LETTERS
edited by Paola Bergamini / pberga@tracce.it

Good and Positive Destiny
Dearest Fr Giussani: In early February, my 10-month-old son Andrea fell ill with osteomyelitis. He was hospitalized with a very high fever and bad pains in an arm and hand. My husband and I stayed with him the entire month he was in the hospital. In those days, I happened to read the article, “Moses and the Shuttle.” In front of Andrea, who was suffering so much, I dramatically asked myself the same question you ask at the beginning of the piece: “With everything that is happening, is life fair?” And the relatives of Nicolò, a critically ill little boy who shared the room with us for a while, also wondered the same thing, with a slightly different slant. They said to us over and over, “Why has all this happened to us?” I understood that your words had something to do with what I was experiencing, but in the beginning I did not consider them decisive. Then the Lord granted me the grace to reread the article with some friends. Together we helped each other understand that certain things happen because they are part of the Father’s mysterious plan, and the problem for us is not to insist on trying to understand the mystery, but to experience that it is good. The greatness of the humanity of Christ, who calls his betrayer “Friend,” or the testimony of real men like Fr Kolbe, who led his executioner to affirm the good, or like you who explain life and its meaning to us–taking your cue from a particular like the fall of the Shuttle that, for absent-minded me, would have remained meaningless–confirms me, without a shadow of a doubt, in this certainty of a good and positive destiny.
Silvia, Bologna

A Medical Officer on Shore
This morning, up before daybreak... At the age of 54, a certain amount of insomnia is almost normal. Instead of watching night-time TV, I get up and fix something to eat. Soon I will go to work. I decide to read Traces [issue n. 2]. I love the letters. Djohan, the Navy officer, makes my eyes gleam. He says what I have always wanted to say in my life. I, who am mad about the sea, who have always wanted to become a medical officer and who, for various reasons, am forced to navigate among general directors, secretaries, fellow physical therapists carpenters, auxiliary workers, and linen maids in my beloved hospital in Rimini… I too would have liked to put my saber in Gius’ hands… Can one be moved to tears at discovering he is a “medical officer on shore,” with the same destiny and the same vocation as our young friend? And what about the letter from Violaine from Paris? [I never had children, but if I had, my eldest daughter would have been named Violaine.] Attending the Retreat in Italy, Violaine heard wonder communicated in the sound of the words “encounter” and “presence,” pronounced in a delightful Italian accent– while for me, whose love for the delightful French accent is boundless, Violaine’s letter rang out… What is it that makes us love what is different from us? The same experience that makes Violaine love my city and the people who were here with her. And then there is the letter from Nadia, who was amazed by her experience in Reggio Emilia. I am reminded of the experience of the Cardinal from Hanoi, who is now dead, and his serene conscience in prison and his love even for his guards… The Christian experience truly does not fear anything; quite the contrary. Hope is already present. Some of those who consider us a sect are beginning to see and to let themselves be moved. Fr Giussani has never viewed anyone as an enemy, nor did the Cardinal from Hanoi. With the same gaze full of grateful wonder as Djohan, Violaine, and Nadia.
Cecco

A New Mentor
Dear Fr Giussani: I am studying modern literature in Turin. I want to tell you about a meaningful encounter I had with a teacher of mine, Professor Lionello Sozzi. It all began when, with my CLU friends, we were discussing the organization of a short study vacation in the mountains. When it was asked if we had in mind some professors to invite, I immediately thought of my French teacher. This man struck me from the very beginning because of the passion he had in explaining his subject. Then, the oral exam was for me a real revelation. Talking about Victor Hugo, I told him that we have developed the habit for some time of hanging up a sign with quotations and judgments on the authors we have studied or particular concepts learned in class. This struck him: “Good, you must always have a judgment on your studies, as on everything. What matters to me, for example, is that what I tell you in class be above all useful for your lives.” After a year and a half at the university, I had finally found a teacher from whom to learn! I took his courses. After the second exam with him, on that same day, I asked him to be my adviser for my minor thesis. In the meantime, I always invited him to our meetings, and each time he seemed pleased. After I returned from the Retreat, I went to see him during his office hours and gave him your lesson entitled “Recognizing Christ,” because in it was a passage from a poem by Hugo, Le pont. When I went back to see him to invite him to give a lesson at our study vacation on his way of understanding research, he was moved. He told me, “I read the booklet you gave me. I bought the book from which it was taken and quoted Giussani in the essay I am writing. Thank you.” I was in seventh heaven, and so were my friends… One of us, Pietro, said, “This is a man who uses his heart.” It is really true. And now this professor is a man to follow, also for them.
Annalisa, Turin

