Many times I wonder. Why is it that when
one is trying to do good, he is misunderstood
and even victimized? Why is it that many
times, it is people of good will, gifted
and even spiritual, who criticize and try
to destroy the good work being done by others?
This happens also in the Church. I
doubt their intentions. They do it
love for the Church but still it hurts.
Anthony de Mello, in book The Song
Bird, relates how the Russian Orthodox
at its October 1917 conference, keenly
whether funeral vestments should be
or black. Meanwhile, the Bolsheviks
turning the world upside down in the
How can be so myopic? People are suffering,
marriages are being broken, so many
people are cohabitating, so many of
are on drugs, so many find it hard
both ends meet… and we lose time and
defending our turf.
But perhaps this is not so strange.
part of the plan of God. It happened
Master. He was doing such a great job
they (the 'good' people) killed him.
A better question would be what should
our attitude? Stopping doing good or
into self pity does not help. Doing
Punchinello did, will help!
Max Lucado wrote this delightful children's
book called, You are Special. It tells
story of the Weemicks.
The Weemicks were small wooden people.
by the master carpenter Eli, each Weemick
was different. Some were tall and others
were small. Some wore caps, others
They all lived in the same village.
All day, every day, the Weemicks did
same thing: They gave each other stickers.
Each Weemick had a box of golden star
and a box of gray dot stickers. Up
the streets all over the city, people
be seen sticking stars or dots on one
The handsome, talented, healthy Weemicks
always got stars and more stars. The
clumsy, under-par Weemicks got dots
Punchinello was one of the latter.
to jump high like the others, but he
fell. And when he fell, the others
gather around and give him dots. He
to explain why he fell and explain
But it was futile. He even got more
After a while he had so many dots that
didn't want to go outside.
One day however he met a Weemick who
unlike any he had ever met. Her name
Lucia. She had no dots or stars. She
just wooden. People did try to give
but these just would not stick. The
and the dots would simply fall off.
"That's the way I want to be",
thought Punchinello. "I don't
marks." So he asked the sticker-less
Weemick how she did it. "It's
Lucia replied. "Every day I go
the woodcarver. I go and sit in the
with him." He was reluctant to
he thought that Eli would not even
him. He was so ugly! One day, however,
just could not take it any more and
The moment he stepped into the big
his eyes widened at the size of everything.
The whole thing was so gigantic. Punchinello
swallowed hard. "I'm not staying
and he turned to leave. Then he heard
name. The voice was deep and strong.
"You know my name?" the little
Weemick asked. "Of course I do.
you…. Hmm, it looks like you've been
some bad marks," the bearded craftsman
said as he inspected him closely.
"I didn't mean to, Eli. I really
hard." "Oh, you don't have
yourself to me, child. I so not care
the other Weemicks think."
"You don't?" "No, and
shouldn't either. Who are they to give
or dots? They're Weemicks just like
What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello.
All that matters is what I think. And
you are pretty special." Punchinello
just could not believe his ears. "Me,
special? Why? I can't walk fast. I
jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I
to you?" Eli looked tenderly at
put his hands on his shoulders, and
slowly. "Because you're mine.
why you matter to me." Punchinello
speechless. "Every day I've been
you'd come," Eli continued. "I
came because I met someone who had
"I know. She told me about you."
"Why don't the stickers stay on
"Because she learnt the truth
I think is more important than what
think. The stickers only stick if you
them. The stickers only stick if they
to you. The more you trust my love,
you care about the stickers."
back often to my shop so that I may
you how much I care," Eli whispered
as the Weemick turned to walk out.
are special because I made you. And
In his heart Punchinello thought, "I
think He really means it." And
he did, a dot fell to the ground.
(c) Fr. Pius Sammut, OCD. Permission
hereby granted for any non-commercial
provided that the content is unaltered
its original state, if this copyright