One woman was accused of Satanism and was going to be burned at the stake as a witch. But according to the custom that existed at that time, everyone had to confirm that she was a witch. The huge crowd shouted “witch” like stones. Only her son remained silent among the crowd.
“Burn your son too,” someone shouted, “he is the son of a witch, which means he is Satan.”
Fearing for her son’s life, the unfortunate woman shouted into the crowd:
- This is not my son!
And then the indignant son shouted along with the frantic crowd:
- Witch! Witch!
And at that same moment a flame began to blaze at the feet of the innocent. Tongues of fire were already licking the body, but it was not this pain that burned the mother’s heart. The unfortunate woman remembered how the child moved under her heart for the first time, as if a flower had opened its petals. She remembered how in pain she gave birth to a long-awaited child, how she heard his first cry, which announced the birth of a new creature into the light of God. She remembered the first time she put a warm, dear little bundle to her chest, the first time he uttered the word “mom,” how he took the first step... She looked into her own face, distorted by madness, and burning tears flooded her fire-scorched cheeks.
The cruel fire went out, the merciless flame disappeared, leaving gray ashes in the square, which were carried in all directions by an indifferent wind. The crowd, having received pleasure, dispersed, and the son of the innocent woman stood in the square. He had no one and nowhere to go. He was soon driven out of the square, and he wandered off in search of another life. And wherever he was, wherever he went, he was persecuted from everywhere, cursed, insulted and often beaten. And the more he got, the more often he remembered his mother: her warm soft hands, her voice dear to his heart, her native image, her tenderness and love.
“The world is cruel,” the unfortunate man repeated. “He took away from me what was most valuable.”
“No, it wasn’t the world that took away your most precious thing,” he heard a voice inside himself. “It was you who renounced him in order to save your life.”
And the son began to live with an eternal reproach of conscience, as if with a brand.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru