The Unpredictable Coincidence
Julián Carrón - A dialogue with Fiero Innocenzi, Andrea Franchi, Massimo Piciotti, and Elisa Calessi.
Elisa Calessi - First of all, thank you for coming here, for braving a Roman Saturday morning, which is always a challenge. And I would like to thank Daniele, Andrea, and Massimo for giving me the opportunity to be here with you: I am truly happy and, therefore, I thank you for this morning you are giving me. I would like to give the floor to the head of Banco di Solidarietà, who will tell us how this experience came about in Rome.
Fiero Innocenzi - I have written two things that I will read to you, and I am already moved to be here with all of you. I will start with the famous question: “What need moves us?”, which we wrote, for myself and for everyone, in the invitation. On November 1, 2009, moved by the desire to restart a charitable gesture... I was already over fifty, and every time I heard the announcements, charity was something that no longer belonged to me, because I had already done it when I was young... After fifty, I said to myself, “Come on, let's move on to the next step.” But one day, in 2009, I paused over this announcement, and a dear friend said to me, “Why don't you get involved in this new initiative in Italy, the Banco di Solidarietà (Solidarity Bank)?”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I don't know, but don't worry...” he replied. “You'll probably like it.”
“Okay, what do I have to do?”
“I'll send you the address. Go to the CdO headquarters and connect.”
“When is it?”
“November 1, All Saints' Day.”
Okay, at 10 a.m. there was this connection, and I thought: Who should I go with? I asked my wife and two other friends: “Shall we go and hear about this Solidarity Bank? They say that Don Carrón will also be there to speak.”
So, on Sunday, All Saints' Day, we went to this beautiful large hall with the connection. They turned off the lights and the assembly began with Andrea and Don Carrón. A series of testimonies and stories began. One of the ones that struck me the most was that of Giovanni da Pellestrina; it really touched my heart. The stories continued, and there we were, all four of us, silent, with this screen in front of us. Two hours passed, the assembly ended, and the lights came back on. What I still remember clearly is that all four of us were crying. We found ourselves crying, and no one could speak or explain why, but all four of us had tears in our eyes, and we said to each other, “How beautiful! How beautiful! How beautiful!”
Then we went home. It was already lunchtime. It was a holiday. We hugged each other and said, “Let's try to do this Solidarity Bank too!” We got back in touch the very next day: “Let's meet up, so we can pick up where we left off and see what to do.” There were five of us at the beginning, but there was no family to bring the package to... That day of the assembly was very important for me, so much so that I still remember it today—it has always remained in my heart—when Carrón said what is essential about solidarity: “Charity is for an overabundance, not for a lack” and “the package is not given to those who deserve it, but to those who need it.”
So we began this experience, which has continued over the years. Since 2009, many things have happened, but there was another decisive moment for me, during a particular period here in Rome, which made me feel a bit like everything was collapsing on me, I didn't know what to do, and uncertainties were beginning to arise. There was a meeting one Sunday afternoon where some big changes were announced, and I said to myself, “Oh my God, what a blow!” I didn't know what to do, but at the end of the meeting—Don Carrón was there that day, having come specifically to tell us this news—I asked myself, “What do I do now?” Because I was a little shaken, but I was happy with the experience I was having: “It can't be possible that... what I'm experiencing is so beautiful!”
At one point, a friend said to me, “Get in line, go talk to him.” There was a long line of people waiting to talk to him. When my turn came, I said, "Hello, Don Julián, I'm Fiero. I've heard about all these new developments, but at the moment I'm on a journey with my friends from the Solidarity Bank. I've become friends with Branco and Enrico, people who, for me..." They had introduced me to Don Eugenio, who was unknown in Rome, but for me there was already this fascination, so much so that they told me I was crazy when I went to northern Italy... And I said to him, “What should I do?”
That moment was decisive for me. I only remember that he hugged me and said, “Fiero, go ahead with what makes you happy.” That's it. For me, it was that hug, which I received for the second time, that tenderness... For me, charity is not an obligation, but the beauty I have encountered. If I didn't carry with me what is valuable in my life, I could do without it. Also because sometimes it's tiring, it's not the best. I'll end here. I asked two dear friends from the Banco di Solidarietà to share their experiences: one is Matilde, whom I now invite to speak.
Calessi - I apologize for my excitement; I forgot to introduce our most important guest, Don Julián Carrón, whom we obviously thank from the bottom of our hearts for being here today.
Matilde - I will recount my experience of these years at the Banco di Solidarietà. At first, for me, it was not a decision—to say “ethical” is not quite the right word—it was not a decision made without putting my heart into it. As with many other choices in my life, I was welcomed by a group of friends who had already begun this experience. Then, for me, it was also quite convincing, because this volunteering, as I called it, fit well into my life: I was working, I still had my son at home... I didn't know, however, how much space the people I was about to meet would occupy in my life and, let's face it, in my heart.
In the preface to the book, Cardinal Zuppi asked us not to confuse the two terms “volunteering” and “charity.” At the time, for me it was little more than volunteer work, but then I understood the difference over the years, reading Giussani's booklet, The Meaning of Charity: “We go into charity to learn to live like Christ.” In short, it was a very demanding project... And so I began to visit some families who had been recommended to me and who were living in conditions of great poverty, bringing them packages. More than anything else, what struck me was a disconcerting precariousness.
