“Loved: A Possible Experience”
Loved: A Possible Experience. What Need Moves Us?
A dialogue with: Julián Carrón, Andrea Franchi, Massimo Piciotti, and Moderator Elisa Calessi
Moderator: Thank you all for coming and for braving a Saturday morning in Rome, which is always a challenge. I'd like to thank Daniele and Andrea for the opportunity to be here with you; I'm truly happy about it. So, thank you for this morning. After the song, I'll give the floor to the head of the Solidarity Bank, who will tell us a little about how this experience started in Rome.
President of the Banco di Solidarità L'Armonia: Well, I'm not used to speaking in public. I've written a few things that I'm going to read to you now, and I'm already moved to be here with you.
The famous question we wrote on the invitation was, “What need moves us?” It was November 1, 2009. Moved by the desire to start a charitable initiative, I, being under fifty, felt like a stranger to that world. Every time I heard announcements about charity, it seemed like something that didn't concern me, even though I had participated when I was younger. However, once I turned fifty, I told myself not to dwell on the past and focused on this announcement.
A dear friend said to me, “Why don't you get involved in this new initiative in Italy, the Banco di Solidarità?” I asked, “What are you talking about?” He replied, “I don't know, but don't worry, you'll like it. What do you have to do? I'll send you the address. Go to the headquarters in Rome and get involved.”
So I went on November 1, All Saints' Day, during the holidays. At ten o'clock, there was a video conference. I went with my wife and two other friends. They told me about this Banco di Solidarità and mentioned there would also be a speech. It was a Sunday. We went to a large hall, connected to the conference, and turned off the lights.
This was in 2009. The national assembly began, featuring the voices of Lanfranco and Longarone leading it. A series of testimonies and stories followed. The one that struck me the most was Giovanni's. It touched my heart. The day continued with these stories, and the four or five of us stayed there for two hours, watching that screen.
When it ended, we turned on the lights, and I still remember that we all found ourselves crying. No one could speak or explain why, but we all had tears in our eyes and just kept saying, “How beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful!”
We left for home, as it was already lunchtime and a holiday, and we hugged each other. We said to ourselves, “Let's try to set up a Solidarity Bank too.”
And so we started. We went home, got in touch the next day, and decided, “Let's meet up, review what we heard, and figure out what to do.” At first, we didn't have any families to help, but little by little, we found them. That day was very important to me. It's a story that has remained in my heart to this day.
You mentioned three key points for charitable giving: that it stems from abundance, not lack, and that aid is given not to those who deserve it, but to those who need it. So we began this experience, which has continued over the years.
Then there was another decisive moment for me during a particular period here in Rome. As happens in life, everything was falling apart, and uncertainties were creeping in. There was a meeting one Sunday afternoon where we were informed of some big changes. I was stunned.
I thought to myself, “My goodness, what will this mean?” I didn't know what to do. At the end of the meeting—Don Carrón and Longarone were there that day, specifically chosen to make these announcements—everyone lined up to speak. The news had left me a little shaken. I was happy with the experience I was having, but I thought, “This is impossible; what I'm experiencing is too beautiful.”
A friend said to me, “Get in line and talk to them too.” There was a long line. I hesitated, then decided to do it my way and not get in line. As soon as I got close, I said to him, “Hi Julián, I'm Piero. I want to tell you how I felt when I heard all this news. I'm on this journey with my friends from the Banco, and I've become friends with people who were strangers to me but who fascinated me.” I asked him, “What should I do?” At that moment, which was decisive for me, I only remember that he hugged me and said, “Continue with what makes you happy.”
That was fundamental for me. That hug, that tenderness I received for the second time... For me, charity is not an obligation; it is the beauty I have encountered. If, when I carry this package, I don't carry with me what is valuable in my life, it would just be a pain in the neck. Sometimes it's not easy, of course.
I'll end here. I asked two dear friends from the Banco di Solidarità, two people who prepare the packages and live this experience, to share something. One is Matilde; I invite her to speak.
Moderator: Sorry, in my excitement, I forgot to introduce our most important guest, Fr. Carrón, whom we obviously thank from the bottom of our hearts for being here today. Please forgive me.
