LETTERS

Elena’s Challenge
Dearest Fr. Carrón: I work for Aslam, a professional training center. I am the course coordinator for those who graduated from junior high school. We have about 180 students, most of whom I personally know. This year, Elena, a girl with a sensitive personal and familial situation, joined us. She started creating problems from the get-go. Whenever I saw her, I felt a certain discomfort; for months, I avoided meeting her. I ignored her, but she was there every morning. Toward the end of the year, Elena once again did something foolish, so we called a meeting with her and her mother. Elena showed up stoned; she had just had a joint. In desperation, her mother told us: “I don’t recognize her anymore; she is not my daughter.” Elena looked at her with indifference and detachment. I looked at her mother and said, “No, ma’am, look at her. Who is this girl standing in front of you?” As I was saying this, all those months when I had been the one who had refused to recognize her passed in front of my eyes. I remember mentally repeating: “Good Lord.” So, I once again asked her mother, “Who is this girl?” She answered, “My daughter,” and she started crying. I asked Elena, “Who is this woman?” She remained silent. I asked Elena to stay and I told her, “Your mother loves you. Starting tomorrow, I’ll come to see you every day.” It’s shocking and touching at the same time: she, whom I had been avoiding for months, was the one who dictated the method. Sometimes I think I say “yes” to the circumstances, while I am erecting boundaries instead. I keep telling myself, and those who ask me, that I am saying “yes” to my work, my family, and my friends. But if someone asks me, “What do you see in your work, your family, and your friends?” I start spitting out definitions: work is work… family is family… friends are friends. If I get along well with somebody, I think, “This relationship pleases me, therefore it’s a good thing.” If a relationship is unsettling, I’m sorry and I say I suffer. This is like a prison for me and for the reality that is in front of me; just like what happened with Elena. What a risk it is to reduce Jesus to the “portrait of a beautiful woman, sculpted on her tombstone,” as you reminded us at the Exercises. But reality is inexorably present, insistent. It was a gift that the Mystery (that is, Jesus) manifested Himself that day, and I recognized it. Could it be because, during the preceding months, He had been secretly attracting me, and I had been searching for Him, looking at that 16-year-old girl out of the corner of my eye? Could it be because we were insistently working on the subject of  faith in the School of Community? Anyway, the Lord manifests Himself through facts. A fact is Him in action, Him challenging us: “Do you recognize Me?” I am the one who has to answer. Even if you, Julián, were to be with me every day, the heart of the matter wouldn’t change: it is something between me and Christ. When Elena came to get her report card, she embraced her mother and said, “I love you, Mom.” Then she asked to join our summer program, “instead of hanging around doing foolish things.”
Salvatore, Cassano Magnago, Italy

An Amazing
Friendship
In 2005, Rodney, an inmate of a North Carolina prison, was told by some friends about the illness of Majilinda, an Albanian girl. He started praying for her and writing to her (see Traces, Vol. 9, No. 5 [May] 2007). Their relationship continued through the years, as shown by this letter.
Dear Majilinda: Hello, my dear friend. I have received news through our many friends that you are not feeling well. Words cannot express how frustrated I am that I cannot walk through your door and give you a big hug! Like our relationship with Christ often becomes, I hate this prison with its policies and restrictions, yet without them I’d never know the joy and wonder of our friendship. We’ve never had the chance to meet and we’ve had very little correspondence, but that has not stopped you from becoming a light on my journey, a reason for me to hope, a witness for the type of person I should but can’t quite seem to be. I’m a stubborn, bull-headed man, that often questions God and our reason for existence, a man once lost with no true direction in life, but one word from or about you and I realize how wrong I am. I’m reminded just how strong my faith can and should be. Not to remind you of your present discomforts–because you are such a great person and friend–but you must understand that to look at you and your circumstances, and then at myself, is to realize how far I am from where I want to be. Carrón said in “Friends, That Is, Witnesses” that reality educates us. The fact of the matter is, the reality of it all is that you force us (those who are willing) to truly recognize the Mystery, something that, even as a Christian, I had never done before. We may not be able to meet right now, my dear friend, but when that day does come, wow! What a day it will be! You know, Majilinda, it’s better to have to do this time in prison and know you and the others in CL than to remain free and never have met any of you. I’d do this time all over again if it’s what must be done to stay with CL.
Rodney, North Carolina