I am very rational, very precise, and I carry within me the names and faces of the people I have met. Even people who have now achieved something in life and are no longer waiting for this package, which is not really “the package,” but rather our face, we who go there and begin a story with them, a story of friendship. There were those who had lost their jobs; single girls expecting a child; a mother abandoned by her husband with two sick children: one schizophrenic and the other with serious behavioral delays. There was also a very young woman with two autistic girls; a man who had lost his twelve-year-old son to cancer and who, in some way, had also lost himself to alcohol. I must say that my cynicism led me to say, “But I've put together the Armata Brancaleone!” because it was really heavy, and that was my way of overcoming the discomfort you always feel when faced with so much suffering. I had never seen so much all at once.
“Poverty disturbs,” I thought over the years, because we cannot alleviate the pain of others. Then, especially when we become attached to these people, we feel powerless and run the risk of thinking that we are the ones who have to change the circumstances, instead of helping them embrace their circumstances, as we are often reminded. I add this too, because it is difficult to believe, with my little faith, that the Lord is faithful and that it is He who changes things at the right time, when the time is right. I won't hide the fact that sometimes I have even thought of leaving these people to others, but then I realized that my attitude was moralistic, that of someone who relies entirely on their own abilities, emotions, and sympathy, on their own involvement, because they are convinced that they have to give something. But soon, instead, I realized that for me it was a challenge and, since I am quite “stubborn,” as they say, I stayed. All those people were not only poor, they were also lonely. What struck me most was that they were resigned, as if they were defeated. I immediately realized 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, how much he had made my life happy, certainly with ups and downs, but enriched by a journey to be traveled in company.
So many stories. I want to tell you one. One day, one of the girls we were helping, whom I often visited even when I didn't have a package to give her, said to me, “You know what? With you, I feel at home.” It really hit me. When Carrón talked to us about “the piercing of the heart”... Her home is Peru, her country, where she left her heart and a son who lives there without a father, raised by a sister to whom she sends the little money she earns in Italy. At that time, she was pregnant again. She had fallen in love with a man, once again the wrong one, who then left her. It was a story that was repeating itself in her life, and it moved me deeply. One day I talked about it with my colleagues at the Tg1 Mattina newsroom, where I was working at the time, and I witnessed a miracle. I feel I can say this because it was almost unbelievable, knowing the hardness of heart that a certain profession pushes us to have: there was a competition to see who could collect the most baby clothes, dresses, diapers... even a used stroller. A notice was even posted on the bulletin board in the office. I would like to say that it was a great gift, especially for me, to see this. As soon as she gave birth, this girl called me at work to tell me that her son had been born: “You're the first to know,” she said, “now I'm going to call home.” And the story with her went on like this, from package to package. I was chosen as godmother for the baptism, which was then celebrated by Don Sandro Bonicalzi in the parish of Sant'Eusebio, in Piazza Vittorio. Many friends from the movement were present, many people to whom I had told and continue to tell this story. But there have also been many other encounters that have changed and certainly 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, Don Giussani always said.
Calessi - Thank you!
Fiero - Come on, friend! Nicola is a giant in every way. When we prepare the packages for the Banco di Solidarietà, if you need someone to help you tape the boxes and carry them to the car, or if your back hurts... we all call Nicola.
Nicola - But that's because I'm happy to be there. In the evening, when I get home, my wife asks me, “Why do you go? You're tired.”
“Because I'm happy,” I reply.
I start with this beautiful book that was given to me by a friend: every story told in it moved me, because it helps us understand so much about the love that Jesus has for us. This is immediately apparent when reading the chapters: I found myself having experiences similar to those I read about, which helped me and continue to help me look at my life with greater awareness and at the people I meet, friends, acquaintances, the families I deliver packages to, my children. There are moments in my daily life that I would gladly do without, yet it is precisely there that the urgency to be loved arises, and I then realize that I am truly loved. I'll explain later. While reading the book, I asked myself a question: do I have the same love for others that I receive and experience in my life? I don't know the answer for sure, but one thing I do know is that my experience at the Banco di Solidarietà is a source of constant joy for me.
The family to whom my wife and I deliver the food parcels has been having serious problems lately. One evening, this family invited us to dinner at their home—just imagine, them, with all their needs—and asked us for help because they had to take their 3- and 4-year-old children to the doctor and didn't know how to get there. I immediately said yes, and the next day I took them to the hospital. When I got home, I felt really happy, not only because I had helped them, but because I realized that without my “yes,” I would not have been happy to bring 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 Cinzia.” When we go to their house to deliver the package, they don't want us to leave. They stand in front of the door: “You mustn't leave!”
My experience at the Solidarity Bank is that I realize I need the people to whom I bring the package. Bringing the package reminds me of my true need: to be loved as Jesus loves me. In short, performing an act of charity, helping others as best we can, is an opportunity to realize ourselves. But how do I feel that I am loved? Because someone might say, “How do you prove it? Those are just words...” So I talk about the difficult experience I am going through with my son, who is a drug addict and drinks, and in this experience I suffer. But how do I know I am loved? When I look at my son, I always see a glimmer of hope, a light that shines on me: that is love for me. And what do I look at? Do I look at what might be good for him? No, he is the way he is and I have to accept him. This makes me feel bad, of course, but knowing that I am loved helps me a lot. Despite the ups and downs with my son, we have reached a point where that little light is my hope. Thank you.
Calessi - Thank you, truly thank you. It is difficult for me to interrupt these moments, because this is life itself.
So, thank you, truly thank you. Now, 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 this book. I will just briefly mention two things that struck me, then we will ask them how the book came about.
