

One may be given a name from the moment of the first ultrasound. Another may be regarded as a problem from the very beginning.

But the wanted child and the unwanted child do not belong to different species.

Another person's wishes may change the child's circumstances.

They cannot change the child's human nature.

If our dignity depends on someone wanting us, considering us convenient, or authorizing our existence, then we do not possess genuine rights.

We have permissions.

And whoever grants permission can also withdraw it.

That is precisely why human rights exist: so that the dignity of the weak does not depend exclusively on the will of the strong.

“ABORTION IS HEALTH CARE”

It is a common slogan in our time.

But no slogan can replace a question:

Health care—for whom?

The mother is a patient. Her health matters. Her life matters. Her suffering matters.

But within her there is also another living, developing human being.

We can change laws and alter the words with which we describe a reality.

What we cannot do is alter that reality through language.

A law can declare an action lawful.

That does not automatically prove that it is just.

Legality and morality have never been synonyms.

If they were, there would never have been an unjust law that needed to be changed.

THE QUESTION THAT REMAINS

That is what makes Massachusetts relevant.

We do not need to imagine conspiracies or attribute hidden motives to everyone who thinks differently.

It is enough to observe the result:

The legal boundary is expanding again.

And when a boundary moves, we must ask who is left on the other side.

At six weeks, the human being is tiny. At twelve weeks, more developed. At 24 weeks, its capabilities are different. After birth, the child will depend completely on others.

Size, abilities, appearance, and degree of dependence change.

What remains is the continuity of the same developing human organism.

That is why the question does not end in Massachusetts.

Nor at 24 weeks.

Nor at 12.

Nor at six.

It ends with a question our generation must answer:

If we know that it is alive and we know that it is human, what circumstance can make it just to deliberately end its life simply because it has not yet been born?

The woman deserves our help.

The mother deserves our protection.

The victim of violence deserves justice.

The sick woman deserves the best medicine possible.

The mother facing a devastating diagnosis deserves support and compassion.

And the human being who depends completely upon her also deserves protection.

Even if that human being is small.

Even if sick.

Even if conceived under terrible circumstances.

Even if no one expected that child.

Even if that child cannot yet speak.

Because human rights acquire their deepest meaning precisely in the face of the human being who lacks the power to demand them.

The mother matters.

The child matters.

A truly humane society should be large enough to defend both.

We should not require a human being to first become large, strong, independent, or wanted before recognizing that this human being is already one of us.

RMO

Saturday, August 15, 2026

WE CANNOT DOUBT WHAT CHRIST REVEALED

 

"Hell exists, gentlemen. Christ has said so. It matters little that the incredulous deny it. Despite that denial, its existence is a terrible reality. But it is fitting that we go a little further and try to discover what lies within it. The catechism—that little book containing a wonderful summary of Catholic doctrine—tells us that hell is 'the sum of all evils, without any admixture of good.' A wonderful definition. Yet there is an even more profound way: the one left to us in the Gospel by Our Lord Jesus Christ Himself. It is the very phrase He will utter on the day of the Last Judgment: 'Depart from Me, you cursed, into the eternal fire.' This terrible formula contains a wonderful summary of the entire theology of hell."

Fr. Royo Marín



Monday, August 10, 2026

GOD LOVES YOU



"He calls you by name; whoever you are, God regards you individually. He calls you by name.

He sees and understands you just as He made you. He knows what is within you; He knows all your thoughts
and feelings, all your inclinations and tastes, your strengths and your weaknesses.

He sees you in your days of joy and in your days of sorrow. He shares in your hopes and your temptations. He cares about all your anxieties and memories, and all the ups and downs of your spirit.

He has counted the hairs on your head and measured your stature. He surrounds you with His care and carries you in His arms; He lifts you up and sets you down.

He sees your true face, whether it is smiling
or bathed in tears, healthy or sick. He watches over your hands and feet with tenderness; He hears your voice, the beating of your heart, and even your breathing.

You do not love yourself more than He loves you."

John Henry Cardinal Newman



Friday, August 7, 2026

THE CANTICLE OF THE UNBORN CHILD (The Blood That Cried Out Before It Ever Knew the Light)


 Óscar Méndez Oceguera 

I — THE HEARTBEAT THAT HAD NOT YET RECEIVED A NAME

Before my eyes
learned the color of your face,

before my hands
reached for the shape of yours,

before my voice
uttered a single syllable,

I was alive.

Not as an empty promise.

Not as an uncertain possibility.

Not as a suspended dream.

True life.

A soul received.

A person loved from all eternity.

“I was not a memory.
I was not a project.
I was someone.”

