I looked again at the cataract and again at Petrus. I was weighing my chances of success in making the climb, and they didn’t weigh very much.
“Now pay attention,” he continued. “I am going to climb before you do, without using any gift. And I am going to make it. If I succeed just by knowing where to place my feet, you will have to climb, too. I am nullifying your freedom to make a decision. If you refuse, after you have seen me make the climb, then you will be breaking your vow.
Petrus began to take off his sneakers. He was at least ten years older than I, and if he succeeded in the climb, I would have no further excuse. I studied the waterfall and felt my stomach seize up.
But he didn’t move. Even though he had taken off his sneakers, he remained seated in the same place. He looked at the sky and said, “A few kilometers from here, in 1502, the Virgin appeared to a shepherd. Today is the feast day commemorating that event—the Feast of the Virgin of the Road—and I am going to offer my victory to her. I would advise you to do the same thing. Offer a victory to her. Don’t offer the pain in your feet or the cuts on your hands from the rocks. Everybody in the world offers only pain as penance. There is nothing wrong with that, but I think she should be happier if, rather than just pain, people would also offer her their joys.”
I was in no condition to speak. I still doubted whether Petrus could climb the wall. I thought the whole thing was a farce, that I was being drawn in by the way he spoke and that he would then convince me to do something I really did not want to do. In the face of these doubts, I closed my eyes for a moment and prayed to the Virgin of the Road. I promised that if Petrus and I were able to climb the wall, I would one day return to this place.
“Everything you have learned up to now makes sense only if it is applied in real life. Don’t forget that I described the Road to Santiago to you as the road of the common person; I have said that a thousand times. On the Road to Santiago and in life itself, wisdom has value only if it helps us to overcome some obstacle.
“A hammer would make no sense in the world if there were no nails to be driven. And even given the existence of nails, the hammer would be useless if it only thought, ‘I can drive those nails with two blows.’ The hammer has to act. To put itself into the hands of the carpenter and to be used in its proper function.”
I remembered my Master’s words at Itatiaia: “Whoever has the sword must constantly put it to the test, so it doesn’t rust in its scabbard.”
“The waterfall is the place where you will put into practice everything you have learned so far,” said my guide. “There is one thing working in your favor: you know the day on which you are going to die so that fear will not paralyze you when you have to decide quickly where to find a hold. But remember that you are going to have to work with the water and use it to provide what you need. Remember that you have to dig a nail into your thumb if a bad thought takes over. And most important, that you have to find support for yourself in the love that consumes during every minute of the climb, because it is that love which directs and justifies your every step.”
