"MY ILLOGICAL CHOICES”

Paul had money, friends, fabulous vacations, but an emptiness in life that tormented him. In one of his darkest moments, he was reminded of one of his school teachers, and his adventure began… From the October issue of Tracce.

I am an entrepreneur in Toronto, where I have lived for many years. My work has led me to be analytical, pragmatic, to measure risk, to move strategically, being careful not to hurt myself. Yet, despite this way of being that has shaped me over the years, there came a time when I made a decision that was the most illogical and unmeasured decision I have ever made.

Like so many expatriates, I suddenly began to feel very homesick for my homeland, my friends, and family, and one way to overcome that longing was to throw myself into my work, learning to grit my teeth and keep going. The success that I quickly achieved, however, went to my head and as a result I made disastrous decisions that made me hit rock bottom and have to start again. I had money, friends, fabulous vacations, but the emptiness of that meaningless life continually tormented me.

One day, with tears in my eyes, I decided to get in my car and drive aimlessly. At one point, I was reminded of the face of a high school teacher to whom I had caused quite a bit of trouble during the worst years of the student movements in Italy. Back in my office, I looked up her number. There were more than ten people with her same last name in her town. At the umpteenth call, when I said, "I'm looking for Mrs. Ester," a kind voice asked, "Are you Paolo?" Shocked I replied, "Which Paolo are you talking about?" "The one who is in America. Every now and then I think of you, and I pray for you." Totally disarmed by those words, I began to tell her of my adventures during those years: I had gotten married and divorced, the list of crazy things I had done, and how much I missed everything. Without being shocked she asked me, "Did you look for the CL community?" She knew that I had met students from GS (Student Youth) while at school. I answered, "No, CL is an Italian thing...." She interrupted me, "No, no, they are also there. Look for them!" The phone call did not last more than ten minutes, but it was enough to shock me and that "look for them" became my top priority.

That was my first illogical choice. I looked for them and found them. I went to several meetings, but I came out more depressed than before. Meanwhile, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and so sank back into the blackest darkness. I decided not to say anything to my parents in Italy, beside, I had learned to grit my teeth. However, I talked about it with my sister who is a doctor, and in addition to giving me health advice, she suggested that I pray to Saint Richard Pampuri from time to time. It did not seem like much to me so I said, "Whatever, I do not know that is, but I have nothing to lose."

It was the year of the World Youth Day in Canada. The secretariat of the movement in Montréal had communicated that I was in Toronto and that I spoke Italian, and so I could help the Italian young people with logistical issues. They called me and I did not answer; they kept calling me and I kept not answering. But in spite of my disappointment with the small group in Toronto, I decided to give it one last try and answered one of the calls. I talked for a while, then said to myself, "I am going to take a week’s vacation to spend time with them." Another illogical decision. What does a mature man have to do with a group of young people he does not know? They were fantastic days. The priests who accompanied them would take turns coming back to my house at the end of the day for a plate of spaghetti, a shower, and a moment of relaxation. One evening I asked one of them, "Is it right for an unbalanced person like me to ask the saints for favors?" He spoke to me and finally opened his wallet, took out a holy card and said, "Here, pray to this saint when you have a moment." It was Saint Richard Pampuri.

At the end of that summer, John Zucchi (the head of the movement in Canada) invited me to spend four days in La Thuile. I asked him what it was all about, and without explaining much he said, "It is a group of friends, of leaders from all over the world." I replied, "A group of what?" "That is what it is called, but that does not matter, come." At the end of the first day, I went to John and said, "I am leaving." He said, "Wait a minute, I am going to slash your car tires and then I will be back." He was joking but I really wanted to leave because it was clear that it was not a reading club, it was not a circle of intellectuals: it was a totalizing thing. Everything was being asked of me there, and I was afraid. But I decided to stay. On the penultimate day, I asked an Italian girl, "Do you know where Trivolzio is?" (Where Saint Richard Pampuri is buried) "Why do you want to go there?" "Well ... I was told," She replied, "I will take you." More lightning struck. Why did this person, who did not know me, want to accompany me?

