LETTERS

WHAT DO WE HAVE
TO DEFEND?
Dearest Julián: As I write, I still have in my mind the letter that you wrote to the Fraternity. Because of my doctorate, this year I have been leading sort of a nomadic life, living in Belgium, in Italy, and in the U.S.–where I currently reside. I think of myself as a "bastard" son of the Movement, meaning that I am stubborn and I have a hard time accepting what I can't understand or what sounds like a discourse. This year, I didn't even attend the Fraternity Exercises, because the affirmation that reality is positive sounded like blasphemy from the point of view of the complicated situation that I was going through. In hindsight, I am struck by the mysterious path that has led me to my current level of experience. Lately, the Movement has become truly a decisive factor in my life, even now that, paradoxically, the form of my belonging is radically essential. Where I am now, we have fewer initiatives, compared to Italy; the works of the Movement do not exist, and we do not have any politician to represent us. A few days ago, I talked to my boss–an Evangelical woman–about the Memores Domini. I was moved when she told me: "I would like something like that for myself!" How great it is to find people who are so distant from my experience and yet reasonable to the point of recognizing the truth with simplicity. I had the opportunity to notice another sign of my growing attachment to the Movement a few days ago, when I went to visit Giovanni and Lucia, two newlyweds who live in Indianapolis. I drove about six hours to meet two people I barely knew. There was such truth in the way we spent time together, looking at our lives and at the newness that their marriage had generated, that I came to the conclusion that I would have driven even ten hours just to enjoy their humanity. Despite my above-mentioned nature, these events led me to understand that the proposal of the Fraternity is not limited to meetings with small groups of people, but implies being on a journey with those who are put on a path with you; their faces might be totally new to you, but you are linked to them by a history that goes beyond borders. An example of this is my friend Andrea, who lives in London, with whom I started a fraternal friendship by facing together the challenges of our professional lives, trying to avoid a Manichaean position. Another example is the wonder I feel for the way the Evansville community is growing. Where I live, it takes no time at all for one to realize that the Movement can't be just a social phenomena; it really is the work of Another. What allows a history that began in the fifties in Milan to take root in the deep Midwest, in the Protestant Bible Belt? The vast majority of people here don't know what the Meeting is, nor do they have the faintest idea of what the Movement is in Italy; yet their attachment to the life of the Movement is moving. My friends in Italy are worried about what is happening to the Movement, as if they had to defend our works to avoid the disappearance of CL from history. I tell myself: "What do we have to defend?" Even if we were deprived of all our works, our schools, and our positions, would we be afraid that someone could erase the work of Another, which we are called to participate in, as Pope Benedict XVI told us? The Holy Father showed us the way with the pedophilia issue: if the Truth will set us free, then it is the whole truth that we have to look for, not just what is convenient. The events I have told you about continually give witness to the fact that the only necessary condition is for us to go back to the origin that you recall us to. My conversion started when I began recognizing this very need, without having other people dictate the criteria I had to follow. I don't know where my life will lead me, and after living in so many countries, this has become almost irrelevant; what I am really interested in is having companions on my journey who can help me be true.
Francesco, USA

