List of points

We have just read in this holy Mass a text from St John's Gospel: the scene of the miraculous cure of the man born blind. I imagine that all of us have once again been moved by the power and mercy of God, who cannot look indifferently upon human misfortune. But I should like to fix our attention on other considerations. Specifically, let us try to see that, when there is love of God, a Christian cannot be indifferent to the lot of other men. He must show respect in his dealings with all men. For he knows that when love shrinks, there arises the danger of thoughtlessly, mercilessly invading the conscience of others.

"And Jesus saw," says the holy Gospel, "as he passed on his way, a man who had been blind from his birth." Jesus is passing by. How often have I marvelled at this simple way of describing divine mercy! Jesus is headed somewhere, yet he is not too busy to spot human suffering. Consider, on the other hand, how different was the reaction of his disciples. They ask him: "Master, was this man guilty of sin, or was it his parents, that he should have been born blind?"

We cannot be surprised that many persons, even those who think themselves Christians, act in the same way. Their first impulse is to think badly of someone or something. They don't need any proof ¡ they take it for granted. And they don't keep it to themselves, they air their snap judgments to the winds.

Trying to be benevolent about it, we could call the disciples' behaviour short-sighted. Then as now, for little has changed, there were others, the Pharisees, who consistently adopted this attitude. Remember how Jesus Christ denounced them? "When John came, he would neither eat nor drink, and they say of him that he is possessed. When the Son of Man came, he ate and drank with them, and of him they said, Here is a glutton; he loves wine; he is a friend of publicans and sinners."

Jesus suffered a campaign of slurs on his name, defamation of his irreproachable conduct, biting and wounding criticism. It is not unusual for some people to accord the same treatment to those who wish to follow the Master while fully conscious of their natural shortcomings and personal mistakes which, given human weakness, are so common and even inevitable. But our experience of human limitations cannot lead us to condone sins and injustices against the good name of anyone, even though their authors try to cover their tracks by just "wondering" aloud. Jesus says that if the father of the family has been labelled Beelzebub, members of the household cannot expect to fare any better. But he also adds that "whoever calls his brother a fool shall be in danger of hell fire."

Where does this unjust, carping attitude come from? It almost seems as though some people are now wearing glasses that disfigure their vision. In principle, they reject the possibility of a virtuous life or, at least, the constant effort to do the right thing. Everything they take in is coloured by their own previous deformation. For them, even the most noble and unselfish actions are only hypocritical contortions designed to appear good. "When they clearly discover goodness," writes St Gregory the Great, "they scrutinise it in the hope of finding hidden defects."

Let us return to the scene of the curing of the blind man. Jesus Christ answered his disciples by pointing out that the blind man's misfortune is not the result of sin, but an occasion to manifest God's power. And with marvellous simplicity, he decides to give the blind man his sight.

Thereupon begins that poor man's happiness, but also his anguish. People simply will not leave him alone. First it is his "neighbours and those who had been accustomed to see him begging." The Gospel doesn't say that they even bothered to rejoice; they couldn't bring themselves to believe it, in spite of the fact that the once blind man claimed that he was the man who before couldn't see and now does. Rather than let him enjoy in peace his new-found fortune, they drag him to the Pharisees, who again inquire how this could have come about. And once again he replies: "He put clay on my eyes; and then I washed, and now I can see."

And the Pharisees seek to show that what has happened — a great favour and miracle — didn't happen. Some of them turn to petty, hypocritical, illogical arguments — this man has cured on the Sabbath and, since working on the Sabbath is unlawful, they deny the wonder. Others start taking what today we would call a poll. They first approach the parents of the blind man: "Is this your son, who, you say, was born blind? How then does he now see?" Fearing the authorities, his parents give an answer that is technically correct: "We can tell you that this is our son, and that he was blind when he was born. We cannot tell how he is able to see now. We have no means of knowing who opened his eyes for him. Ask the man himself; he is of age. Let him tell you his own story."

