a day with...
FR. aldo trento

The Citadel of the Resurrection
His friendship with Fr. Giussani saved his life. Since then, he has been caring for the incurables of Paraguay. The silence at dawn, the house for the orphans, the gratitude of politicians, and the pizzeria; then there is his life in the clinic, alongside those whose days are numbered. We followed the “priest of the Guaranì” in the heart of his mission, where “the mystery that allows the world to go on” happens all over again.

by Roberto Fontolan

In San Rafael, the day begins early. In the misty morning light, you can just make out the shapes of people rushing to the small chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, which is open 24 hours a day. The gatekeeper has orders to open up the outer gate to anyone who wants to pray, even at 3:00 in the morning. Fr. Aldo loves this small chapel, with its dozen seats and tiny altar, for its silence. Here, at the height of his loneliness years ago (“Fr. Alberto had just left, and I–I!–found myself parish priest”), Aldo “appointed” Jesus parish priest of San Rafael and himself sacristan, just as in the clinic Jesus is the director and Fr. Aldo the chaplain.
Sometimes on Mondays, a car stops before the entrance of the parish, at 6:30 am on the dot, and the Vice President of Paraguay, Federico Franco, comes in and says Morning Prayer along with the priests (in addition to Fr. Aldo, there are Fr. Paolino Buscaroli and Fr. Ferdinando Dell’Amore, known as Daf). The Vice President is a good friend of San Rafael. As he drinks a quick coffee before rushing to the vice-presidential building in central Asunción, he comments, “This parish is the clear demonstration of how, in a poor country like Paraguay, excellent, first-rate assistance can be offered to human persons, and that they can be privileged whatever their condition. The clinic is like a five-star hotel; the school has well-qualified teachers. Abandoned people, street children, the elderly, the dying, the sick whom all the hospitals reject are at home here. It is like the Gospel passage: the last shall be first. The last amongst Paraguayans are those best cared for in San Rafael, and this is thanks to the temperament, the force, the affection, and the charism of Fr. Aldo and of Communion and Liberation. You should know that in Paraguay today many poor people smile and say thank you for the help they receive from you in Italy.”

A thorn in the flesh. Fr. Aldo relates, “For a long time, I did an hour of silence at dawn. I wanted to start the day prepared for the attacks of everything that wants to detach me from Him, like the concerns and the calculations about things, plans, money, and people. Every day offers the opportunity to say yes or no. I would prepare myself, working for my yes. These days, I have to be quicker, because I must by all means dedicate half an hour to exercise, maybe a short run, for the sake of my health; I use the time for saying the rosary–I cannot start the day without that Gospel of the poor that is the rosary. I have never lost certainty in Christ, but all the same I still feel a thorn in my flesh accompanying me every day, as St. Paul said. If I didn’t have prayer and the power of the Most High, I would not be able to go ahead for one second.”
The school doors will soon be opening for its 250 children. The second appointment in Fr. Aldo’s day is at the Little House of Bethlehem, before 8:00 am. All dressed in blue, the children are waiting, standing up straight and happy. This house was built to accommodate two orphans, whose mother had died at the clinic. Now there are 20 children here, sent by the courts, and cared for by Cristina, who herself lost two children to a terrible congenital disease. “She was asking me why, she begged me to give her an answer,” Aldo recalls. “I was only able to say that we have to face up to these facts together: the two children gone to heaven, and the orphans that remained with us on earth. I told her, ‘Cristina, you must go on being a mother.’”
The prayers and the voices of the children rise up from the parish courtyard to the aseptic rooms of the clinic for the terminally ill, dedicated to St. Riccardo Pampuri. Here is the profound but discreet heart of the parish life. It is the measuring-rod for priests, volunteers, youth, faithful, and catechists alike. The nurse Beatriz Gomez says, “If you don’t have Christ in your heart, it is difficult to face up to a reality that many times is hard. It hurts to see a child in agony, or someone like Marciana who is 21 years old and is on the brink of death [she died soon after]. As a nurse, I am happy. I do my job without anyone forcing me; I want my patients to be clean, to be comfortable, tidy, and smiling. That’s all.”