HIS GAZE OF LOVE
RESTS ON ME
Dearest Fr. Julián: My desire, when my friends and I made the decision to organize the Pittsburgh Encounter, was 1) that I might be able, in some small way, to make a return to the Lord for all the goodness He has shown me through the enormous gift for my life–this beloved charism of ours and 2) that it would be a way for me to love the people among whom Christ has put me. What I discovered, instead, is that Christ used each particular event of the Pittsburgh Encounter, even all the toil that went into it, to embrace me and to allow me to see, ever more clearly, His gaze of love, which rests on me. First, the simple way in which the scientist Massimo Robberto said "yes" to everything we asked of him helped me to just follow him without anxiety over details. He even inspired my ten-year-old daughter, who asked: "If there are these signs everywhere, how do I see them and how do I know for certain what they mean?" He responded to her with exactly the same seriousness as he had with the adults who had asked him questions. This was so striking to me–that a man as learned and important as he is pays such attention to the question of a child seems to me tremendously rare and beautiful. Another friend, Emanuele Colombo, came to help us with the book presentation of Father Giussani's At the Origin of the Christian Claim. Both men, Emanuele and Massimo, embraced our community, engaged with each person they met, and gave their attention to all that we had prepared. Some of the other guest speakers, for both the panel on Blessed John Henry Newman, as well as for the book presentation, had no prior experience of the Movement, and they responded in ways that made us all more fully aware that this new gaze on the world is something truly new and deeply attractive: more than one expressed surprise that non-scholars would take so great an interest in their own specialty fields. And three of them, who had said they would be too busy to do anything but their own presentations, returned for more events later, including on the following day, touring the exhibits as well. One of the guest speakers, when he heard that there was a School of Community that meets in the Cathedral each week, asked, "Do you mean I could come and meet with you again?!" The poetry event was exceptional. Poet and professor Ewa Chrusciel was joined by two other local poets, who each read their poetry. Then there was a soprano and a piano performance of an excerpt from "The Dream of Gerontius," a long poem written by Blessed John Henry Newman that was set to music by Edward Elgar. When the Pittsburgh Encounter was over, my husband Stephen said, "I was moved to see the ways in which so many people in our community committed themselves to the preparation of the exhibits and the panel events and, in doing so, witnessed to me that the way they are–the way they think, interact with others, and present their faith publicly–has been so clearly generated through their faithfulness to this charism." I was also deeply impressed by the CLU students–I was worried about how much time they were taking away from their studies, but each of them described a sense of gratitude for this beautiful shared experience. Following their tours, it was clear that these students had caught "Newman Fever"–one of the guides enthusiastically told his tour: "Newman discovered the same thing that I discovered!" As a GS leader, I focused on the exhibit they chose to be tour guides of–"The Earth: A Human Habitat." These kids began to love one another and to love reality itself more as they stayed with this particular work. In the end, only five of the kids stuck with the work, but among these there was a new unity–and an integrity in the way in which they face the world. I have no idea what other fruit this will bring for us as we move forward, but I feel deeply blessed to have been able to witness the transformations taking place among so many.
Suzanne Lewis, Steubenville (USA)

I AM PART OF THE
HISTORY OF THE CHURCH
Last Wednesday, while waiting for friends to leave School of Community, I read the letter that Father Carrón sent to the Fraternity. When I got to the third paragraph–"It is moving to see that an institution like the Church, with 2,000 years of history behind it, is still free to challenge itself. So much so that one of the topics most often addressed in the Synod Hall was related to the need for conversion"–I was moved by the realization that the history of the Church includes me, with all the years I lived with the grace of the charism of the Movement, which still today allows me to challenge myself, to never surrender, and to feel my urgent desire for life. When I left School of Community, I was different, happier. That was a sign that, once more, I had challenged myself, a sign that I was alive, and that the need that I had for God was not buried under the pain that I felt and that often made me see black everywhere (I suffer from a muscle-skeletal disease). The more this pain grabs me, the more I need God. I need all the witnesses I find along the way (those I read about and those that play out in front of my eyes) in order to breathe. I ask relentlessly to be able to see this spectacle, and the pain of my disease has become instrumental for me to say–and maybe understand a little–what Father Giussani used to repeat: "Were I not Yours, my Christ, I would feel a finite creature" (Saint Gregory Nazianzen). And again: "In the simplicity of my heart, I have gladly given you everything."
Maria Angela, Italy

AT THE BEGINNING DAY
LIFE STARTS ANEW
Dear Fr. Carrón: Over the summer, my life started anew, as though my eyes were shut and now they are finally open. I experienced a joy and a certainty that I thought I had, but I didn't. For the past 12 years, my brother and I have been taking care of my sick mother. What I do is easy, since I love her, but at the same time it is difficult because, on top of having to see her suffer, this circumstance has not allowed me to do many things I wanted to do. Throughout all these difficult years, we have been always accompanied by our friends. When my mother first became ill, they hung up a small picture in her room, with this sentence: "Trying to imagine how things should be annihilates experience." This sentence kept me company throughout the years. I always tried–and often failed–to keep in mind the importance of looking at what I have, what the Lord gives me every day. With the passing of time, I became less and less committed to doing this. I just grew accustomed to my life. During Beginning Day, I heard that the circumstances are an essential factor of our vocation. When I heard these words, I felt I was alone with my mother in her room. It felt like an earthquake. I understood in a totally new way that my relationship with God starts from what happens to me every day, instead of from a more or less remote plan that He has for me. I have to commit to what is present. Knowing that I can answer His call now gives me such gladness! This discovery has given a new appeal to all my circumstances and has made me interested in everything. I began this new year with more joy, and I am more and more the protagonist of my own life. I still make mistakes and I often fail, but I know that all my flaws and limitations are not enough to take away my relationship with the Father, who values and uses my shortcomings to make me become a saint. I am thankful for your fatherhood and for the company that the Movement is for me.
Luís