Matilde: So, I'm Matilde, and I'm going to talk about my experience at the Banco over the years. At first, my decision was not, I would say, “ethical.” I started without putting my heart into it, like many other choices in my life. I was “picked up” by a group of friends who had already started this experience. It was also quite convenient for me because this “volunteering,” as I called it at the time, fit well into my life. I was still working, had children at home, and didn't know how much space the people I was about to meet would occupy in my life and heart.
In the preface to the book, Cardinal Zuppi asked us not to confuse the two terms: volunteering and charity. For me, at the time, it was little more than volunteering. I understood the difference over the years by reading Giussani's books, where he said that charity is done “to learn to live like Christ.” In short, it was a very demanding project.
So I began taking packages to some families who had been referred to me. They lived in great poverty and, above all, in a state of disconcerting precariousness that struck me the most. I am very rational and precise, and for me, these were not just cases; they are names and faces that I carry within me. Some of them have now achieved something in their lives and are no longer waiting for this package. Which isn't just a package; it's our face. It's us who go there and start a story with them, a story of friendship.
There were those who had lost their jobs. Two single girls, Tania and Jaqueline, were expecting a child. A mother, left by her husband, had two sick children, one with schizophrenia and the other with severe behavioral delays. Another very young woman, Vittoria, had two autistic daughters. A man had lost his twelve-year-old son to cancer and, in a way, had lost himself too.
One story after another. I must say, my cynicism led me to think, “I've put together a motley crew,” because it was really tough. But it was my way of overcoming the discomfort, because there is always discomfort in the face of so much suffering. And I had never seen so much of it all at once. Poverty is disturbing. That's what I've thought over the years. It's disturbing because we can't “fix” people, especially when we become attached to them. We feel powerless. And the risk is thinking that we are the ones who have to change the circumstances, instead of helping them embrace them, as we have often been reminded.
I would also add that it is difficult to believe—and my faith is small—that the Lord is faithful and that He is the one who changes things at the right time. I won't hide the fact that I sometimes thought about leaving, about passing these people on to others. But I realized that this was the moralistic attitude of someone who relies entirely on their own abilities, involvement, and emotions; of someone convinced they have to “give” something. Soon, however, I realized that for me it was a challenge, and since I am quite stubborn, I stayed.
Those people were not only poor; they were lonely and, above all, resigned. They were defeated. I immediately understood that they would have remained invisible to me too if I hadn't come across the Banco experience. This is the great wealth that came my way. The more I visited these families, the more I realized how much the Lord had given me and how happy He had made my life—certainly with its ups and downs, but enriched by a journey to be traveled in company.
I don't want to recount specific episodes; it would take too long. But one day, Jaqueline, one of the girls I was helping, said to me, “You know what? With you, I feel at home.” I often went to see her, even when I didn't have to bring her a package. For me, that sentence was a shock. Her “home” was Peru, where she had left her heart and a son who lived there without a father, raised by her sister, to whom she sent the little money she earned in Italy. At that time, Jaqueline was pregnant again. She had fallen in love with a man—once again, the wrong one—who had then left her.
It was a recurring story. One day, moved by her situation, I talked about it at work, at the TG1 newsroom. That morning, I witnessed a miracle. I say this because it is almost unbelievable, knowing the environment—the harshness, cynicism, and pettiness that sometimes characterize a certain profession. There was a drive to collect baby clothes, diapers, and even a used stroller. A notice was even posted on the office bulletin board. It was a great gift, especially for me. As soon as she gave birth, Jaqueline called to tell me that Alessio had been born.
The story continued. I was chosen as godmother at the baptism, celebrated by Don Sandro with songs in the parish of San Giuseppe in Piazza Vittorio. Many friends from the movement were present, many people to whom I had told and continued to tell this story. There were also many other encounters that changed and enriched my life. I realized one thing: the world is full of wounds, and we all need to immerse ourselves in this story of mercy. Their need is our need for God. Thank you.
