LETTERS

LETTERS

Cathechism
Dear Fr. Carrón:
I want to thank you for the letter that you wrote on November 3rd, primarily because it is a clear example of how you use the method that you so often remind us of: learning from experience.  I was also moved because it described in depth the reason why, for many years now, I have been teaching catechism and collaborating with my parish: to bear witness to the beauty and the worth of the Christian experience to which I have been educated. I was considering all this during a recent catechism class with my third graders. In order to get to know them better, I asked them to name and describe their favorite activities. Among other things (playing soccer, riding bikes, eating pizza or ice cream…), one of the girls said, “I like the stars and the heart.”  I was struck, because she named something that we all want: an infinite Mystery that corresponds to our heart. It isn’t a matter of techniques or programs; even while teaching catechism we have to look at our original experience and its need for an encounter.  We have to look at what He is doing: “Let the children come to me.” This is what makes it worthwhile  to teach catechism and to collaborate so that entering ever more deeply in the heart of Christ can become possible for them and for all.
Tiziana, Galliate Lombardo, Italy

Destiny
and Friendship
I just left the Medical Center School of Community and my heart is full of joy.  There are only six of us: Laura, a nurse, who always arrives ten minutes early to prepare the tables (we have our meetings at the Medical Center cafeteria, so getting the tables is an important task!) with a punctuality and a precision worthy of a general; Rolf, a math professor, who rides his bike from Rice; Thom, the diocese accountant, who gets there by subway from downtown always carrying The Religious Sense and the Bible in his backpack; Prachi, the bold pediatrician who always sports the latest Gucci outfit and who is always in a rush; Carlos, my husband; and me. Why am I so happy? Because of the miracle of a growing friendship! It is a friendship that never leaves us at peace; a friendship that has something to do with our work, our vocations, and our families. This place and the work on School of Community have slowly become for us a work on our lives–not just a book that we read–and an adventure that penetrates more and more the core of our being. This generates a simple affection for this place. Laura prepares for School of Community during her lunch break; one of her colleagues once approached her and said, “Now I want to know everything about that book and Father Giussani.” Thom teaches catechism to the kids of a downtown parish. The other night, he told us that he asked the class, “When are you happy?” and that question provoked an interesting discussion. He said, “It was like working on  Is It Possible to Live This Way?.” Rolf is our endless source of questions, basic ones, the kind that don’t leave out any aspect of the human experience. Prachi, who only just recently met us, told us, “I like you because with you I feel at home; I don’t have to make an effort.” Today, we asked ourselves, “What is this Destiny we talk about? What does it means to walk toward Destiny?” Thom answered, “In order to love Destiny, It has to become familiar. Otherwise, how can I love It?”  What friends are these!? What I know is that this Destiny is becoming more and more familiar in my life through these faces that I adore, because staying in front of them I know who I am.
Eveline, Houston, Texas