A SILENCE FILLED WITH WONDER
I attended the funeral Mass of the uncle of my schoolmate, Lodovica. My GS [StudentYouth] responsible suggested I sing at the ceremony. When the time came, I felt I had been crazy to accept. Much to my surprise, when I began to sing, the chatter that had accompanied the ceremony up to that point stopped. I realized that the whole congregation was looking at me in silence. It was the same silence Fr. Carrón talked about: "Christian silence springs from wonder at seeing Christ at work. It's not an empty silence, but it is a silence filled with His presence." After the funeral, I received a message from Lodovica: "You moved everybody. It was a moment of immense truth." A few weeks later, Lodovica gave me a note on behalf of her relatives: "We want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your deep participation in our great sorrow and for the moving song with which you helped us say good-bye to our dear Paolo." Clearly it wasn't my ability as a singer that was so moving, because good technique is not enough to strike people that much and produce such an intense silence. I recognize that I was the instrument of something much greater that happened and filled that silence.
Maddalena, Busto Arsizio (Italy)

"NOW I UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS TO GIVE MY LIFE"
Tim and I were blessed with six children. Through three of the pregnancies, I was bedridden. During those times, our friends cooked our meals, cleaned our house, and took care of us. It was really difficult for me to receive this help, but it was through these pregnancies that I "gave my life to the Lord." These pregnancies were 20, 19, and 18 years ago. Had we not had these babies, I might have missed my calling to truly accept Him. I continue to say "yes" to Christ on a daily basis. Some days are easier than others. During the recent run-up to the presidential election, the candidates were asked the question, "When do you believe abortion should be allowed?" Some answered, "Only in the case of rape, incest, or the endangerment of the life of the mother." At our house, we believe it should never be allowed. I did not know then that "...or the endangerment of the life of the mother" would smack me in the face. Some days ago, I stood at the end of our pregnant daughter Kati's hospital bed as the oncologist explained the possible outcomes of her recently diagnosed cancer. She explained that if the pregnancy was terminated, Kati's chance of survival was very great. Kati quickly responded, "No." I asked Kati if she was willing to die for her baby. She said she was. I said, "What if I am not ready to give you up?" In a weak moment, I told Kati we should get all the facts. I asked her if she thought the baby would suffer more through an abortion or by dying slowly through chemo or radiation. She said, "Mom, God can take the baby's life, not me." I looked at her and said the hardest words I have every spoken when I told her I supported her decision. That moment was amazing and humbling for me. Even though I know Kati really belongs to Christ, my motherly instinct wanted to claim them as my own possessions. So, maybe, I now fully understand what it means to "give my life to the Lord."
Ann, St. Cloud (USA)

THE FIRST FRATERNITY EXERCISES
On the weekend of the 13th of October, the Queensland community held a retreat to follow the lessons given to the Fraternity by Father Carrón last April in Italy. We met at the beautiful Marian Valley monastery in the mountains overlooking the Gold Coast, near Brisbane. The nine of us divided into two groups and watched the lessons in English or Italian. My strongest memory of the weekend was the phrase: "All certainties are born of wonder." The wonder of finding myself amongst old friends (two months ago I changed jobs and no longer live in Queensland), and the beauty and peace of this hermitage, and the witnesses given during our assemblies were all evidence of this certainty. John, the Movement's leader in Australia, who came all the way from Perth, told us of a meeting he had with Fr. Giussani years ago in which John presented to him a group photo of members of the Movement in Australia. After long minutes of staring at the photo, Fr. Giussani looked up and said: "This is a new beginning." Often we Australians feel distant from the heart of the community; it's often easy to forget that wonder is a sign of Christ's presence. I want to thank my Brisbane friends and my friends in Italy who patiently invite me to their Schools of Community via Skype, for continuing to amaze me with their witnessing, which brings certainty to my own faith.
Brian, Newcastle, NSW (Australia)

THE VALUE OF MONEY. Dearest Father Carrón: I am the mother of three small children, and I haven't contributed to the Common Fund for a long time. Talking with some friends, we noticed our difficulty in having a "good" relationship with money, one of gratitude for whatever money we have–a lot or a little. Reflecting on how to educate my children and how to give money its right value, I asked myself: "What educates me?" For the first time, I felt a deep need to contribute to the Common Fund. When I arrived home, I made all the payments that I had skipped.
Name withheld