Moderator: Nicola. Let me introduce Nicola. He is a very simple person. When we pack the boxes, he is the good guy in the group. If you need help with the boxes, if your back hurts and you can't carry them to the car, everyone calls, “Nicola!” And he does it because he is happy.
Voice from the audience: In the evening, when he goes home, his wife asks him why he is always smiling!
Nicola: I'm happy, yes. Because I look forward to this moment.
I'm not used to speaking, but to reading and writing, so I'll start with this beautiful book that was given to me. Every story moved me because it helps you understand the love that Jesus has for us. Reading the chapters, I found myself experiencing things similar to what I read, which has helped me and still helps me look at my life with greater awareness: the people I meet, my friends, the family I bring the package to, and my children.
There are moments in everyday life that I would gladly do without, but that is precisely where the need to be loved arises. And then I realize that I am truly loved. As I read, I asked myself, “Do I have the same love for others that I receive and experience?” I don't know the answer for sure, but one thing I do know: my experience at the Banco di Solidarietà is a source of constant joy for me.
The family to whom my wife and I bring the package—she hasn't been able to come lately due to serious problems—invited us to dinner at their home one evening. They, who are in need, asked us for help taking their three- and four-year-old children to medical appointments. They didn't know how to do it. I immediately said yes and took them to the hospital.
The next day, on my way home, I felt truly happy. Not only because I had helped them, but because I realized that without my “yes,” I wouldn't have been happy even bringing them a simple food package. I felt part of their beautiful humanity, to the point that the children call me “Grandpa Nicola” and my wife “Grandma Pharmacist.” And when we go to visit them, they don't want to let us leave. They stand in front of the door and say, “You mustn't leave!”
My experience is that I realize I need the people I bring the package to. Bringing the package reminds me of my need to be loved as Jesus loves me. In short, performing an act of charity is an opportunity to realize our potential.
But how can I feel that I am loved? One can say it with words, but I am talking about my experience, including the one I had with my son, which did me good. I suffer, but how do I know I am loved? When I look at my son, I see a glimmer of hope, a light that tells me, “Look at the love for me.” And when I consider what might be good for him, I have to accept him as he is. This makes me feel bad, of course, but knowing that I am loved by Someone helps me a lot. And in fact, despite the ups and downs with my son, we are at a point where that little light and my hope make me say thank you.
Moderator: Thank you, thank you very much. Now, finally, let's hear from the authors of this book: Andrea Franchi and Massimo Picciotti. I also thank them for giving me the opportunity to read it. I will just briefly mention two things that struck me, then we will ask them how it came about.
The first thing that struck me was the “ordinary” nature of these stories. Zuppi also mentions this in the preface, using this exact expression. These are stories that take place in an everyday, almost mundane context: people looking for work, getting married, having children. Nothing exceptional happens; it's normal life. Even the protagonists are not exceptional people, and nothing extraordinary happens to them. This aspect struck me greatly because I, and I think many of us, are often led to believe that happiness and important events must happen in moments that are out of the ordinary. We wait for the weekend, holidays, or retirement, hoping that something truly wonderful will finally happen then. These stories, however, tell us exactly the opposite.
The other thing is what Nicola said just now: this reversal that recurs in all the stories. People who set out with the intention of responding to a need—delivering the famous package, helping someone in difficulty—and then discover that, in reality, the person providing the help is in greater need. Everyone says that in bringing this help, it is as if the wound that each person has, even the person who helps, somehow opens up and is healed. This struck me because it refutes both the voluntaristic and moralistic idea of help, and... well, it's a reversal that particularly touched me. But now I'll be quiet and let the authors speak. So, I wanted to ask you how the idea for this book came about.
Andrea Franchi: Well, first of all, thank you for the invitation. The book was born from the same method that has made us who we are and brought us here today: yielding to and following something that attracts and intrigues you. Use whatever verb you like. By following it, you discover more about who you are. My life, and I think everyone's life, is determined by one, two, or three events that mark it. These events always have two characteristics: first, three seconds before they happened, you would never have imagined them; second, they have something to do, in a way you can't explain, with what you most desire.
