Transcriber: Jimena o Reviewer: Gabriella Patricola
I look death in the eyes more than 20 times in my career,
and that fear helped me.
During my career as a journalist,
I have been in many war zones around the world
and, especially, in the Middle East.
I have learned that fear is a very useful feeling.
Once, as part of my work, I was invited by a Commander in Chief
in a war, in a front,
and he asked me to come with him in his jeep
and to cross the whole frontline.
Suddenly, we were shot, several times.
Really, at that moment, I felt mortal danger.
But I looked to the General and I saw that he was reacting
as if the bullets were mosquitoes.
He was indifferent.
He was driving and speaking as if nothing happened.
And suddenly, when I'm nervous and when I feel afraid,
I open my map app in my phone.
So I saw he was taking the wrong turn.
So I told him: “General, I think we should go right, to the base,
and you’re going left to the heart of the combat.”
So he looked at me stunned, and he said: “You are right.
You Israelies, you know everything, ah!”
And he corrected the course.
At the base an assistant of the General said to us that after 18 hours of fight,
they had defeated the enemy.
But one of the most impactful moment,
maybe dramatic moment that I remember, was when we arrived to a big city,
a city with 3 million inhabitants, completely destroyed.
It was apocalyptical.
The only thing we could see was people among the rubble looking for documents,
for valuables, for toys, for the children.
And suddenly I saw an iron gate, and I went there. I wanted to open it.
And somebody screamed: “Be careful, be careful!”
And I immediately pulled back my hand.
That saved my life, because I didn’t see the wires that were connected
to an explosive device.
A second later, I would have been blown up.
The enemy had laid booby traps all over the area to continue provoking casualties.
The Italians have a saying, which is: “allegro ma non troppo,” which means fast,
but not too much, that they taught me to trust my instincts.
It taught me to be able to walk up right to the danger,
but not to cross the line.
And since then, I consider fear as a life insurance.
Literally, by the way, the cameraman in the picture is my son Yaiyr.
(Applause)
My career as a journalist is about learning to fear and learning from fear.
Most parents teach their children to avoid dangerous situations.
I wanted to teach my son a lesson
about facing his fear in a dangerous situation.
He learned that fear is something one must confront and not always avoid.
I wonder if you have learned your children to confront fear.
As it is written in the book of Proverbs in the Bible: “Who is strong?
Not the one with strength, but the one who overpowers his fears.”
That's the main thing, really.
I was born in Porto, Portugal, and despite being a Jew,
my parents decided to send me to a Catholic school,
which was from the Maristas Order, because it was the best school in town.
Soccer is a very serious thing in Portugal, as you know, football.
So, I used to play for my school in the children’s league in the city.
One day, we reached the final and the final match was in the field
next to a church.
We were preparing ourselves and the priest came and asked:
“Who is Cymerman?” I raised my hand.
And he said, harshly: “You’re not allowed to play here. You’re not a Catholic.”
Can you imagine my disappointment, my humiliation?
I was only eight years old,
so, I don’t know, where did I get the guts from?
But I simply said to him:
“Sir, I think, one day,
you’re going to regret this.”
So I took my bag and I left.
But then, to my surprise, two of my classmates came after me,
in the way of protests.
From that moment, I understood what it’s solidarity
and what it’s to be leaving your principles and to fight for them.
When I was 11,
I told my parents: “I want to live in Israel.” They were quite surprised.
But then, when I was 16, I came to Israel for the first time
to see how the country looks like.
And after two months, I went to the post and I sent
a telegram to my parents with only two words: “Ficou Israel,”
which means in Portuguese: “Stay Israel.”
My grandfather Mayer came to Israel to watch what’s going on,
because I found a boarding school,
I went there and I was living there,
and they told me: “You have eight months to learn Hebrew,”
a language that I didn’t know,
that I didn’t understood at all.
And my grandfather wanted to see what happens with me.
So, I met him every weekend.
But three months later, he passed away suddenly.
And I found myself calling my father and my mother in Barcelona, in Spain,
and telling them: “Please, come.
Grandpa died.”
So they came and we sat Shiva, which is the Jewish mourning week, together.
And I was not aware, during that week, that it was the last time
I would see my father, because six months later,
he passed away in Barcelona, and he was only 56.
So I set Shiva exactly in the same place.
But this time alone.