John, Mark, she and I went to this desolate place at three o'clock in the afternoon in the unbearable heat. I stood by the door for a few minutes, then went in and saw the others praying, and stayed there a while. When we came out no one was talking. At one point I said, "Look, we have come here for a specific request, and I do not know how this is going to turn out. But I am absolutely certain of one thing: I will no longer be alone from today, and whatever my condition, life will no longer betray me. I have everything I need. I do not care if I will be in a wheelchair, in a hospital bed, nothing can take this certainty away from me. For me, this miracle is a hundred times greater than my recovery."

From that August 28, 2002, I began the journey to get to the bottom of the origin of those "illogical" decisions. The essential had happened and now I had the rest of my life ahead of me to understand it and become more aware of it by following the circumstances in which Jesus made himself present to me with simplicity and humility.

Back in Toronto, I longed to communicate what I had encountered and slowly I was given a community of amazing people who took life seriously. These are people who are not satisfied by solving problems, finding the anaesthetic to cushion the blows; they are people with whom I can grow freely, judging everything to discover the question we carry inside; they are people who remind each other to never detach what we say from our experience. We recount what we experience to discover how Jesus embraces us within the circumstances, to become aware that He is our answer.

After my marriage was annulled, I remarried in 2007. During my honeymoon, a young girl who had been invited to a GS vacation by her cousin in Montréal phoned me and said, "You do not know me, but I wanted to ask you if you want to do GS with me." I am not a teacher, but since I did not really know what that meant, I said, "Okay." I accepted that invitation by supporting a relationship. We started with a small group that unexpectedly grew. Once, it was winter, on my way to meet them for School of community I asked myself, "What if you go there now and no one is there? What would you do?" The answer was clear: "Sit down and do School of Community because I go there to meet Jesus, I go where He calls me." Today those young people are mature people; some have families and children, others have taken the path of consecrated life, one is about to become a priest. These people have given themselves to me like this, with all their simplicity and freshness. Our Schools of Community are beautiful, free and growing because we are all attentive to what is emerging from life.

The times when things go wrong is when I have decided that Christianity can be spread by marketing strategies. Like when we bought hundreds of copies of The Risk of Education and we sent them to the principals of schools and institutes within a ninety kilometre radius, along with a letter in which I explained the importance of the book. The few who responded asked me not to contact them again.

Ideology, even Christian ideology, leads nowhere, and over time Jesus did not hesitate to point this out to me in more or less polite ways. The intelligence, the freshness, the affection, the operativeness of those that Jesus gives me, testify to how those invested by the amazement of a present Event become a sign and work in society for any person they meet. Thus, we started the public gesture of the Stations of the Cross in the city in 2006, at which there were seven of us. In 2019, there were four hundred of us.

Medconference 2022, the reawakening of desire

"The Medconference surpassed my expectations, by providing a
moment and a place, where it was possible to see a new way of taking care of the sick, a way that both we and our patients desire"

Every year for the past 12 years, except for the last 2 COVID years, a group of physicians, nurses, physiotherapists come together to organize a conference, unpretentiously called the “Medconference”, to address issues, questions and concerns related to their work of taking care of the sick. This year, we were particularly concerned by the changing nature of our practices, especially a greater fragmentation of health care, that makes it easier for the health care provider not to engage with the patient, and not to have a meaningful relationship with individual patients, as well as an increased influence of healthcare administrators measuring outcomes who make decisions that don’t always take into consideration the relationship between the provider and the patient. We felt that the resulting loss of trust and low patient satisfaction have not been well understood by those that are trying to improve quality of care. Taking a cue from T.S.Eliot’s eternal question, are we “dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good?”. Thus the theme was “Medicine: a systemic disease?”, referring both to the inadequacy of approaching medicine only from a systemic perspective, and also, to our concerns that the root problem in medicine today is deeper and systemic.

