LETTERS LETTERS Under Solomon’s Portico I am a medical secretary in the Intensive Care Unit at Sturdy Memorial Hospital in Massachusetts. The hospital chaplain, Fr Vincent Nagle, and I met there and became fast friends. One of the many things we liked to discuss is books that we had read. He recommended many beautiful books to me that were more meaningful than the ones I was used to reading. He helped broaden my literary horizons, you might say. One summer, he invited me to join him and a few of his friends that met every Thursday night to read Dante. I was interested, but Fr Vincent ended up being called to California on family matters. I decided to read it myself. When he came back, I asked if his group was still meeting and reading Dante because I wanted to hear what they had to say about the book. He said, “Yes, of course! Please join us.” But when I went, I realized this was more than just a reading group. There was something going on here and I wanted to know more. Fr Vincent explained the Communion and Liberation Movement to me and invited me back. I have been going since August of 2004. Just recently, Fr Vincent and I discussed that maybe others in the ICU might be interested in the Movement. So he suggested having School of Community at lunchtime once a week right at the hospital. We started having lunch together under our own “Solomon’s Portico.” Many of my coworkers noticed the two of us having lunch together and it created quite a stir! My coworkers asked, “What’s going on?” “Why are you going off with the priest? Is everything alright?” All these questions allowed me the opportunity to talk about and answer many questions about the Movement. I have since invited many to join us, to “come and see.” One girl, Eileen, has met with us a couple of times. After her first meeting with us she said, “I have only two questions: when do we meet again and where can I get that book? [Why the Church]” Others have said maybe, but nonetheless are quite curious. I am very thankful for my encounter with the Movement. When our group meets on Thursday nights, I experience a truth, a love, and a sense of belonging that is almost tangible when you enter the room. I look forward to sharing the same with my friends and coworkers at the hospital. I owe this testimony to my dear friend Fr Vincent Nagle as an acknowledgment for all the true and beautiful things he has taught and shown me. Liz Hart, Boston Prisoners with the Pope I was struck months ago by the letter published in the June 2004 Traces about the Via Crucis [Way of the Cross on Good Friday] held in prison. Desiring to live more deeply the life of the correctional institutions that I have been given to follow, I read this letter with the chaplains and told them I was available for work. One chaplain invited me to participate with six prisoners in a special audience with the Pope, to which the Holy Father had invited the family–homes and the entire community of Fr Benzi, which on October 25, 2004, received recognition as an association of pontifical right. I was very happy to participate in this gesture, especially because finally I felt I could bring all the prayers for happiness, within the thousands of needs of the prisoners, and place them in the hands of a man who lives the answer more than any of us. The day was a turning point for me! It was a historic day! After Fr Benzi’s brief thanks, the Pope then expressed a few words of thanks to Fr Benzi for what he does for the neediest. He continued, indicating the way, emphasizing that in order to love the least, or to love anyone in life, you need to love Christ, and have Him ever more at the center of your life and your heart. As Fr Benzi says, “Keep Christ at the center of our hearts so that Christ may become the heart of the world.” Following these brief, fundamental words, the wheelchair–bound handicapped andthe children cared for in the family–homes passed in front of the Pope. Before such pain, even the Pope’s face was contracted and transfigured. As they exited the audience, two prisoners came up to me and said, “Doctor, we are lucky, because we already have so much.” It seemed evident to me that only an encounter with a different reality reawakens the human and that, far more than long–winded discourses on rehabilitation and re-education, a simple but effective gesture can bring anyone (it doesn’t matter whether he has erred in small or big ways) to understand how much he has received, and to desire to return to his own reality with a new consciousness–that is, to begin anew. A reader A “Locked Down” Pilgrimage Fr Aurelio’s little van, which in Europe would be used for seven people and in Africa for eighteen, opened up and unloaded twenty-seven boys and girls, participants of the pilgrimage for the 50 years of the Movement. Unfortunately, the friends from the western part of the Ivory Coast and those from Burkina could not come, because the road was too unsafe. Victor, though, sent a note of greeting. At the last check-point, the police had stopped them, but in the face of their joyful and firm will to continue so they could be present in Niandà, the police let them continue as far as the periphery of Atepé, a town close to Abidjan, the capital. The nation was “locked down” and there were police and soldiers everywhere, but Fr Aurelio and his people didn’t want to miss the appointment. The gesture was simple: we recited the Rosary, walking in the savanna as far as the little shrine of the Virgin, then celebrated Mass and had lunch. At the end, Fr Paolo reminded everyone of the reasons for the gesture: in 1954, Fr Giussani climbed the steps of the Berchet High School; in 2004, we were there in Africa to celebrate a history, a life that involves us all. Prisca sang Jesu dulcis memoria, and it made us think immediately of Mary, but also of Fr Giussani, who always calls us to recognize Christ present through her. We couldn’t help but think of the war surrounding us, of the yearned–for peace, and of