01-12-2013 - Traces, n. 11

LETTERS

That day in Naples,
everything changed
Dear Father Carrón: A month ago, I came in contact with the Movement, by pure chance and far away from home. I live near Turin, but I was in Naples for work when I met a policeman at the train station who, with simple words, challenged me and changed my life. He talked to me about his experience with Christianity, and invited me to Beginning Day. Back in Turin, I started looking for a CL contact, and actually attended Beginning Day. My life was turned upside-down: what you said really touched me, and I recognized myself in more than one passage of your speech. During the following weeks, I visited the CL office in Turin; they put me in touch with the group closest to where I live, and I started attending School of Community. I began a journey that has healed the spiritual wounds linked to the genetic disease that afflicts both my daughter and my husband, which led me to abandon my faith. I shared the news of the joy that has overtaken me since September 28th with all those who are dear to me: my husband and daughter, my parents and friends, and my psychologist. My best friends, two women, reacted with a lot of skepticism–especially the one who has a real aversion toward CL, due to relationships with people she knew in the past, whom she defined as “extremists.” I told her that I am meeting people and reading books and articles to understand more about CL. My friend thinks that this is just a subterfuge to avoid making any drastic decision regarding my marriage, as if the Movement were a surrogate for what I am lacking in my life. Even if she was right, and this new path I started allowed me to stay married, why shouldn’t I go for it? Why should I draw a line just out of ignorance? I didn’t fly off the handle for her remarks because I am the only one who knows how I feel. I am the only one who knows what happened within me, and what touched me; I don’t care if the whole world is against me, even if objections and criticism come from somebody I care for. I am certain of what I started. We often don’t need words to defend what we belong to; we just need to live that belonging and pray. I am certain that nourishing this experience day by day makes me happy. If this means I am an extremist (as my friend told me), so be it. There has to be a reason for what my friends believe about CL, and I am sure the truth will become evident if I entrust myself to God in prayer.
Giustina, Italy

More familiar with
His Irresistible Presence Dear friends: I can’t keep letting events in my life happen without bearing witness to the facts that I perceive to be changing me. The most recent and clear evidence was at the National Equipe this year in Rochester, MN, a meeting of CL responsibles from around the country. The Gospels witness how Jesus looked upon certain individuals with an overwhelming, disarming love (Zacchaeus, the woman at the well, the blind man, the Roman centurion, etc.). Fr. José invited us to attend, “What I Have Seen and Heard,” a choral concert recalling St. John’s notes from Jesus’ ministry, composed by our dear friend Sebastian Modarelli to celebrate the 150th anniversary of St. John the Evangelist parish. A brilliantly clever dialogue emerged between the masterful musical score Sebastian composed and the words of St. John’s Gospel, which always reveal the truth of my own life.  The unity of the two moved many of us to tears of joy and gratitude! I was amazed to meet those present that weekend, the ones “mad enough” to bear powerful witness to their friendships with Christ. The events of those days leave me in wonder like the disciples on the road to Emmaus: “Was not my heart burning within me” more passionately than usual those two days? What happened to me there and to whom do we belong that we were given something so beautiful? Moreover, what remains after these important and beautiful moments in our life pass? My whole spirit and heart were reclaimed and animated by something so evidently good and real that I can only say it is given by God’s mysterious presence among us. As a new friend pointed out to me after the concert, “When reality unveils to us its truth (and this is what beauty does), we realize that we have become friends.” I beg to learn to continue to carry this beauty now. Though I came home with a deep sense of calm, I also discovered with urgency that we in the Church are living the Gospels together. Let’s encourage one another to bear witness to these events that elucidate Christ’s presence for us.  My prayer is that we may become more familiar with how He accompanies us now, as for Mary Magdalene the identity of the tomb’s “gardener” became transparent, so that the features of His face may become more and more discernible and irresistible to us.
Juliet Joly, Rockville, MD (USA)