Friends’ Faces
First of all, I want to thank you all for your prayers. As you know, last Saturday Lena and I went home, to Karaganda, so that our parents could get to know each other. Saturday afternoon, I went to my mother’s house, where I also found her older sister, her sister-in-law, another aunt from Astana, an aunt from Karaganda, a couple of uncles, and four cousins. We were all getting ready to go to Lena’s house, and we sat down to have some tea.  My mother was a little bit concerned, because she knew that I was about to reveal that I am a Christian.  In that moment, I could see all your faces in front of me, dear friends. When we sat down, I started telling everybody that I wanted to share with them the path of our  vocation, mine and Lena’s, and that I wanted to tell them something that was very important for my life. At the beginning, they all thought that I wanted to give them some recommendations on how to behave at Lena’s house. Instead, I started talking about my life and my being a Christian. They all fell silent, and my aunt from Astana was in shock. They were all staring at me, and I continued talking about what I am, very sincerely and without hesitation. At a certain point, my aunt asked me, “Assiet, please tell me, what’s the difference between a Christian and a Muslim? Why did you become a Christian?” I answered that I did it because the God of Islam is an abstract one, while the God of Christianity is a concrete person, and I have met Him.  After that, that same aunt turned toward the others and said, “Do you know, dear relatives, that sometimes I feel like picking up the icon of the Virgin and praying looking at it!” I was struck by my relatives’ simplicity and their true love for me. At the end, they all told me, “Assiet, we don’t judge you. This is a choice that concerns your life.” My aunt from Astana wasn’t that convinced and kept saying that I would eventually go back to being a Muslim, but in the end she gave in. When later I said that we would have a church wedding, and that it is very important and sacred for us, they told me, “We will certainly come, and we’ll be by your side.” One of my uncles asked, “What shall we do with the rest of our relatives?” I answered, “Nothing special; just tell it like it is!” The aunt from Astana said, “What else can we do? We’ll tell everybody that Assiet is a Catholic. That’s all!” Later, we all went to Lena’s house, and everything went beautifully because of the human simplicity of everyone present.  The other thing that struck us was that, when we went back home, my niece said, “I don’t care whether or not Assiet is a Christian. What’s important to me is that he listened to his heart and followed it completely. This is the most important thing!” Dear friends, what I have lived during these days with Lena, and with our relatives, is really a small miracle. I thank you all for your presence in our lives and on the path that we are walking together.
Assiet, Karaganda, Kazakistan

He Who Dispels
Loneliness
I initially approached the Movement because of a friendship, and later on because I was attracted by Father Giussani’s exhortations, which I read in the School of Community book, Why the Church?.With the passing of time, I saw how Christ was changing my life in an extremely concrete way, thanks to the help of those who, within our companionship, He put on my path. After a few confused relationships, which had caused me a lot of anguish, I was deeply afraid of loneliness. After encountering Christ, I only wanted a love relationship that would correspond to me. My friends thought I was too drastic.  Then I met a man who, like me, was afraid of loneliness and who had lived through some confused and painful relationships. He too wanted to have the experience of an authentically Catholic relationship, because he too had met Christ in the Movement. When we met, we understood that we had been destined for each other by the Mystery, a Mystery who thoroughly knew the most secret desires of our hearts, and who infused hope in us. It was then that we decided to look at the drama of our previous choices, following the indications of people who could really help us live this experience with the eyes of Christ. We followed criteria that were not our own, and sometimes we did not understand everything, but we kept following because that friendship carried within it Something far greater. We got married and we live faith in our marriage, which, along with our friends, is a concrete sign of the presence of Christ in our lives. Nonetheless, it is the presence of Christ–which becomes evident whenever we are open to recognizing and following Him–and not marriage that dissolved my loneliness. Our marriage wouldn’t be such a success if not for His presence. A marriage can’t survive without Christ. A friendship can’t survive without Christ. Without Christ, loneliness wins. With Him, we can be alone and still live with gladness, filled by that “everything” that is made of Him. This is concrete.  It’s about decisions made according to a criterion that is not my own, but through which I put into play my most sincere desire for truth, beauty, justice, and love, and I exalt my freedom to follow an Other. I can make mistakes, but I can’t lose hope. I might not be able to follow all the time, but I can always ask for help; I can go to confession. He will always be ready to embrace me–every day more so–if I stay open to those faces that help me live all this.
Regilene, Salvador de Bahia, Brazil

