I want to learn to love, as if this were “the first day of the week” or the first day of my life or even the last. I want to, because if I don’t learn this, I die. I want to learn to love because if I don’t start to love, my life will never begin, because only those who love begin. Because life is moved only by those whose heart beats for a face.
I want to learn to love, like Mary Magdalene in the Gospel who “went to the tomb in the morning, while it was still dark.” That at least a corpse to cry over is better than the cold that creeps into the bones.
I want to learn to love like Mary Magdalene, even if it means learning to do useless things. Useless things like going to a tomb in the night. And I feel that when I learn to feel that in life the things that really matter are precisely the useless things (essential things bring no profit) I will begin to rise again.
I want to learn to love like Mary Magdalene who can say “they have taken away my Lord and I do not know where they have laid him,” which is a phrase that only those who are in love could ever dare to think. Because learning to love is knowing that Love does not vanish, at most it is taken away. And then you look for it because you know that it is true that it exists, because you have breathed it, because you ache for it.