The first thing that struck me is the ordinary dimension of these stories. Cardinal Zuppi also mentions this in the preface, using precisely this expression: “ordinary dimension.” That is, the fact that these are stories from an absolutely “mundane,” everyday context: people going to work, people getting married, having children... Nothing exceptional happens, it's just normal life. The protagonists themselves are not “exceptional” people and no “extraordinary” things happen. This is what struck me the most. In fact, there is often talk of coincidences, chance, and this ordinariness. Instead, I, and I think many of us, tend to think that happiness, satisfaction, and special events must happen in moments that are out of the ordinary, so we wait for the weekend, vacation, or retirement, hoping that something truly wonderful will finally happen then. These stories, however, tell us exactly the opposite.
The other thing that struck me is what Nicola said just now, this reversal that occurs and is repeated in all the stories: people who set out with the intention of responding to a need, the famous “package,” the help—they go to people who are objectively in difficulty, poor—and then they discover, in reality, that those who bring the help are more in need than they are. There is this reversal, and everyone talks about it in the end, as Nicola said: “I need the person I bring the package to.” Not only that, but everyone says that, in bringing this help, it is as if the wound that each of us has, that the person bringing the package has, somehow opens up and is healed. This is the other thing that struck me, because it refutes the voluntaristic, moralistic idea of saying, “Let's try to do, to help, to respond to people's needs.” In short, it is a reversal that particularly struck me. But now I will be quiet and let the authors speak. So, I wanted to ask you how the idea for this book came about.
Andrea Franchi (Branco) - First of all, thank you for the invitation. The book was born using the same method that has made us who we are in life and has also brought us here today: giving in and following a fact that attracts us, that intrigues us—use whatever verb you like—and by indulging it, discovering more and more who we are. My life, but I think everyone's life, is determined by one, two, or three events that mark it. Not “nice” events, not “what a nice evening,” but events that determine your life. These events always have two characteristics: three seconds before they happened, you would never have imagined them; and they have to do—usually you can't explain how—with what you desire. By following this intuition, you discover something for yourself. This is how the book came about.
One day, while attending a meeting, a dialogue between Julián and Cardinal Zuppi in Bologna, I was struck by some of Zuppi's comments and decided to try to meet him. So, I wrote a short, very short email, but I attached three small testimonials. In no time at all, the Cardinal called me and made an appointment. I went to see him and we spent almost an hour and a half talking. He didn't ask me anything about the Banks, nor almost anything about me, but he asked questions about the protagonists of the three testimonials I had attached and then asked me to tell him about other people I had met. In the end, I invited him to participate in the National Assembly of the Banks and he didn't even let me finish speaking: “Absolutely yes, let's just agree on the day.” I had just won the Champions League... I thank him and, as I am about to leave, overjoyed, he says to me, “But I have to ask you something too.” At that point—the famous “three seconds” have passed—I examine my conscience: What did I say? What did I do?... Instead, he says to me: “You have to write a book with these stories,” and he gives me the motivation, the reason: "Since the dawn of time, man has woken up in the morning expecting something in the day that will make it beautiful, expecting life to improve, to be fulfilled. But the man of our time”—I was struck by the fact that he made no distinction between Christians and non-Christians—“the man of our time wakes up with this desire, but thinks it is not possible. Instead, the stories you told me and the friends you mentioned testify to exactly the opposite. That is, it is possible that in this world an encounter can 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—to use Nicola's words—“happy inside the mess."
I come out of that encounter a little dazed, because, being a plumber, you can imagine how easily I write... Then we hold the Assembly of the Banks (which, for those who have never seen it, is made up of testimonials), Zuppi participates; the following week he calls me, I thank him and he says, “Yes, but I called you to remind you of what I asked you.” At that point... you have to follow up on what happens, at least check it out, 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—has been incredibly rewarding. Among other things, if someone had told me a year ago that I would be speaking on stage with Julián, I think I would have called them crazy... It's incredible what's happening around this book, which we're new presenting around Italy. This is the thirty-fifth presentation we've done since May, and my wife is delighted about it!
So, I'll be brief, because we've already heard things much more interesting than what I have to say, and we'll certainly hear more interesting things. Among the many things that struck me in undertaking this adventure and meeting the people we wrote about—trying simply not to add anything, but to say only what they said, because reality speaks for itself—I would like to mention just one thing that struck me: normally, when you read a story, a novel, or a short story, you wait for the ending. I am not an avid reader, but when I read a book, I tend to wonder how it will end, and my opinion of the book usually depends a lot on the ending: if the ending disappoints me, the book disappoints me; if the ending surprises me, the book surprises me. What struck me about these stories is that they all have a beginning—some have more than one beginning, because the protagonists are taken up and revisited more than once—but they don't have an ending, because life continues to generate life. So, what is in the book becomes the starting point for something that happens later.
I was struck by the fact that, when we presented the book in Brescia, the bishop showed up with a Bible in his hand and his notes already written, that is, with the idea of the speech he was supposed to give. At presentations, we always offer the testimony of one of the protagonists, such as those we heard earlier from Matilde and Nicola. That day, at the end of Giulia's testimony, which you will find in the book (along with Giovanni's, mentioned earlier by Fiero), the bishop said: “I had prepared a speech, but I won't give it, partly because you said that this is a book that tells stories that always generate something and never end.” He took the Bible, showed it to those present, and said: “Do you know what this is? This is a book that never ends, because it continues to generate. If we are here now, it is because this book continues to generate even today and does not end; it does not end in the story it tells.” This struck me very much, because it is what surprised and fascinated me most in encountering these stories and in trying, without ruining them, to tell them.
