GoodFellas

Hace unas semanas el Obispado de Cartagena envió una carta a los profesores de religión católica de la enseñanza pública en la que, como se puede comprobar, en un tono afable y cariñoso les felicitaba las Navidades.

"Nunca olvidéis quién os elige, quién os llama, quién os manda y quién, si se diera el caso, os podría cesar: la Iglesia. Esto debería ser para todos motivo de tranquilidad y alegría, pues, para ella, no sois un número al azar, sino personas concretas, con vuestras circunstancias concretas. También es cierto que recibís la retribución económica de otra Institución, que es la que os contrata. Sin embargo sabéis muy bien que no existiría ese contrato si previamente la Iglesia no os presentara."

Al leerla, me ha venido a la memoria una de mis películas favoritas...

You know, we always called each other good fellas. Like you said to, uh, somebody, 'You're gonna like this guy. He's all right. He's a good fella. He's one of us.' You understand? We were good fellas. Wiseguys. But Jimmy and I could never be made because we had Irish blood. It didn't even matter that my mother was Sicilian. To become a member of a crew you've got to be one hundred per cent Italian so they can trace all your relatives back to the old country. See, it's the highest honor they can give you. It means you belong to a family and crew. It means that nobody can fuck around with you. It also means you could fuck around with anybody just as long as they aren't also a member. It's like a license to steal. It's a license to do anything.