By following this, you discover something for yourself. This is also how the book came about. One day, I saw a dialogue between Julián Carrón and Cardinal Zuppi in Bologna. I was struck by some opinions from the cardinal that I didn't expect, and I decided to try to meet him. So I wrote a very short email, attaching three brief testimonies. In no time, the cardinal called me and made an appointment. I went to see him, and we talked for almost an hour and a half. He didn't ask me anything about the Banchi, almost nothing about me, but only asked questions about the protagonists of the three testimonies I had attached. Then he asked me to tell him about other encounters, other events, other people.
In the end, I asked him to participate in the National Assembly of the Banchi. He didn't even let me finish and said, “Absolutely yes, let's just agree on the day.” For me, it was like winning the Champions League. I thanked him and left very happy, but as I was about to leave, he stopped me: “I have to ask you something too.” There, in those three seconds, I examined my conscience, thinking, “What did I say? What did I do?” And he said, “You have to write a book with these stories.” “Why?” I asked. He gave me the reason: he said that since the dawn of time, man has woken up in the morning hoping for something that will make his day beautiful, that will improve his life, that will fulfill his desires. But people of our time—and I was struck that he made no distinction between Christians and non-Christians—even though they wake up with this desire, they think it's not possible. “Instead,” he told me, “these stories you've told me, these friends you've talked about, testify to exactly the opposite: that it is possible, in this world, for an encounter to happen that makes your days more beautiful. Not that it solves problems or fixes pain and messes, but that it allows you to go home—and here I use Nicola's words—happy, even in the midst of messes.”
We held the meeting, which he attended. I came out a little dazed, because as a plumber, you can imagine how easily I write... The following week he called me, I thanked him again, and he said, “Yes, yes, but I called to remind you of what I asked.” At that point, I had to follow up on what was happening, at least to verify it. So I asked my friend Massimo to help me tell these stories.
Massimo Piciotti: First of all, thank you for inviting us. For me, this reckless adventure of trying to write a book—something neither he nor I had ever done before—is bearing incredible fruit. Among other things, if someone had told me a year ago, “You'll be on stage as a speaker with Julián Carrón,” I think I would have called them crazy. It's incredible what's happening around this book, which we are presenting across Italy. This is the thirty-fifth presentation we've done since May. My wife is very happy about this...
I will be brief, because we have already heard and will surely hear much more interesting things. The only thing that struck me, among many others, in undertaking this adventure and meeting these people, was this: in trying to tell their stories without adding anything, because reality speaks for itself, I realized that normally, when you read a novel or a story, you wait for the ending. I am not an avid reader, but when I read a book, I wonder how it will end, and my opinion depends a lot on the ending.
What struck me about these stories is that they all have a beginning—some have more than one, because the protagonists are revisited several times—but they do not have an ending, because life continues to generate life. And so it happens that what is in the book becomes the starting point for something that happens later.
I was struck by an episode in Brescia: we were presenting the book with the bishop. He showed up with the Bible in his hand, a tome with his notes already written inside, with an idea for the speech he was going to give. When we present the book, we always accompany it with a testimony from one of the protagonists. After the testimony, the bishop said, “I had prepared a speech, but I won't give it. Also because you said that this is a book that tells stories that never end, that always generate something.” He took the Bible, showed it to those present, and said, “Do you know what this is? It is a book that never ends, because it continues to generate. If we are here today, it is because this book continues to generate and has not ended in the story it tells.” This struck me very much because it is what surprised me most in trying to tell these stories without spoiling them. But I will stop here, thank you.
Moderator: Thank you both. I would like to ask a few questions, starting with what struck me. The first thing is this: all the stories have one thing in common, which is that at a certain point, something happens that completely changes the lives of the protagonists. The characteristic of this event is that it is always something very random. In fact, the term “coincidences” is used several times in the book. And they are truly random coincidences: one person takes a train and happens to meet a friend; another receives a phone call and happens to answer it but could have chosen not to. The random nature of these events is emphasized, yet they become decisive encounters. This struck me, and it's also a little scary: the idea that the destiny of my life is entrusted to something as fragile as an apparently random event. What if he hadn't taken the train? What if I hadn't answered that phone call? Is it possible that the chance of something happening that changes your life is so fragile?
