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DON BOSCO EDUCATOR

PASCUAL CHÁVEZ VILLANUEVA

DON BOSCO RELATES

I ALWAYS NEEDED EVERYTHING

I was born poor, and yet in my hands have been incredible sums, which I never attached to the heart. For me being poor meant being free, the true freedom that the Lord had taught us by example and words. Free, not fettered! Poor as I was, I knew and frequented many ‘well off’. I had an obsession that was not always understood, indeed, I raised a hornet's nest of criticism tedious and suffocating. I said and I repeated often: "Charity is not done by the rich, but we do it for them, thus offering the opportunity to do a little good". Clearer than this ... I was convinced that " there is no one who dares to tell gentlemen the truth ". I remember writing a letter which, despite its brevity, managed to disturb a wealthy banker often in his sleep: "You must absolutely save your soul, but you must give to the poor all your superfluities: I pray God to grant you this extraordinary grace".

I have written thousands of letters; the majority of them to solicit grants from the public bodies and from the benefactors. In all, though, there is always a "Thank you", a word of sincere gratitude. I had learned it from my mum! I said: "It is not possible for those who have gratitude not to have even the other virtues."

I lived, asking and thanking.

Although I did not know and, therefore, I never used the word "marketing", I was using this technique – in my own way –, and how! Here's how I expressed myself: "We are at a time when you have to work. The world has become materialistic, so you have to work and make known the good that you do ". The donations which I received, modest or generous, were not gathering dust in a safe; the benefactors were pleased to see where their donations were helping. And they were also ... encouraged to continue!

To thank was always considered a strict duty of justice. So I lived and so I taught in my petty pedagogy every day. To the guys I used to repeat: "We always feel sorry for the ungrateful, because they're unhappy." Ingratitude was for me one of the worst forms of blindness because it didn’t let us see the benefits, the gestures of love, the signs of the fatherly goodness of God. And here the catechesis ‘floated in’ by which Mamma Margaret helped us to understand how God manifests himself in life’s events, happy or not: and she was always found enough reasons to give thanks from the heart. Appreciation is the heart's memory, because only the heart has the ability to remember. Whoever thanks carries in their heart the love of God and rejoices at this. We are what we remember! My boys breathed this atmosphere. It was certainly a moment of profound emotion which I felt that night, on the eve of my name-day, when I heard a knock at the door of my office, a bare room. When I opened it, I found Felice Reviglio and Carlo Gastini who came to offer me greetings; then, they offered me two small silver hearts as a token of gratitude. I remained speechless for such an eloquent gift that I had received; that gesture made me understand that the right road had been chosen, because these guys had figured out that blessed and wonderful family spirit which they supported so much. And there I was, not even knowing for how long, staring at those two small hearts, while my eyes filled with tears!

The years spent in Chieri, first as a student and then as a seminarian (10 wonderful years!), had also been years of many sacrifices and, sometimes, even in hunger. The bowl of soup that Mr. Pianta gave me for the various works in his bar wasn't enough for the stomach of a robust eighteen-year old. Joseph Blanchard helped me as he could. His mother was selling fruit in the market; I often took away some apples, chestnuts and other fruits. Certain favours, which benefit an empty stomach, are not easily forgotten. And so, many years later, I was in Chieri, about noon. I was chatting with some priests who were my companions in the seminary, when, just over the wall I saw someone pass who I could never really forget, my friend Blanchard.I introduced him to my fellow priests as a distinguished benefactor. And I told the story of the fruit of many years earlier. Then I invited him to come with me to visit at Valdocco. This fact occurred in 1876. Ten years later, my friend finally managed to keep his word. I wasn't well. There were lots of difficulties in the porter’s lodge, as many in the waiting room. "Tell him, at the very least, that Blanchard came to find him". I recognised his voice and invited him in. We chatted for a long time. When it was lunch time I apologized for not being able to get up, but told the secretary: "Will you make a place for this friend of mine in the Superiors refectory, in my place". And so an elderly gentleman, quite clumsily, that day sat among those who guided the young Salesian Congregation. It was the least I could do for him, after 50 years, my thanks ...