LETTERS

LETTERS
Edited by Paola Bergamini. E-mail: pberga@tracce.it

GOOD INTENTIONS VS.
THE FACE OF A FRIEND
Dear Fr. Julián: Some time ago, almost by chance, I attended a meeting that a friend of mine organized in Bologna. The theme of the witnesses and discussion was work. I was coming from a period of confusion, and my great desire to be good at my job and to be valued by my company was clashing with lots of unexpected obstacles and misunderstandings. As a result, I was becoming cynical and argumentative. To the best of my abilities, I communicated my desire to Beppe, one of the panelists at this meeting. Listening to him talking, I started to envy him for the simplicity, the decisiveness, and the frankness with which he was able to live his work experience. At the end of our discussion, we agreed that in order to maintain a truly human attitude toward your job (as well as toward the rest of your life), you need to be in front of a friend, because good intentions are not enough if you are alone. I was baffled: "How is it possible to be that way? I am not like Beppe…" With all my doubts, there was still something I knew for sure–that is, that I needed to ask Beppe to help me. A few days later, I called him and we met. Talking to him, I immediately understood that my main problem did not coincide with the circumstances I had to deal with at work, but with the way I perceived myself at my workplace. To make a long story short, all my brilliant ideas about what I needed to happen at my company, in order for me to be fulfilled, were nothing but a bunch of schemes I had come up with. The problem was that things almost never went like I had planned, and even when they did, I was still not satisfied. We kept arguing until 5 am and, when we parted, Beppe challenged me to really go to the depth of everything. In the days following our dialogue, I had an experience of freedom at work; I could finally breathe–I understood that everything is for me and that nothing can stop me from going to the depth of everything I do; I could love what I do just because it exists. Nothing can stop me from accepting the challenge that reality is positive, and from being free of the fear of making mistakes and being judged because of them. Lately, I find myself falling back into my old ways, but I can't forget what I have seen and learned and, whenever I can, I read my notes and call Beppe.
Luca, Rimini (Italy)

ADHERING TO REALITY IN
ORDER TO BE A PROTAGONIST
I am 15 years old and I want to tell you about my experience. When I was in seventh grade, I noticed that my friends were engaged and interested in everything, while I was motionless and angry, because it seemed that nothing ever happened to me. That was the time of my life when I prayed more. In eighth grade, during a vacation with the Knights youth group, in response to a provocation that Father Marcello had put in front of us, I said that I was there to meet something greater that could make me happy. Everything changed: I got completely involved, adhering totally to what was proposed, and I started being the protagonist of my own life. Then, September came along and I started attending high school and facing the struggle of studying. I had physical problems–panic attacks and fainting spells. After seeing a doctor, it was decided that I needed to quit school. I started helping Father Marcello at the parish, an exceptional experience, and I learned to say Morning Prayer with my friend Dario. Later on, I was invited to attend the Holy Week Triduum, but because of my panic attacks I couldn't go by myself. I talked to my mom and, to my surprise, she told me she would accompany me. When we returned home–I will never forget it–as I was speaking about the Triduum, I noticed her eyes were filled with tears. She was moved and told me that those panic attacks had been a grace because they had made her meet something great, i.e., the friendship between me and my friends. In the summer, I had to decide which school to attend, so I started to pray. One night, we had dinner with some friends of ours who belong to the Cometa [a charitable cooperative] in Como; they brought a few brochures for me about the Oliver Twist School–which they had opened one year ago. I realized that it was right up my alley. We scheduled an interview but, unfortunately, we were told that the course of study I had chosen was already at full capacity. In July, we received a phone call: one of the students had withdrawn his application, and I got his spot. I am now attending school at the Cometa, and I am living another exceptional experience, surrounded by people who love me. On weekends I miss school. I became close to a Muslim classmate of mine, who one day told me he wanted to leave school. Initially, I tried to change his mind; then, reading School of Community, I understood that loving him meant being passionate about his destiny. It didn't necessarily mean being together all the time, but letting him become the protagonist of his own life and being glad for him even with the pain of being apart. My father has been disabled since my toddler years. I have always prayed for his healing; now, I pray for his happiness.
Francesco, Buccinasco (Italy)