Calessi - Thank you. Now let's move on to Don Carrón, to whom I will ask a few questions, starting with what struck me, of course.
So, the first thing is that all the stories have one characteristic: at a certain point, something happens that decisively changes the lives of these protagonists, of these people, and the characteristic of this thing that happens is always that it is very “random.” In fact, the terms “coincidences,” “random coincidences,” or synonyms of this expression are used several times.
And indeed, they are truly random coincidences: one takes a train and happens to meet a friend; another receives a phone call and happens to answer it, but could have not done so... The “random” aspect of these events is emphasized several times, but in the economy of the story, they become decisive encounters that truly change the lives of these people. This struck me: the idea—which is a little scary!—that the destiny of my life passes through, is entrusted to, something as fragile as something apparently random. I say to myself: What if he hadn't taken the train? What if I hadn't answered that phone call? Is it possible that the possibility of something happening that then changes your life is so fragile?
Julián Carrón - Good morning and thank you for the invitation. These stories, as you say, arise “by chance,” in a totally unexpected and unpredictable way, as Andrea said earlier. Yes, Elisa, it is “chance,” because the alternative to this “chance” is rules, laws, something that repeats itself, a mechanism in which everything follows from something else. Reality could have been entirely like that. The vast majority of the realities we know are like that, they follow their own rules: the stars continue to follow their laws, sparrows, magnetic waves have their laws, even quantum physics, which now fascinates us, has its rules—they can't explain it well, they say it's “counterintuitive” when they talk about it, but basically it has its laws. So much so that all the tools we are using are the result of these rules, these laws. What would it have cost the Mystery to generate another being governed by laws? Nothing. It could have generated something predictable, based on rules.
What is the only alternative to rules, to laws? The unexpected. It is extremely fragile, fragile to the point of bewilderment: How is it possible that the most important thing in life passes through apparent randomness, apparent unpredictability, through something so “trivial”? But, if we stick to experience, the most unpredictable things are the ones that strike us the most, to the point—as we have seen and continue to see—of changing the life of the person to whom they happen.
The only question, then, is to educate ourselves to this attention, because, as Montale said: “The unexpected is the only hope.” The unexpected is the only hope that something may happen that has the ability to reawaken the person, to fill them with wonder, to fill them with meaning, to give them something that everything else around them cannot give them... and that gives meaning to everything else. This is why it is so decisive for life! The only question is whether we are open to this happening. What is surprising in all these unpredictable events is that, little by little, people—as each of these stories documents—when they look deeper, perceive something “beyond” that fills that “random” event with a density, a significance, that is unique.
Seeing this, I cannot help but be surprised that even the Mystery has bowed to this unpredictability. That the Mystery, in order to respond to the human need with which it created us, decided—in a way unimaginable to any human mind—to become flesh and to make itself encounterable in a “random” event—this shows how much the surprise of the unexpected is what God cares about most, so that we can find what gives meaning to life, as happens in many of these stories.
We might say: But is this method, which leaves everything “open,” which risks everything on such a fragile possibility, reasonable? Faced with this, it is as if we find ourselves a little uncomfortable. But let's think about it: if we had to imagine how we would have done it so as not to make it so “unpredictable” and “random,” would we find another way—I challenge you all to put yourselves in the shoes of the Mystery—that might not be perceived as intrusive, but that has an exquisite respect for freedom? This is what drives me crazy: that God chose this “method,” so different from the laws of physics, to communicate. Because he created us, he created our nature with such a desire for infinity... as Pavese says: what “a man seeks in pleasures [in what he likes] is infinity, and no one would ever give up the hope of achieving this infinity.”
Just stopping for a moment to talk about infinity for a being so “frail,” as Leopardi says, so fragile as man is, is already impressive. But God created this being—which is us—with the expectation of something unique and, at the same time, wanted to offer himself freely to each of us. For this reason, being so respectful of freedom, he entered history almost on tiptoe, being born in a manger, stripping himself of his divine power and entering into human flesh like that of everyone else, so much so that he could blend in with anyone: "But isn't he the carpenter's son? No, this is..." Mary Magdalene mistakes him for the gardener... 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 attraction: the only way that can truly lead to free adherence.
Calessi - Here, the other characteristic that recurs in all these stories is change. After this unpredictable, “chance” event, the total change in these people's lives is described: change in their families, in their work... Everything changes. Is this change inexorable, that is, an almost mechanical effect of the exceptional event that occurs, or is something else needed for it to happen?
Carrón - You see? It's not that there is no rule at the beginning and then the rule takes over. We change the method. No, it's the unexpected: something unexpected that happens and that requires our freedom. I can give you the most beautiful gift in the world, but I can't do what is up to you; at least you have to accept it! It has to be something that you decide to accept. Nothing is forced: just as it is not forced that it happens and that I recognize it, so it is not forced that I accept to go along with it and see what change my acceptance, my openness, brings.
This too, now, happens freely! We are faced with the beauty of this dialogue on unpredictability, on the “chance” from which you started... It is impressive, because we are outside every rule, every law other than the unpredictability of an event crucial to life! When we see its significance, if we don't want to lose it, we must go along with it.
Why do we go along with the encounter with the person we love? When they feel the attraction, when they feel that life, as soon as that face appears, is filled with meaning... They go along with it not because of any biological or psychological need, but because of the desire not to miss out on the beauty, the fullness that that person brings to life.
