Noémia

"Poor children eating at the Day Care Nursery while their mothers work", Portugal, 1940, by Bernard Hoffman in http://images.google.com/hosted/life/b5fc3f4f38e2113b.html

Chamava-se Noémia,
Nove anos de idade
Cheios de maturidade.

Vivia do outro lado
Da minha rua,
Do meu mundo
Mas a casa de paredes nuas
Tinha um encanto profundo.

Era para mim um espanto
Vê-la subir para um banco
Para chegar à panela
E fazer nela
Com rapidez e perfeição
Uma sopa de feijão
Que distribuía por seis tigelas
Uma para mim, outra para ela
Quatro para os irmãos.

No ano primeiro
Da nossa amizade
Tinha eu sete anos de idade
Por alturas do Natal
Andava num alvoroço
Apanhando musgo no quintal
Nos muros, à roda do poço
Para enfeitar o presépio
No largo parapeito
Da janela de granito
Tendo por fundo
O céu, o infinito.

O presépio com a estrela
Tão grande e tão bela
A cabana pobrezinha
Onde o Menino despido
Apenas era aquecido
Pelo bafo dos animais
Como se não tivesse pais
Para O aquecer
Para O proteger.

Quis que a Noémia O visse
E a sua prenda pedisse.

Com um sorriso triste
Respondeu, conformada:
- Na casa dos pobres
O Menino Jesus não deixa nada.

Não sei descrever o que senti
Mas qualquer coisa se quebrou
Dentro de mim
Se estilhaçou
No meu peito de criança
Numa angústia, numa desconfiança.

Não fomos à Missa do Galo
Pois nevara fortemente.
Mas antes de abrirmos os presentes,
O meu Pai pegou no Menino
Deu-O a beijar a toda a gente.

Tinha lágrimas nos olhos
Mas a voz não tremia
Quando meu Pai fitei
Para, firme, declarar:
— Estou zangada com Ele,
Não O quero beijar.

O meu Pai não me ralhou
E o Menino Jesus
Nas palhinhas deitou.
Mas quis saber a razão
Por que estava tão zangada
Com o Menino Jesus
Fonte de toda a esperança
Todo amor, todo bondade
Tão amigo das crianças.

- Não é nada — afirmei
Segura da minha verdade —.
A Noémia não faz maldades
Não tem tempo para brincar
Passa os dias a trabalhar
Nem sequer pode estudar.
E porque são pobrezinhos
O Menino Jesus
Nada deixa nos sapatinhos.

Foi nessa noite linda
Que o meu Pai me explicou
Com uma ternura infinda
Que este Natal de presentes
De vaidades e consumismo
Não é o Natal de Jesus.
Dele são a paz e a luz.
Dos homens, o materialismo.

Mas como nesse Natal
A Noémia afinal
Teve uma boneca
E houve presentes
Para toda a gente
Na casa do outro lado
Da minha rua
Dei por mim a perguntar:
— Foi por eu me zangar?

Este Natal estou triste
Triste e até desesperada
Com tudo quanto vejo
E não desejo.
O que irá acontecer
Se ao Menino disser
Que estou muito zangada?

Quem sabe se vai surgir
Um milénio de amor
Um mundo novo
Com crianças a sorrir.

Talvez nunca mais veja
Crianças carbonizadas
Em barracas desumanizadas.

Talvez nunca mais veja
Crianças abandonadas
Nos vãos das escadas
Nos passeios das ruas
Tendo por coberta a lua
Jornais velhos e cartão
Tratadas abaixo de cão
(Metáfora já sem valor
Pois o novo significado
De uma vida abjecta
Vai ser vida de criança
Onde não mora o amor
Sem lugar para a esperança).

Talvez nunca mais veja
Os meninos desta Terra
Na droga
Na prostituição
Cheios de fome
De carinho e de pão.
Pequenos Meninos Jesus
Que vão ser espancados
Cuspidos
Escarnecidos
Que vão ser outros Cristos
— não santificados —
Que vão ser crucificados
Por culpa dos nossos pecados.

Se a minha zanga
Para alguma coisa prestar
Se puder quebrar
Esta inércia em que vivemos
Este egoísmo que temos
A pena hipócrita que sentimos
— apenas e só —
Quando as imagens vemos.

Se o meu grito
Eco encontrar
E se multiplicar
Num clamor
Talvez ele possa chegar
Ao coração dos homens
E despertar o amor.

Ai, meu Menino Jesus
Pequeno raio de luz
Não sou a criança inocente
Que Contigo se zangou
Mas sinto-me impotente
Não sei a quem me queixar.
A quem hei-de implorar
Que as Noémias deste mundo
Tenham pão, um lar
E bonecas para brincar?

Ai, meu Menino Jesus
Meu doce raio de luz
Tão pobre
Tão despido
Tão desvalido:
 — Estou zangada Contigo!
 