Fr. Julián Carrón: Good morning. Thank you for the invitation. Yes, these stories arise in a random, unexpected way, unpredictable a minute before. They are random because the alternative to chance is a rule, a law, something that repeats itself predictably. The vast majority of reality we know follows laws: the stars, magnetic waves, even quantum physics, which is so fascinating, has its own rules. All these tools we are using are a consequence of those laws.
What would it have cost the Mystery to generate, in our place, a different being that followed another rule? Something predictable. What was the only alternative to the rule? The unexpected. But the unexpected is extremely fragile, fragile to the point of bewilderment. How is it possible that the most important thing in life can come through this apparent randomness, through something so trivial?
Yet experience teaches us that the most unpredictable things are the ones that affect people the most, to the point of changing their lives. The only question, then, is to educate ourselves to this awareness, because the unexpected is the only hope that something may happen that is capable of reawakening a person, filling them with wonder and meaning.
What is surprising is that, in all these unpredictable events, people, when they look deeper, perceive something “beyond,” which fills that random event with a unique density and significance. And when one thinks about these things, I cannot help but think about how even Mystery has bowed to this unpredictability. To respond to the human need for which he had created us, he decided, in a way unimaginable to any human mind before it happened, to become flesh, to make himself encounterable as a random event.
He cares about this method because he created us with an infinite desire, but at the same time, he wanted the answer to be offered freely. Being so respectful of our freedom, he entered history almost on tiptoe: being born in a manger, stripping himself of his power, entering into human flesh that could be confused with a thousand others. He chose this method because he does not want to impose himself, but to offer himself, almost like a beggar, so that we can welcome him freely, with no other rule than the attraction that generates free adherence.
Moderator: The other recurring characteristic is change. After this unpredictable event, a total change in people's lives is described: in the family, at work, everything changes. Is this change inexorable, almost a mechanical effect, or does something else need to happen for it to take place?
Fr. Julián Carrón: No, there is no rule either at the beginning or afterward. The unexpected event that occurs needs the freedom of the other person. I can give you the most beautiful gift in the world, but I cannot do what is up to you: you have to decide to accept it. So nothing is forced. Just as it is not forced that the event happens or that I recognize it, it is not forced that I agree to go along with it to see what change it brings.
When one realizes the significance of what has happened, one does not want to lose it and therefore goes along with it. One goes along with the beloved person because, as soon as he or she appears, life is filled with meaning, not because of a biological or psychological need, but because of the desire not to miss out on that beauty. Change is the acceptance that takes place in those who realize the value of what has happened. And this is free. The gift is free, acceptance is free, and rejection is free. The Mystery has also bowed to this fragility of freedom. And this leaves one speechless.
Moderator: It's a little scary. From one point of view, it's beautiful, but one might say, “What if I say no? Or if I'm not paying attention and I don't notice, is it over?”
Fr. Julián Carrón: No, it's not over. Because the Mystery knows how to do its job well. It knocks once, and again, and again. It's not that you miss the train. The train continues to arrive at the station in different ways. It's never the last train, as we often think. How many times has life made us change our minds? As Pope Benedict said, He never fails. Not because we are always willing to accept His visit, but because He always finds new ways to knock on our door. It's like with children: you can't help but keep trying, in one way or another. How many smiles did you have to give your children before you saw their first smile?
On the one hand, it is dramatic because it involves our freedom, but on the other hand, there is always a possibility before us, much more than we could imagine. There is always more reality in heaven and on earth than our philosophy can contain. Discovery is this amazing thing. When someone discovers something fascinating, you can see it on their face. Aristotle would say to his students, “Do you understand?” They said yes. And he would reply, “I don't see it on your faces.”
Life is fascinating because every morning you can wake up thinking, “I already know everything,” or with an openness to how Mystery, or reality, will surprise us today. Being open to this unpredictable possibility means understanding that the method is not so strange; it is not irrational. On the contrary, it happens so frequently that if we get used to intercepting it, life becomes a constant adventure. This is what we find difficult to accept because it seems too fragile, too risky. It is like a lack of trust that this method, so respectful and without rules, can fulfill our desire.
