Vinícius Capucho

One day I shall yet be capable of profoundly reverencing this poor soul and of plunging myself into the love of the Spirit who dwells within me—into those depths wherein the Divine Spouse of my soul so tenderly nourishes and sanctifies.

I do not wish to exhibit vanities or falsehoods. I enter this other environment seeking to practice, here as well, the very life I already strive to live within my modest reality. Whereas formerly I was moved by Sufficient Grace, today I am sustained by Sanctifying Grace, and I desire, at some moment granted by Providence, to be made capable of living beneath the profound gaze of Operative Grace. Perhaps these terms are, for now, unfamiliar to your ears, for I endeavor to be as concise as possible.

I am not given to excessive speech, nor do I cultivate the habit of speaking merely for the sake of speaking; yet I have always held in esteem the duty of communicating well.

As Cardinal Robert Sarah has said: “Silence is the privilege of the courageous. They may fall and lose hope; yet unceasing silence can raise them up again, for it culminates in itself in the presence of God. Silence makes man more like God.”

The practice of absolute silence is, without doubt, still among the most arduous of virtues—among many others—that I hope one day to attain. Perhaps this is so because I was conceived in a century in which men no longer endure the truth that is whispered—yet thunderously—within their supposedly “soulless” consciences. I do not know. Such, at least, is my supposition.

With this most brief exposition of myself, I seek merely to offer some guidance as to how one might relate to me. At first, it may appear difficult; yet with the passage of time it shall become exceedingly light, for our coexistence in this environment will be continuous.

In advance, I ask your pardon should I not act in the manner to which you are accustomed. Nevertheless, whether in beginning anew or in persevering, I do not intend ever to abandon my daily devotional practices—practices of which you will often be witnesses—despite moments when discouragement nearly overtakes me. These practices are not ordered primarily toward the months or years to come, but above all toward the today that is eternized in the now—for the hour has arrived.

What hour?

The hour in which the state of the soul is rendered eternal.

Finally, these rhymed phrases which at first may impress are but details that can readily be reduced to trivialities—or even to the vulgarities of one who has just arrived. In truth, all that I seek to manifest concerns my ever-present needs before the longing of my existential end: the arduous exploration of an interior life still insufficiently developed.

A small curiosity concerning my person, in this vale of tears where one weeps, is that some years ago my life was regarded as consecrated to the self-giving Holy Spirit.

By the hands of a Catholic priest I was consecrated to monastic life, even while remaining in this dramatic condition outside the monasteries.

Thus do my wife and I live: two souls wholly consecrated to Jesus Christ through the hands of the Virgin Mary, beneath the veil of scholastic intelligence. I do not intend to cease, nor do I intend to rest, until the wick of my earthly sojourn has burned down and is spent.

At present, we embrace our manner of life as consecrated lay faithful of Opus Dei, whose motto is: “to find God in work and in ordinary life.”

The aim of Opus Dei is that each Christian sanctify himself in the world through the fulfillment of his personal, familial, and social duties, and through the daily exercise of his professional vocation. Even so, I already implore the patience of each of you on account of my many defects—which you will come to know through our daily interaction. These defects are not who I am; they are merely how I still am, at present.

To conclude, I am fond of meditating upon this brief phrase:

“In the end, we are the image and likeness of that which we imitate…

…of that which we love.”