Adeu, Viqui, mother of Raval and the world

BarcelonaGoodbye, mother of the world, of your students when you were a half-rebellious teacher in the great schools of the Teresian nuns, mother of the AIDS patients behind Sister Genoveva, mother of the whores and the junkies of the Raval when you followed the endless brother and the one from the Sant Pau house, and of the hundreds or thousands of abandoned and endless people from the Field Hospital, of the people who needed support.

Vique of the endless, immense smile! Friend of my teachers, Jaume Botey, Father Manel, Maria Pau Trayner. One of those great people who have marked an era. One of those Christians who believe in your beloved Teresa of Avila who God walks among the potsWith one bishop, Dom Pedro Casaldáliga del Araguaya, with one God, the one who, fragilely, lives in the misery of the world. With one mission: justice, equality, peace, the transformation of the world and side by side with people of good will of any ideology who rise up against the great injustice that is inequality.

Viqui, you were luckier than Father Manel, who was not very popular with the bishops. Your Teresian sisters let you do what you wanted, perhaps because you were unstoppable, endless, hyperactive with the people, in the Field Hospital, writing incessantly, knowing that the heart would not resist it. You sailed through the world from your identity as a Teresian, which you never hid. You were one of the Christians loved by the people, now mourned by the Muslims of your Raval. Without proselytizing, you made people believe that another God was possible. Without external signs of power, no other sign of identity than your endless smile. And your hugs!

You know, Viqui, only in the eyes of the world was the great defect being a woman! And the great virtue. That is why you did not have the honors you deserved, because we are still marked by that subtle macromachismo. And that you would have liked an honor, you told me: the Medal of Honor of Barcelona, ​​​​your beloved city. But not this one, it is the gold one that you have always deserved, beloved and honored teacher.

Without you and with those alpha males who are imposing themselves in all fields and who are destroying, the road becomes very steep for us. Very sad. Very painful without your mystique of the pots. That mysticism that must make us believe in the divinity of the person and especially the most miserable. Blessed are the poor, those who are hungry, those who cry, those who reject Him, because you are the ones who can build the better world, essential, because it does not want the power that crushes. Those who can go beyond religion. Those who can say to this mountain: "Get up and throw yourself into the sea." Those who understand like Teresa of Avila, like Viqui Molins, that the absolute is found in the middle of the pots, in the midst of life. A hug and a smile from you, dear Viqui.