Searching for that
something that moves me
About one year ago, I started going to charitable work–and later to the “raggio” (a GS weekly meeting)–without knowing what to expect, and without giving it too much thought. It was just a pastime, with the added bonus of helping others. With the passing of time, I got more involved and enthusiastic about charitable work, trying to give my best to the people I was meeting on those occasions. Yet, I still didn’t quite know the reason for my being there, and I didn’t fully realize how great those moments were. Finally, one day, a friend with whom I did charitable work, noticing my enthusiasm, asked me to try to understand what gave me so much energy and excitement in facing those elderly people, eagerly waiting for us every Saturday. His request threw me off a little, because I didn’t think I could find a better reason for charitable work, other than doing something good for people in need, alongside my friends. In an attempt to find an answer, I started looking carefully at what I was doing, focusing on what happened inside of me. I realized that something else was spurring me on. What I do every Saturday is greater and deeper than I thought: it is an adventure, a way to challenge myself that allows me to see the goodness surrounding me and the love that drives me. It helps me understand that I don’t live in vain, and that I want to follow this path I am on toward something greater, toward that which really moves me. Indeed, if this something greater did not exist, even the most beautiful experience would become boring. On the contrary, I am here, eager to embark on this journey, facing every Saturday as if it was the first, learning something new every time, and every time feeling the urgency to find that deeper and truer something.
Aura, Italy

“During my charitable
work I met the good thief”
Dear Father Carrón: I met the good thief; his name is Loris. I met him when he was an inmate in San Vittore (a correctional facility in Milan), where I went, and still go, for my charitable work. He was a difficult man to deal with, always angry at his relatives, at his situation, and even at us. Later, his sentence was suspended because of health reasons, and he returned to his hometown. I talked to him many times in the past months, and every time he endlessly complained about something–mostly about the few relatives he still had. A few months ago, I went to visit him and I met these relatives. Later that day, still angry, he told me, “It was hard for me to keep my cool. There was a time when they all respected me, because they were afraid of me; they use to call me the jailhouse terror.” “And now?” “Now I have changed, because I have met you.” “But we never tried to give you a moral lesson. I guess that if you–the jailhouse terror–have changed just by looking at the way we lived, in turn, you can change your relatives by showing them how you live now.” As a matter of fact, during the following phone calls he started complaining less and less. He began reading the missal that a friend had given him. Last week, his condition worsened and he was hospitalized. Sunday, after receiving last rites, he summoned all his relatives and asked for forgiveness for living most of his life as a criminal. He asked for forgiveness for his mistakes from people who had always been mean to him! Loris died serenely. Half an hour later, I went to Mass to pray for him. All of a sudden, I realized I was praying to him, since I was certain he was already in heaven. Full of joy, I thanked the Lord for having given me the possibility to have had Loris as a friend. Then and there, I understood the meaning of what I had told the San Vittore inmates about the saints (while explaining the exhibit about the Milan Cathedral)–that is, that anybody can build a cathedral, and anybody can become a saint. Holiness is not something for those who never make mistakes. Holiness is for those who, maybe just with their last breath, recognize that God is their only salvation. As the Holy Father told us, “When they recognized God’s love, they followed it with all their heart without reserve or hypocrisy. Being holy is not a privilege for the few. Holiness is a vocation for everyone.”
Emanuele, Italy

Reading the Biography of FR. Giussani
Dear Fr. Carrón: I am (slowly) reading the biography of Father Giussani and have been struck by his intense involvement with his students–on so many levels. He always saw them in their destiny. He always kept his “eyes on the prize.” Discussing this with Salvatore, Daniele and Francesco–Memores Domini friends also in the midst of reading the biography–we find ourselves inspired to go out to the young people around us with the same intensity. This was then affirmed for me at the  Fraternity Advent Retreat. Fr. Michael called us to be an original presence, not a theory or a knowledge or a doctrine, but persons who are alive and returning the gaze of Christ. “The world is waiting for other Giussani’s!” he said. This struck me in the deepest part of my heart, this shook my soul and tears welled up from somewhere in me I have not been for a long time. To be an “other Giussani” is exactly what I have been feeling as I have been encountering Fr. Giussani through the biography, but have not been able to express. I beg to be able to bring his original presence to those I encounter.
Jerry, Wichita, KS (USA)