Maria Ivone Vairinho

Serra da Estrela

Fotografia de Hélio Cristovão em http://www.heliocristovao.net/blog

Meu corpo foi talhado em granito
Meus pés plantados em ribeiros
Que me banham o corpo inteiro.

Nos olhos tenho espaço infinito
Que rasga a linha do horizonte
Que se perde no mar, nos montes.

No meu véu branco de esponsais
Brotam zimbro, mimosas, tojais.
No verde selvagem dos pinheirais
Meu manto de rainha foi tecido
Com urzes e rosmaninho entretecido.

Meu vestido verde bordado
Com rubra barra de papoilas
Espigas doiradas
De trigo e cevada
Desce pelas encostas escarpadas.

No ventre fecundo
Guardo mananciais
De lava ardente e minerais
Que mostram seu esplendor
Nos picos das Penhas Douradas
Quando o sol enamorado
Em manhãs de ouro matizadas
Crepúsculos avermelhados
Me confessa o seu amor.

Prendem-se minhas mãos nas fráguas
Delas jorram cristalinas águas.

Águas de lava arrefecida
Fontes de saúde e vida
Irrompendo em borbotões
Tecendo rendas delicadas
P'las quebradas dos Covões.

Derretem neves do Inverno
E loucas vão mergulhar
No Poço que é do Inferno.
A água das neves, gelada
É de novo transformada
Pela lava incandescente
Rasga a terra com fragor
Entre nuvens de vapor
Nas termas e nas nascentes.

Sou feita de neve e de granito
Nos olhos tenho espaço infinito
Do verde selvagem dos pinheirais
No ventre fecundo mananciais
De lava ardente e geladas águas
Que jorram cantando pelas fráguas.

Maria Ivone Vairinho
(Livro do amor e da saudade)

Abraça-me apenas...

Covilhã, Capela de São João de Malta, 02 de outubro de 1961

ABRAÇA-ME APENAS
(Para meu Marido)

Abraça-me apenas
Com toda a ternura
Que teus braços sejam
Cadeia segura.

Deixa que assim
Deste meu jeito
A minha cabeça
Repouse no teu peito.

Aqui estou protegida
Deixemos lá fora a vida
Com seus ódios e rancor.
Tudo é paz, serenidade
Águas mansas, tranquilidade
Abraça-me apenas, meu amor.

Maria Ivone Vairinho

A clara luz do dia...

António Lobo Antunes
1 de setembro de 1942
(http://www.portaldaliteratura.com/autores.php?autor=302)

Vou ter de viver os próximos tempos em condições muito duras que não dependem de mim. Ser uma testemunha passiva do que se passa comigo, nada poder fazer para alterar seja o que for, desespera-me. Quando as coisas dependem da minha vontade eu luto. Quando não dependem fico reduzido a um espectador inútil, sofrendo o que se passa sem poder intervir, e a minha indignação e a minha angústia crescem. Aguenta-te. Mas é difícil aguentar passivamente. Noites sobressaltadas, despertares cansados, a raiva da injustiça. Vou arranjando forças para continuar a escrever mas esta pequena coisa dentro de mim tenta destruir-me a energia. Sempre aceitei mal o que vem de fora da minha vontade, sempre aceitei mal o que me é imposto autoritariamente, sem discussão nem razões. Aceito, até certo ponto, a incerteza do futuro, não aceito que essa incerteza não me consinta uma margem de liberdade. A minha obra não está completa, a minha vida não está completa, necessito de tempo ainda, dessa espécie de tumultuosa paz de que sou feito. E sinto-me sozinho nisto, com as pessoas que me são próximas a assistirem de fora, impotentes. Navego à deriva, porque me tiraram o leme. A minha existência é comezinha e sem importância: na minha opinião o meu trabalho não o é. Se me devolvessem a paz e a esperança em troca dos livros que escrevi não a aceitava. Orgulho-me deles, custaram-me a alma. Que silêncio nesta casa, em frente da minha dor, cuja presença me espanta. Não me faço perguntas nem encontro respostas. Devo esperar. E quando se acabar, a espera? Palavras, coisas, pessoas rodopiam-me em torno, grandes pássaros negros passam sobre mim, o meu corpo é um conjunto de articulações sem sentido. Os outros, os que me falam, seres quase sem nexo, separados de mim por um muro que não consigo transpor. Porém não oiço o que quero nem digo o que se me arrasta no fundo da alma. Fico num silêncio amargo, cheio de gritos mudos, zanga, insultos. Dentro em pouco os dados estarão lançados: e depois?

