Carate Brianza Works An Unimaginable Passion to Educate The Piazza of Arts and Trades is a professional school, born of a work begun by Emilia Vergani, which seeks to guide young people into the world of work, but most of all, to love them by Emiliano Ronzoni Here we are, on a mid-November evening, at the conclusion of a journey, begun who knows when and where, certainly not in the mind of man, a journey that followed unforeseeable and unimaginable roads, and undesirable ones too, like that of Emilia’s death–undesirable, but it happened. We are here because everything that surrounds Emilia’s work has become a school as well for the people–the friends; the young people met, whacked directly as with a line drive or picked up like so many tennis balls on the sidelines; the teachers; the project directors; the young factotum presidents; and those who do nothing, but always give advice because they’re Emilia’s friends, so everything’s a bit theirs too. It’s all become a professional school in Carate, Italy, “The Piazza of Arts and Trades” and it’s a big step; demanding too. Five hundred people attended the annual assembly of the Companionship of Works of Monza and Brianza, when The Piazza of Arts and Trades was introduced and inaugurated. The tiniest details The party is lovely. Everything has been attended to, down to the tiniest details–the abandoned warehouse has been set up by Giorgio (who does this for a living), the dinner, the subdued lighting, the elegant tables, and the presentation explaining the new school to visitors, illustrating its classrooms, laboratories, recreation areas, and meeting rooms. The adults involved in the work are here, ready to meet the guests, to chat, to explain, to recount, because it’s important to make the school known, since there is good here, and it’s worthwhile. Two art– and poetry–loving friends give a beautiful presentation with words and images explaining Fr Giussani’s sentence, taken as the theme for the evening: “In fact, from the passion for Christ, what immediately followed, so to speak, almost burning the earth from which it first flowered, was the passion for men….” It’s even beautiful that after hours and hours of work, just as it’s time to begin the meal, the computer program to assign seating for dinner crashes, and so people choose places out of friendship, or elective affinity, or catch as catch can, and, really, this is better, because new encounters happen this way. Before the evening But more beautiful, by far, is everything that came before the evening. For someone who happened to be part of everything that comes forth from Emilia’s work, what’s beautiful is catching a word, even a reproof, to a kid who’s lazy, or unruly, or rebellious. It’s foster care at home. It’s “being,” that bit by bit comes about, fills up, swells, reveals itself. It’s the entrepreneur who surprises you because he’s quicker than you and you can’t keep up with him. It’s the young president who goes ahead, and gives in, and gets angry, and puts his signature on expenses for hundreds of thousands of euros, and goes on, and goes on, and is supported by a friendship, so that what you see before(and even more than) what’s being built–the classrooms, laboratories, or the instruments–is the growth of his person. What’s beautiful is Emilia’s young friend, who now won’t miss even one outing with his new university student friends and who, when he meets you or addresses you, always begins with “Mr” or “Ms”–“Good morning, Ms Angela.” “What can I do for you, Mr Jacopo?”–because, thanks be to God, he is still humble, and hasn’t taken on the attitude of a boss. Franca, the school director, is called to the stage. The emcee wants to be gracious and introduce her pleasantly, but she makes it clear that she has something to say, and wants terribly to say it, and definitely has to say it: “To the many businessmen here, I want to say that you need to be fathers anew, fathers of these kids, and take them, and love them like children, and correct them, and in the face of any failure or prank, offer them the shore of your own person. Otherwise, you are and you’ll remain merely bosses.” Franca, who’s worked 30 years in the school system, realizes that it’s hard, that there’s still a great deal to learn, she who thought she knew everything there is to know about school, but, instead, the reality that happens is always more than the reality you imagined, and it’s even more than the reality you desired. A lot going on It’s beautiful to see “being” come about, to see it win and impose itself, as in Fr Giussani’s sentence that’s inscribed in our hearts by now, that Christ is something entirely different from everything, and that He makes the difference that “you wouldn’t think possible.” Today, the newborn school is the latest arrival in a series of activities that have sprung up around Emilia’s work. There’s a club led by adults. There’s always charitable work with its good volunteers. There’s an association that offers courses, orientation, and introduces young people to the world of work. There are businessmen who host them. There’s a cooperative that offers work. There’s a foundation that raises funds and finds, acquires, and manages spaces. There’s the activity of the Companionship of Works that, in effect, has the “Emilia Vergani” trademark stamped on its forehead. There’s a whole lot going on. Also, the more you go on, the more you realize how little you knew that woman, Emilia. Yeah, okay, you heard that she brought home some troublesome kids, but what do you expect from a social worker? It was her job, and once she encountered a need, what was she going to do, leave the kid on the street? Yeah, it’s true, she didn’t just bring them home, she also took them as her foster kids. Yeah, it’s true, she looked for businessmen to give them work, and she looked for friends who could help her look. She looked, and looked, but who could have imagined? Who could have understood? Who knows if it was a plan? Or maybe it was only obedience. What’s evident, what’s certain, what’s clearly revealed now, is that she sure was tenacious. We’re amazed as we look at the walls, the kids, the adults, the young people, and the little ones. Here, in Carate, Italy, it’s gelling; it’s coming together–a catholicity that posits the difference that “you wouldn’t think possible.” And we’re experiencing it. And then, for the future, we’ll see. The Need to Be Loved Emilia Vergani died on October 29, 2000, in a car crash in Paraguay. InPresa is a work she gave life to. The Piazza of Arts and Trades grew from that experience. We offer here a quote from her journal What I am, my value for others, my greatness is not a donation of someone, who like me is a finite creature, full of limits and meanness, but my God is the unconditional source of the love I seek to fill my vessel. Those kids [of InPresa] deserve more. They should be helped to experience more than the beauty of life. It’s not that I set out to love them more; it’s that I need to be loved more. All my behavior, even that which I’m ashamed of, is the search for this, “an incurable wound that doesn’t want to heal.” It’s a continuous restlessness, above all if you expect total love from someone who can’t give it.