The conference was held in Montreal, Quebec over the first weekend of October, with about 75 participants, ranging from medical students to nurses to physicians to health care regional directors. We started by watching a movie showing the closing of the Hotel-Dieu de Montreal, the oldest hospital in Montreal, “The Last Breath, at the Heart of the Hôtel-Dieu de Montréal”,
accompanied by the film’s director. Instead of wallowing in nostalgia for the closure of the hospital, in which some of us had worked, the movie showed the concrete faces of patients and health care providers accompanying them in a special environment, shaped by the 300 yearlong charitable dedication of the nuns that had run it almost from its beginnings. We were moved by the movie, with a renewed desire to look for and recognize this special humanity, thus setting the tone for the rest of the weekend. The keynote speaker, Dr. Victoria Sweet, well-known author of“God’s Hotel”, about a California hospital similar to the Hotel Dieu, the Laguna Honda, spoke with great passion of the need to rediscover a way to take care of others, that although apparently inefficient, was in fact ultimately more efficient, which she called “slow medicine”. This approach came to her by studying the medical writings of a remarkable 12 th century nun, Hildegard von Bingen, while working at the Laguna Honda. After this inspiring talk, an oncologist, a nurse and a caregiver dealing with cancer provided us with a concrete and surprising example of what it means to practice and live in front of cancer in an unexpectedly human way such that work becomes an enriching adventure, opening us to new friendships, including with patients and their families.

In the afternoon, we heard from “the other side”: health administrators who were attempting to respond to the systemic needs of a large region in Italy, communicating with and involving local physicians, sharing with them data and innovative approaches to improve the overall quality of care. After hearing the moving personal stories of a hospital worker and a physician, both dealing with illness, recognizing their own specific needs and the individuals who responded to them, we all embarked on a boat tour of the St Lawrence River starting from downtown Montreal, sharing a 4 - course meal on the boat, an occasion to better encounter each other.

The next day, we began by hearing about one of the cutting-edge innovations in medicine, CAR-T cells, as told by an expert who brought it home to us with examples, sharing the difficulties and the wonder of novel therapies, illustrating the great promise of “fast medicine”. The next talk was an example of how the desire to respond to the need for more time surgeries led one orthopedic surgeon to create a new clinic, in which patients are treated in a more human way, baptised by one of its workers as the “Clinique du bonheur”, or the clinic of happiness. Finally, we heard about how following a scientist and physician mentors led to novel and creative ways of dealing with difficult clinical problems including respiratory failure in COVID, generating unexpected collaborations around the world.

In sum, this year’s Medconference started by re-awakening a desire, as shown by the lively questions and comments that followed every talk, and provided us with surprising and creative examples of how that desire is lived facing the concreteness of the needs of our patients. Indeed, there is a systemic problem in medicine, that of not truly looking at and staying with the patients, a problem that can be helped but not solved by improving the system, but that certainly requires the passionate engagement of those who are involved whether directly or indirectly in taking care of the sick, leading them often into uncharted territories. This year, the Medconference surpassed my expectations, by providing a moment and a place, where it was possible to see a new way of taking care of the sick, one that is creative, innovative, and human, a way that both we and our patients desire, something that each of us gratefully took away from the amazing weekend.

Preparing for the audience with Pope Francis

The letter from John Zucchi, Responsible of CL in Canada, ahead of the meeting with Pope Francis in Rome on October 15th.

Dear friends,

As you know, this coming Saturday will be another historic moment in the long path of our movement. How wonderful that the Holy Father, Pope Francis has granted us an audience on October 15 th , precisely on the hundredth anniversary of Father Giussani’s birth! Because Father Giussani understood the crucial value of unity and apostolicity, there was nothing more urgent
for him than to follow the Holy Father. Indeed, it was at the first audience to which all members of the movement were invited with Pope Paul VI in March 1975 that Father Giussani expressed his famous words that sum our path, that “we become a spectacle to ourselves and God willing … to others, too … of limitation, of betrayal … and at the same time, a spectacle of inexhaustible certainty in that Grace that is given to us and renewed in the awareness of each morning.”

It is a beautiful sign that over 25 friends will be going to Rome from Canada, and I am sure that many others would go if circumstances allowed it. But those of you who cannot be in Rome can meet in groups, if possible, to watch the events on video and participate fully in the encounter.

Let us above all, ask for that same “inexhaustible certainty in that Grace that is given us” to fill our hearts as we await the event of our audience with Pope Francis on Saturday. And in preparation, let us also read the letter by Davide Prosperi regarding the audience.

In friendship,
John

What builds history?

"To understand we have to look where there is something truly new." John Zucchi recounts how the Pope's "penitential pilgrimage" among the indigenous communities has provoked him. Their pain, and the "encounter".