A minha principal sensação é de estranheza, de espanto. O mundo, à minha volta, alterou-se, e eu com ele. Hoje, por exemplo, está um dia de sol, e é apenas chuva que vejo. Muitos dos meus amigos morreram já, e dou-me conta, na carne, da falta que me fazem. Ernesto, Zé, Acácio, vários outros. Sinto o coração a bater, compassado, lento. Por enquanto acompanha-me, estamos juntos. Não quero aborrecer ninguém, tomar o tempo de ninguém, ser incómodo. As horas adquiriram, sem me dar conta, uma rapidez vertiginosa. Há pouco o meu primo Zé Maria desapareceu com a mais admirável das coragens. Receio não a ter. A minha cobardia assusta-me. A indiferença dos estranhos assusta-me. A mudez do telefone assusta-me. Ninguém me garante que isto é mentira e sinto-me cercado de vazio, um oco interno onde fervem pavores. Sou eu o que continua, ou o que desconheço o que seja no meu lugar? Tudo o que sei é que, dentro em pouco estarei de novo no bojo de uma máquina sem alma, terrivelmente objectiva. A máquina dirá às pessoas, as pessoas dir-me-ão a mim. E quem é o mim que as vai ouvir?

Para já oiço o monótono zumbido do mundo. Mais nada. E espero. É tremendo esperar sem conhecer a resposta, sem fazer a mínima ideia da resposta. Passei por isso em África, passei por isso há anos. Julgava ter terminado. Voltou.

E o que digo o que interessa às pessoas? O que pode interessar aos outros? A solidão cerca-me por todos os lados, não há uma fraçãozinha que se sinta acompanhada: podem estar por fora, a olhar. Não estão por dentro, a viver. Escrevo este texto como quem tenta não se afogar, sabendo que se afogará seja como for. É uma questão de tempo e o tempo é cruel.

- Cá me vou entretendo com as minhas mazelas

dizia-me um homem outro dia. E que impartilhável sofrimento no interior destas palavras. Depois apertámos a mão e foi-se embora, levando as mazelas com ele. Poderei ir-me embora também? O Sol cresceu, tudo está cheio de luz. Que absurdo isto que me sucede no meio de tanta luz. Lembro-me de Van Gogh a morrer num quarto de hospital depois dos tiros. Na parede aquele quadro dos corvos num campo de trigo. A enfermeira perguntou-lhe o que significava o quadro.

- É a morte

disse ele. A enfermeira voltou a olhar para a tela. Comentou

- Não parece uma morte triste

e o pintor respondeu

- E não é. Passa-se à clara luz do dia.

Que, ao menos, quando chegar o meu momento, tudo se passe à clara luz do dia. Comigo a ver, pela janela, as nuvens lá fora, deslizando, uma a uma, para leste. E eu, deitado numa cama qualquer, a partir com elas.

 

(António Lobo Antunes, Visão, 8 de março de 2012, http://visao.sapo.pt/a-clara-luz-do-dia=f651213) 

Sheldon Mirowitz



 Sheldon Mirowitz at Berklee College of Music
(http://www.berklee.edu/faculty/detail/sheldon-mirowitz)
Sheldon Mirowitz biography: http://www.sheldonmirowitz.com/bio.htm
Sheldon Mirowitz's credits: http://www.sheldonmirowitz.com/credits.htm

 

The Nazi Officer's Wife, 2003
(documentary directed by Liz Garbus; original music by Sheldon Mirowitz), based on "The Nazi Officer's Wife - How One Jewish Woman Survived the Holocaust", 1999 by Edith H. Beer (http://www.harpercollins.com/books/Nazi-Officers-Wife-Edith-H-Beer/?isbn=9780688177768), see trailer: http://www.videodetective.com/movies/the-nazi-officers-wife/227256
  

 

Piano Solos, 1992
(August 23, 1962 composed by Sheldon Mirowitz)
http://www.allmusic.com/album/piano-solos-mw0000089037



Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Jean-Jacques Rousseau
(http://athena.unige.ch/athena/rousseau/rousseau.html e http://www.memo.fr/dossier.asp?ID=37) por Allan Ramsay (1766) (retrato em http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Allan_Ramsay_003.jpg)

JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU

´DU CONTRAT SOCIAL OU PRINCIPES DU DROIT POLITIQUE´

(Edition de 1762, orthographe modernisée)

(http://athena.unige.ch/athena/rousseau/rousseau_contrat_social.html#L4/9) 

Os Lusíadas

 

(Camões lendo ´Os Lusíadas´ a D. Sebastião, imagem em http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VO-na5drngA/TwdX9ZBiaXI/AAAAAAAAAow/bAKPfrJVzt4/s1600/camoes.jpg)

"As armas e os barões assinalados,

Que da ocidental praia Lusitana,

Por mares nunca de antes navegados,

Passaram ainda além da Taprobana,

Em perigos e guerras esforçados,

Mais do que prometia a força humana,

E entre gente remota edificaram

Novo Reino, que tanto sublimaram;

E também as memórias gloriosas

Daqueles Reis, que foram dilatando

A Fé, o Império, e as terras viciosas

De África e de Ásia andaram devastando;

E aqueles, que por obras valerosas

Se vão da lei da morte libertando;

Cantando espalharei por toda parte,

Se a tanto me ajudar o engenho e arte.