“my faith and that special meeting with the Archbishop”
Even if 1,500 students go to Catholic schools all their lives, it does not automatically mean they know their faith. I have learned in the Movement over the years that it is not automatic for me either. Nonetheless, I always feel I need to do something more. In August, when I had the chance to meet  the Archbishop of Toronto, Cardinal Thomas Collins, I invited him to my school to share his experience in this great city. My first step was to understand why I wanted him to come. Was it for the students, was it for me, or  was it for him? The risk was making it an insincere move. I decided to go ahead with it and asked the school and my friends to participate. It was only after that I understood why it happened. Several students I teach, who do charitable work with me, and who are on my soccer team told me after that they expected some “crusty” person preaching to them. Instead, they were touched by the experience. It was clear to me how little we know the Catholic Church. We are so mesmerized by the mass media and a busy life that we do not see what is in front of us. I have been with the Movement for so many years but still I need to learn many things. I needed the Cardinal to come to help me and I left the  Mass and talk with the students much happier about what I do at work. I had to leave it in the hands of Christ and it was much better for me, instead of orchestrating it like I usually do. I hope that it was not a one-time thing but that we will continue to grow in our faith.
Daniel Mammarella, Toronto (Canada)

Talking about catechism on the  train
I was riding the train with my usual crowd of commuters, when one of them shared a concern with the group: her daughter wants to attend catechism and receive First Communion, and her pastor told her that she needs to bring him the girl’s Baptism certificate. The girl does not know that she is not baptized; my fellow commuter and her partner are not married and don’t want to waste money on a useless celebration (even though they do not have financial problems). The girl’s grandparents have been repeatedly asking for the girl to be baptized, but my friend and her partner don’t share the same desire. A lively discussion ensued, and here is a synthesis of the proposals: “Bring a phony certificate.” “Don’t sweat it. Let her be baptized; it doesn’t matter anyways.” “Do it for the grandparents, and have them pay for it.” “Come on, the grandparents deserve to be granted their wish.”  Then they all turned to me, waiting for my suggestion (in their minds, I am the “churchgoer”). I asked her, “Do you love your daughter? You said you did not have her baptized because you wanted her to make that decision for herself. Well, she did. Go to the priest and tell him that the girl is not baptized because you don’t believe in it, but now she wants to attend catechism and receive Communion.” She was a little taken aback. She realized that her idea of a self-sufficient, atheist, and responsible daughter had crumbled in the face of her child’s “small” request. She found herself compelled to face a scenario she had not foreseen or, better, one she thought would not be an option. I said a prayer for that child and for the Pope, just like Carrón encouraged us to do, because simplicity allows us to reach the heart of reality. I realized that in that very moment I was seen, and then I saw.
Stefano, Italy

From Billboards to a dialogue with non-believers
When “Don’t believe in God? Join the Club!” billboards sprang up around town, I felt invited. I put this editorial in the Sioux Falls Argus-Leader, in the hopes of opening up a local dialogue: “Those who put up the billboards must want to be happy, free, true, beautiful–like I do. I marvel that this human search can’t ignore the question of God, of faith. Daily life keeps asking, ‘Do you believe…?’ In The Count of Monte Cristo, a priest lies dying in a prison cell. When the priest mentions God, his cellmate reminds him, ‘But Father, you know I don’t believe in God.’ Unfazed, the man of God answers, ‘It doesn’t matter. He believes in you.’ Could our existence be a sign that someone really big believes in us? Do we experience that? Once I was praying, wrestling with God like Jacob in the Book of Genesis. It seemed God wanted to destroy me–or my idea of myself.  Then a thought came: ‘Maybe God is different from your idea of Him. Maybe you’re different from your idea of yourself, too.’ What freedom!  What possibility! Could this be what ‘Mystery’ is–there is more to reality than we think? I was helped by reading recently that Pope Francis and Italian journalist Eugenio Scalfari, an atheist, exchanged letters remarkable for their mutual respect. The Holy Father quoted his encyclical Lumen Fidei (The Light of Faith): ‘One who believes may not be presumptuous; on the contrary, truth leads to humility, since believers know that, rather than ourselves possessing truth, it is truth which embraces and possesses us. Far from making us inflexible, the security of faith sets us on a journey; it enables witness and dialogue with all.’ Then he adds, to Scalfari, ‘This is the spirit in which I am writing to you.’”
Fr. Jim Zimmer, Sioux Falls, SD (USA)