Moderator: Let us now turn to the act of charity. When these people recount the moment they bring help, the package, what emerges in all their stories is the awareness that they cannot solve that person's need. They repeat this constantly. They go with exceptional fidelity in the face of very difficult situations, but they say, “I bring this package, but I know very well that I am not solving the problem.” This could be frustrating. Why isn't it?
Fr. Julián Carrón: It is not frustrating for the reason mentioned earlier: such a gratuitous gesture can only arise from an overabundance, not from an attempt to use others to solve my own problem. This gesture is very educational because, first of all, one begins to realize the nature of one's own need, which is infinitely greater than one thought.
When one understands this, one realizes that even if one were to “fix” this or that material problem, it would not address the true nature of the other's need, which is identical to one's own. Therefore, one is not frustrated, because one already knows from the outset that even with concrete help, it would not be enough. As Leopardi says, “everything is little and small” for the desire of the heart.
So we change our perspective. It is a cognitive revolution rather than an ethical one. We understand that we are faced with something totally different: I, who am limited, cannot respond to the other person's desire for infinity, just as I cannot respond to my own. Those who are aware of this do not become frustrated but simply want to share a journey, to be companions in destiny. They find companions who walk towards the One who can fulfill that desire.
Sometimes, some people who are helped accumulate the things they receive even if they do not have an immediate material need for them. Why? Because they understand that the real need that emerged in that relationship was not an economic one. So, from one point of view, nothing is “fixed,” but at the same time, one responds with an embrace, companionship, and friendship that generates both.
Moderator: Is it in this sense, then, that the gesture is “educational”? At the beginning of a chapter, there is a sentence that says: “In the act of charity, a person is educated to know himself and what he needs to live.” Can you explain this further?
Fr. Julián Carrón: It is educational because to educate means to introduce someone to reality, to become aware of oneself. And how can I know myself, my irreducibility, the disproportion I feel between my desire and reality? Only by living and encountering others. It is in the encounter with reality that who I am emerges. I reach a goal that I thought would satisfy me, and I realize that it is not enough, that it points me to something else.
This continuous discovery of myself does not take place in my head or through introspection, but simply by living. The more I take action, the more I try to respond, the more I realize that everything is “small and insignificant” compared to the capacity of my soul. And this is not a condemnation; it is the greatness of man. I am always amazed by a phrase from St. Augustine, quoted by Leopardi in his Confessions: “You, God, show the greatness you wanted to give to rational creatures, because nothing less than You is enough for their peace.” What a journey Augustine took to reach this awareness!
A seemingly trivial gesture such as carrying a package can lead to this understanding, without the need for studies that many, for obvious reasons, could not undertake. Life is simple: one need only engage with reality to be introduced to this true knowledge of oneself.
Moderator: The paradox of these stories is that the person carrying the package discovers that they are more needy than the other. And the beauty of the relationships that arise is striking: friendship, loyalty, a constancy that lasts for years. One wonders: how is it possible to be so generous, loyal, and constant with a stranger, when sometimes we cannot even do so with our own child or husband?
Fr. Julián Carrón: You have to ask them that, because these paradoxes are only revealed through experience. The reason, in my opinion, is that this loyalty is not a matter of generosity, skill, or performance. It is the recognition of how generative that relationship is for oneself. One returns again and again because one needs it to live. It is not so much what I “give” but what I receive by doing so.
The mechanism is mysteriously reversed. I started out to respond to a need, and along the way, I discover that I am the one in need. And I need this relationship to deepen my awareness of myself. If I stopped, I would shut down. They feel it as an urgency that keeps the drama of life open, and this then allows them to love their husband, their children, their work, and to face all the unexpected events. When life is not challenging, you become flat. This gesture, on the other hand, puts you face to face with yourself in all your density and does not leave you dull.
Andrea Franchi: Precisely on this last point. The opportunity to meet these friends is also an opportunity today to look at the decisive events of my life. As you were speaking, I was reminded not only of Roberto, to whom I am taking the package, but also of my relationship with my children. The change, both for me and for those people, is that after that unexpected encounter, life may have remained the same in its difficulties, but it is as if we had begun to accept that challenge, to do the work. It is not about hoping that something will happen again tomorrow while we are spectators. So I wanted to ask: in your experience, what form does this “work” of accepting the challenge that an event brings take?