Mr Yao and Eleonora
Dearest Fr Giussani: We are two priests and a deacon of the Fraternity of St Charles Borromeo. For a year, Mr Yao, a Chinese Catholic, has been translating The Religious Sense. We meet every month to answer his questions about the difficulties he encounters in his translation. In our previous meetings, our relations with him were always quite formal. When he got to the translation of Chapter 10, and especially the section on “The Dependent ‘I,’” he started changing his attitude completely. He started saying that he understood where you wanted to lead him. He said, “Behind these sentences, there is truly a great meaning; there is a life.” We listened to him open-mouthed as he told us his story: “This book is just what I have been waiting for, what I needed. Ten years ago I received Baptism but, to tell the truth, whenever I had to talk about my faith, I was always in difficulty, as though I did not have the proper tools to do it. Moreover, the education I received compelled me to censor the feelings I had, as though they were obstacles to faith. So I was struck greatly to see how, on the contrary, Fr Giussani starts with man as he is, with all his desires and all his feelings, showing how great these are and how they are the road to the Lord. I think there is truly a great need for this book here in Taiwan.” Then he started asking us about the School of Community meetings. He has been coming for four weeks now. Last Thursday, Vincenzo (a Taiwanese friend of ours) asked a question that we had a hard time understanding (also because he talked very fast). In the end, Yao told him that, in his opinion, the part of The Religious Sense that speaks of structural disproportion is what Vincenzo was trying to express with his story and question. Furthermore, he connected it with a saying by Confucius. In short, Vincenzo’s eyes lit up while he was talking, and we were amazed at this person who knows The Religious Sense so well and manages to express it by taking advantage of the culture that belongs to every Chinese. Another fact: last Saturday we went, together with Vincenzo, Roberta, Eleonora, and Vito (these are the Italian names of some Chinese friends of ours; none of them is Catholic) to a place called Bali, not far from Taipei. There is a Catholic hospital there with patients of various types. Eleonora (our department secretary) had suggested we go there (she had already been a number of times). When we got to the hospital, a sight rose up before our eyes that left us somewhat dazed. There were about 25 young people, all with serious handicaps. After a presentation of the center, we stayed with them for awhile and helped the nurses feed them. Many of them recognized Eleonora immediately and called her attention by shouting and waving their arms. We were struck deeply by seeing Eleonora at work, seeing the affection she brought these people. At School of Community, we spoke about almost nothing but this. This fact aroused in us a strong desire to go back and to start a gesture of charitable work. Eleonora impresses us a great deal because of her truth and her depth. She is taking a hospital course in which she follows the cases of terminal patients. One day, she told us that death is a mysterious moment that calls forth in her many questions about life. Later, she told us that every time people ask her why she is taking this course, why she wants to deal with terminal patients, she doesn’t know how to answer; she has not yet found an answer, and she is looking for one. She is becoming aware of the difference in position between patients who have faith and those who do not. This makes her ask many questions. We photocopied “The Meaning of Charitable Work” for her and proposed to read it together.
Fr Paolo Cumin, Fr Paolo Desandrè, Deacon Paolo Costa, Taipei

Around the Table of Wisdom
Dear Fr Giussani: In this year 2003, I have received the special grace of encountering you and some women of the Memores Domini through the meditated reading of the Tischreden. I am already on Volume 4, and I intend to reread and meditate on these marvelous things that have happened among you. I am writing to thank you for your and for their “Yes” to the Lord! Thank you for your passion for the Good, the True, the Beautiful! Now I and my fellow Sister–who for particular reasons live in a Franciscan-style hermitage–are very grateful to the Lord for this encounter that gives health to our life. We would like to meet you in person, but it is as though we already know each other, seated around the “table of Wisdom” together with all those beautiful young women, fascinated by Jesus, along the path where you have become a shepherd, the sign of the “Beautiful Shepherd.” You understand much more than I am able to express! If I were a poet, I would tell you in poetry what I felt, but in any case I do tell you that silence and wonder are the gifts I receive after every reflection of yours. Thank you! May Mercy grant you to stay for a long time yet in this world, which has such a great need of sincere and courageous witnesses.
Sister Alberta, Campello sul Clitunno

Way of the Cross in Tampa
We had a beautiful Easter. Everyone gathered at Vince and Yza’s house for dinner, but I think my favorite part of the weekend was the Way of the Cross. It was so beautiful! I had been very stressed about some of the planning aspects (okay, I was being a little Martha-ish), I was nervous about singing, etc, etc. We had about 50 people (I’m not even certain where everyone was from), including lots of families. The thing that struck me the most while we processed was the silence. The silence was deafening. It was so hot that day and I remember noticing things like how this silence, this simple silence, was such a presence. In its nothingness it could not be missed or avoided. In so many ways, I really felt myself on this journey with Christ. As we passed through the streets, some people stopped and understood and were reverent, some people who perhaps did not truly understand what we were doing but understood or saw that it was something to pay attention to. One instance of this that sticks out in my mind is a man who was emptying trash cans, and as we approached he looked at us with confusion. Then he didn’t bow his head or make the sign of the cross, but he stopped emptying the trash and was silent, not watching us in a spectator sort of way–he was simply silent with us. There were also those who saw us and turned up their music as if to attempt to “drown the silence.” I could only think about the people that Christ passed... those who were attentive to Him, who cried for Him, who lifted Him when He fell or wiped his face; those who weren’t sure but knew He was there and in some way knew that what was happening was “different.” And, of course, I felt the pain in my heart thinking of the ones who were so merciless to him. I remember being so thankful for the shady spots and wondered if God was able to provide for his Son any comforts or mercy that man didn’t.... Was there any breeze for Him that day? Any shade? I remember the group of us in this silence, and at one point it seemed almost like being in a bubble. In looking back, I recall one time when we “lost” Grace at Disney World: it had been at least 10 minutes since anyone had seen her, the security guy was not being helpful, and in a moment I was in this same bubble, where it seems like the world is truly moving in another time continuum. That bubble was horrible, but this bubble, although similar, was different. The biggest difference is that I wasn’t alone in this bubble. I was with Christ; I had the face of Christ all around me. Lizzie, Yza, and I were talking after and we all agreed that one station in particular was not our “favorite.” It was especially noisy, with so much going on around us. At this particular station, one person decided to leave. Lizzie pointed out how this station is like every day of our lives, in which we ask ourselves, “Who are we going to follow?” The music store that just keeps turning up the music? The trolley car going by? The people selling movie tickets? Or the cross in front of us? We realized the station we liked the least was the most important and significant for us. It was a great day.
Kathleen Neill, Tampa