Letters

Letters

Freedom is Following
Hello Fr. Julián: I am writing to you from a hospital bed, where I am forced to lay on my left side to allow my lung to expand within my ribcage. Right now, my college friends are in Rimini, listening to you, and if I stop to think about what I am missing, my heart swells up with a sadness that I haven’t felt in years. It has been a while since the last time that I so longingly asked the reason for what is happening to me. These days, since I cannot do anything else, I read and think a lot. I realize how unable I am to care for the girl I love and for my family. I listen to classical music (I grew up listening exclusively to punk rock), and I am moved because it conveys the same yearning that I am experiencing right now. I look out the window, and I think of all the plans I had laid: going to the CLU Retreat in Rimini; visiting my brother in Paris; spending a couple of weeks in Africa to help a doctor who is the father of a friend of mine; going to Peru (Dado talked so much about it); going on a ski trip... Being bed-ridden is the biggest sacrifice that could be asked of me. Yet, at the bottom of my heart, I feel an immense gratitude for my life. I am moved by the recognition that this burden carries within it an endless need for meaning: why? Even if I am unable to love completely, there is someone loving me; I am grateful to the Virgin, to whom I entrust all these relationships that are so dear to me. Even if I cannot really understand classical music, I am moved to tears listening to this CD! Even if seven people in a house can make a terrible racket, I could never have imagined such a beautiful family as mine! And there is so much more to be grateful for. It is unbelievable how this situation is making my pride yield to an immense gratitude. I can’t but ask for everything; and if they operate on me again, I will have to ask for help even to go the restroom. Life is truly great, and it is truly beautiful to discover how, little by little, within toil and pain as well as within the relationships with our dearest ones, something greater than our circumstances shines through. Thursday morning, when the doctors told me that I needed to remain in the hospital, after a few minutes of dejection, I said to myself: “Life never betrayed me. Why should it start now, when it is getting to be so enthralling?” You see, I am really enjoying living. So I decided to face this situation as a challenge: “Let’s see if what happens makes me relish things less!” How interesting it is to grow within a challenge, even if you have to do it lying down and with a hole in your lung. I am writing to you because I can see that you are my companion in this exciting yearning of life! Because, looking at you and a few other people, I realize that this question that I perceive so strongly now, and that I don’t want to give up, finds an answer. This is what makes me free: someone I can follow.
Giacomo, Novate (Milan)

The Church Here and Now
Dearest Fr. Julián: Since 2007, I’ve been living in Heraklion, on the island of Crete, with my husband Diego and my daughter Vittoria. The letter you wrote on the occasion of the Bishops’ Synod has been for us a provocation to judge the time we have spent here. Our loneliness and the effort to settle down in this new and sometimes hostile environment brought to light the extent of our neediness.  For months, we lived immersed in the nostalgic memory of the companionship that we left in Milan, thus censoring our overwhelming desire to recognize Him in action. By the grace of God, our daughter has been, and still is, that instance of reality where the faithfulness of His presence becomes evident. We started seriously committing to the work of School of Community, and asking ourselves the meaning of our belonging to the Movement and the Church, here and now. In April, at our parish, we met Nicoletta from Viterbo, Italy, who is married to a Greek doctor, and has been living on the island for the past eight years. We approached her after noticing that she had an old Traces issue on the seat of her car. Since then, we have been meeting weekly for School of Community, and with the passing of time we have grown in familiarity. Paradoxically, what Father Giussani says is really true: we are living proof that friendship is generated by obedience. We differ in age, temperament, and personal history, but we are becoming friends because we bumped into the same charism, and we desire to share our journey to happiness. In August, two young Polish priests were sent to lead our parish. Despite the limits imposed by the language barrier, a friendship is growing with them, too. They didn’t know anything about the Movement, but they accepted the invitation to start the work of School of Community. Reality is still tough, and we are not completely free from the temptation to complain. But we are starting to see evidence that, if we offer to God our lives and the companionship that is growing here, we can experience satisfaction.
Chiara, Heraklion (Crete)

Unemployment
and Self-rediscovery
Dear Father Carrón: Toward the end of the summer, the company I was working for announced that they intended to refurbish the building and that they would therefore shut down operations for four months, asking the employees to be available to relocate. After a couple of weeks, I got the inkling that their decision had the secondary goal of restructuring the staff. To make a long story short, I was running the risk of losing my job. I started getting increasingly nervous, and I was unable to work. Then I started asking myself: “If satisfaction is the test of freedom, why do I feel suffocated in this circumstance? What does my life consist of?” I thought I had all the answers–we have them written in our School of Community book. I could give the right answer to any question, but I hadn’t yet concretely experienced the Mystery. I started praying. If I managed to wake up early in the morning, I would read the Fraternity Retreat booklet and School of Community. One day, I text-messaged my wife: “I can’t stand this anymore.” She answered, “Stop for a minute and ask the Virgin to sustain you.” Many among my friends started calling me more often, and at every meeting they would always ask how I was doing. Deep within me, I thought: “This is Christ who wants me to understand that work does not coincide with the image I have in my mind. He is asking me to recognize Him in the circumstances and in those who are able to embrace me so tenderly.” Finally, I left my company. I started searching for another job, and I got offers that implied moving to Dubai, or to Moscow, or to Egypt. I talked about it with my wife, who told me, “We have two kids, and this is the third time we have moved in four years. Giacomo goes to school, and I don’t think another move would be appropriate.” I talked about it with my Fraternity group, and I was told, “Your family is your vocation, and these are decisions that have to be made together.” I thought, “This is the criteria of someone Other; I have to obey.” I am currently looking for a job in Rome, and I am taking into consideration my family and the fact that here we are part of a companionship that is making us grow in our faith. We also decided to give to the Fraternity part of what we have received, precisely because we recognize the Fraternity’s value in our life.
Gabriele, Roma

