Abbe Pierre: the last symbol of a bygone era
Abbe Pierre died
is this Monday, January 22, 2007.
We who are committed every day where you need us, for noble causes and useful in a much needed momentum, or at least that we associate with it today feel an immense void.
Again the strength of the ECI was used as a weight against bad dream that is life sometimes. Nightmare. This metaphor has never been so relevant. Father fought in a world where you had to find ways to combat poverty today, these facilities exist but are not employees. FAO estimates that 12 billion the number of individuals who could be fed by the current production. The Right to Housing Association speaks more than a million empty homes in France. Misery is our thank you, we do not doubt it. Millions of workers are waiting to give him the coup de grace.
We must now fight our own enemy: cynicism. On November 8, 2005, the UMP senators voted in the minority see an amendment which raises one or two cents the price of new clothing, the direct benefit of associations that literally recycle, ie sorts, distributes or promotes, as the Emmaus. The Government
UMP, including the Minister of Ecology Nelly Ollin, to refuse the amendment on behalf of heightened international competition. It is full illustration of environmental and social dumping. In vain: the amendment passes. But coup de théâtre: the Government against attack December 12
by permanently removing this provision of the law. We are full time Christmas shopping, and information passes almost unnoticed in a brazen double talk.
Yet it is too late. This infamous symbol of the cynicism the vilest, lit in me a desire to revolt against injustice. A bit of distress as well, against the indifference of France.
Today is the cynicism that we must hunt, starting with the one lurking in our hearts. He thereby makes us accept the unacceptable. This is where the cry of Father Peter echoes.
As we have heard in the documentary "To end the year 2000" 'The modern slave has swapped his chains against a lock. " Today we do every day war on our consciousness, but will arrive on time, like two boxers exhausted, and not supporting each other that their respective falls, we reconcile ourselves again.
Father is for me the image of a fight never ended, not vain but disinterested. That of an old man who plants a tree before his death out of love for his little son, but also to inculcate this love.