Cessem do sábio Grego e do Troiano

As navegações grandes que fizeram;

Cale-se de Alexandro e de Trajano

A fama das vitórias que tiveram;

Que eu canto o peito ilustre Lusitano,

A quem Neptuno e Marte obedeceram:

Cesse tudo o que a Musa antígua canta,

Que outro valor mais alto se alevanta.

(…)

Vós, poderoso Rei, cujo alto Império

O Sol, logo em nascendo, vê primeiro;

Vê-o também no meio do Hemisfério,

E quando desce o deixa derradeiro;

Vós, que esperamos jugo e vitupério

Do torpe Ismaelita cavaleiro,

Do Turco oriental, e do Gentio,

Que inda bebe o licor do santo rio;

Inclinai por um pouco a majestade,

Que nesse tenro gesto vos contemplo,

Que já se mostra qual na inteira idade,

Quando subindo ireis ao eterno templo;

Os olhos da real benignidade

Ponde no chão: vereis um novo exemplo

De amor dos pátrios feitos valerosos,

Em versos divulgado numerosos.

Vereis amor da pátria, não movido

De prémio vil, mas alto e quase eterno:

Que não é prémio vil ser conhecido

Por um pregão do ninho meu paterno.

Ouvi: vereis o nome engrandecido

Daqueles de quem sois senhor superno,

E julgareis qual é mais excelente,

Se ser do mundo Rei, se de til gente.

(…)

E não sei por que influxo de Destino

Não tem um ledo orgulho e geral gosto,

Que os ânimos levanta de contino

A ter pera trabalhos ledo o rosto.

Por isso vós, ó Rei, que por divino

Conselho estais no régio sólio posto,

Olhai que sois (e vede as outras gentes)

Senhor só de vassalos excelentes.

Olhai que ledos vão, por várias vias,

Quais rompentes liões e bravos touros,

Dando os corpos a fomes e vigias,

A ferro, a fogo, a setas e pelouros,

A quentes regiões, a plagas frias,

A golpes de Idolátras e de Mouros,

A perigos incógnitos do mundo,

A naufrágios, a pexes, ao profundo.

Por vos servir, a tudo aparelhados;

De vós tão longe, sempre obedientes;

A quaisquer vossos ásperos mandados,

Sem dar reposta, prontos e contentes.

Só com saber que são de vós olhados,

Demónios infernais, negros e ardentes,

Cometerão convosco, e não duvido

Que vencedor vos façam, não vencido.

Favorecei-os logo, e alegrai-os

Com a presença e leda humanidade;

De rigorosas leis desalivai-os,

Que assi se abre o caminho à santidade.

Os mais exprimentados levantai-os,

Se, com a experiência, têm bondade

Pera vosso conselho, pois que sabem

O como, o quando, e onde as cousas cabem.

Todos favorecei em seus ofícios,

Segundo têm das vidas o talento;

Tenham Religiosos exercícios

De rogarem, por vosso regimento,

Com jejuns, disciplina, pelos vícios

Comuns; toda ambição terão por vento,

Que o bom Religioso verdadeiro

Glória vã não pretende nem dinheiro.

Os Cavaleiros tende em muita estima,

Pois com seu sangue intrépido e fervente

Estendem não sòmente a Lei de cima,

Mas inda vosso Império preminente.

Pois aqueles que a tão remoto clima

Vos vão servir, com passo diligente,

Dous inimigos vencem: uns, os vivos,

E (o que é mais) os trabalhos excessivos.

Fazei, Senhor, que nunca os admirados

Alemães, Galos, Ítalos e Ingleses,

Possam dizer que são pera mandados,

Mais que pera mandar, os Portugueses.

Tomai conselho só d'exprimentados

Que viram largos anos, largos meses,

Que, posto que em cientes muito cabe.

Mais em particular o experto sabe. 