Change is everything in this acceptance, to which those who understand the value of what has happened to them open themselves. And this is free. The gift is free, and the acceptance of the gift is free, just as the rejection of the gift is free! The Mystery has also bowed to the decision of freedom. Faced with this, we are truly speechless: that what is most important, the meaning of life, passes through this thing that is so fragile, but at the same time so striking!
Calessi - I must say that it is a little scary. From a certain point of view, it is beautiful, but from another, it is a little scary. Because one thinks, “But what if I say no? Or if I am not careful and do not notice, is it over?”
Carrón - No, it's not over, because the Mystery knows how to do its job well. It knocks once, and again, and again... Let's not miss the train. The train continues to arrive at the station, in different ways, and it's never the last one! As we often say, “If I miss this train...” How many times have we thought that! Instead, how many times has life made us change our minds about what we thought, because, as Pope Benedict XVI said, “God never fails.” He does not fail because we are so willing to welcome His visit, His gift, but because He always finds new ways to knock on our door. It is like a parent: they cannot help but try again and again when they see that they are unable to charm their child. I always give a very simple example: how many smiles did you have to give your children to get them to smile back for the first time?
So, on the one hand, it is dramatic because it involves acceptance, but on the other hand, there is always a possibility before us, infinitely more than we could have imagined. Because, as Shakespeare said, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” We think we have everything under control, and if things don't go as we think they should, it's the end of the world. No, there is always something left to discover! Discovery is an amazing thing. We see it when someone discovers something fascinating and wears it on their sleeve. As an anecdote attributed to Aristotle says: “Do you understand what I have explained?” “Yes!” And he replies: “No, because I can't see it on your face.” We can see from someone's face when they are understanding, when they are making a discovery.
From this point of view, life is fascinating, because every morning you can wake up thinking, “I already know,” or with this openness: “How will Mystery—reality, call it what you will—surprise me today?” We all wake up with many things on our minds: one can immediately let in something different that has happened in life, or that may still happen and from which one can be moved throughout the day, or one can “close” because it does not correspond to one's images of how it should happen. That's all. But being open to this unpredictable and “random” possibility... If we begin to understand that the method is not so strange, not so irrational... It is completely unpredictable, but it happens so frequently that if we got used to always leaving open this possibility of intercepting life, the Mystery—that thing that strikes us and through which the Mystery knocks on the door—then life would be a constant adventure for this discovery!
But this is what we struggle with, because it seems too fragile, too risky, too... Ours is a lack of ultimate trust that this method, so respectful of freedom, so “lawless,” can accomplish the task we desire, that life be fulfilled! What if this were the case? What if life could become this continuous adventure, in the recognition of the unexpected? Who would not like their loved one to be able to say freely, as if it were flowing from their heart, “I love you,” and to feel that what they are saying resonates even more than the first time? Would you prefer to hear them say “I love you” as a matter of course, as if it were nothing? We cannot decide how it happens.
But, above all, only when it happens in a certain way, which is so unpredictable, so full of density... that is the only way that corresponds! When it doesn't happen that way, everything becomes habitual, ordinary, nothing happens: it's the most absolute boredom! It's unbearable! Instead, when it's a surprise that fills us with wonder, then something unique happens that we recognize with the naked eye: it's the only appropriate way, the only one that corresponds to that expectation of being loved that we need in order to live! The point is that we must change the ‘chip’ of our security, made up of rules and laws, to open ourselves up to this unpredictability, which could fill us more and more with the certainty that there is an answer, even if we must be constantly available to intercept it in reality through the unpredictable way in which it happens! Wouldn't this also be a “rule” to learn? Completely different from the other, because it respects freedom and the You who offers it to me, so that I can know the You with ever deeper intensity... What if eternal life were this? This recurrence of surprise that makes life more and more life, and not something repetitive? This is why a German proverb says that “eternal life is made up of the first sips of beer”...
Calessi - Now let's get to the heart of the Banco di Solidarietà's work. In all these stories, when people talk about the moment when they go to deliver the aid, the package, one characteristic recurs: they are aware that they cannot solve the other person's need. And this is constantly reiterated. They go with exceptional consistency and loyalty, yet despite facing the most difficult, socially borderline situations, they themselves say: “Yes, I bring the package, but I know very well that I haven't solved their problem, not at all!” As I was reading, I thought: Well, from a certain point of view, it could be frustrating, in the sense that you know you are doing something that does not solve anything. Why is it not frustrating?
Carrón - It is not frustrating for the reason Fiero mentioned earlier, because such a gesture can only arise from an overabundance. Such a free, gratuitous gesture can only arise from an overabundance. I don't go there to find an answer to my problem and use others as pretexts, instrumentally, to solve it. The gesture is very educational because, first of all, as they say, one begins to realize the nature of one's own need, the fact that each of our needs is infinitely greater than our initial awareness of it; therefore, it is a gesture that allows us to delve deeper and deeper into the nature of the need. When one begins to be aware of this, one understands that, even if one solves this or that problem, it does not respond to the nature of the need, because the need I see in the other is of the same nature as my own!