ourselves, walking with Mary, the foundation of our hope. After the Liturgy, people spoke of Loreto and of Carrón’s exhortation for the occasion. At lunch, made more festive by the sweets we had brought from Italy, there were many questions about how the Movement could become ever-more important in the life of each person, the Movement as the place of the Presence, that is, Christ who reaches you even in this stricken part of Africa, as the place of the friendship among us all. The “little van” picked up all its occupants, and Fr Aurelio and his people departed. A few hours later, the armed conflicts began again. Our friends are all okay. May Our Lady continue to protect the Movement and the Ivory Coast. Marco Bertoli The Hypothesis of the Possibility Reading the letter of Roberto from Lugano in January’s Traces, I had the impulse to write to you, because the unbeliever Belgian professor he described resembles an aunt of mine, one to whom I turned for help when I was a teenager. I, too, was an unbeliever, and didn’t want to go to Sunday Mass anymore, but was forced to by my parents. I hoped that this aunt would plead my cause with them, because I knew that before the Second World War she used to go to Mass and even sing in the parish youth club choir, but since my father and grandfather used to bring her to sing in the socialists’ club, a nun had told her, “You have to choose: either the parish youth club or those socialist delinquents,” and she had chosen for her socialist family members. My aunt, speaking of my irreligiousness, showed me the sunset on the lake and answered that she still asked herself whether there might be Someone who had created it, and suggested that I not stop going to church out of laziness, but only for serious reasons. A few months later, I was invited to join GS. Since I liked those who had invited me and was interested in the subjects of their meetings (the war in Vietnam, studies, etc), I began to hang out with them, but felt ill at ease, because they went to daily Mass and I continued to be an unbeliever. Bit by bit, hanging out with them, I told myself that there were two options. Either God didn’t exist for anybody, not even for my friends, or He existed. In the latter case, He was there for us unbelievers, too. So, I began to try to turn to Him, as I had back in the days of my First Communion. Years later, I realized that I had taken that road based on what Fr Giussani called “the hypothesis of the possibility.” Gabriella Rock Lessons Dear Fr Gius: I’m a senior in the classical high school of Castellammare del Golfo, a small town in Sicily. I want to tell you about the “miracles” that have happened recently in my school! It all began with the first school assembly, when everyone was trying to come up with a topic to develop during our school’s annual “students’ week.” With the support of my GS friends, I proposed work on “Fifty Years of Rock,” mainly because during this year’s Meeting I was struck by the exhibit, Good Rockin’ Tonight, and then because I thought it would be well received at the school. In fact, that was the case. A few days later, to my great surprise, I received a phone call and heard that Walter Muto, the organizer and curator of the exhibit, was coming down to Sicily. How could we let such an opportunity slip away?! We decided to invite him to school for a meeting/concert on rock. I spoke with the school representative, and was surprised once again, because he said he liked the idea and he himself would be the spokesman to the Principal for the initiative, without my even asking. I contacted Walter and he accepted. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, but two days before the meeting the Principal unexpectedly called everything off! It all seemed a bit absurd to me, but the only thing I could think of doing at that moment was to entrust myself to Our Lady, and I began to pray the Rosary with my mother and sister. We succeeded in convincing the Principal and having the meeting. Walter arrived with “Grandpa” Luciano and, on the morning of December 4th, they held the meeting on rock. The whole school listened to them in silence. They listened because it was a different way of facing music, of facing life. Walter, through a particular, spoke to us of the All, and you could feel that what he was saying was true because the origin of all things, Christ, is also our fulfillment, that is, what I as well as all the kids of my school strive toward. What I desire now is that my classmates and all the kids in the school become aware of their “striving toward…” as I have! Marta,Castellammare del Golfo When Things don’t Add Up Dear Fr Giussani: These past few years have been very difficult for me, an endless tunnel, but never have I stopped asking, praying that Christ become flesh in my life and make me understand what He is asking of me. When the prayer became “true,” some things happened that, as it were, changed me, and I dove back into life with a gaze that was attentive to every sign. I hoped that I was safe and strong by then but, this year, an unexpected bomb exploded. I’m an elementary school teacher, and have always been highly respected, but lately a meager number of parents showed disapproval of my methods, destroying what for me was the strong, unassailable point of my life: my work. I immediately wanted to dump everything and, if I could have, I would have changed my career. But you say that sometimes we use circumstances to create alibis for passivity, to avoid engaging deep down. Enzo Piccinini always said that when things don’t add up, it means that Another is operating. So, I told myself that I had to start again from the origins. You taught me to stay in front of reality, which is the sign of Christ, and I had to start again from my work, to re-affirm reality in its meaning and to find myself again. I understood that in order to clarify my concept of education, I had to start from you, from The Risk of Education. I proposed this work