(…)

Luis Vaz de Camões, 1572, ´Os Lusíadas´ (ver versão original em http://purl.pt/1/2/cam-3-p_PDF/cam-3-p_PDF_24-C-R0150/cam-3-p_0000_capa-capa_t24-C-R0150.pdf)



Haymarket Square, 1886

The Haymarket Riot, Harper's Weekly, 1886 (in http://www.chicagohs.org/hadc/visuals/59V0460v.jpg)

How May Day Became the International Workers' Day
(http://h2g2.com/dna/h2g2/A627662)

Um poema, em Abril, com aroma a Mátria

Alfredo Keil (http://centenariorepublica.pt/escolas/personalidade-republica/alfredo-keil), "No cais do Tejo" (1881) (http://sopintura1953.blogspot.pt/2011/01/alfredo-keil.html)

Queixa das almas jovens censuradas

Dão-nos um lírio e um canivete
e uma alma para ir à escola
mais um letreiro que promete
raízes, hastes e corola

Dão-nos um mapa imaginário
que tem a forma de uma cidade
mais um relógio e um calendário
onde não vem a nossa idade

Dão-nos a honra de manequim
para dar corda à nossa ausência.
Dão-nos um prémio de ser assim
sem pecado e sem inocência

Dão-nos um barco e um chapéu
para tirarmos o retrato
Dão-nos bilhetes para o céu
levado à cena num teatro

Penteiam-nos os crâneos ermos
com as cabeleiras das avós
para jamais nos parecermos
connosco quando estamos sós

Dão-nos um bolo que é a história
da nossa historia sem enredo
e não nos soa na memória
outra palavra que o medo

Temos fantasmas tão educados
que adormecemos no seu ombro
somos vazios despovoados
de personagens de assombro

Dão-nos a capa do evangelho
e um pacote de tabaco
dão-nos um pente e um espelho
pra pentearmos um macaco

Dão-nos um cravo preso à cabeça
e uma cabeça presa à cintura
para que o corpo não pareça
a forma da alma que o procura

Dão-nos um esquife feito de ferro
com embutidos de diamante
para organizar já o enterro
do nosso corpo mais adiante

Dão-nos um nome e um jornal
um avião e um violino
mas não nos dão o animal
que espeta os cornos no destino

Dão-nos marujos de papelão
com carimbo no passaporte
por isso a nossa dimensão
não é a vida, nem é a morte.

Natália Correia (http://tv0.rtp.pt/gdesport/?article=95&visual=3&topic=1), Poesia Completa, Publicações Dom Quixote, 1999 ("Mudam-se os tempos, mudam-se as vontades", 1971)

Columbano

Auto-retrato, sem data, óleo sobre tela, Museu do Chiado, Lisboa, Portugal (in http://www.ci.uc.pt/artes/6spp/columbano.html)

"Columbano Augusto Bordalo Pinheiro estudou pintura na Academia de Belas-Artes de Lisboa, onde foi discípulo de Lupi e Simões de Almeida. Essencialmente retratista e pintor de interiores, com ocasionais abordagens paisagistas, estreou-se em 1874 no Salão da Sociedade Promotora de Belas-Artes com obras de género eivadas de algum romantismo. Em 1881 partiu para Paris, onde esteve como bolseiro até 1883, tomando contacto com o movimento naturalista. Regressado a Portugal, integra-se, juntamente com o seu irmão, o escultor e desenhista satírico Rafael Bordalo Pinheiro, no Grupo do Leão que retrata em 1885. Professor da Escola de Belas-Artes de Lisboa desde 1901, renunciou ao cargo em 1924 por não entender o emergente movimento modernista. Foi então director do Museu de Arte Contemporânea, onde está representado com numerosas obras que retratam uma intelectualidade de fim-de-século, através de uma sociedade decadente. Denunciando um gosto antiquizante na sua demarcação do naturalismo e não aceitação dos vanguardismos, a sua Obra assume um lugar único na pintura portuguesa de finais do século XIX e inícios do século XX." (in http://app.parlamento.pt/visita/visita_virtual/portugues/fichas/ficha_113.html)

Os seus painéis emolduram a Sala dos Passos Perdidos do Parlamento de Portugal: http://app.parlamento.pt/visita/visita_virtual/portugues/index.html ou http://app.parlamento.pt/visita/visita_virtual/portugues/fichas/ficha_215.html



Uma escolha

Sarau, 1880 in http://aarteemportugal.blogspot.com/2010/07/columbano-bordalo-pinheiro-1857-1929.html

Carnaval

Carnaval de Lazarim (http://www.douronet.pt/default.asp?id=59&mnu=59, imagem em http://www.cafeportugal.net/resources/3/files/artigos/files/Aveled5.jpg )  

Carnaval de Colónia (http://www.cologne-tourism.com/whats-on/top-events/carnival.html, imagem em http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2431/3554379184_ac943b5765.jpg)

Carnaval de Paris (http://www.carnaval-paris.org/, imagem em http://www.marthiii.com/Marthi_mag/2008-02-fev/conceptuel/carnaval-de-paris2008.jpg)

Carnaval de Veneza (http://www.venice-carnival-italy.com/index.php, imagem em http://en-3.hb-assets.com/images/cms/event/venice_carnival.jpg)



Carnaval de Patras (http://www.carnivalpatras.gr/, imagem em http://sp.life123.com/bm.pix/patras.s600x600.jpg)

Mother Teresa

Mother Teresa
(http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/587877/Blessed-Mother-Teresa) (image from http://themotherteresa.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html)

"As we have gathered here together to thank God for the Nobel Peace Prize I think it will be beautiful that we pray the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi which always surprises me very much - we pray this prayer every day after Holy Communion, because it is very fitting for each one of us, and I always wonder that 4-500 years ago as St. Francis of Assisi composed this prayer that they had the same difficulties that we have today, as we compose this prayer that fits very nicely for us also. I think some of you already have got it - so we will pray together.