So, it doesn't frustrate me because I already know from the outset that even if I managed to help (problems sometimes exceed our energy and resources to solve them), even if I responded to everything, it wouldn't be enough, because, as Leopardi says: “Everything is small and insignificant compared to the capacity of the soul.” So, this changes the method again: it is a cognitive revolution, rather than an ethical one. Because one understands that we are faced with something else! Totally different from what we are used to: “I must respond to the deep need that I also have and, therefore, as a limited being, I cannot respond to the other's desire for infinity.” Someone who is aware of this is not frustrated, nor does he want to solve the problem in this way; he simply wants to share it, to be a companion to Destiny: he with them and they with him. He finds himself meeting companions who are walking towards the One who can fill him and them.
In this sense, a relationship is the only adequate response, but with this awareness! There are relationships in which one thinks, “Now I'll fix you!”, which is pathetic. It means not understanding the nature of the glass: “Now I'll put the drop in and fill your glass.” No, one drop can never fill the glass. So, if one thinks one can fix the other's need, it is because one does not know one's own, one does not know who one is. That is why so many say, “In this gesture, I understood who I am.” It is an uninterrupted dialogue between the person who has the need and the recognition that occurs of one's own need, the recognition of who we are.
Therefore, it is something that makes life so intense and dense that it is almost more than just bringing them the package, but they are interested in seeing you, in meeting you. And they perceive this as a response, as a more adequate response to their need! That is why it is not frustrating. There are people who do everything and more—they say so themselves—to get the charity workers to come back to their homes, even if they no longer need the package, and they say, “If not, don't come back!” The problem was not economic need, but the real need that emerged more and more in that relationship. So, from a certain point of view, it doesn't seem to be resolved, but at the same time we can say that it responds: with a hug, with companionship, with a friendship that generates both.
Calessi - I'll move on to another question I wanted to ask, but which you have already answered in part. So, is it in this sense that charity is defined as an “educational” gesture? This is the other aspect that is emphasized and on which I marked a sentence at the beginning of a chapter: “In the gesture of charity, a person is educated to know himself, what he needs to live.” I wanted to ask if you could explain this better: in what sense is it “educational”?
Carrón - It is educational because... “What is education?” Education is an introduction to reality; it is knowing the reality of a being, of a person. To educate another is to introduce them to the reality of themselves, to a true awareness of themselves. But how can I know myself? How can I know my irreducibility, that is, the structural disproportion I feel, the nature of my desires, my search for meaning? Only by living. And by encountering others. What I am emerges in the encounter with reality, because I achieve something that I think responds to my need, and I realize that it is not that! As C.S. Lewis says: "It is not me, I am only a reminder. Look! Look! What do I remind you of?" It refers you elsewhere, and elsewhere, and elsewhere...
So, this continuous discovery of oneself does not happen in my little head, with psychoanalytic introspection, but simply by living! By reaching goals that we think are the answer, believing that we already know ourselves, and instead realizing that they are not enough. So, life is about delving deeper and deeper into this density, this bottomless depth of my self. I am “desire for infinity,” and I say this thinking I have understood it, already imagining the answer, while it reveals itself to be ever greater... It is the dynamic of knowledge.
Now you know much more about mathematics than when you started studying it, but you are also more aware that you know nothing compared to all that you can still learn and that you did not even imagine existed before. You have grown in knowledge, but an even more boundless horizon has opened up before you. This is life: an ever-deepening knowledge of oneself.
Therefore, the awareness of this disproportion between my fragility and my endless desire for infinity appears even more dramatic. But I discover this by living. The more I take action, the more I try to find answers, the more I realize that “everything is small and insignificant compared to the capacity of the soul.” It is like saying that things are insufficient, but this is the greatness of man!
This is why I am so struck by a phrase of St. Augustine—together with that of Leopardi that I have just quoted—because it is truly moving to hear him say it. In a dialogue from The Confessions, he says: "You [God] show quite clearly the greatness you wanted to give to rational creatures; [because] nothing is enough for its blessed peace [its happiness], nothing less than You."
What a journey St. Augustine made—and we all know the turmoil he experienced—to deepen his awareness to that extent! The only explanation for this infinite desire is that it was He who constantly attracted him, expanding his desire so that He could fill it more and more. It is impressive that even someone like Descartes realized that, even to recognize our limits, we need the infinite: I realize my limits only because I can compare them with the infinite. Descartes! We are not talking about St. Augustine. It is clear that the thing that most “cries out” for the existence of God—of the Mystery that makes us who we are—is precisely the greatness of the self.
That is why I am always amazed that geniuses are able to say it succinctly, as Newman did: “There are only two self-evident beings: the self and God.” The more one realizes the self (let's start with what we can touch with our hands in our experience), the more one is aware of not being able to offer an adequate explanation for one's desire for infinity, since one is entirely limited, except for the recognition of God.
It is impressive that experience itself leads us to this level of self-awareness, which is education: awareness of reality, of what I am, according to all the factors of reality that I am. Only in this way can we understand how a trivial gesture—carrying a package—can teach so many things that those who turn their faces away cannot understand. Because, after all, life is easy: what introduces us more and more to the depth of living is living itself! So, all you have to do is commit yourself to a simple gesture, and this was Giussani's genius: to propose such a gesture to help people become aware of their own need and their own greatness. Without having to do who knows what kind of studies, which most people could not have done for obvious reasons (earning a living!). So, everything is easy if one commits oneself to one's own life, to reality, in order to be introduced—this is education—to meaning, to true self-knowledge.
