Being! Or Nothingness

I am just and old man . . .

Today was beautiful.  I am in Houston for Easter for a couple of days before my sister's wedding this Saturday.  I arrived at 10:30 this morning and my friend Amy picked me up.  I was happy to see her face, which living in Washington now makes difficult.  We went to Paolo and Lisi's and had a beautiful Easter lunch with their friends from school, work, and CL.  The day was beautiful, really perfect:  sunny, not too cool, not too hot, everything is green and blooming.  We had a great lunch, played games (dodgeball and stationary soccer), sang, and had an all around great day.  Some friends stayed until late and we had dinner, drank some Grand Marnier, and played a game of Taboo.  The kids in particular were great.  They played happily all day.  I played "Monster" with them chasing them around the yard for a while then we played Simon Says, Green Light Red Light, and Father, may I?  The last three were to play games that would help Giulio learn a little more English.

Yet, at the end of the day, when I went out on the back porch for a smoke, I realized I was sad.  Why was I sad?  The day was truly great . . . but I recognized in that moment that the whole day, this day of Easter, I was never able to say "You," to recognize that He was present giving me this happiness.  Even when I took moments to pray today (the morning office, grace before meals, etc.) I was more going through the motions.

My heart is so small.

Before going to bed I stopped Lisi and told her about this.  She had a similar experience of the day, so we said a Memorare asking that the awareness of Him who is all in all grow in us.  I need silence every day.  Toda I didn't take any time for silence.  I need it, because without it, I "squaner my resistence on a pocketful of mumbles."  So, here I am before bed, getting ready to do a little bit of silence.  To stand in front the Mystery, and to say "Come here, to my life, to reality, because without you nothing is sweet."

Jesus is Placed in the Tomb

The threshold to the truth of sacrifice lies in the question:  "O God, make haste to help me."  Here the rolling away of the stone of the tomb of our empty actions begins.  The Resurrection begins from this aspect of our infinite impotence, which is begging, from this supreme recognition that God alone is powerful, and from the supreme gratitude that He who initiated our existence wants to carry it to fulfillment.  There is nothign more expressive, universal, Catholic, ecumenical, than a heart made new by the "yes" to Christ, by that hope in Him for which each of us daily takes up the search again, the desire, the asking, the sacrifice of purity.  Always living a peace in the continually revived mortification.

-Msgr. Luigi Giussani

An Immense Love

 My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass me by. Still, let it be as you would have it, not as I.

Were we not marred, my child, were you not marred, encumbered by whole generations of catechism, of habit, of catechistic habit, my child, who would not be struck, who would not be frightened by these lines, by these few atrocious lines, by these terrifying words, by this terrifying prayer. When you think about it. Thus, everything was prepared, decided centuries ago and from centuries of centuries ago; back from eternal centuries and all centuries and the eternal centuries; back from eternity, everything was decided; the whole system, all this adaptation, your Christian adaptation; back from the fall, from all eternity but particularly, temporally back from the fall, the redemption was ready, the redemption was decided. And behold. All Christianity was ready, all Christianity was decided. He himself was ready, he himself at the core was waiting, at the core of the operation, at the beginning, at the top. He himself was prepared, his preparation was done. His will was decided from all eternity. This had been decided. No one forced his hand. Who, anyway, who would have forced his hand. Nothing forced him, nothing forced his hand, to take care of that affair, nothing if not an immense love, nothing had dragged him into that affair if not an immense love, his infinite, eternal love.

Charles Péguy, Gethsemane

The Way of the Cross

From the Way of the Cross booklet in Washington, D.C.

In the heart of a city where millions of people carry their daily cross, most of the time dreadfully alone.  If God exists, He has nothing to do with my daily life.  This is the true cross of every day, the cross of a person abandoned only to himself in his most inner need for a never-ending love, truth, beauty, and justice.

We need the presence of "God-with-us," Jesus, every day.  And Jesus, because of the sacrifice of His cross and because of His resurrection, dwells maong us, every day.

The Way of the Cross in the heart of the city is a simple, humble sign we recall to ourselves and offer to others a witness of His merciful presence in our daily lives; it is also a plea, through His cross and resurrection, that our eyes an heeart may be opened to His presence.

There will be noise during the procession and possibly confusion.  It is the very noise and confusion of our city, where we spend our days.  We will need to desire great attention in order to follow Jesus and to fid our gaze on the event of His passion.  It is that very same atention that is needed to look at the event of His presence among us every day.