A New Beginning
Dear Fr. Julián: I have spent the past few months in the hospital. A friend of mine wrote to you, asking you to come visit me, and you, apologizing for not being able to make it, told him that you would anyway offer your life for me. When he read me the e-mail, I was overwhelmed with emotion and wonder: I perceived in my flesh what God’s preference for each man is. This was another confirmation that within the trial of sickness (I had a stroke, and my left side is paralyzed), there was a design and a call: the Lord was calling me and my family to an obedience through which, in time, we would discover the hundredfold. Now, in fact, I am back home and I started walking like a child, thanks to the care of my physical therapist, Simone, who has accompanied me with authority and love, helping me to keep my desire open, and to resist dejection. In all this time, I have learned that God exists, He is near us, and through reality (all of it, not only what we choose), He challenges us to put our freedom into play in order to discover ourselves more human.
On December 10th, my wife Renata and I will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. Through this trial, I was given life back, and we were given back the freshness and sincerity of a pure and true conjugal relationship, as it was at the beginning. Throughout this adventure, we felt the support of a companionship that never took away the drama of existence, but helped us beg for Him, as the meaning of everything. This companionship is made of faces and relationships, and is as big as the whole world; it is a place of affection and correction that made me experience what Fr. Giussani says in School of Community: “Jesus’s call always entails entrusting yourselves to a community” [Is It Possible to Live This Way, p. 74].
At the same time, this trial has made me certain of the good design that Jesus has for me and determined (as I would never have expected to be) to adhere to the form that He has chosen for me. Within this web of faces and relationships, you have accompanied us like a father, especially through the direction you have indicated at the Exercises. Today, my heart is full of gratitude for the wonders that He does for us, but I know that, in time, forgetfulness will erase even the memory of this. Salvation can come only through faithfulness to that place and that friendship–the Movement–where Jesus is present, and that is, therefore, a spring of endless newness. In this place, what is true endures and is continually given back to me in the form of a “new beginning,” through men that are friends, that is, witnesses, like you, who are offering their lives for others. Looking at these faces will help me keep begging for His presence.
Marco, Italy

The Witness
Dear Traces: I am a new mother who recently had an experience of what it means to “trust the witness.” Through this, I have come to understand that to trust the witness of another is to say “yes,” “yes” in front of the event of Christ revealed in the witness. My son Joseph is six months old and at a certain point I realized that the way I was raising him was not adequate for his education as a person. I realized even as a baby he was ultimately dictating to me what his day would be like, how often he ate, and where and when he slept (that was sleeping in our bed with us); I was essentially a babysitter, trying to fulfill his needs and losing my own sense of purpose in the process. My modus operandi was “don’t let Joey cry.” Despite what I understand from my education in the Movement about the nature of education itself, I was raising my son without any reason for what I was doing except to make sure he didn’t get upset, to fulfill needs. I figured that the “education part” would eventually kick in later. I had intuited that the way I was facing my child was wrong; there was a destination that I wanted to get to but I could not find the way. The only thing I could think of to do was to contact our friend Laura in Maryland. The most striking things about Laura are her certainty and her affection, both of which she has transmitted to her children, who are some of the few truly “free” children I have met in the Movement. When I talked to Laura, her answers for me were two simple things: first, to educate your child is to indicate the way–even a newborn needs to be told by his mother what is day and what is night and therefore how we live those hours–and then to teach your children to verify that proposal in reality, and second, your relationship with your husband is more important than the relationship with your children, because your marriage is the center of everything. With these two simple points, she turned my parenting on its head, from how I related to my child during the day to his sleeping with us in the bed at night. I listened to her experience and her certainty about how she lives as a mother, which were not just a pile of suggestions (“Well, you could try this…”). Suddenly, I found myself faced with the task of saying “yes” to this proposal; I found myself back to the beginning, to the first years when I met the Movement. The questions I asked myself in that period years ago were the very same questions I had to ask myself to verify Laura’s proposal: “These people are so attractive, could what they are saying be true? I don’t understand everything here, but I do know that it corresponds to my need, to what my conscience has been screaming at me from day one! Can I turn my back on so clear a witness of the truth? Do I love the truth more than my idea?” My conversion came flooding back to me: “Is it true enough to risk the life of my child?” The truth excludes nothing. If it’s not true for every aspect of my life then it’s not true.
What Laura has given me is not the “ultimate technique in getting your child to sleep,” because it’s been two months now and Joseph still cries and still doesn’t sleep through the night. What has changed is the position from which I parent–I now understand my role as educator of my children, not “needs-filler,” because the claim that I can fulfill all of my child’s needs is a total lie. What Laura has done is witness to me her certainty about Christ, certainty that excludes nothing, even the position from which she parents.  She is so certain about Giussani’s educational proposal because of her experience of Christ in this companionship that she follows this proposal intensely through witnesses of her own. I want her certainty, and the only thing that I can do is to follow her; I trust her because her love for Christ witnesses to me the fullness of my vocation.
Kristin, San José, California