Let us thank God for the opportunity that we all have together today, for this gift of peace that reminds us that we have been created to live that peace, and Jesus became man to bring that good news to the poor. He being God became man in all things like us except sin, and he proclaimed very clearly that he had come to give the good news. The news was peace to all of good will and this is something that we all want - the peace of heart - and God loved the world so much that he gave his son - it was a giving - it is as much as if to say it hurt God to give, because he loved the world so much that he gave his son, and he gave him to Virgin Mary, and what did she do with him?

As soon as he came in her life - immediately she went in haste to give that good news, and as she came into the house of her cousin, the child - the unborn child - the child in the womb of Elizabeth, leapt with joy. He was that little unborn child, was the first messenger of peace. He recognised the Prince of Peace, he recognised that Christ has come to bring the good news for you and for me. And as if that was not enough - it was not enough to become a man - he died on the cross to show that greater love, and he died for you and for me and for that leper and for that man dying of hunger and that naked person lying in the street not only of Calcutta, but of Africa, and New York, and London, and Oslo - and insisted that we love one another as he loves each one of us. And we read that in the Gospel very clearly - love as I have loved you - as I love you - as the Father has loved me, I love you - and the harder the Father loved him, he gave him to us, and how much we love one another, we, too, must give each other until it hurts. It is not enough for us to say: I love God, but I do not love my neighbour. St. John says you are a liar if you say you love God and you don't love your neighbour. How can you love God whom you do not see, if you do not love your neighbour whom you see, whom you touch, with whom you live. And so this is very important for us to realise that love, to be true, has to hurt. It hurt Jesus to love us, it hurt him. And to make sure we remember his great love he made himself the bread of life to satisfy our hunger for his love. Our hunger for God, because we have been created for that love. We have been created in his image. We have been created to love and be loved, and then he has become man to make it possible for us to love as he loved us. He makes himself the hungry one - the naked one - the homeless one - the sick one - the one in prison - the lonely one - the unwanted one - and he says: You did it to me. Hungry for our love, and this is the hunger of our poor people. This is the hunger that you and I must find, it may be in our own home.

I never forget an opportunity I had in visiting a home where they had all these old parents of sons and daughters who had just put them in an institution and forgotten maybe. And I went there, and I saw in that home they had everything, beautiful things, but everybody was looking towards the door. And I did not see a single one with their smile on their face. And I turned to the Sister and I asked: How is that? How is it that the people they have everything here, why are they all looking towards the door, why are they not smiling? I am so used to see the smile on our people, even the dying one smile, and she said: This is nearly every day, they are expecting, they are hoping that a son or daughter will come to visit them. They are hurt because they are forgotten, and see - this is where love comes. That poverty comes right there in our own home, even neglect to love. Maybe in our own family we have somebody who is feeling lonely, who is feeling sick, who is feeling worried, and these are difficult days for everybody. Are we there, are we there to receive them, is the mother there to receive the child?

I was surprised in the West to see so many young boys and girls given into drugs, and I tried to find out why - why is it like that, and the answer was: Because there is no one in the family to receive them. Father and mother are so busy they have no time. Young parents are in some institution and the child takes back to the street and gets involved in something. We are talking of peace. These are things that break peace, but I feel the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a direct war, a direct killing - direct murder by the mother herself. And we read in the Scripture, for God says very clearly: Even if a mother could forget her child - I will not forget you - I have carved you in the palm of my hand. We are carved in the palm of His hand, so close to Him that unborn child has been carved in the hand of God. And that is what strikes me most, the beginning of that sentence, that even if a mother could forget something impossible - but even if she could forget - I will not forget you. And today the greatest means - the greatest destroyer of peace is abortion. And we who are standing here - our parents wanted us. We would not be here if our parents would do that to us. Our children, we want them, we love them, but what of the millions. Many people are very, very concerned with the children in India, with the children in Africa where quite a number die, maybe of malnutrition, of hunger and so on, but millions are dying deliberately by the will of the mother. And this is what is the greatest destroyer of peace today. Because if a mother can kill her own child - what is left for me to kill you and you kill me - there is nothing between. And this I appeal in India, I appeal everywhere: Let us bring the child back, and this year being the child's year: What have we done for the child? At the beginning of the year I told, I spoke everywhere and I said: Let us make this year that we make every single child born, and unborn, wanted. And today is the end of the year, have we really made the children wanted? I will give you something terrifying. We are fighting abortion by adoption, we have saved thousands of lives, we have sent words to all the clinics, to the hospitals, police stations - please don't destroy the child, we will take the child. So every hour of the day and night it is always somebody, we have quite a number of unwedded mothers - tell them come, we will take care of you, we will take the child from you, and we will get a home for the child. And we have a tremendous demand from families who have no children, that is the blessing of God for us. And also, we are doing another thing which is very beautiful - we are teaching our beggars, our leprosy patients, our slum dwellers, our people of the street, natural family planning.