All the hairs are numbered. The doctor adds, “Many doctors consider it a failure to have a terminally ill patient. I do not propose to heal the patients; I know it’s not possible. So, my objective is that the person should be comfortable, his symptoms kept under control, and that he be free from pain and nausea. I can do this, and it gives me joy and happiness. Faith is a great support for me. It is important when I speak to the sick, too; faith helps us to live better these moments of suffering, uncertainty, and fear in front of death.
For Fr. Aldo, too, the clinic is the center of everything. “In the sick, I see not only the human condition in itself, but the beauty of the mercy of God made flesh in Christ, the mercy that saves man and that shows that everything is positive. I am struck by the way God saves those who don’t care about Him. When I see my children here, unconscious and in a vegetative state, I understand that they are the crucified Christ on Calvary happening over again, that mystery of death and resurrection that allows the world to go on. The clinic takes up a lot of my time and a lot of my heart. There are a lot of meetings, with the doctors, with the nurses, or the volunteers, or the administrative staff. Today, for example, there is the technical committee. Week by week, we review the case of each patient, to monitor the progress or the difficulties, in both the physical and human aspects. Then there is the executive for the new clinic and the building committee for the work already in progress. We should have the inauguration next year. The building is almost finished. Look at the façade, it resembles the reduction [mission] in Trinidad, do you remember? The angel musicians were sculptured onto the big church, the red stone standing out against the blue sky. As you see, I have learned a lot from the Jesuits and their cultural politics, all aimed at beauty.”
In the life of the priests, the afternoon is dedicated to “the encounter with Christ and to our companionship,” Fr. Paolino tells us. “From 1:00 to 4:30, and the whole of Monday. I know that, from the efficiency point of view, we seem more passive than active, but we need it, we really do.” Aldo adds, “I have passed through darkness, sadness, pain, and anguish. At times, even a fly hurts me. If it was not for my certainty of being loved by Christ and possessed by God, and of having the company of Paolino and Daf, I would feel I could not manage. In every instant, I have to say to God, ‘It is You who make me; even the hairs on my head are numbered’–otherwise, I would find it hard to go on and to face everything. It’s a drama, within us and around us. On one hand, you see positive realities coming to life; on the other hand, you realize that the positive comes to life fighting with the difficulties, with incomprehension and at times with prejudice.”
A coffee or a cappuccino at the Literary Café introduces the afternoon. The café is a mountain-style log cabin. It is decorated with books and CDs and is the meeting point for many debates and cultural events. It also serves as the editorial office for Observador, the weekly newspaper published here at San Rafael and sold as an insert with the national daily La Ultima Hora, a combative and educative newspaper known throughout Paraguay for its original points of view. Natalia, Guillermo, and Fr. Paolino form the editorial nucleus. The life of the parish, and very often that of the clinic, with all the experience of pain that is reported and commented on, flows alongside national and international events, the reality of the Church, and the words of the Pope. Over the past year, many articles were devoted to Marcos and Cleuza Zerbini. “I met them in November 2008,” Fr. Aldo says, leafing through past issues, “and since then we have been inseparable, though we live far apart. Two things keep us together: the love for reality and for man that is born from passion for Christ, and the friendship and the desire to take everything Carrón tells us seriously, by means of personal work and work done together. We were struck by his affirmation that humanity is lacking. I think that this phrase expresses the weakness of Christianity. You look at Christ while setting man aside. I see this in Latin America, where moralism dominates, and even in Europe. What characterized Christianity from the very start was passion for man, and it is what motivates the relationship between me, Marcos, Cleuza, and the others: the passion we have for man, in our case the poor and suffering, brings us to desire that Christ be everything.”
For some time now, the parish has been seeing the arrival of visitors from all over–student nurses in the clinic, national politicians, and university students. What they want is to get to know and live the experience of the parish, at times to soften a blow or to cure some kind of malaise. Here you always meet someone who loves you; you are never left alone. Since he came to speak at the Rimini Meeting last year, Fr. Aldo has received over 6,000 e-mails. “I answer as best I can, fifteen a day. They are all asking for help. I think they see in me a person who has suffered, who did not close in on himself, who was not ashamed. What is the meaning of life? How can I say that a crisis is something good or that depression is a grace? Why is there so much pain? How is it possible to be faithful? And how can I forgive someone else’s evil? They are themes of the heart, human themes. Despite all the priests and experts there are, I realize that man today is really alone in his existential problem, and it is not enough to proclaim yourself a Christian in order to solve it. I had the grace to see how Fr. Giussani lived intensely and amazingly every event of life. He was my support.”
The challenge of O sole mio. It is very easy to meet the priests of the St. Charles Fraternity in the evening for dinner in the pizzeria O sole mio, created in the parish in order to provide jobs for some young people, and to make some profit. They go there with the orphans or with sick people from the clinic who are able (as well as visitors and some parishioners). It is a party for them all, and a challenge for all the other clients.
What is the future for the parish? “This mission depends totally on God who wanted it and goes on keeping it alive. If He sees it as something useful, He will keep it going; there are people capable of running it, people truly able to beg Christ and to give themselves virtuously to Him. Certainly, if one day there is no one in love with Christ, then He will not come down from heaven in person to run the parish. We priests know very well that this work was born from faith, so it’s only lack of faith that can destroy it.” Aldo finishes quickly what he has to say; now the finest moment of the day has arrived, when he goes to the Little House of Bethlehem to bid the children goodnight.