LETTERS

Fraternity Exercises:
A loving correspondence
Dearest Fr. Julián, dearest irreducible friend: How beautiful it is to go back home, to go back to work after these three days spent at the Fraternity Exercises. The evidence of His loving Presence has overcome all of my limitations and my pretense of “already knowing it all.” My heart has once again welcomed Him Who gives it peace, and this has brought about enthusiasm for life in the place of anxiety, haste, and the subsequent desire for easy fixes. Through you, and all the people who bear witness to the evidence of His presence, for the first time I have seen Christ in love with me. When I will betray Him, He will welcome me as He has always done for the past, wonderful, 52 years. I want to share with you the wonder I feel at being in love with Christ, and at being happily reciprocated.
Marco, Milan (Italy)

“you are the sign of the Communion of saints”
Dear Fr. Carrón: My wife Annunciata, mother to Giuditta, Susanna, Giovanna, and Emanuela, is in Heaven. She went back to the Father on the Monday of Holy Week, while she was uttering a prayer: “Oh Jesus, stay with us forever.” I want you to know that I am well, and my girls are well, too; we have been flooded with peace, serenity, and certainty. Some say it’s a matter of personality; they say that I am strong, and that I am teaching a life lesson. I only talk about good things, and I am certain that Annunciata is both with us and in Heaven. I think–and I tell everybody–that statements like: “My condolences,” “She was so young! Poor girls! How unfair,” or “Hang in there...” are nonsense. The only thing that is crystal clear is that I am well, and that I don’t feel a knot in my stomach anymore–and you can’t get rid of that knot with willpower. You told me that the only regret is not to be able to go with her, and that the most important thing is to say “yes” like Mary. I did it, and I am well. I have always kept in mind the quote by Alexis Carrel: “[F]ew observations and much discussion are conducive to error: much observation and little discussion to truth.” I have always believed that our life is eternal, and that we are simply living a particular part of it–our earthly existence–within the constraints of time. Our life is eternal; we just need to say “yes” like Mary, and like Annunciata. Saying “yes” is tantamount to always remembering this: “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as You will” (Matthew 26, 39). Those who are patient and those who belong to Christ are my companions in front of every circumstance that He gives me. The specific weight of the prayer of the Christian people–the living–is more real than the “heaviest” circumstance that one could even imagine. I am well, my daughters are well, and, rationally, I can’t give any explanation more logical than this: the education that I have received in the Movement allowed us to meet the all-encompassing meaning of existence. I said “yes” to what I hold most dear, and what I hold most dear has filled me with grace–I know now that even the small things of life are grace. It’s impossible to accept His will only on account of reasoning; the Event can’t be explained. I simply see that it exists, and this is real. I am well thanks to all of you, who are a concrete sign of the Communion of Saints.
Marco, Milan (Italy)

That plaque on
the landing
Dear Fr. Carrón: I am writing to tell you about an event that has changed my life over the past two years. I left the Movement when I was at the University, 17 years ago, for a number of reasons. Among other things that stayed alive in me was the memory of the encounter with a man who left a mark on my life, Enzo Piccinini. We met just a few times, but he always managed to catch me off guard and to make me feel 100% human. Then came the break with the Movement. Years went by, and I got married. I became the father of two magnificent children. Later on, one of the two underwent some routine tests, and was diagnosed with renal hypoplasia (a serious kidney malformation). At the beginning, that diagnosis tore to pieces the reality I was used to, forcing me into a situation that I didn’t want to be in. I remember I feared my life would become unbearable and meaningless. In the course of one year, we went to Padua three times to see the “best doctor on the market.” The second time, we went one day before the visit, and my family and I ended up spending the night in a house of the Cilla Foundation (which offers hospitality to families of sick people). There, during dinner, I had the opportunity to compare notes on many problems, and to understand–not through words, but just looking into each other’s eyes–that all of us there had questions about the future and about the reason we were there. That strange familiarity gave flavor and taste to an improvised dinner, which we threw together with a few items bought at the local supermarket. The following day, on the landing outside the apartment, my wife pointed out a plaque with a notation: “Enzo Piccinini.” I had talked to her a lot about him. From that moment on, I felt embraced within the circumstance that I was given to live–which was so uncomfortable and seemingly meaningless. I started boldly tracking down my Movement friends from of old. I started desiring for my family and for myself a true and authentic meaning for our lives. The alternative was trying to escape the unbearable and incomprehensible reality of that situation. The encounter with my long-lost friends took place during one of your videoconferences, and went past my limitations, that is, me being a person who not only nobody had seen for a long time, but who is not even that likable, who doesn’t like soccer and only talks about work. Imagine how uncomfortable I felt that night! Much to my surprise, our encounter was intense and, in a way, moving; I was surprised by their gaze, words, and embraces even though nobody knew why I was there or the story I was carrying with me. One can’t be left indifferent by something like that. Right now, the most incumbent risk is for everything that happened to remain simply a nice memory. I understand that to keep it alive I only have to hold on for dear life to a companionship that always looks for the authentic meaning of existence; a companionship that lives reality as the positive hypothesis for one’s life. I now know for certain that I can’t keep running away from an uncomfortable circumstance; I have to try to look into it and live it as a positive opportunity for change.
Mirco, Ancona (Italy)