I think that week I became an adult.
When I went back to school, I couldn’t stop stuttering.
I think it was the result of the trauma,
it was the result of the shock I had some days before.
But, on the eve of my final exams
I decided that I must do
everything I can to stop stuttering.
And I did it.
I remember it was a very hard moment,
but I succeeded, because I could not imagine much of a career
as a TV journalist, if I continued to stutter.
As a young student, I was alone in the country
and I couldn’t afford some of my basic needs.
So I worked selling in an ice cream shop and cleaning apartments.
But I set high goals for myself, always, as my mother [INAUDIBLE]
used to say to me: “El no ya lo tienes. You start from a no. Remember that.”
So I was decided to become a journalist.
One day I went to the dean in the University and I told him:
“Sir, I want to publish a magazine for the students.”
So he said: “What are you going to publish?” I said: “I don’t know.
Interviews with Prime Ministers, with politicians.”
And he said: “Prime Ministers?”
I said: “Yes, Mrs. Golda Meir.”
So he said to me: “If you bring an interview with Mrs. Meir,
I will fund your magazine.”
Amazingly, I got the interview.
Although, to be honest, Golda was the one asking all the questions,
because she was interested to hear my story.
But from the people I met throughout my career,
I think the most special is Pope Francis,
whom I had the privilege to work with for eight years since he was elected,
and considered by billions of people the representative of God on Earth.
The day I was about to meet him, I was so nervous. I was so excited.
I couldn’t sleep. But then I remember another advice
my mother used to give me when I was a child.
She used to say: “No te olvides. Los reyes tanbien van al baňo”
“Don’t forget. Kings also go to the toilets”,
and that calmed me down.
And I knew I was the first journalist in history,
outside the church, getting an interview with the Pope.
Many times I asked myself,
where did my daring come from to speak with such a normality,
with one of the most powerful men on the planet?
And then I thought, I reached the conclusion that the humility
of the Argentinian pope was the main reason.
And it reminded me my grandfather Mayer, they share the same wisdom,
the same depth and the same simplicity
of someone who does not take himself too seriously.
At the end of the interview,
The Pope said to me: “Henrique,
do you want to come with me to my apartment?
I want to continue the conversation.”
I was amazed, but we went to his small apartment in the Vatican
and he said to me: “Do you want a sandwich?” I said: “Sure, why not?”
It was unprecedented, but it was also the beginning
of a very beautiful friendship to this day with Pope Francis.
If someone would have told me then, that the pope would name me
Angel of Peace, I would laugh in his face. But he did.
The pope himself called me Angel of Peace for the work we did together,
the prayer for peace.
And at the beginning, I thought he was joking.
One day he dialed my number directly,
the pope, and he simply said: “Hola.
Soy Papa Francisco.” “Hello. I’m Pope Francis.”
I was sure it was an Argentinian friend trying to impersonate the Pope.
So I replied, sarcastically: “See, yo soy Napoleon.”
(Laughter)
But it was the Pope.
My experience with the Pope was so vast, so rich, that I wrote a book about it.
And then when I was launching that book in Lisbon, in Portugal,
the most amazing and personal thing happened.
Remember the story I told you when I was eight,
and I was about to play the final near the church?
Well, here it was the leader of the Maristas Order,
present there, in the launching of my book,
asking for forgiveness, publicly,
for something - that terrible moment that happened 50 years before.
I immediately accept his apology.
But, I thought at the same time,
of all people in our world
that suffer every day from discrimination
and never get an apology.
I’m fortunate because, as a young boy,
I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life.
I managed to overcome my fears and all the many obstacles
until I achieved my dreams.
But many people still don’t know what is their dream.
So I want to leave you with a present,
A question Pope Francis asked me, once -
maybe the hardest ever I’ve got, which is: “Henrique,
If you would have all the resources,
what would you do to help the future generations?”
Find an answer to that question. And you will have found a worthy goal.
What do all the stories I shared with you this evening have in common?
What can we learn from them?
Failure and rejection are all part of the challenges we all face.
My life experience taught me that.
And failure is part of the road to success.
So let's welcome the challenges.
Because just like fear, they are very good teachers,
and they can even save your life.
I know that, because allowing myself to feel fear
saved my life more than 20 times.
Thank you very much.
(Applause)
(Upbeat Music)