Those taking the poll cannot believe, because they have chosen not to believe. "So once more they summoned the man who had been blind and said to him… This man — Jesus Christ — to our knowledge, is a sinner."

In a few words St John's account illustrates in a typical way an unscrupulous assault upon a basic natural right of all men, that of being treated with respect.

This way of acting is not a thing of the past. It would be no trouble at all to point out present-day cases of aggressive curiosity which pries morbidly into the private lives of others. A minimum of justice demands that, even when actual wrongdoing is suspected, an investigation of this sort be carried out with caution and moderation, lest mere possibility be converted into certainty. It is clear that an unhealthy curiosity to perform autopsies on actions that are not illicit but positively good should be ranked under the heading of perversion.

Faced with traders in suspicion who prey on the intimacy of others, we must defend the dignity of every person, his right to peace. All honest men, Christians or not, agree on the need for this defence, for a common value is at stake: the legitimate right to be oneself, to avoid ostentation, to keep within the family its joys, sorrows and difficulties. We are defending, no less, the right to do good without publicity, to help the disadvantaged out of pure love, without feeling obliged to publicise one's efforts to serve others, much less to bare the intimacy of one's soul to the indiscreet and twisted gaze of persons who know nothing and want to know nothing of disinterested generosity, except to mock it mercilessly.

But how difficult it is to be free of this meddlesome sleuthing! The means invented to prevent man from being left alone have multiplied. I am referring not only to the technical means, but also to accepted forms of argument, which are so cunning that one endangers his reputation if he but answers them. Thus, for example, a familiar way of arguing assumes that everyone acts from motives that leave something to be desired. Following this gratuitous train of thought, one is obliged to pronounce a mea culpa over his own actions, to indulge in self-criticism. And if someone does not sling a ton of mud upon himself, his critics immediately assume that, in addition to being a devious villain, he is also hypocritical and arrogant.

On other occasions, a different procedure is followed. The writer or speaker, with libellous intent, "admits" that you are an upright individual, but, he says, other people won't be willing to admit this and they might argue that you are a thief. Now how do you prove that you are not a thief? Another example: "You are always claiming that your conduct is clean, noble and upright. Would you mind examining the matter again to see if, on the contrary, it might not be dirty, twisted and ignoble?"

I haven't pulled these examples out of the hat. I am absolutely convinced that any person or moderately well-known institution could greatly add to the list. A mistaken idea has arisen in certain environments that grants to the public or the media or whatever they wish to call it, the right to know and to judge the most intimate details of the lives of others.

May I mention something close to my heart? For more than thirty years I have said and written in thousands of different ways that Opus Dei does not seek any worldly or political aims, that it only and exclusively seeks to foster — among all races, all social conditions, all countries — the knowledge and practice of the saving teachings of Christ. It only wants to contribute to there being more love of God on earth and, therefore, more peace and justice among all men, children of a common Father.

Many thousands and millions of people throughout the world have understood this. Some apparently have not, for a variety of reasons. If my heart goes out more to those who understand, still I honour and love the others too, for their dignity is worthy of respect and esteem, just as all of them are likewise called to the glory of being children of God.

But there will always be a partisan minority who are ignorant of what I and so many of us love. They would like us to explain Opus Dei in their terms, which are exclusively political, foreign to supernatural realities, attuned only to power plays and pressure groups. If they do not receive an explanation that suits their erroneous and twisted taste they continue to allege that here you have deception and sinister designs.

Let me assure you that, when I am faced with such situations, I become neither sad nor concerned. I should add that I would almost be amused, if I could legitimately overlook the fact that they have committed an injustice and a sin, which cries out to heaven for redress. I am from a region of Spain known for its frankness, and even humanly speaking I place great store on sincerity. I instinctively react against anything that resembles deceit. When accused, I have always tried to tell the truth, without pride or disdain, even if those who vilified me were uncouth, arrogant, hostile, bereft of a minimum of humanity.