THE FACTs ANSWER

The things I learned preparing my talk for the Meeting
My dilemma was: writing or extemporizing it? The Meeting’s Keynote speech was born following some facts...

Something strange and unexpected emerged from my talk at the Meeting of Rimini, a question about the meaning of what we think of as our “method” in approaching something–in my case, a speech.
When I speak in public nowadays, I rarely use a prepared script, having discovered a long time ago that a script kills spontaneity and limits the possibility of an Event. Usually I speak from a particular starting-point and follow what emerges. Still, because of the importance and pressure of the occasion, it seemed impossible that I could risk having no formal preparation.
For several months, I wrestled with this dilemma. Then, out of the blue, I was invited to speak in Bari, Italy, in May, on a similar theme to the Meeting: “The Emergency of Man.” I decided that in Bari I would follow my usual method and see what happened. It turned out to be an incredible night because my translator Letizia Bardazzi was naturally a little nervous of my unpredictable approach to public speaking and forced me to change it a little. Instead of me speaking and Letizia translating, we ended up having a conversation. That evening was a bigger surprise for me than for anyone else, because, in answering Letizia’s questions, I found myself saying things I’d never thought of before. Someone had left a mobile phone on our table as we were speaking, to record the event, and afterwards I asked him to send me the recording. Later, I transcribed this and used it as the basis of my speech for Rimini. So, in a sense, I had achieved something of the requirement for spontaneity. My draft script was about 10,000 words–already too much. Still, throughout the summer, I found myself adding to it, developing some of the points that had emerged in Bari. Eventually, it grew to 25,000 words–enough to keep me speaking for about four hours instead of the 45 minutes they told me I should aim for. 
I’m the worst editor in the world. Whenever I try to cut something I’ve written, it grows and grows. So I decided a different method was called for. 
I decided to write down, without looking again at my draft, all the points I remembered most strongly–the things that most stuck me from my own speech. This reduced the script to about half its length and from there I was able to cut it gradually back to an acceptable size. The things I remembered, of course, were mainly the stories I told, which ended up being the greater part of my speech.  This tends to be the case with a spontaneous speech, but less so with one that is written, where there is always a strong impulse to elaborate and explain.
Afterwards, a thought occurred to me:  My speech followed mainly the inspirational guidance of Pope Benedict XVI–especially his “bunker” speech of 2011–but had actually unconsciously adopted the presentational method of Pope Francis, which is based on telling stories and painting pictures. It struck me then that this is one of the things this moment of change seems to be calling on us to do: to simplify and tender more comprehensible the thoughts bequeathed us by Giussani and Benedict and many others. 
And a further thought occurred: that this arose not out of any “method” of mine, but from the circumstances I was required to follow in preparing to give my speech to the Meeting. I stepped aside from my task to let the Mystery enter, and so was as much a spectator as anyone else present.