A PAINFUL "YES" TO
CHRIST WITHIN SECONDS
Marco and Loredana had to face an incredibly painful event: the death of their third son Gabriele, at two years old. It was a tranquil evening, and Loredana was roasting chestnuts with the children. In an instant, Gabriele, who had started eating the chestnuts, choked to death. Below is the letter that Loredana wrote in answer to this question: What do "conversion and the contemporaneity of Christ" mean for you and Marco right now?
On November 2nd, our son Gabriele became an angel. God did not allow us to despair; He loves us so much that He led us to this moment sweetly, preparing us–we can see it clearly now–from the moment Gabriele was conceived. The news of his arrival surprised everybody. It was as if God was trying to wake us up from the lethargy into which we had fallen. Everything went smoothly and, even more than that, our life changed, and we grew as a couple and as parents. We were given the opportunity to renew our life experience. Before November 2nd, I was scheduled to undergo a simple surgery to fix a problem caused by a fracture I had suffered while expecting Gabriele. Unexpectedly, I felt really uneasy about it. I felt the need to pray and repeat: "Help me, but let Your will be done, not mine." The Virgin was making me pray and, instead of the surgery, she was preparing me to face this separation. Our response to what happened wasn't a choice. We couldn't have done anything else. Our "yes" was implicit from the very beginning. The only thing we could do was to adhere to Christ. The night that it happened, I was distraught; I was invoking and begging God. In front of that situation, Marco immediately fell on his knees in prayer. I looked at him and understood what I had to do, so I kneeled by him. I understood that we didn't have to be afraid, because we were in Him. He never left us alone. People started to arrive very shortly: my friend Rossella, who had led us to meet the Movement, followed by all our friends. They began praying with us. Christ was there with His love. Conversion to me means opening my arms wide toward God, partaking in that cross and transforming it into an embrace; it means being happy to belong to His story. Conversion means being able to say, "I entrust this sorrow to You for our true conversion, and the conversion of our brothers," recognizing that even the ability to say that is a gift, and that we would be nothing without Him. The contemporaneity of Christ means living Him more and more in the Eucharist; living Him through Marco, Samuele, Davide, and our companionship, and remaining where everything points me toward Him. It means living the presence of Christ in the memory of my son Gabri, who was a gift right from the start, and who continues being a gift for us here and now because he allows us to once again have a clear experience of the infinite love of God.
Loredana, Italy

SACRIFICE AND THE DAWN OF REALITY
It's 7 am and the alarm clock on Rosella's side table goes off. I know the drill: I will find my Birkenstocks in the dark, then I am off to the kitchen. Rosella turns on the small lamp by her bedside and we look at each other. We hug, like we do every morning, for ten seconds or maybe more, and we exchange a couple of words. I open the kitchen blinds, and take a look at the sky while I sip my coffee. It's the dawn of reality, when the obsession with "what to do today"–the plan for the day that I would like to always run smoothly–has not yet taken hold of me. It isn't hard to figure out that in order to surrender to the beauty of things, in order not to waste them, I need my freedom to veer away from that "what to do today" attitude; I need a gesture of love for myself. Father Giussani calls it sacrifice. It's an unusual and curious word that can be easily turned into the "flavor of the month" and forced into the sad constraints of a definition. It's a completely different story, a completely new thrill, when you find yourself face to face with it as your experience unfolds. For me, it is the threshold of every event, the instant preceding any experience of virginity.
Marco, Ravenna (Italy)