There are times when it becomes evident that history, our understanding of what marks our past and therefore our present, is outside our hands. We may look to the way in which power deals with problems: this morning for example the headlines referred to the continuing war in Ukraine and the devastating news of four political executions in Myanmar. We see so much evil around us and wonder if there is any way out, and at the same time we think that history somehow is built up by the power that so often perpetrates this evil. But if we want to understand what truly builds history, we have to look where there is something truly new, and this often means looking to the peripheries, among the downtrodden and forgotten.

In late March when representatives from Canada's Indigenous communities met Pope Francis in the Vatican, Chief Marie-Anne Day Walker-Pelletier, of the Okanese First Nation in Saskatchewan, gave the Holy Father two pairs of children's moccasins, which represented the many children who had entered Canada's residential schools and never made it home again. The downtrodden. The understanding was that the pontiff would return these moccasins when he came to Canada to deliver an apology.

On July 25, Pope Francis began his “penitential pilgrimage”, as he has called it, encountering a couple of thousand survivors of those institutions, and others, at the Muskwa Park . He asked for forgiveness again and again, referring to how Christians “supported the colonizing mentality of the powers that oppressed the Indigenous peoples.” He begged forgiveness “with shame and unambiguously…for the evil committed by so many Christians.” And he referred to the moccasins, stating how they had kept alive a deep sorrow in him in the ensuing period.

It was deeply moving to see what we can only describe as an encounter between the residential school survivors and the Pope. It was not a meeting, but an encounter, with all the weight the word carries. Both the Holy Father and the Indigenous people present were, as it were drawn out of themselves by something new, beyond them, unexpected. Many First Nations People, Inuit and Métis, were hoping for an apology from the pontiff but were not sure to have one. Others felt that even if there were an apology it might not be enough. What was striking was that all our hopes, expectations or demands were almost swept aside by the event itself People were visibly moved to tears. One Cree woman spontaneously began singing the Canadian national anthem in Cree in a very emotional way with tears streaming down her cheeks. Even the Pontiff stopped to listen to her and applauded.

The encounter in Muskwa Park was a very sombre moment. There was none of the cheering that so often accompanies papal visits. Pope Francis smiled gently as he greeted people on stage, but otherwise he set the tone with a gravely serious look on his face. This was a penitential pilgrimage after all, and so dignitaries and politicians respected the gesture. This was not a moment for their photo opportunities with the Pope nor to excitedly catch a glimpse of him, as so often happens (understandably) during a papal visit. Rather, his demeanour invited everyone to join him in earnest entreaty for forgiveness from the indigenous peoples and from God.

As we awaited the Holy Father’s arrival in Canada, it seemed at times that justice for Indigenous persons would be impossible to achieve, and the hopes of reconciliation so dim. Yet, in that simple encounter in a field in the middle of Alberta, between a humble Pope asking for forgiveness of a couple of thousand likewise humble, Indigenous people and those whom they represented, there, at the margins, a new hope opened up. We can comment all we want and develop all sorts of points of view on where relations will move between the Church and Indigenous peoples, but before all that, we must come to terms with what happened in those two brief hours in Muskwa Park. The extraordinary event there bore out the Holy Father’s words that “ our own efforts are not enough. To achieve healing and reconciliation we need God's grace.”

And yes, he did bring back those moccasins.

"Love is stronger than evil”

After two years of pandemic disruptions, the traditional Way of the Cross procession organized by Communion and Liberation resumed in the streets of the historic centre of Montreal.

Many people had predicted that with online liturgies there would be a drop in church attendance with return to normality. So it was difficult to know if the faithful would still be interested in attending the Way of the Cross, a live procession, wearing masks and taking precautions with social distancing. Yet the Via Crucis was more popular than ever, with close to a thousand marchers moving in silence through the city’s famous old churches.

I was involved in the organization of the gesture and at the beginning of March, as we were looking for a representative image for the invitation to the Way of the Cross, a friend sent me a striking photo: a contemporary version of the Deposition of Christ. Only this time, instead of a museum viewing, it was retweeted thousands of times. It represented a 15th century Crucifix being taken out of the Armenian Cathedral of Lviv, Ukraine, to be stored in a bunker for protection. That very night, I got in contact with author of the photo, the Portuguese Photojournalist André Luís Alves who immediately granted us permission to use it.

