A cry of pain… I am here…
Feel what I’m going through… don’t forget me, I’m one of you… pray for me, don’t reject me… I didn’t choose to become like this… I want love… and to be loved…
These are the words the addict speaks to us… and his cry, coming from deep inside, is harsher and stronger than the pain of the needle and the line of powder…
Good morning of love and mercy…
My brothers and sisters, the sigh of my prayer today… a cry of pain… the cry of a person who is here… and not here…
Yesterday I happened to meet an old friend… we were in the same class…
He stood out among us… brilliant… kind-hearted… and his family was more than comfortable…
He saw me in the street in my priest’s cassock… he ran, threw himself on the ground and cried out, “Aaah…”
“Abouna, have mercy on me… tell your Lord to heal me… I love him…”
I stood there in shock… I didn’t know what to say… People gathered around us, as usual, out of nosiness and curiosity… and nobody ran to lift him up or dared to go near him… He shouted in the people’s faces and in mine: “Have mercy on me… I’m here… I’m dying… someone heal me… why have you abandoned me???? It’s not my fault…”
He reminded me of the cry of the Lord Jesus to his Father on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
I took him and we sat down on the pavement… he talked… he cried… his pain made me cry… yes, it hurt me, everyone…
The one who yesterday was on top in his morals, his mind and his money… had fallen to the bottom… into the garbage of his thoughts, his poverty and his need… Oh, what times…
I asked him, “What’s wrong, my friend? How did you end up here?” He said, “Father… love… yes, Abouna, love… they forgot me… they didn’t let me feel it… they told me: take money, live, go out, travel, have fun… but what fun?”
I asked him who had kept him from loving. He was silent for a moment, a tear stuck in his eye… “My parents, Father… yes, my parents, and bad company… lots of money… everything I wanted, they provided… everything I did… but look where I’ve ended up…”
“I got lost… I drowned in the filth of drugs… immorality… stealing… lying… filth of every kind…”
“I looked my parents in the eye, hoping they would notice… but there was no one there… I even put the bag of drugs on the kitchen table to tell them I was using… but no one stopped me… I used to tell them: teach me love… take me to church so I can see people who love…”
“The answer was: God won’t feed you or give you bread or happiness… church is for the weak and the hung-up…”
“They planted in me hatred for God… and for the weak… they put it in my head: you are God; with your money you can do the impossible…” I let him talk, and I lost myself there on the pavement… I heard movement behind me… I turned and saw two young men and a young woman crying just like him… Surprised, I asked them, “What’s the matter, my children?” The young woman said, “Abouna, your friend’s cry of pain was our cry not long ago… we were addicts and lost like him… but the Church and the Lord Jesus woke us up and made us sure that salvation and happiness come from him alone…”
My friend turned to them and said, “Take me to him, I want to tell him: I’m here… let him love me like he loves you…” And we all fell silent…
And they left… with a smile in his eyes… and I went on my way…
My brothers and sisters… why have we become so hard? Addicts, young men and women… they are our children… they may be in the heart of any of our homes… without our knowing…
Be careful, parents, churches, schools and universities… poison and death are now in our midst: wake up… pay attention…
If love is lost from our hearts… we lose our life and we lose God… Come back and pray for our children… be aware of them… walk with them… love them… don’t let materialism eat up their future… we will have to answer for them… they are God’s children…
And my cry to all the dealers of this death… a day is coming when you will die of the poison you are spreading among our children… wake up, God will hold you to account…
Lord, protect our children, our families and our society…
This friend’s story… is the story of our society, drugged by money, power and lust… Protect us, Lord… God be with you…
Father Boutros Akouri