Fr. Julián Carrón: It is a work of growing self-awareness, because the tragedy is that if you don't do this work, you end up becoming skeptical, as if nothing remains in life. You can see whether you are doing this work or not when life challenges you again. That is when you see if you have grown, if you are ready to face the new situation, or if you are once again at the mercy of events.
Not even Jesus' disciples were spared. They had seen the multiplication of the loaves, but the real test of what remained of that amazing event came the day when, in the boat, they realized they had forgotten the bread. What was their reaction? They began to argue among themselves, as if the solution could come from a discussion. As if nothing had happened. No one thought to ask the One who was with them in the boat.
To help them do this work, what does Jesus do? He asks questions: “How many loaves were left over the first time? And the second time? Don't you understand yet?” If you don't understand, I could continue to perform miracles, but you would not grow; you would not know who is with you in the boat. This work is to cultivate the memory of what we have experienced, because only this generates the person and allows us to face the drama of living. Otherwise, we will always find ourselves back at square one.
Andrea Franchi: Now, to conclude, we will tell you not about our lives, but about our contribution, the truth of what we have discovered, through the words of a great friend. They describe better than I could how this dynamic works and what form this work takes.
The book had four chapters, four stories per chapter, and an introduction by Zuppi. Everything was laid out, ready for printing. That very week, he and I had an unexpected encounter that tells the truth about our lives better than we could. We asked ourselves, “Should we put it in the book?” The little devil on our shoulder said, “No, everything is ready, the rules of publishing...” But the angel said, “Didn't you become who you are by yielding to what happens?” For one of the few times, the angel won. Ignoring the rules, we added this seventeenth, very short final story. You be the judge of whether it was worth it.
We are in the last place where one would think something beautiful could happen: the suburbs of Milan.
Massimo Picciotti: Veronica and Tiziana, together with their friends from the Banco di Solidarietà di Cesano Boscone, brought the package to Alessandro for many years and accompanied him even in the last months of his life. Alessandro was a man with a strong temperament, and arguments with him were not uncommon. He lived in difficult circumstances, exacerbated by his choices, which had led him to remain alone and perhaps even to fall ill. Veronica and her friends were with him until his death in a hospice, incredulous at his progressive and total disarmament and at the joy with which, until the last evening, he spoke of the newness of real life that had been his encounter with them. They were amazed at how he, an impulsive and stubborn man, had found a place where he had begun to “let go.” And so Alessandro, who had lived almost always alone, ascended to heaven surrounded by friends.
Immediately after his death, one morning, Veronica and Tiziana returned to his apartment to tidy up and prepare for the move. As they were leaving, a lady from upstairs appeared on the landing. “Excuse me, are you the ones who always used to visit Alessandro?” The two girls replied yes, a little surprised.
But the lady, in her eighties, continued, “I know what the situation was like, and I always saw you going to see him. Now that he's gone, I wanted to ask if you could come and see me too.”
Veronica, once she had gotten over her surprise, immediately replied that if she needed anything, they would organize a package for her too. But the lady's response, who had probably been watching them from a distance for some time, left the two friends speechless: “No, no, you don't understand. I have food; I don't need groceries. I need you. I saw Alessandro, and when the time comes, I want to die accompanied as he was.”
Since that day, every week, Veronica and Tiziana have been visiting Roberta, without a food parcel. And they often bring other friends with them. Roberta contributed to the costs of Alessandro's funeral and continues, as she says somewhat jokingly, to keep the group together. One evening, over pizza, Roberta gave Veronica an old book by John Paul II with a handwritten dedication: “My life has been complete since I met him and you. With much love and gratitude, your friend Roberta.”
Moderator: Thank you. Thank you very much for this truly valuable work. And I especially thank Don Julián, who has given us these hours and patiently answered all our questions. Thank you.
Text and notes unrevised by the authors and speakers.