With the Lenten season marked by the anguish and unimaginable sufferings of the war in Ukraine, we followed closely Pope Francis’s invitation to observe a Day of Fasting for Peace on Ash Wednesday, his repeated calls for peace, and the Act of Consecration of Russia and Ukraine to the Immaculate Heart of Mary on the feast of the Annunciation. The CL Choir, in preparing the hymns for the event, included a Ukrainian hymn, Stradalna Maty (Stabat Mater), along with Bogoroditse Devo, (Ave Maria) by Rachmaninoff, a piece that had already been part of the repertoire for many years.

Even though geographically Canada is half a world away from Ukraine, Canada is home to one of the largest Ukrainian diaspora communities in the world, at about 1.4 million people. In Montreal, there are over ten Ukrainian Greek-Catholic and Orthodox parishes and we invited them to the event.

A few days before the procession we received some complaints from the Ukrainian community raising concerns on including a Russian composer’s work among the hymns. This request echoed the cancellation of a young Russian pianist, Alexander Malofeev, scheduled to play with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra, a controversial decision, as the young musician had spoken out publicly against the war. And an ironic twist for a multicultural society that militates against any form of ethnophobia.

When similar concerns were raised with the 13th station of the Way of the Cross at the Colosseum, we understood that we should not be distracted by political nor cultural positions,but remain focussed on the original proposal of the gesture: a profound religious act keeping memory of the Passion of our Lord, offering the sufferings of the whole world.

Nevertheless, the dialogue we had gave way to another encounter: that of facing the profound invisible wounds provoked by the abominable violence of war.

To everyone’s surprise, on Good Friday, not one, but three Ukrainian priests, accompanied by members of their congregations, joined us in the Via Crucis, which Archbishop Christian Lépine, of Montreal graciously accepted to lead again. All three of the priests carried the cross through the streets of Old Montreal, from the historic Chapel of Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours to the Notre-Dame Basilica, followed by Saint Patrick Basilica, the Jesuit Church of the Gesù, then passing through Place Ville Marie to arrive three and a half hours later at Mary Queen of the World Cathedral.

When the choir performed Stradalna Maty in Ukrainian in the iconic Notre-Dame Basilica, the Ukrainian community stood up in total reverence. At the following station, at Saint Patrick Basilica, as the choir sang Bogoroditse Devo in Russian they stood up once again with the same reverence. This gesture spoke louder than words; it was an encounter with steadfast, unwavering faith. A faith that recognized that prayer – true conversation with God – transgresses language, national or political barriers.
In Mgr Lépine’s words, “Love is stronger than death, love is stronger than suffering, love is stronger than evil”.

Address of Pope Francis to the representatives of Indigenous peoples in Canada

Pope Francis received 20 representatives of Canada's First Nation Peoples.We share here his words to them from the public audience of Friday, April 1st 2022.

Dear brothers and sisters,
Good morning and welcome!

I thank Bishop Poisson for his kind words and each of you for your presence here and for the prayers that you have offered. I am grateful that you have come to Rome despite the difficulties caused by the pandemic. Over the past few days, I have listened attentively to your testimonies. I have brought them to my thoughts and prayers, and reflected on the stories you told and the situations you described. I thank you for having opened your hearts to me, and for expressing, by means of this visit, your desire for us to journey together.

I would like to take up a few of the many things that have struck me. Let me start from a saying that is part of your traditional wisdom. It is not only a turn of phrase but also a way of viewing life: “In every deliberation, we must consider the impact on the seventh generation”. These are wise words, farsighted and the exact opposite of what often happens in our own day, when we run after practical and immediate goals without thinking of the future and generations yet to come. For the ties that connect the elderly and the young are essential. They must be cherished and protected, lest we lose our historical memory and our very identity. Whenever memory and identity are cherished and protected, we become more human.

In these days, a beautiful image kept coming up. You compared yourselves to the branches of a tree. Like those branches, you have spread in different directions, you have experienced various times and seasons, and you have been buffeted by powerful winds. Yet you have remained solidly anchored to your roots, which you kept strong. In this way, you have continued to bear fruit, for the branches of a tree grow high only if its roots are deep. I would like to speak of some of those fruits, which deserve to be better known and appreciated.

First, your care for the land, which you see not as a resource to be exploited, but as a gift of heaven. For you, the land preserves the memory of your ancestors who rest there; it is a vital setting making it possible to see each individual’s life as part of a greater web of relationships, with the Creator, with the human community, with all living species and with the earth, our common home. All this leads you to seek interior and exterior harmony, to show great love for the family and to possess a lively sense of community. Then too, there are the particular riches of your languages, your cultures, your traditions and your forms of art. These represent a patrimony that belongs not only to you, but to all humanity, for they are expressions of our common humanity.

