I still feel the hammer in my hands, heavy, hard. All my life I have followed the laws of Tolmas. An eye for an eye. Hardness. Sacrifice. I believed that this is how a real man is forged, a blacksmith, a life of dignity. And I have taught it to my children, and I have seen it in everyone.
But today I asked him about that beatitude, a word that seemed strange to me; I just wanted to know what it means, and now I can't sleep. He has opened a door to a world that both scares me and attracts me.
"Blessed are those who mourn?" How can I envy those who mourn, when they are happy and not weak?
"Blessed are the meek of heart?" What use is being humble if afterward they despise you?
"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice?" How will his God satisfy them?
"Blessed are the merciful?" Why, if I am to receive nothing in return?
I don't understand—what kind of rules are these? Am I living correctly?
And then, the matter of sacrifice. I gave my first son, as Tolmas demands; this year he would be about twenty. I have followed the rules, believing this would ensure prosperity for the next children. And Neo says his God doesn't ask for that? That his God became man, died, and rose again for us. What kind of God is this who sacrifices himself for people instead of demanding sacrifices from them?
The idea of "an eye for an eye" isn't justice? It twists my stomach. I have always believed it was right. If someone harms you, you return the harm. It is the only way to earn respect. But Neo, who pays us double, feeds not only us but our families as well. His God's justice is different. Overcoming evil with good. It is something I cannot understand, yet it hurts my soul because then I have always been the bad one, the one who enacts harm.
The words he said to us today hurt me deeply—I am such a bad person. I have been harsh, I have been rough, and I thought this was how life should be lived. But Neo is good and just, and he treats us with respect. He looks me in the face, asks me for advice, me, a simple blacksmith, he says I know more than him—how could it be that I know more than him?—and then he creates an incredible machine in a few days, he asks about our families. To my son, he would not let him work, but forces him to study—what kind of boss does that? To my daughter, who also has to learn despite being a girl, he teaches them, gives them paper and ink. And I see my children arguing over their numbers, trying to understand what he teaches. When my children tell me what they have learned at school, it hurts me so much. Because…
When he says there is no need for sacrifices, when he says his God came down and died for us, when he says his justice is not an eye for an eye, I feel an emptiness in my chest. Have I lived the wrong way? Have I been a bad person?
The last thing Neo said before we returned to work struck my soul the hardest. Why does his God invite us? As he said: "Come to me, all you who are weary, and I will give you rest. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light." I have carried the yoke of Tolmas all my life, an immense weight that has made me hard, distrustful, and always defensive. But Neo, with his words, offers me something I never knew I needed: rest. The idea that there is an easier, kinder way leaves me stunned. An easy yoke… a light burden… What does that mean? I am only a blacksmith who has lived by the harshness of his craft and character. Can my soul, so hardened by life, truly find this rest?
How do I pray to a God who already knows what I am going to say? A God who listens to me, who gives me rest? Neo said it is easy; I only have to lock myself in my room. Perhaps, just perhaps, I will try. What do I have to lose? I have already lived my whole life as if I would die the next day. And to this Neo, this man, I would never dare lift a hand against him after all he has given us.
Perhaps, for the first time, I feel… light.