“How Do You Say Traces in Korean?”
In the November 2008 issue (Vol. 10, No. 10, p. 24), we recounted how the South Korean community was born. Now, out of the missionary impetus of that small group of people, we receive a gift: Traces’ Korean edition. It is a simple and yet very precious pamphlet, distributed to parishes and workplaces. The following is what Eugenia–the “engine” of the new edition–wrote us from Seoul.

Francesco Berardi had been bringing us Traces every month when, on my own accord, I started translating some of the articles into Korean. Then I told him, “This is a valuable missionary tool. Why don’t we try to put together our own edition by translating some of the articles?” So, with the help of the Italian friends, these four pages became a reality. This issue, the first, is thus composed: on page 1, we wrote an editorial explaining CL; inside (pages 2 and 3), there is Vicky’s witness at the 2008 Rimini Meeting; and, on page 4, is the message of Benedict XVI to the same Meeting.

From Siberia
Mutual Esteem in a Siberian Prison
Father Gianpiero Caruso, of the Fraternity of St. Charles Borromeo, lives in Novosibirsk. He regularly visits the Tagucin prison. We publish the description of his unexpected friendship with an inmate.
Every month, he faithfully waits for me in the “klub” hall. He is Sergej, who, saying good-bye after our first meeting, whispered in my year, “Father, I’ll be waiting for you; come back soon.” He is always with Andrej, who is very quiet and attentive; he likes to listen to Sergej and me when we discuss things, sometimes very animatedly. Andrej is thirty-five years old, with a child’s face and deeply sad eyes. Some time ago, he asked me, “How can I not be melancholy and sad in here? I don’t even have faith to support me.” I told him, “Listen, Andrej, the desire for happiness that you experience is the same that is inside of me, a free man. The real problem is whether or not the object capable of answering our desire for happiness exists.” He said, “Have you found this object?” I asked, “What do you think?” He answered, “Looking at your smile, I would say you did.” I told him, “That’s right. Otherwise, I would not be able to face you.” Before leaving, I asked him, “Is there anything I can do for you?” He answered, “Don’t worry, I don’t need anything.” That same day, as I was on the train from Tagucin to Novosibirsk, I got a call from him. He told me that my question had embarrassed him, and that he could not find the courage to answer me in front of the other inmates. He told me he would write me a letter. Here it is.
Fr. Giampiero
Hello Father Giampiero: All who have come here to the prison to preach the word of God spoke a lot about themselves, about their good deeds; they sang… but nobody ever asked if there was anything we needed. On the contrary, the simple question you asked me really came as a surprise! I didn’t even know how to respond to your words. I am writing to thank you for the attention and the regard that you have for me. It’s not so common to encounter such a sincere concern as yours in this day and age, especially from a stranger. I wish you all the best and I hope you will always be in good health. I thank God that we are together in this world, and I think He will allow us to live for another fifty years! Good-bye dear friend! I send you a strong handshake. You have my esteem.
Andrej

“I found myself in need, too”. The day of the Food Bank collection [where volunteers stand outside major supermarkets and ask people to buy items of their choice and donate them on their way out], a very plain-looking old man told me, “I would like to give you something, but I am nearly blind, and I need somebody to help me shop.” I went with him through the supermarket aisles. As I was choosing some canned goods, he kept telling me to pick whatever I thought would be most useful and, sensing my restraint, he told me he intended to donate 30 Euros worth of groceries. “In the past, I found myself in need of your help, too, and I haven’t forgotten.” Throughout the day, many people thanked us, and told us that we, young volunteers, were the answer to the cynicism of those who say that today’s youngsters are all “bad.”                                               
Davide, Turin

Joyful Obedience
Dearest friends: I’m sorry, but I will not be able to come to the Solidarity Bank charitable work. The medical treatment I’m undergoing is hard, and it causes me to feel indisposed. I seek and ask the meaning of this experience I’m going through. Above all, it teaches me to depend on an Other, in a joyful and wholehearted obedience to the Mystery. The effort of going to work makes me happy; I get to my office and I say, “I am here.” The situation I’m in makes me understand that life is a gift, and then I am happy when I manage to go buy bread on Saturday mornings. After doing that, I have to go lie down, which allows me to understand that I am nothing and God is everything. The faces of my friends, your faces, pop up in my mind: you are the expression of the strength of Christ.
Lorenzo, Milan