Calessi - Can I ask another question? There is a paradox in these stories: almost always, in fact I would say always, the person who brings the package ends up discovering that they are more needy. This is the other thing that struck me and that the author brings out well: you think that the one who ‘receives’ is in need, but in reality, in the end, it turns out that the wound, the need, is greater in the one who ‘brings’. The other thing that emerges is the beauty of the relationships that develop between the person delivering the package and the person being helped: relationships of friendship, affection, loyalty, and constancy. I am struck, for example, by the constancy with which this gesture is repeated, because one could do it for a month, for two months, then life gets in the way, there are other commitments, children... one could stop. Instead, here there is a constancy, even over years, which is amazing. So, when you line up the characteristics, what emerges is this generosity, this constancy, loyalty, attention, this dedication... and you say: But how is this possible? It seems incredible, because it is almost impossible to be so generous, devoted, loyal, and constant even with your children or your husband... and they manage to be so with a stranger? How is this possible?
Carrón - You have to ask people, because these paradoxes are only revealed in experience. There is no logic that can describe them in a way that convinces us all. Because, as Giussani always says, “reality becomes transparent in experience.” The reason, in my opinion, is that this fidelity is not a matter of generosity or skill, it is not a matter of being up to the task or of performance, but rather the recognition of how much the relationship with the other generates oneself.
Why does one return again and again? Because one needs it in order to live! It is not simply the gesture I make, no, it is what I receive by making it! So, mysteriously, the mechanism is reversed: “I started out to respond to a need, and along the way, I discover that I am the one in need and that I constantly need this relationship to deepen my need... It is increasingly so, so much so that if I stop doing it, I shut down again.” It is feeling it as an urgency that keeps the drama of life constantly open, even to love my husband, children, work, circumstances, and face all the unexpected events of life.
I happen to observe that when people are truly challenged by reality, by a difficult circumstance... Think of an illness from which one then recovers: one is happy to be cured, but it is as if one then misses the challenge that the illness caused, because at that moment one found oneself living one's existence with a drama that one now does not want to lose. When they are no longer ill, they become flat. Charity is a gesture that does not end, that cannot end.
After illness, we return to the daily grind, where everything is flat. It can also happen in our most cherished relationships, as you said. The point is that it is a gesture that, without having to be sick, brings with it the drama that makes life challenging, so I need—in order to feel myself with true depth, without flattening myself—a gesture that puts everything I am in front of me and does not let it die out.
This is crucial, because we all know that when life is not challenging... I have experienced this myself. I could have stayed in Madrid without having to face all the challenges I have faced here, but I always said to myself, “There's no comparison between driving a Fiat 500 and a Ferrari.” It's true that there are many more challenges, many more unexpected events, much more drama, but it's incomparable in terms of opportunities for growth: that life can be filled with meaning, that new challenges can be faced, that a person can grow in such a way that nothing really scares them, that the foundation of a hope is born that nothing can take away. All this is only possible on a path where we spare ourselves nothing. And since I like to live at this level, I don't want anything to be spared me.
Calessi - Thank you. Now, if you have any other questions...
Franchi - Yes, precisely on this last point, because the opportunity to meet these friends was and is, even today, an opportunity to look back on the decisive events of my life. Elisa, you said that the lives of all the protagonists have changed. My life has also changed and is changing, but if I had to describe this change, I would say that it is not in the circumstances.
Thinking about the people who ‘challenge’ me the most, to use the word you used, Roberto, to whom I deliver the package, does not come to mind, but what does come to mind, for example, is the relationship with my children. So, the change in me and in those people was that, after that event, that unexpected encounter, life may have remained the same in form and in difficulties, but it is as if we had begun to accept that challenge, to do a job. This is where I see my change.
Then, of course, this may mean that I no longer do certain things that I did before or that my interests have shifted, but the first change I see in them and in myself is that accepting that challenge is a job, it is not hoping that something will happen again tomorrow and we are there as spectators. I wanted to ask you: in your experience, what form does this work take—let's call it “accepting the challenge”—that the unexpected event stirs in you and always awakens you? Because in my experience, it is the only method that allows me, over time, to continue to recognize it.
Carrón - The only method is the real, the experience we have in the real. None of us generates ourselves with our own energy. It is a work that, in order to be useful, requires a growth in self-awareness. It is what we were saying about need.
The drama of living, for me, Sisyphus, one does not do this work, deep down, one becomes skeptical, because it is as if life leaves one with nothing and, therefore, one does not grow, because one does not truly experience. I have recounted several times an example that happened to me recently with a girl in the educational setting where I now work.
She told me about something that had happened to her, and I said to her, “Look, if you, starting from the satisfaction you experienced serving customers in the restaurant, learned to enjoy your whole life like that, you could already have earned your living by living!” She looked at me and said, “Professor, everything in me is reset.”
The alternative to this job you're talking about is that everything in life is reset, that nothing remains, as T.S. Eliot said: “Where is the life we have lost in living?” Whether or not you have done this work can be seen when the train arrives at the station the next time, that is, when life challenges you again: you see if you have grown to face the new situation, to stand up to the drama of the moment, or if you feel that you have not grown and are still at the mercy of everything. And that is truly “losing your life by living.”
Things happen to everyone; you can't live without things happening, but the real difference is whether the things that happen generate more and more in us, make us grow, whether there is an ever-increasing consistency—not autonomy, but consistency—that is acquired through living, to the point of saying: " I am so convinced of this that no one can take it away from me as I face the next challenges."
The test of whether one has done a job is when, once again, life knocks on the door and challenges one. Let's see if, in living, we have learned something that allows us to face the new situation.