WHERE HAVE ALL THE GOOD OLD ATHEISTS GONE?
Participating in a Food Bank collection with your atheist cousin can be a real challenge. It is a pretty demanding and eventful initiative per se, and if you add to it somebody who starts provoking you from the moment the supermarket opens until closing time, the whole experience ends up being quite intriguing. My cousin challenged everybody with his questions and statements concerning the lack of truthfulness about the existence of a God and of a hypothetical Son of His.
Strange as it sounds, this atheist who denied a living presence, who denied Jesus, came through as more of a Christian than many who call themselves Christians. He remembered everyone and socialized with everyone. Every volunteer came to say good-bye to him at the end of the shifts because, during the day, he had had a word with each one of them, and he had provoked an emotional response in each of them. At a certain point, he was approached by a financier asking for some information about what we were doing. I thought: "Now we are in trouble." What happened next is hard to be believed: my cousin told him everything about the food collection and its meaning, and he even convinced him to go shopping and contribute something. At the end of the day, before saying good-bye, I asked him, "Why were you here if you don't believe in good intentions?" He answered, "Charity has a positive effect on me; plus, if you are here it means that there is something true about it." Where have all the good old atheists gone?
Orazio, Italy

SURRENDERING TO BEAUTY
Being a freshman, these were my first CLU Spiritual Exercises. I was impressed by what happened, and by the simple truth of everything that was said. I often find myself living in my head, and everything gets stressful, so much so that, when this happens, I feel trapped in a cage that I can't escape from, relying on my own strength alone. Still, at times, something unexpected comes along–somebody's gaze or an encounter–and then, I abandon myself to Another and the cage starts to dissolve. It's exactly like you said: everything becomes lighter. I realize that this represents an opportunity for me, despite all my stubbornness. There is a promise of happiness deep inside everything, because everything points me toward Him–the beautiful friendship I have with people on the other side of the ocean; my roommate, who came to the Exercises having met the Movement just three months ago; and even my stubbornness. I am tired of resisting the beauty that I see around me. I am beginning to realize that He wants to meet me right here where He put me. Through my daily experience, I have understood that Christ doesn't come to the world because of my efforts, but simply because I recognize Him and I cherish His companionship. Even if all my friends left me behind, I know that there is Someone waiting for me, Someone who has never left me behind.
Laura, Italy

TAKING A STAND IN FRONT OF OUR FACULTY
During the week following the CLU Exercises (the university students' spiritual retreat), we had a Department Council meeting at our university, just as we do every month. That day, though, we were there with a different attitude: we were carrying with us the beauty and the fullness of the three days spent in Rimini, our minds still resonating with what we had heard and seen, and our hearts still ablaze for His extraordinary embrace, for His renewed presence. We had with us the flyer "The Forces that Change History Are the Same as Those that Change Man's Heart" (see p. 11), and we were considering reading it to our professors as our Christmas wish. For us, at Bicocca (one of the Universities of Milan), taking a stand in front of our faculty is not something to be taken for granted, given the huge gap between our respective positions. Nevertheless, this did not prevent us from communicating the gladness that defined us, and from witnessing to that "You" that was becoming more and more dominant in our days.
During the pronouncements of the Council members–in the middle of the discussion about department policies, class planning, financing, and reforms–we timidly asked to take the floor and we read an excerpt from the flyer. We were flabbergasted at seeing the whole audience go silent and listen intently, and at hearing the Faculty President thanking us, moved, for the depth of our reflection. Furthermore, we were asked to give copies of the flyer. Given the number of people who were asking for it, we sent it via e-mail to the whole Council; we were filled with awe and gratitude, and we were sure that the flyer could be an opportunity for everyone and a help to live the confusing situation that touches us all. We don't know how the integral text of the flyer–with the reference to the experience we belong to, and to how what we have encountered allows us to be at the university the way we are–affected them. But the reason that we were struck was that what happened was not the result of an ability of ours; it was Another in action. We just followed the impetus that urged us to share with everybody the truth and the beauty that we had experienced.
Greta and Veronica, Milan (Italy)