The Movement Today

OFFERING: THE INCREDIBLE FECUNDITY
The story of the last meeting between Bishop Eugenio Corecco and Fr. Luigi Giussani, Lugano, Switzerland, Bishop’s Residence, February 20, 1995

by P. Mauro-Giuseppe Lepori *

Without a doubt, one of the greatest and most undeserved graces of my life has been that of witnessing the last meeting between Fr. Luigi Giussani and Bishop Eugenio Corecco, who lived in suffering and faith the last days of his earthly existence.
It happened on Monday, February 20, 1995. I had come down to the residence the evening before. Fr. Giussani arrived at ten in the morning. I accompanied him to Bishop Eugenio’s room. Fr. Giussani approached the bed and leaned over to kiss the Bishop’s ring, three times, I believe.

I made a gesture as if to leave them alone, but Bishop Corecco asked me to stay. I think he feared the somnolence that overcame him continually and, in fact, I believe that my presence removed embarrassment for both. The Bishop knew that Fr. Giussani would not be left alone while he lost consciousness, and Fr. Giussani could dialogue with me.
During that hour, I had an extremely rich and profound dialogue with Fr. Giussani, but afterwards I could only remember a few fragments of it.
He told me about the first time he had seen this young Swiss priest at an Easter retreat of the Movement, in Varigotti, leaning on a column of the conference room or the church they were in. While he was speaking, Fr. Giussani wondered how this priest would react, fearing the criticisms he might express. Instead, he soon found Fr. Eugenio to be attentive and humble in how he received and listened to him, and this amazed him very much.

Several times during that hour, Fr. Giussani underlined how much the suffering and illness of Bishop Corecco were yielding an incredible fecundity for the diocese. He said, “The essential thing for a bishop, a pastor, or an abbot is charity. Charity is what is fruitful, what changes and converts the people, maybe beginning with two or three people.”
We then spoke of the monastery, and its role in the Church, and of the Memores Domini houses as places of charity. He also spoke to me of the first presence of Communion and Liberation in Siberia. He said, “Charity is what regenerates love. The world does not forgive. Charity always begins loving again.” I answered that Bishop Eugenio was like this for me and for those of us who lived with him; he always began loving us again, no matter what. “At the beginning of Christianity,” noted Fr. Giussani, “what converted the people was miracles.” I dared to interject, “Miracles and charity.” He countered, smiling, “Charity is a miracle!” “It’s true,” I answered, “There’s no greater miracle than discovering in yourself charity, a love that wasn’t there before.” Fr. Giussani said, “You’re right. You wrote me that in your first letter.” I confess I had a mean thought: “It’s not possible that he could remember!” But later, when I checked, I realized that he had remembered my letter better than I had!

At this point, Bishop Eugenio, as if to excuse himself for his sleepiness, said that he was having difficulty that day. Giussani told him, “It’s the experience of limitation. But limitation has been conquered. Christ has vanquished nothingness. This is what amazes me in the most compelling page of the Bible, the first chapter of the Book of Wisdom.”
Then we spoke of the relationship between limitation and eternity, of limitation as the point at which man experiences the Eternal, the good Face of Mystery, the Trinity. Giussani was particularly struck by the last verses of the first chapter of the Book of Wisdom, which say that God did not create death; He created everything for existence, and yet the godless choose death (Wis 1:13-16). I told him that this reminded me of what Jesus said to the Jews, “Yet you refuse to come to Me for life!” (Jn 5:40).

I recount these highlights of dialogue because they took place as if on the edge of the abyss of the trial of Bishop Eugenio, who remained always present. We dialogued, both sitting on the left of the Bishop, who was lying in bed, and his absences from consciousness made him even more present to us, because we saw him at the dawn of his last death struggle. For this reason, as we talked, we looked more at him than at each other, and everything we said wasn’t to occupy the silence in which the Bishop left us, but as if to enter into it and listen to its message.
At a certain point, I proposed praying a decade of the Rosary, and the Bishop immediately agreed. After the first joyful mystery, Bishop Corecco signalled to me to continue, and so we prayed three decades. It was a moment of great peace, reciting the Rosary with Fr. Giussani responding and Bishop Eugenio, who tried to join in. Every now and then, Fr. Giussani put his hands over his eyes, visibly moved. During the conversation, he said to me, among other things, “God manifests Himself in fragility. There was an old priest in my seminary who repeated to us daily, ‘Those who pray will be saved!’ and I have always taken those words to heart.”

At eleven o’clock Fr. Giussani had to leave. Bishop Corecco had dozed off and I woke him. Fr. Giussani was moved to tears, and told the Bishop, “Please, I ask you in the name of everyone, keep us present in your offering. What you are living is perfect; it’s perfect; nothing is lacking!” They embraced, both crying. Fr. Giussani added, his voice breaking with tears, “Bishop Eugenio, can I return? Do you mind if I return next week?” The Bishop nodded, but couldn’t speak.
We left the room and the study. Fr. Giussani was crying. Big tears rolled down his cheeks. He stopped at the door of the foyer where two or three people greeted us, and repeated, “What he is living is already perfect, and is of an incredible fecundity!”

*Abbot of Hauterive (Switzerland)