Taking Ourselves
Seriously
Dear Fr. Carrón: Before summer, I took my college situation seriously (I study Pharmacy in Turin, and I was four exams away from graduation) and, helped by the relationship with my older friends, I started to commit to my work. I experienced what you said at the Fraternity Exercises about desire: if we don’t go to the depth of our humanity, Christ is no longer interesting for us, like the answer to a question that was never asked. I had been on auto-pilot for a while: I was participating in all the CLU activities, I was doing it well, obeying everything, but I wasn’t there, and most of all I wasn’t serious with what I had to do–that is, studying. I started going deeper into my desire, and I began recognizing Christ at work in my life. Through the relationships with a few freshmen, I experienced the encounter once again; I passed two of the four exams that I had left but the main point is that I finally studied with gusto, asking myself the reason for everything… To make a long story short: I am more myself. I then attended the CLU vacation, which was a real event–other facts happened, and I only had to look at them, asking myself Who was the one generating them (for examples, the encounter with our friends from the Abruzzi, the deepening of some friendships, the assembly with Father Pino). After the vacation, I went on the pilgrimage to Cze¸stochowa. On that journey, I experienced obedience as a gesture of freedom, and unity with all those people, whom I had never met before. Once I arrived in front of the Virgin, I only said, “Here I am, I am here for you.” It wasn’t like standing in front of a painting; it was the embrace of a Mother who is waiting for you, and who loves you for what you are. Fr. Andrea told us to keep looking at the face of the Virgin, to remember what is worthwhile in life: the companionship of Jesus. I want to continue walking on this path, to continue asking to recognize Him present. It already happened during the prep classes for the science courses’ admission tests. I was once again surprised at how everything depended on my and others’ freedom, so that all of our humanity and desire could be brought forth. Without this, Christ would no longer be interesting.
Marta, Turin, Italy