Jérôme Lejeune:
Among Friends
The diocesan stage of the process of beatification of Professor Jérôme Lejeune was concluded with a Mass at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris on April 11th. I had the chance to be there. The ceremony was really moving. The church was full, and everybody was participating with faith, singing and praying in unity. We were really one body. I was sitting in a pew next to the Lejeune Family with some of my friends from the U.S. Lejeune Foundation. Several children with Down Syndrome assisted during the Mass: they read the petitions; some of them were Lejeune’s patients, and they came from all over Europe. When Jérôme’s wife Birthe Lejeune invited me to be present at this ceremony, she told me: “You and your friends of Communion and Liberation have to be the first to know about this ceremony and I invite you and all your friends to come. The Lejeune Foundation and CL are one thing.” So with this in mind, I started to invite people, especially from Italy, to attend the ceremony. Some of them answered right away and came with great enthusiasm. For example, an Italian priest friend asked the Lejeune family if he could concelebrate the Mass with the other 20 priests. He came from Italy with some friends and one of them was a lady in a wheelchair, with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), who came to ask Dr. Lejeune to intercede for a miraculous cure. When I met her, I discovered that she is a friend of mine from my university years; it was a particular grace for me to witness her great faith. I had asked the Lejeune family if she could sit in front in the church and they answered in a moving way: “The poor (in Spirit) have to go in front!” Then, my invitation was also accepted by 20 students from the University of Bologna Medical School. They came for the Mass because they were moved and attracted by the legacy of Dr. Lejeune as a man and as a scientist. They want to continue his work in the future. After the ceremony at Notre Dame, I was invited and I had the chance to invite all these people to the reception at Collège des Bernardins, a former Cistercian abbey. Again, beauty prevailed in this moment too! The spectacular witness of different people, several with handicaps, gathering together and serving food and drinks in the splendor of the abbey could only come from a living Presence. Lejeune was again a sign of life. Everything that day was an event!
Ombretta Salvucci,
Washington, DC (USA)

The Crisis and the Common Fund
Dear Fr. Julián: My company is in a state of deep crisis. I have been compelled, much to my displeasure, to let people go. I have been struggling with this, to the point of losing sleep. Yet, the past three years have been very beautiful, and I don’t have a single regret–with God’s help we have been able to build a lot. Your judgment and your friendship accompanied me in a vital way. Precisely for this reason, I have been forced to reduce, but not cancel, the amount of my Common Fund contribution, because I need this simple way to remember that which is essential and truly makes my life grow. My wife and I decided that she would keep the amount of her contribution unchanged, because (thank God) she still has a paycheck; for this too, we are grateful to the Mystery, in these times when nothing can be taken for granted.
Giuseppe

“I guessed you were like a fraternity”
As soon as Spring arrived, we started using the garden of our new house. A few days ago, we ran into one of our neighbors, who asked, “Do you say morning prayer?” We pray at 7:00 am, and I asked her if we were disturbing her. She said no, and added that she herself says morning prayer, and that we usually started singing right after she was done reading. From the beginning, she had been moved by this continuity between us, flowing like the vital lymph of the Church. Later on, she asked a few questions about us. Gabriella and I answered in a few words: “We are Memores Domini.” She continued: “I guessed you were something like a fraternity, right from the moment you moved in, but I couldn’t understand exactly who you were. I talked about you to a friend of mine, and she told me that most probably yours was a Memores Domini house, of the Communion and Liberation Movement.” She introduced us to her daughter Sara, who is 12, and then we parted. A few days later, the assistant pastor came to bless our house. He was very well informed about us, because our neighbor Emilia had already talked to him about her gratitude for us, about the beauty of our presence, and the consolation that she found in being able to see us. Yesterday afternoon, Emilia sent over Sara with a potted plant, accompanied by this note: “This is to welcome each and all of you as a fraternity! With the sincere wish that the Lord may fill the life of your community with His peace. I personally see your arrival as a privilege, a gift, and one more sign of the presence of His reign here and now. It’s really beautiful when, every day, as we recite morning prayer, we ‘pass the baton’ of prayer to each other. It is beautiful to imagine this process as it continues through time and space, giving rise to a never-ending praise. In communion of prayer, Emilia.”
Debora, Florence (Italy)

The witness of a new humanity. I simply want to say that Traces is a miracle; a preferred tool of the relationship that Christ establishes with me. It’s so easy for me to reduce myself to my circumstances, and to my abilities (with the disillusionment that ensues). Yet, when Traces brings me the witnesses of people I am able, once again, to see the true stature of my humanity, and the kind of life that corresponds to the breadth of my desire. Then I feel full of gratitude toward Christ, Who has given me easy access to this new life.
Sebastian, Rochester (USA)

Under the dirt and tattoos, the need to be loved like a child
Before I had even met him I knew that I despised him, yet another specimen of the modern plague: the injection drug addict. When I took over the emergency on-call duties for our orthopedic surgery unit, I became responsible for his treatment. He was young, dirty, tattooed, and had stuck a used needle into his elbow joint. The joint had filled up with pus that had to be drained before blood poisoning set in. I avoided looking him in the face and as soon as he was asleep I rapidly cleaned and draped the swollen and infected elbow. Meanwhile, our young anesthesiologist appeared so happy as she explained to her assistant how she balanced breast feeding her baby with work. I wasn’t paying much attention but still managed to be amazed at how she did it. With her eyes still smiling above her mask, our anesthesiologist pointed out that this young infected man, apparently handsome, under the dirt, had once also been breast-fed while in the arms of his mother. I was suddenly struck: she knew that this drug addict had needed and deserved to be loved as a baby ... and even more so now. Who was I to think that he was unworthy of being loved? I was loved before I deserved it. So how could I despise him? Was he not Jesus suffering right in front of me? I thought I knew so much about drug addiction, until a friendly encounter made me look deeper and see the reality of a needy human being: a man overboard in need of rescue. I performed the operation well, not only for my patient’s sake, but also for mine, and I was happy to have been reminded once again of my vocation. When all the pus was drained, my patient was still an addict but I now know that the last word has not been spoken on his life.
Nicholas, Canada