This is why we suggest maintaining silence all along the Way of the Cross, a silence in front of God dying for us, a silence that isn't merely not speaking, but is the simplest, purest way to beg to recognize His presence in our daily life.

A Good Friday

I'm always struck by the fact that this day, the day that Christians commemorate the Crucifixion and Death of Christ is called "Good Friday."  I understand why it's good, why this day stands as a moment when the ultimate meaning of reality was affirmed, that no suffering, not even death, has power over that man, but I can't but admit that there is a part of me that is averse to calling today "good."

Today is the day that sacrifice of all our senses is recognized, that for Mary and John on that day (and for us today), the recognition that nothing in reality, not even suffering and death, can keep us from affirming the meaning of existence, that is, that the Mystery comes to be one of us, to be a man.

This morning I took part in the Way of the Cross sponsored by Communion and Liberation in Downtown Washington, D.C.  It was a beautiful gesture, from St. Peter's on Capital Hill, along the Mall, to the Washington Monument.  It's a gesture done in the midst of all the distractions of the City but done completely in silence, to put ourselves more in front of the provocation that Christ makes to our lives.

Since its earliest days CL has taken particular care to mark Good Friday by organizing a beautiful, public Via Crucis in the cities were people of the Movement live. We do the Way of the Cross on the streets of major cities to say that the truth of Christ's death and resurrection is not a private matter of conscience; rather, it is the definitive event of history.  We do it in the midst of the City, where people carry their own personal, daily crosses, to announce that Christ comes to our lives, to where we are, and that no part of reality is foreign to him.

The music was beautiful, the readings were done flawlessly, and the gesture was a real event for me.  As I followed the cross, trying to stay close, trying to follow MT, to follow someone with a great certainty in front of the event, I was moved over and over again by the fact that this man is what defines my life.  More than anything else, that is my family, my home, my culture, my education, more than everything else, this man defines my life.  Today I followed him, 2,000 years after he first carried that cross, and I begged to be more aware of him, to love him more, to follow him more.

May it be done in me as it was in the Virgin.

Veni Sancte Spiritus, Veni per Mariam.

Hot Tubs and Ladies

Last week I took the four Italian students studying in DC (Giacomo, Giovanni, Marco, and Pietro) with me to South Bend for their Spring Break.  For me, it was an opportunity to see my friends.  Adam and his fiancee Maria, Matt, The Ladewski's, the Verhiley's, and most of all Blair, Kyle, Bridget, and Claire. 

The last four are high school seniors who traveled to DC a month ago to go with us to the GS Winter Vacation.  I love these kids.  I invited them to the vacation because I wanted them to meet what I've met.  In my life, meeting Fr. Giussani, meeting CL, it was truly meeting Christ, alive.  I wanted these kids, to have that experience, to have the joy of what I've met.

So the guys and I drove on St. Patrick's day half-way across the country to spend a week with them.  We celebrated St. Pat's at Fiddler's Hearth, we took a trip to Chicago to spend time with the GS kids there, we visited Notre Dame.  All in all, it was a great trip.  Among the most enjoyable activities was the hot tub at Kyle's house.  At the end of the day, tired and cold, we would jump in and relax.  It was great.

The point of the trip was to have fun, grow in friendship with each other and the guys in South Bend, and to live the trip with a tension.  What I experienced was even more than I could have expected.

For the guys I recognized more and more a real paternity.  I'm not always easy to get along with, granted.  But with these guys I was constantly praying, asking for them to recognize Christ.  Some moments were fun, some were beautiful, some were difficult but for me it all became a moment to pray.  I recognized really clearly, probably for the first time in my life, that everything was completely given.

For the kids in South Bend, in particular Blair, I recognized how deep my affection is for them.  I once told Blair that I loved his happiness more than he did.  This began the provocation that led him to the GS Vacation.  It continues to be the provocation that leads me to be his friend, because I can't say that and not take it seriously later.  It's not something that can happen in a moment and then end.  If I really love these kids' happiness, I have to follow them, continuing to provoke their awareness of the event that happened to us.

Finally, I love South Bend.  I love Notre Dame, sure, but even beyond Notre Dame I recognize how much I like the Bend, how much I feel at home there, how much I enjoy visiting.  I don't know if I'll ever live there again, but I know I will always return.  It's funny really, South Bend isn't that beautiful.  Yet, the Memory of what I met there, of who I met there.  South Bend, Notre Dame in particular, is my Capernum, my shore of Lake Galilee.

So, a simple trip to South Bend is filled with Joy.  I'm happy.