to a mother, the class representative, and we’ll start on it after the Christmas holidays. Lena, Bari An Appointment with the Dentist Dearest Fr Giussani: I met the Movement twelve years ago. Since then, my life has been progressively transformed, causing me to experience in the flesh the famous hundredfold. A beloved wife and four children followed, and have become the daily life in what would otherwise be a flat and hopeless existence. Certainly, my days are intense but, lately, I’ve been appreciating ever-more deeply the value of a companionship that educates you and accompanies you with loving care. Precise faces and certain places represent for me not something I run to in extreme necessity, but a sweet and decisive push toward everyday reality. However, this gaze had become clouded over, and the grace of the encounter was replaced by the things I have and deserve, taken for granted. Then, one day, I had a toothache and was looking for a dentist open on Saturdays, and met a man with manners very different from mine. I had never crossed paths with such a refined figure. Then, with the curiosity of a sincere gaze without preconceptions, he asked me suddenly, “Are you a member of CL?” Yes, of course, we were in the thick of pre-Meeting preparations and the CL t-shirt had almost become a second skin. We shared our opinions and experiences about the ways each of us lived Christianity and, in the end, he said, “Let me know if you organize something interesting.” After a few missed occasions, I invited him to come to a party we were organizing with fishermen. He gave a decisive yes, and asked if he could bring his son as well. Two days later, the invitation became reality: I introduced him to my friends; he got up of his own initiative to shake hands with others to express his availability. All this had the look of someone who had found what he was looking for. For my part, I was distracted, and his reaction woke me up again, making me exclaim, “Yes, this thing is truly made for me.” Alessandro, Rimini The Real Need This year, the CLU has been transformed by recognition of the fact that we need “to live every day the event that changed our life.” From this recognition came an effort to make our CLU experience a greater part of our daily life in the university, and to take all aspects of our college experience more seriously. Academically, in our schools from New York to Puerto Rico, this has translated into simple gestures like studying together. University life also carries with it a strong cultural influence that extends far beyond the classroom. So the recognition of our need for the event has generated a different way of facing social and political events as well. One example of this was watching and discussing the film The Motorcycle Diaries about Che Guevara, an idol in university culture. We also wrote a flyer with our judgment on The Vagina Monologues, a play that will be presented at Fordham University later this winter. At a public event at Fordham, we invited our friends and professors to a discussion on the value of women. Over winter break, those of us from the Washington, DC, area met to discuss how the fall semester went. We judged what we have been learning in our courses, particularly the emphasis in all our universities that sociological, psychological, and genetic factors determine us. The Schools of Community we have on each of our campuses, even if there are just two of us on a campus, has allowed us to stay in front of the reality of university life and to judge it. Jenni Morse, Fordham University, New York Handles and Crucifixes These are hard times in the little factory where my firm produces handles. We don’t have work. My workers put in five hours a day; production is at a standstill. All my effort at marketing and finding clients hasn’t paid off at all. The avalanche of Asian products has buried the handles sector, practically taking the place of our entire district of Brianza. Some firms are closing or firing workers. It’s a hard time, but I’m not particularly worried and, above all, I’m not anguished any more. I’ve taken measures and next month I should be out of the red. All this is happening in the context of a very strong prayer: “Lord, what are you asking of me? Why am I in this situation?” The answer has obviously come. These hard months of asking have made me rediscover the simplicity of things. A recent vacation in the mountains was so beautiful! Through my difficult predicament I learned that this beauty must be inside living. How beautiful to learn to use money for what it is, an instrument, and to have the right perspective on it. Wasting it means not enjoying the fact that what you buy is the fruit of sacrifice. What I’m living is a dialogue because when you ask, He answers. Two months ago, my friend Matteo really shook me up when he questioned my work and my future, and asked me to reflect on it. I was most anguished about precisely this, that I might have to rethink my work and my life, and maybe close the shop and look for a job as an employee. The beauty of the vacation transformed this anguish into a prayer: “Lord, show me the road; tell me where I have to go.” Yesterday, around 3:00 pm, I was in the shop, looking around dispiritedly at the room with no workers, my super machines all still. My eyes fell on the crucifix. I had bought it in 2002 at the Meeting; it is from Nazareth. It was a bit dirty because it was near a machine that sprays oil and stains the wall. Looking at it, I said to myself, “Well, if some day You don’t want me to do this work anymore, whatever happens, we’ll be together. You’ll come with me and I’ll hang You up in the office where I’ll work; I sure won’t abandon You.” While I was putting it back, I realized that the crucifix had left an indelible white cross shape on the wall. I think that I saw where my destiny lies because, unless I paint the place, for the moment I think my destiny is very attached to those walls. Emanuele, Biassono