By Alberto Reyes Pías
I’ve Been Thinking About the Blessing of Persecution
The Bible, the wisest book ever written, says that God blinds the proud.
And dictatorships, in their limitless arrogance, become blind—not blind to the suffering they cause, nor unable to see how deeply they are rejected and hated, but blind to the fact that their time is running out. They fail to understand that those who were once helpless victims are not only finding ways to free themselves, but are also finding the strength to rise up and confront those who have kept them oppressed.
Dictatorships become blind to the fact that when a people have decided to fight for their freedom, every act of persecution eventually turns against the aggressor and helps transform the people into an unstoppable wave.
The psychological suffering of Anna Bensi and her mother pains me deeply. But when I see everything that their persecution is bringing about, I cannot help but rejoice at the fruits it is bearing.
The fruit of seeing clearly that we are prisoners of a totalitarian State, where the individual has value only if he submits, if he obediently serves those in power, if he accepts being a slave—and where, the moment he decides to exist with a voice of his own, no effort is spared to exclude him, punish him, and remove him from the scene.
The fruit of a people beginning to lose their fear of showing solidarity publicly, of standing openly beside those who are unjustly attacked.
The fruit of the unity of the churches, standing together as one and rising above old differences that, for so long, have distracted us from what is essential: faith in Jesus Christ and following the One who is “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
The fruit of the churches recovering their prophetic mission, called to proclaim justice and truth “from the rooftops.” The fruit of moving beyond “calculated prudence” and embracing the freedom of the Spirit.
The fruit of fear beginning to retreat, allowing more and more of our people to freely proclaim their right to a dignified life—a life without fear, without chains, without oppressors.
And the fruit of a righteous anger. Because Anna Bensi and her mother have done more than simply say aloud what we are all thinking: they have become a symbol, a symbol we have learned to love.
That is why we do not feel that two unknown women are simply being attacked. Those being attacked are women who have spoken to our hearts. Those being attacked are women who today symbolize freedom, justice, decency, and determination.
And that produces anger—deep anger toward the aggressor. It leads many hesitant hearts to finally say: “Enough!”
And I hope that one more fruit is also beginning to emerge: the voice of conscience in the minds of those who carry out the repression.
The fruit of realizing that they are serving evil, that they are supporting the oppressor. The fruit of feeling disgust with themselves—which is often the first step toward joining those who have already discovered the taste of freedom.