And in Calcutta alone in six years - it is all in Calcutta - we have had 61,273 babies less from the families who would have had, but because they practise this natural way of abstaining, of self-control, out of love for each other. We teach them the temperature meter which is very beautiful, very simple, and our poor people understand. And you know what they have told me? Our family is healthy, our family is united, and we can have a baby whenever we want. So clear - those people in the street, those beggars - and I think that if our people can do like that how much more you and all the others who can know the ways and means without destroying the life that God has created in us.

The poor people are very great people. They can teach us so many beautiful things. The other day one of them came to thank and said: You people who have vowed chastity you are the best people to teach us family planning. Because it is nothing more than self-control out of love for each other. And I think they said a beautiful sentence. And these are people who maybe have nothing to eat, maybe they have not a home where to live, but they are great people. The poor are very wonderful people. One evening we went out and we picked up four people from the street. And one of them was in a most terrible condition - and I told the Sisters: You take care of the other three, I take of this one that looked worse. So I did for her all that my love can do. I put her in bed, and there was such a beautiful smile on her face. She took hold of my hand, as she said one word only: Thank you - and she died.

I could not help but examine my conscience before her, and I asked what would I say if I was in her place. And my answer was very simple. I would have tried to draw a little attention to myself, I would have said I am hungry, that I am dying, I am cold, I am in pain, or something, but she gave me much more - she gave me her grateful love. And she died with a smile on her face. As that man whom we picked up from the drain, half eaten with worms, and we brought him to the home. I have lived like an animal in the street, but I am going to die like an angel, loved and cared for. And it was so wonderful to see the greatness of that man who could speak like that, who could die like that without blaming anybody, without cursing anybody, without comparing anything. Like an angel - this is the greatness of our people. And that is why we believe what Jesus had said: I was hungry - I was naked - I was homeless - I was unwanted, unloved, uncared for - and you did it to me.

I believe that we are not real social workers. We may be doing social work in the eyes of the people, but we are really contemplatives in the heart of the world. For we are touching the Body of Christ 24 hours. We have 24 hours in this presence, and so you and I. You too try to bring that presence of God in your family, for the family that prays together stays together. And I think that we in our family don't need bombs and guns, to destroy to bring peace - just get together, love one another, bring that peace, that joy, that strength of presence of each other in the home. And we will be able to overcome all the evil that is in the world.

There is so much suffering, so much hatred, so much misery, and we with our prayer, with our sacrifice are beginning at home. Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the action that we do. It is to God Almighty - how much we do it does not matter, because He is infinite, but how much love we put in that action. How much we do to Him in the person that we are serving.

Some time ago in Calcutta we had great difficulty in getting sugar, and I don't know how the word got around to the children, and a little boy of four years old, Hindu boy, went home and told his parents: I will not eat sugar for three days, I will give my sugar to Mother Teresa for her children. After three days his father and mother brought him to our home. I had never met them before, and this little one could scarcely pronounce my name, but he knew exactly what he had come to do. He knew that he wanted to share his love.

And this is why I have received such a lot of love from you all. From the time that I have come here I have simply been surrounded with love, and with real, real understanding love. It could feel as if everyone in India, everyone in Africa is somebody very special to you. And I felt quite at home I was telling Sister today. I feel in the Convent with the Sisters as if I am in Calcutta with my own Sisters. So completely at home here, right here.

And so here I am talking with you - I want you to find the poor here, right in your own home first. And begin love there. Be that good news to your own people. And find out about your next-door neighbour - do you know who they are? I had the most extraordinary experience with a Hindu family who had eight children. A gentleman came to our house and said: Mother Teresa, there is a family with eight children, they had not eaten for so long - do something. So I took some rice and I went there immediately. And I saw the children - their eyes shinning with hunger - I don't know if you have ever seen hunger. But I have seen it very often. And she took the rice, she divided the rice, and she went out. When she came back I asked her - where did you go, what did you do? And she gave me a very simple answer: They are hungry also. What struck me most was that she knew - and who are they, a Muslim family - and she knew. I didn't bring more rice that evening because I wanted them to enjoy the joy of sharing. But there were those children, radiating joy, sharing the joy with their mother because she had the love to give. And you see this is where love begins - at home. And I want you - and I am very grateful for what I have received. It has been a tremendous experience and I go back to India - I will be back by next week, the 15th I hope - and I will be able to bring your love.

