It Would Be Useless
"He answered: I have told you already, and you did not listen: Why do you want to hear it again?" (John, 9:27)
Very frequently, the main preoccupation of many religious people is the idea of forcefully transforming their friends into agreeing with their personal convictions. They usually persist in long and annoying discussions, in an incessant play of words, without achieving a healthy and edificating point.
The sincere heart renovated in faith does not proceed in this manner.
It is indispensable to diffuse this false pride of superiority that infests the sentiment in a great number of students. As soon as they reach new avenues of knowledge, in the gradual revelation of the divine wisdom, the debaters with evil inclinations are intent on hindering and interrupting their progress.
The reply of the blind man from birth to the astute and inquiring Jews plays an active role for the sincere disciples.
Logically, the follower of Jesus will not refuse an explanation regarding the Master, but, if he has already explained the subject matter, and tried to benefit the closest brother with the values that make him happy without achieving the other's understanding, why pursue it further? If a man heard the truth but did not understand it, he has all the evident signs of an individual displaying spiritual paralysis. It will be useless, therefore, for him to continue listening to continuous repetitions; because, no one can deceive time, and the wise man that challenges the ignorant person would be referred to as an insensitive fool.
Therefore, do not waste your precious hours on minute and repetitive elucidation with someone who is incapable of understanding them, before he is overtaken by the sun, the rain, the fire, and the water of experience.
You have a thousand resources with which to work, in favor of your friend, without inducing him to conform to your way of thinking and to your faith.
XAVIER, Francisco Cândido. Our Daily Bread. By the Spirit Emmanuel. Spititist Alliance for Books, 2003. Chapter 37.