The Salt of the Earth
Dear Traces readers:
I do not belong to your movement; I grew up within my parish. Little by little, I have seen my friends abandon our groups, then Mass, then Christ–some in pursuit of other goals (political or social ones), others enslaved by their own individualism, made of Saturday night drinking parties. I believe I have stayed partly thanks to my family, who raised me with a strong missionary spirituality, and partly thanks to the hardheadedness that Jesus gave me. Now, both because I wanted to and because of circumstances, I am guiding a group of sixteen year olds, too grown up for their age, each one of them too clever to be told some fairy tale… and too beautiful to let grow apart from Christ. This year, God sent Giovanni to stand with me in front of these kids; he reads Traces, and we have had countless talks and discussions. I hope my words will convey some of my gratitude, because this year we (I!) have all grown, but mostly because the kids got used to talking about Christ, His words, His life, avoiding giving speeches on responsibility, listening, self-esteem, and so on and so forth… the likes you can hear at a group therapy session. This is not what the kids need, nor is it what can awaken in them the desire to become Christians. Jesus is in our midst. Who will tell these kids? There are too many of them, they are everywhere, and they are not as motivated as the kids in your movement. They need to see eyes that sparkle. Giovanni is very busy, and I tremble at the idea that he might be leaving. He tells me not to worry, but I can’t help it, because I know that Christ can work only through our “yes” to His proposals. I call upon all of you, so that your movement, which gives so much to those who belong to it, can give something also to those who do not belong to it, and maybe never will. The charity that I know you do is important, but there is a need for your presence as witnesses to Him, outside of the Movement. Who else is the salt of this earth, if not Giovanni, if not you? There is a tremendous need for people who will speak to everybody about Jesus of Nazareth.
Lucia, Italy

Simone’s Friends
Simone was a beautiful, thin, and smiling child, despite having Down’s syndrome and being sick to the point of having to be fed through a tube for the six years of his life, never being able to learn to speak or walk. The years he spent with us have been filled with struggles, suffering, and questions, as well as with moments of intense joy, and always rewarded with a truly infinite love.  By infinite I mean “not finished”–that is, a love that was never hindered by the circumstances, that was never stopped by our limitations and weaknesses, so much so that it is still alive and present today, three years after Simone has returned to Heaven. We are talking about God’s love, because the one we can come up with wouldn’t have lasted but a few minutes. The preference that the Lord has always had for us became even more evident when a few friends of ours decided to give birth to a non-profit association to support and accompany those struggling families who welcome a special needs child, and they named it, “Friends of Simone Tanturli.” For the past three years, our lives have become entwined, and we are growing closer as we spend evenings together, organize parties, cocktail receptions, dinners, dance soirees, and much more, to raise funds for the association. Maybe we worry too much and we make mistakes, but we are always certain that a greater Love gave us Simone and put us together. We tell this story to bear witness that suffering and sickness are not mistakes to be erased or avoided; they are the path through which the Lord chooses us. If we have the freedom to simply say “yes,” He never abandons us, and never leaves us alone.
Alessandro and Francesca, Italy

A Gaze That
Embraces You
It might have been my second or third year in college; I was more or less twenty. As usual, I was standing outside Catholic University chatting with some of my classmates, but I was tense and gloomy. Things weren’t going well: I had family problems and I had to work to pay for my studies; I was discouraged; maybe I was having a tough time with some of my tests, I don’t remember precisely... At a certain point, he walked out of the university main gate, with his resolute stride, immersed in a passionate discussion with a couple of kids. He walked right by me, stopped, looked me right in the eyes, and... “Ciao!” Those four letters changed my day. It was as if the sun had suddenly broken through a sad cloudy sky, giving back life and color to everything around me. Father Giussani was like that: I had never spoken to him–I was just one of the many boys and girls crowding his classes and his meetings–but in that greeting of his he was totally focused on me, with a gaze that embraced my soul, a gaze that welcomed me, encouraged me, and gave me back the meaning of things. One cannot improvise such a gaze; one cannot fake it just to suit the occasion. It is a true, free, selfless, and unconditional love that is born out of the certainty of having been loved in the first place. I never forgot it. I stopped hanging out at Catholic University after graduation. Then, unexpectedly, I had to go back there for a job-related examination. I walked the same route that every day had led me to the university with a mixture of apprehension and melancholy. I got off the subway at the Cadorna stop, I walked along Via Carducci and Via Terraggio, and, as I approached Largo Gemelli, I was confronted with the familiar view of Catholic University’s main gate... In the blink of an eye, I re-lived that moment, that brief greeting that had changed my life... “Ciao!” I had goose bumps–thirty years have passed since that day.
Brunella, Corsico, Italy