I had never known the wind.

I had never known the rain.

I had never seen the dawn.

Yet I already knew your blood.

For within it
my story
had begun.


II — THE WOUNDED SANCTUARY

There is no sanctuary more hidden
than the one
where a human life begins.

Not of stone.

Not of cedar.

Not raised by human hands.

Flesh sheltering flesh.

Life giving shelter to life.

“The whole universe—
with its mountains,
its seas,
and its stars—
has never fashioned
a dwelling
more worthy
than a mother’s womb.”

There,

blood
was meant to nourish.

The heart
was meant to keep watch.

The body
was meant to protect.

Yet the refuge
learned
the language of rejection.

“The house
came to fear
its own guest.”

“The nest
forgot
why wings
had been made.”

And where nature
had written hospitality,

man
wrote expulsion.


III — THE REVERSAL OF THE ORDER OF THINGS

The tree
does not devour its seed.

The spring
does not drink
its own waters.

The river
does not climb
back toward the mountain.

The earth
does not refuse the rain.

Everything that exists
protects
that
from which life springs.

Only man
has learned
to raise his hand
against
his own beginning.

“What was meant to nourish
wounded.”

“What was meant to shelter
laid bare.”

“What was meant to say:
Live,
declared instead:
Disappear.”

It was not nature.

It was its denial.

It was not instinct.

It was its corruption.

It was not the necessity of being.

It was the rupture of love.


IV — THE SILENCE OF THOSE WHO NEVER WEPT

When a soldier falls,

bells answer.

When a king dies,

history
lays down its pen.

When a city disappears,

generations
keep its memory alive.

But when a child
is torn away
from the place
where his existence had begun,

the world
learned
to remain silent.

“There was no mourning.”

“There was no name.”

“There was no grave.”

Only an absence,

administered
as though
it were progress.

Only a statistic,

taking the place
of a face.

Only a language

capable of hiding
what hands
were doing.

“Words
covered the blood.”

“Arguments
concealed the cry.”

“Technique
silenced conscience.”

And silence,
at last,
came to resemble peace.


V — THE MOTHER WHO WEEPS AS WELL

No heart
was ever created
to forget
its own child.

It may persuade itself.

It may justify itself.

It may harden itself.

But it can never cease
to have been
a mother.

“There are tears
that never reach the eyes.”

“There are griefs
hidden
within the breast
for an entire lifetime.”

Memory
remains

where reason
believes
it has prevailed.

For love
is older
than every ideology.

And blood
remembers
what words
tried to erase.


VI — THE ABSENT FATHER

There was also
a man.

Not always violent.

Not always cruel.

Very often,

simply absent.

The one
who should have remained,

fled.

The one
who should have protected,

fell silent.

The one
who should have answered,

surrendered
his authority
to fear.

“Many children
died
because first
the father
had died.”

Not his body.

His responsibility.

Not his strength.

His courage.

And whenever
the father
abandons
his place,

the whole world
becomes
a little more
orphaned.


VII — THE HEAVEN THAT DOES NOT FORGET

No name
is ever lost
before God.

What the world
recorded
as a procedure,

Heaven
called
by its true name.

What men
reduced
to a decision,

Eternal Love
knew
as a person.

“No life
vanishes into nothingness.”

“No soul
is forgotten
by the One
who called it into being.”

The earth
may deny
a grave.

History
may deny
a page.

Men
may deny
a face.

But God
never forgets
what He
has loved
from all eternity.


VIII — THE APPEAL

Who
will restore
the first embrace?

Who
will teach
those lips
their mother’s name?

Who
will place
into those hands
the bread
they never touched?

Who
will restore
the birthdays
that never dawned?

Who
will answer
the silence
of millions
of children
without memory?

“They do not ask in hatred.”

“They do not accuse in vengeance.”

They wait only

for man
to remember
who he was

before he learned
to call
a right

what destroys
justice.


For no civilization
endures

once it turns
the sanctuary
into a slaughterhouse.

No freedom
endures

once it breaks
the first covenant
of love.

No progress
deserves
that name

if it begins
by erasing
the smallest among us.


“Every mother
was created
to say:
Live.”

“Every father
was created
to answer:
I will keep you safe.”

“Every child
was created
to hear,
one day,
the first word
that no law
can ever replace:

Welcome.”


And so long as
even one child
is denied
the dawn,

the earth
will continue
to wait

for man
to learn again
the meaning
of a word

older
than every constitution,

higher
than every empire,

stronger
than every will to power:

Father.

And another,

the word
that has upheld
the whole world
from the beginning:

Mother.