life in cl
the czech republic

Beyond Confusion
Twenty years after the collapse of the Communist regime, we went to Bohemia, in the heart of Europe, where, amidst the new walls of an atheistic culture, indifference, and individualism, a small community of the Movement bears witnesses that the fascination of Christ present always wins, even when one seems to be rowing against the current.

by Paolo Perego

A crowd moves along the city streets, their house keys in their raised hands, calling for freedom and democracy. This is Prague, November 17, 1989, just a few days after the fall of the Berlin Wall, creating a tidal wave that swept away forty years of Communist regime in the countries of Eastern Europe. The police charged the Prague marchers in one of the last outbursts of a repression destined to die in just a few weeks. On December 29th, voters of Czechoslovakia elected President Václav Havel, dissident writer and leader of the Civic Forum, who had animated the opposition since the spring of 1968. Thus ended Czechoslovakian Communism.
Today the city is vibrant with color, and every corner, every street leaves you marveling at its beauty. What became of the years of regime?
“Those who lived through it carry it within,” says Fr. Stefano Pasquero, from Turin, a Missionary of Saint Charles, who arrived in Prague in 2002. He was followed the next year by Fr. Andrea Barero (who has since returned to Italy), and, in September of this year, by Deacon Marco Basile: “For years, the people lived with the regime, bearing it almost with indifference.” Dissent came mostly from the intellectuals, those of Charter 77, for example, and a few Catholic movements, like that of Fr. Josef Zverina, the author of Letter to the Christians of the West. It was the Movement of CL that, at Fr. Giussani’s request, contributed to spreading Fr. Josef’s thought and writings in the late 1970s.
“The cynicism of those times is still difficult to break through today,” says Fr. Stefano. You see it when you speak with those who lived through those years, in their short answers to your questions and eyes that shift when your gazes meet, a certain distrust. Vit’a, a structural engineer just over fifty, was one of those young people asking for freedom for their country back then. He was also one of the first CL members in Prague; he knows Italian well and translates School of Community. 

Atheist heart of Europe. Exactly twenty years after the “Velvet Revolution,” in a building of medieval Vyšehrad, the ancient district of the Bohemian capital, about fifty people listen to the words of Fr. Carrón, watching the video of the Beginning Day, with Vit’a doing simultaneous translation. Some of the people are from Prague, while others have come from Brno, the heart of nearby Moravia. Fr. Stefano, an assistant parish priest in Vyšehrad, leads the event. So, here is the Czech community, with a few absences and a few new faces.
Carrón’s Madrid accent resounds in the hall. Almost nobody knows Italian, and so they listen to the translation. But they understand the impetus: “experience, judgment, living faith in reality, challenging confusion.” There is perfect attunement to the words that Benedict XVI, during his late-September visit to the Czech Republic, spoke to the young people. “[I]n every young person there is an aspiration towards happiness, sometimes tinged with anxiety: an aspiration that is often exploited, however, by present-day consumerist society in false and alienating ways. Instead, that longing for happiness must be taken seriously, it demands a true and comprehensive response. …The Christian faith is this: encounter with Christ, the living Person who gives life a new horizon and thereby a definitive direction.”
The presence of the Movement in Prague is not recent history. Back in 1968, a small group of CL members arrived on the banks of the Vltava, to meet those supporting the flowering of the “Prague Spring.” Contacts were maintained during the regime and, in the post-Communist years, Fr. Giussani sent people on many visits, but the most decisive arrival was that of the Missionary Priests of St. Charles Borromeo in 2002. For some people, it was a “second” encounter–for Vit’a, for example, and also for Lenka, who had lived in Italy in the 1990s to work and learn the language, meeting CL at the Catholic University of Milan where, though she wasn’t registered at the university, she attended Fr. Giussani’s Theology lessons. When she returned to Prague, in her enthusiasm she tried to re-live what she’d encountered, but without success. “In Bohemian culture, the communitarian dimension is avoided.” says Fr. Marco. It’s better to be alone, but free from all bonds.  “You see the effects in the solitude of the people, and often it degenerates into alcoholism, or the disintegration of the family,” explains Marco. Fr. Stefano interjects, “We’re in the European nation that was the first to adopt laws on abortion and divorce. Now the third generation is separating.” Added to this is the distrust of the Church, often seen as subjected to the powers that be. “Just look at the Cathedral, wedged into the courtyard of the Hapsburg Castle. The Church is in the State (even foreign), and in order to enter you must first enter the building that is the seat of the President of the Republic.” Thus, for the Movement as well, the impact isn’t simple. “The words of Fr. Giussani, like ‘follow’ and ‘authority,’ are in a certain sense uncomfortable. People are spooked just by the idea, as these were the same words used by the Russians. Even the word ‘liberation’ is a stumbling block, because it’s translated with a term used in their propaganda.”

A new paternity. What was needed was to see the Christian event changing lives, as happened for Lucie, among the first to meet the Italian priests when they were university chaplains. For her, coming from a difficult family situation, the Movement was the discovery of a “paternity I’d never experienced.” Jana, a student of Hebrew and Judaism, had lost her sister Teresa in an accident and was left with just her mother. “It was the anniversary of her death and I had gone to church. I was sad. At the end of the function, I lingered there. Fr. Andrea, passing by with Fr. Stefano, smiled at me and gave me a caress.” She never left them. In fact, she brought her mother, Jitka, to School of Community. Speaking of her encounter with the Movement, Jitka says, “After Teresa’s death, I asked God to give her back to me. I knew it was madness. But then I encountered these people and I understood that He was truly giving her back to me.”
The community here is young; almost all the members are in their twenties or thirties. Some of them study, and others have begun working. Jan has married and started a family. He’s from Brno, but met CL in Barcelona, when he was on an Erasmus study abroad program. His story is bound up with that of Jirí and Tomáš. A threesome of true friends since school days, their discussions often ended up on the subject of life. Returning from Spain, Jan saw Jirí, who had also just returned from a period of study in France. “I encountered something great,” he told his friend. “Me too. It’s called CL.” They began doing School of Community in Brno with Fr. Andrea, and invited Tomáš. In the Movement their friendship has matured. Tomáš is always willing to organize anything–vacations, dinners, and meetings, like the one presenting The Risk of Education at the university in the spring, a preamble to a cultural center he and Jan would like to set up.

The “Dominant Thought.” Each story is a miracle. These faces and hearts eliminate the projects we formulated on the flight coming here, before landing in the Czech Republic: “We need to understand how Christ survives in a culture like this.” The idea in and of itself wasn’t mistaken, but the fire of everything lies elsewhere, in the heart of man, the same everywhere, regardless of history and culture. Fr. Carrón, quoting Leopardi and Fr. Giussani at the Beginning Day, said, “The infinite vanity of everything cannot remove the seed of this dominant thought, of this thirst, of this passion for happiness… And what we call heart, this dominant thought, can be forgotten, obfuscated, and objected to, but it is an irremovable reality.” Even in Prague, against the strong current of individualism, cynicism, and prejudice, this small community is rowing mightily.