By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept by Coelho Paulo

Author:Coelho, Paulo [Paulo, Coelho,]
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-06-10T04:00:00+00:00

By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

Wednesday, December 8, 1993

By the time the cathedral's clock struck midnight, the group around us had grown considerably. We were almost a hundred people—some of them priests and nuns—standing in the rain, gazing at the statue.

“Hail, Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception,” someone close to me said, as soon as the tolling of the bells ceased.

“Hail,” everyone answered, with some applause.

A guard immediately came forward and asked that we be quiet. We were bothering the other pilgrims.

“But we've come a long way,” said one of the men in our group.

“So have they,” answered the guard, pointing to the others who were praying in the rain. “And they are praying silently.”

I wanted to be alone with him, far from this place, holding his hand and telling him how I felt. We needed to talk more about the house, about our plans, about love. I wanted to reassure him, to make clear how strong my feelings were, and to let him know that his dream could come true—because I would be at his side, helping him.

The guard retreated, and one of the priests began to recite the rosary in a low voice. When we reached the creed that closes the series of prayers, everyone remained silent, their eyes closed.

“Who are these people?” I asked.

“Charismatics,” he answered.

I had heard of them before but didn't know exactly what their name meant. He could see that I didn't understand.

“These are people who accept the fire of the Holy Spirit,” he said, "the fire that Jesus left but that is used by so few people to light their candles. These people are very close to the original truth of Christianity, when everyone was capable of performing miracles.

“They are guided by the Woman Dressed by the Sun,” he said, pointing with his eyes to the Virgin.

The group began to chant quietly, as if in response to an invisible command.

“You're shivering from the cold. You don't have to take part in this,” he said.

“Are you going to stay?”

“Yes. This is my life.”

“Then I'm going to participate,” I answered, even though I would have preferred to be far from there. “If this is your world, I want to learn to be a part of it.”

The group continued to sing. I closed my eyes and tried to follow the words, even though I couldn't speak French. I repeated the words without understanding them. But their sound helped the time to pass more quickly.

It would end soon. And we could return to Saint-Savin, just the two of us.

I went on singing mechanically—but little by little, I began to feel the music taking hold of me, as if it had a life of its own. It was hypnotizing. The cold seemed less bitter, and the rain no longer bothered me. The music made me feel better. It transported me back to a time when God had felt closer to me and had helped me.

Just as I was about to surrender completely to the music, it stopped.

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