Peter Morgan is my right-hand man. My Perry Mason. Here today. Tomorrow there. An effective and responsible literary resource. A special envoy. My webcam.
I have sent him to the Zarathustra Institute, a thriving academic reference, where the social leaders who will pay our pensions are trained via taxpayers.
"Hello, Peter. I need you." And my fantastic friend comes rushing over, like Kitt. I would like to commission a simple survey. High School. 1st of Bachillerato. Anonymous. Does not subtract points for evaluation. It can be written in red. Let them be free to answer this question: what is a layperson for you?
Peter arrives. He greets an enthusiastic teacher who teaches humanities. An oasis. She, delighted with the experiment.
Twenty minutes later, Peter returns home reading the answers. It is spring. Also in El Corte Ingles.
"A lay person is one who helps the priest pass the money basket at Mass."
"A layman is a guy like from another generation who is very religious. My grandfather I think is a layman."
"Laica is a girl with a super long skirt. Kind of like a nun, but not locked up in a convent."
"Laywoman is the woman who cannot be priest. For now.
"Laywomen are the ones in the choir of the parish where we made Communion. Sonia, Isa, and these. They are getting married. Very nice, by the way.
And so on, 36.
We order the answers. We underline them. We value them. Some of them make us laugh. It is not laughter of the the-world-is-so-good. No. We understand perfectly well what Zarathustra's students mean. Nothing is more positive than reality, and perceptions are also reality.
Laico-ca is a confusing term, also in the Dictionary of the Real Academia Española de la Lengua (Royal Spanish Academy of Language). The voice of philological wisdom says: "Who has no clerical orders". In the negative. Defensive. Its origin also arises by contraposition. It means "of the people" and was opposed to the voice of "clerics".
We take notes, think and lay out an outline. Monica, the teacher, has asked Peter to come back with her balance sheet and he lands back at school. The young people are on exams, but they are curious to see what the party is all about.
We have prepared a Prezi very cool one entitled: "Christians in jeans and the humanization of the future".
I read like this, straight from the screen.
A layman is not a half-priest. He is an ordinary Christian, who takes the subway, uses the subway, uses whatsappreads the press, studies or works, has friends, listens to Spotify, go to NetflixShe is fashionable, has personality, and a sense of humor, and goes to Mass and wants to be happy.
A lay person is a person like you who, in addition, has a Christian conscience, feels like one more in the Church, loves, reads and seconds what the Pope says, and tries to convert his faith into concrete deeds, because he has the challenge of being coherent.
Laika was the rocket dog from Mecanoand is written with k. The laity with c do not live in the extramundo. They seek many things, although they don't always get them. Life is long, and no one said the goal was to be perfect on the first try. They fight to be good citizens, a subject whose syllabus ranges from improving society to throwing papers in the wastebasket. They fight to be good friends. And they fight to be good professionals. Like all Christians, they must be a professional reference in their field and make the most of their talents for the society in which they vibrate.
A layperson is not a loose verse. He is a synalepha: a bridge of union, an agent of unity among the people he enjoys living with.
A layman is not a Taliban of his principles. As a Christian, he defends the freedom of consciences above all else.
A layperson is a source of joy. Not only of jajajas. Yes, of aspirations in the background and in good and holy peace.
A layman is a bold guy who moves, who collaborates, who helps, who has illusions, who searches, who finds, who encourages, who mobilizes. A layman is a guy who is interested in things, because nothing human is alien to him. A layman is anti-bubble and refreshing.
A layperson does not apostolize with sermons, it does not impose doctrines, nor dogmas, nor does it give lessons. It does not what-you-have-to-do-is-what-I-tell-you. It sets an example.
A laywoman is that wonderful mother who takes care of her children like gold, who unites the different generations of the family, who combines home and work, who loves, who enjoys the good things in life. Who opens her eyes. Who laughs. Who cries. Who prays the Angelus. Who goes to the supermarket. Who goes to the movies. Who takes care of herself. Who cares.
A layperson is a gentleman. Who combines home and work like the laywoman of yesteryear. Who grows. Who plays sports. Who prepares food. Who talks to his children. Who watches Madrid on the big screen. Who buys flowers for his wife. Who goes to confession. Who sweeps. On the inside. And outside.
A laywoman is not middle-aged. It can be you. With your cool shoes. With your artfully lined folders. With your colorful notes. With your comings and goings, your helmets, your parish, your friends, your friends, your people, your cinema, your world, and everyone's world.
I have laymen of 14, 32, 46, 58, 60, 74..., healthy, sick, married, single, blue, green, but never Martians. Like that one: the one with the jeans.
Peter Morgan tells me that Astrid, the girl who bites the pen with disdain in the front row, has taken an interest in the subject.
That's it.
You go to Zarathustra with the Lumen Gentium. Go and tell us about it.
The "anti-bubble and refreshing" part is what made them laugh the most. We hadn't thought about it, but yes. Isotonic drinks are a good metaphor to explain this chapter.