 “Beyond” Hospitality
In August, Ariadne, a Los Angeles friend of ours, went to Italy with her mother. I put them in touch with my friends in Florence, where they went to live. Ariadne met Chiara, Paolo, Nicoletta, and many other friends of the community, and she decided to go to the Rimini Meeting for Friendship Among Peoples [a cultural expo whose theme this year was, “Either Protagonists or Nobodies”]. When she came back, she introduced me to her mother who immediately started thanking me for everything that trip to Italy had been for her, and telling me in detail about all the friends they encountered. What impressed me the most was that, as she was talking about the Meeting, about the dinners, about everything that happened and how welcomed she felt, she stopped and said, “Look, I am Mexican. I know what hospitality means, and I know what it means when one says, ‘My house is your house,’ but what I saw was beyond anything I could have imagined.” This “beyond”–so clear and noticeable–that Ariadne’s mother recognized and acknowledged, this “beyond” is the unmistakable features of the Lord.
Carlo, Los Angeles, California

My Path
Dear Father Carrón:
My name is Kiran Sareen and I am in sixth grade. Recently, I was transferred from the advanced class (6B) to the unadvanced class (6A) and I was very upset. The transition was very hard at first, because I had an idea in my mind that the right place for me was 6B and that I would be called “not smart” if I was in the lower class. But when I took a moment to look at the truth and what my teachers and my parents thought, I realized that 6A was the group where I would learn a lot and understand much more. God had a path for me and He knew that if I was in 6B or 6A I was still Kiran and whatever group I was in didn’t make me all of who I am. I had not been enjoying math before because I was not doing well, but when I moved to 6A I started having a lot of fun and understanding a lot of the concepts much better. I realized that Jesus shows me my path through the people who love me and through what’s happening around me, even when I don’t understand it right away.
Kiran, Boston

Matteo’s “Miracles”
Dear Father Julián:
Cristina and Rosario got married in September 2007, and my husband and I were in their bridal party (what in Italy we call “witnesses”). In August 2008, their son Matteo was born prematurely, through an emergency delivery. A few days later, the reason for the early delivery and for the baby’s problems was revealed–the tests confirmed that he suffered from a genetic syndrome. During those painful days, Rosario repeated over and over the only clear certainty: Matteo was there and he was beautiful. Together, we begged the Virgin to grant a miracle, and the miracle happened a thousand times every day! Cristina and Rosario spent forty days at the hospital, committed to feeding Matteo and to getting to know and recognize his apnea episodes, without getting frightened by them. They would leave the hospital late at night, exhausted but glad, and so grateful to go out for dinner and call us as they joyfully celebrated every small progress on Matteo’s part. Sometimes they had a half-day off to go to the Marian Sanctuary of Perpetual Help, which had been important for their history.  Matteo needed intense motor rehabilitation for the hypotonia that was a symptom of his syndrome, so Cristina and Rosario asked us to put them in touch with the physical therapist who followed our youngest child, born with a serious brain malformation. The physical therapist planned a routine that required great attention to any kind of stimulation for Matteo–motor, visual, and auditory. All his senses needed to be stimulated to know reality. Their house was “dressed” in black and white–because, at that time, Matteo could only see contrast–and was filled with CDs of noises to stimulate him; every hour was marked by exercises to better his muscle tone; reality was fervent with work. Their house was a feast of certain hope in action. The grandmothers were busy stitching black and white aprons, and helping out with the exercises. Whether we were there to iron or to give Cristina a break, to cook something good for dinner or to help with Matteo’s exercises, we clearly perceived that we were serving Jesus. Day by day, Matteo dilated the measure of our hearts. One day, Cristina searched the Internet for information about the syndrome. She called me in tears because of the hard words she had read. I talked to her again the following day: she felt better and she told me that the reality of Matteo’s presence won over the thousand words she had read. There was no negative hypothesis that could defeat Matteo’s little and yet immense presence. Every one of their friends would entrust this “holy” family wherever they went–to Saint Riccardo Pampuri; to the Virgin of Lourdes; to the Virgin of Medjugorie; to some cloistered nuns, friends of Cristina; to Lisieux, for the beatification of St. Therese’s parents; and to my mother, who met the Mystery just during that time. To this day, as soon as you walk through the threshold of their house, you can’t leave without reciting the Angelus in front of little Matteo. Seventeen years ago, I wrote to Father Giussani, on the occasion of our son’s birth: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” (Psalm 27:13). Today, I can recognize with greater certainty that this companionship is the “land of the living,” allowing us to see the goodness of the Lord always, in every small bit of daily life, and whatever the form of His manifestation. I am grateful to God because He never abandons us to the smallness of our measure; He always bursts it open.
Daniela