And, as I have always said, it amazes me because even Jesus' disciples, who lived with Him, were not spared. I always give this example: they had twice witnessed the miracle, as big as a castle, of the multiplication of the loaves, but the real test of what remained in them of that amazing event is the day when something trivial happens, when they go fishing and forget the bread. What is the test to see if anything remained of what they had seen?
Their reaction. What did they do? They started arguing. When I tell this to my students, I ask, “What would you do if you were in such a situation?” One replies, “I would go and buy bread.” Another says, “I would wait until I got to the other side to buy it.” Yet another says, “Not having bread, I would just eat the fish we catch...” As if nothing had happened. We see if anything remains of what we have experienced from the reaction. Their reactions, which may be our own, show that the multiplication of the loaves did not even cross their minds when dealing with the situation.
Then it begins to dawn on someone: “Why don't they ask Jesus?” Someone begins to realize that the one who had performed miracles was on the boat with them! Then another says, “But why doesn't Jesus, seeing that they are in need and arguing like crazy, as if they could multiply the bread like that, respond? Why doesn't he spare them this useless discussion? He had multiplied the loaves for five thousand; couldn't he respond to the needs of the handful of people on the boat?”
“Why do you think?” I ask him. Because he wanted them to do this work. And to help them do it, he asks them three questions: “How many loaves were left over the first time? How many the second time? And you still dont understand?” As if to say, “If you still don't understand, I can continue to perform miracles and I can solve this situation too, but you haven't grown! You don't know who is with you on the boat. And so you will be increasingly lost.”
Without this, we do not realize the answer even when it appears before our eyes: which makes this work crucial for me. Otherwise, despite all the things we have seen, we will always find ourselves back at square one.
This book is full of facts, but the real question is: how much have the events we have experienced shaped our personality? Because this is the answer to the drama of living: Does life have meaning? Why was the time of life given to us? What is the advantage of living? Why is it worth being born? This, at any age, but especially when life challenges and looms, appears to us with all its evidence: in the end, we only have an answer if we have seen that life has been a journey that has led us to discover the meaning of living itself. So, from an apparently trivial gesture, we can truly discover why we were born.
Calessi - Are there any other questions? No. Then, now they will read a part of the book.
Franchi - Now we will tell you about our life... Look at the terror! [laughter] No, we want to make our contribution, to tell thetruth about what we have discovered in life through a great friend who has been with us for a couple of years and who explains, better than I can, how this dynamic works, what this work consists of, which is the only way to enjoy life, at least according to my experience. We have no truer way to tell you about it. Even these two pages we are about to read and the meeting with this great friend are part of the same method.
We wrote the book, consisting of four chapters, with four stories per chapter and an introduction by Cardinal Zuppi. Everything was ready: sent to the publisher and all laid out. They were about to press the print button when, just at that moment, Massimo and I had an unexpected and unpredictable encounter that tells the truth about my life better than I can. So we said to ourselves, “We have to put this in the book!”
At that point, the little devil came out. Do you remember Sylvester the Cat? The little devil on his shoulder said, “No, the rules of publishing say that everything is already laid out, then four stories for four chapters, the introduction...” And on the other side, the little angel said, “But wasn't it giving in to what happened that made you who you are?” It's one of the few times the little devil has been slapped down, and, ignoring publishing rules and even superstition, we added this seventeenth story, very short, as an ending. You be the judge of whether the method is valid and whether it was worth including it in the book. We are in the last place where any of us would think something beautiful and great could happen: the suburbs of Milan.
"Veronica and Tiziana, together with their friends from the Banco di Solidarietà di Cesano Boscone, brought packages 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 own choices, which often ended up worsening his condition, choices that had led him to remain alone and, perhaps, even to become ill.
Veronica and her friends were with him until his death, which occurred at the hospice. They were incredulous at his progressive total disarmament and the joy with which, until the last evening, Alessandro spoke of the newness of real life that had been his encounter with them, simply being with him, simply accompanying him towards that great and dramatic step. They were amazed and fascinated by how he, an impulsive and stubborn man, had found a place where he had begun to let himself go.
And so, Alessandro, who had almost always lived alone, ascended to Heaven surrounded by friends. Immediately after his death, one morning, Veronica and Tiziana returned to his apartment to help tidy up his things and prepare for the move. As they were leaving, a lady from the floor above leaned over the staircase railing and looked out onto the landing. “Excuse me, are you the ones who always used to visit Alessandro?” The two girls replied yes, a little surprised by this unexpected approach.
But the lady, in her eighties, continued undeterred: “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 you if you could come and see me too.” Veronica, overcoming her surprise, immediately replied that of course, if she needed anything, they would organize a package for her and deliver it to her. But the response from the woman, who had probably been watching them from afar 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 I too, when the time comes, want to die accompanied as he was accompanied."
From that day on, every week, Veronica and Tiziana go to visit Roberta, without a package, it's not necessary, and they often bring other friends with them. Roberta contributed to the expenses of Alessandro's funeral and continues, as she says, half-jokingly and half-seriously, to keep the group together. One evening, over pizza at her house, Roberta gave Veronica an old book by John Paul II, with a handwritten dedication on the title page: Corsico, June 4, 2023. My life has been complete since I met you. You, Veronica and Tiziana, Deborah and Ludo. With much affection and gratitude, your friend Roberta."
Calessi
Thank you. I thank the authors for the truly valuable work they have done. And I thank, above all, Fr. Julián Carrón, who has given us these hours and who has patiently answered all our questions. Thank you, thank you so much.
Text and notes unrevised by the authors and speakers.