And I know well that you have not given from your abundance, but you have given until it has hurt you. Today the little children they have - I was so surprised - there is so much joy for the children that are hungry. That the children like themselves will need love and care and tenderness, like they get so much from their parents. So let us thank God that we have had this opportunity to come to know each other, and this knowledge of each other has brought us very close. And we will be able to help not only the children of India and Africa, but will be able to help the children of the whole world, because as you know our Sisters are all over the world. And with this prize that I have received as a prize of peace, I am going to try to make the home for many people that have no home. Because I believe that love begins at home, and if we can create a home for the poor - I think that more and more love will spread. And we will be able through this understanding love to bring peace, be the good news to the poor. The poor in our own family first, in our country and in the world.

To be able to do this, our Sisters, our lives have to be woven with prayer. They have to be woven with Christ to be able to understand, to be able to share. Because today there is so much suffering - and I feel that the passion of Christ is being relived all over again - are we there to share that passion, to share that suffering of people. Around the world, not only in the poor countries, but I found the poverty of the West so much more difficult to remove. When I pick up a person from the street, hungry, I give him a plate of rice, a piece of bread, I have satisfied. I have removed that hunger. But a person that is shut out, that feels unwanted, unloved, terrified, the person that has been thrown out from society - that poverty is so hurtable and so much, and I find that very difficult. Our Sisters are working amongst that kind of people in the West. So you must pray for us that we may be able to be that good news, but we cannot do that without you, you have to do that here in your country. You must come to know the poor, maybe our people here have material things, everything, but I think that if we all look into our own homes, how difficult we find it sometimes to smile at each, other, and that the smile is the beginning of love.

And so let us always meet each other with a smile, for the smile is the beginning of love, and once we begin to love each other naturally we want to do something. So you pray for our Sisters and for me and for our Brothers, and for our Co-Workers that are around the world. That we may remain faithful to the gift of God, to love Him and serve Him in the poor together with you. What we have done we should not have been able to do if you did not share with your prayers, with your gifts, this continual giving. But I don't want you to give me from your abundance, I want that you give me until it hurts.

The other day I received 15 dollars from a man who has been on his back for twenty years, and the only part that he can move is his right hand. And the only companion that he enjoys is smoking. And he said to me: I do not smoke for one week, and I send you this money. It must have been a terrible sacrifice for him, but see how beautiful, how he shared, and with that money I bought bread and I gave to those who are hungry with a joy on both sides, he was giving and the poor were receiving. This is something that you and I - it is a gift of God to us to be able to share our love with others. And let it be as it was for Jesus. Let us love one another as he loved us. Let us love Him with undivided love. And the joy of loving Him and each other - let us give now - that Christmas is coming so close. Let us keep that joy of loving Jesus in our hearts. And share that joy with all that we come in touch with. And that radiating joy is real, for we have no reason not to be happy because we have no Christ with us. Christ in our hearts, Christ in the poor that we meet, Christ in the smile that we give and the smile that we receive. Let us make that one point: That no child will be unwanted, and also that we meet each other always with a smile, especially when it is difficult to smile.

I never forget some time ago about fourteen professors came from the United States from different universities. And they came to Calcutta to our house. Then we were talking about that they had been to the home for the dying. We have a home for the dying in Calcutta, where we have picked up more than 36,000 people only from the streets of Calcutta, and out of that big number more than 18,000 have died a beautiful death. They have just gone home to God; and they came to our house and we talked of love, of compassion, and then one of them asked me: Say, Mother, please tell us something that we will remember, and I said to them: Smile at each other, make time for each other in your family. Smile at each other. And then another one asked me: Are you married, and I said: Yes, and I find it sometimes very difficult to smile at Jesus because he can be very demanding sometimes. This is really something true, and there is where love comes - when it is demanding, and yet we can give it to Him with joy.

Just as I have said today, I have said that if I don't go to Heaven for anything else I will be going to Heaven for all the publicity because it has purified me and sacrificed me and made me really ready to go to Heaven. I think that this is something, that we must live life beautifully, we have Jesus with us and He loves us. If we could only remember that God loves me, and I have an opportunity to love others as he loves me, not in big things, but in small things with great love, then Norway becomes a nest of love. And how beautiful it will be that from here a centre for peace has been given. That from here the joy of life of the unborn child comes out. If you become a burning light in the world of peace, then really the Nobel Peace Prize is a gift of the Norwegian people. God bless you!."

Nobel Lecture, 11 December, 1979 in http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1979/teresa-lecture.html