School of Community Among the Engines
Dear Julián: Shortly before starting my work adventure at Ducati (a major motorcycle manufacturer), out of the blue a friend asked me, “What do you expect from work?” I answered, “I want my co-workers to get to know Christ, and I want to have a career.” With this attitude, I started working in an environment that was completely different from what I had anticipated. The vast majority of my colleagues could be divided into two groups: on the one hand, thirty-year-old men who dreamt about retirement, and on the other those who delved completely into work to avoid thinking about anything else. I asked myself what I had to do to bear witness to Christ. I recalled my own encounter and I discovered that the first activity is passive: staying in front of what was asked of me and the people who had been put near me, taking my humanity seriously. For two years, nothing happened. Then, one day, Francesca, a co-worker and friend of mine, told me, “There is something different about you; you see everything as a positive opportunity.” I invited her to know my friends; I told her about my encounter, and she started attending School of Community. A few days later, Carlo, a recently graduated engineer who belonged to CL and who I didn’t know, was hired. The three of us then decided to have School of Community during our lunch break in Ducati. One encounter led to another, and we were joined by Enzo, Alessandro, Rocco, Tex, Giano, Stefano, Maria Teresa, and Martino: all co-workers whom we met in the most desperate ways, and who have been struck by the encounter with the exceptionality of Christ.
Mario, Bologna, Italy

Longing for
a Father’s Love
Dear Fr. Carrón:
When I was a young girl, 12 years old, my heart was broken. The happy, carefree life that I knew was completely changed when my beautiful, caring, and fun father passed away suddenly of a heart attack. All I knew was gone. My home life, my thoughts, and my heart were all broken. I struggled with the worries of helping my mom and crying for her pain. I was failing in school because of the learning disability I have, so, along with my sadness, I couldn’t succeed. Failing in school and barely making it out of high school left a huge scar on my self-esteem. I was afraid of living, and I was ashamed of myself. The feelings of being left by my father and fear of losing others have been with me since the day he passed away. I didn’t want to live this way anymore. I couldn’t continue with this turmoil within myself. But, over the past few years, I have met the most incredible friends in CL. They have allowed me to share all of this over and over again, greeting me with love and acceptance. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, Christ allowed my desperation for love and healing to overcome my fears. I have been loved in a way I never knew existed. I would be at School of Community, but want to run, knowing that I could never be as smart as others sitting around me. I would ask, “How can this be that Christ is coming to me through reading these books by Fr. Giussanni and meeting and talking with these people?”  Reading has always been my fear, and talking about what was read was something I have avoided forever. Christ was coming to me right where my fears were the worst, but the love and tenderness I experienced just took over all of me. I couldn’t stay away; I had to keep coming. I am changed. I have longed for the pain of my past, my insecurity, and my broken heart to be healed. Meeting Christ through these people has healed me. I feel now I can live in a completely different way. I now see that without the hurt of my past, I would never have met the most beautiful Father above in heaven. In losing my earthly father, I have met my true Father. He has shown me mercy and a love and sweetness that go beyond anything I could have imagined. I know now that I am loved. I can live freely and love freely. I am so happy and grateful, and I want to give my heart to Jesus and live in thanksgiving for His mercy and tenderness. I ask how the pain I have lived can be changed into this beauty of love for Christ. That young girl can now live life in this new way. I am ready to embrace what I have learned and what I have encountered. I am finally able to accept all of who I am and was. I want to live. I want to celebrate this amazing man I have met in Christ. Christ is the Father I have been longing for.
Liz Platko, Maryland