My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life many years and bring you peace and prosperity. Proverbs 3:1-2
On his seventieth birthday, Artur gave his two sons, Daniel and Pedro, the same gift: a worn copy of his old book of Proverbs and the wristwatch he had worn for fifty years.
“In this book,” Artur said, with the serene voice of one who has lived what he speaks, “is the secret to making the watch run for a long time. Do not forget my teachings; keep good principles in your heart. They are not just rules; they are the instruction manual for a long and peaceful life.”
Daniel, the older son, an ambitious and pragmatic lawyer, smiled politely. He loved his father but considered his faith something quaint, almost folkloric. To him, “years of life and peace” were the result of a good health plan, solid investments, and a powerful network of contacts. He placed the book on a shelf, like a relic, and focused on his relentless career.
Pedro, the younger son, a history teacher, received the gift with reverence. He saw in his father not a wealthy man, but the most prosperous man he knew. Artur possessed a serenity that money could not buy. Pedro decided to take the “instruction manual” seriously.
The years passed, and the brothers’ paths became a study in contrasts.
Daniel built an empire. He worked eighteen hours a day. His law was the contract; his commandments were the quarterly targets. He did not forget deadlines, but he forgot birthdays. His schedule was impeccable, but his health began to fail. Peace was a luxury he could not afford. Chronic stress brought him hypertension. Rushed fast food gave him gastritis. Sleepless nights became his norm. At forty-five, his body began to demand payment for a life lived in a constant state of alert, far from peace. He had “very long days” in the sense of a full schedule, but the quality of those days was poor.
Pedro, on the other hand, kept his father’s commandments in his heart. He understood that the “law” was not about religiosity, but about principles for living. He honored the day of rest, not out of obligation, but because he understood that his body and mind needed repose. He was generous with his time and resources, which freed him from the anxiety of greed. He cultivated his relationships with his wife and children with the same dedication he prepared his lessons, which brought him a deep joy. He ate in moderation, walked in the park, and his nights were filled with deep sleep.
One day, Daniel suffered a minor heart attack in the middle of a meeting. The scare forced him onto medical leave. Confined to his luxurious but cold house, he felt like a prisoner. His partners saw him as a liability; his children barely knew him. Loneliness was his only companion.
Pedro went to visit him. He did not bring moral lessons; he just sat beside him.
“How do you do it?” Daniel asked, his voice weak. “You seem… at peace.”
Pedro glanced at the watch on his wrist; the same one his father had given him. “I just tried to follow the instruction manual, Dani.”
“What manual? That little book of fables?” Daniel spat the words with bitterness.
“No,” Pedro said calmly. “The manual that teaches that forgiveness is healthier than resentment. That generosity lightens the soul. That rest is not laziness, it is wisdom. That loving God and people brings a kind of peace that no multimillion-dollar contract can guarantee. Dad’s commandments were not about earning heaven; they were about how to live well on earth.”
Daniel fell silent. He had conquered the world but had lost his health and his peace. He had years of life ahead of him, but what kind of life would it be?
That afternoon, after Pedro had left, Daniel stood up with difficulty. He walked to his imposing bookshelf, filled with law and economics books. In the corner, covered in dust, was the small book of Proverbs. He opened it.
He began to read, not as a skeptical lawyer, but as a sick man searching for a remedy. And, for the first time, he understood that his father’s teachings were not a prison, but the key to freedom. The freedom of a long life, yes, but a life filled with peace.
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