Yet that tree, rich in fruit, has experienced a tragedy that you described to me in these past days: the tragedy of being uprooted. The chain that passed on knowledge and ways of life in union with the land was broken by a colonization that lacked respect for you, tore many of you from your vital milieu and tried to conform you to another mentality. In this way, great harm was done to your identity and your culture, many families were separated, and great numbers of children fell victim to these attempts to impose a uniformity based on the notion that progress occurs through ideological colonization, following programmes devised in offices rather than the desire to respect the life of peoples. This is something that, unfortunately, and at various levels, still happens today: ideological colonization. How many forms of political, ideological and economic colonization still exist in the world, driven by greed and thirst for profit, with little concern for peoples, their histories and traditions, and the common home of creation! Sadly, this colonial mentality remains widespread. Let us help each other, together, to overcome it.

Listening to your voices, I was able to enter into and be deeply grieved by the stories of the suffering, hardship, discrimination and various forms of abuse that some of you experienced, particularly in the residential schools. It is chilling to think of determined efforts to instil a sense of inferiority, to rob people of their cultural identity, to sever their roots, and to consider all the personal and social effects that this continues to entail: unresolved traumas that have become intergenerational traumas.

All this has made me feel two things very strongly: indignation and shame. Indignation, because it is not right to accept evil and, even worse, to grow accustomed to evil, as if it were an inevitable part of the historical process. No! Without real indignation, without historical memory and without a commitment to learning from past mistakes, problems remain unresolved and keep coming back. We can see this these days in the case of war. The memory of the past must never be sacrificed at the altar of alleged progress.

I also feel shame. I have said this to you and now I say it again. I feel shame – sorrow and shame – for the role that a number of Catholics, particularly those with educational responsibilities, have had in all these things that wounded you, in the abuses you suffered and in the lack of respect shown for your identity, your culture and even your spiritual values. All these things are contrary to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. For the deplorable conduct of those members of the Catholic Church, I ask for God's forgiveness and I want to say to you with all my heart: I am very sorry. And I join my brothers, the Canadian bishops, in asking your pardon. Clearly, the content of the faith cannot be transmitted in a way contrary to the faith itself: Jesus taught us to welcome, love, serve and not judge; it is a frightening thing when, precisely in the name of the faith, counter-witness is rendered to the Gospel.

Your experiences have made me ponder anew those ever timely questions that the Creator addresses to mankind in the first pages of the Bible. After the first sin, he asks: “Where are you?” (Gen 3:9). Then, a few pages later, he asks another question, inseparable from the first: “Where is your brother?” (Gen 4:9). Where are you? Where is your brother? These are questions we should never stop asking. They are the essential questions raised by our conscience, lest we ever forget that we are here on this earth as guardians of the sacredness of life, and thus guardians of our brothers and sisters, and of all brother peoples.

At the same time, I think with gratitude of all those good and decent believers who, in the name of the faith, and with respect, love and kindness, have enriched your history with the Gospel. I think with joy, for example, of the great veneration that many of you have for Saint Anne, the grandmother of Jesus. This year I would like to be with you on those days. Today we need to reestablish the covenant between grandparents and grandchildren, between the elderly and the young, for this is a fundamental prerequisite for the growth of unity in our human family.

Dear brothers and sisters, it is my hope that our meetings in these days will point out new paths to be pursued together, instil courage and strength, and lead to greater commitment on the local level. Any truly effective process of healing requires concrete actions. In a fraternal spirit, I encourage the Bishops and the Catholic community to continue taking steps towards the transparent search for truth and to foster healing and reconciliation. These steps are part of a journey that can favour the rediscovery and revitalization of your culture, while helping the Church to grow in love, respect and specific attention to your authentic traditions. I wish to tell you that the Church stands beside you and wants to continue journeying with you. Dialogue is the key to knowledge and sharing, and the Bishops of Canada have clearly stated their commitment to continue advancing together with you on a renewed, constructive, fruitful path, where encounters and shared projects will be of great help.

Dear friends, I have been enriched by your words and even more by your testimonies. You have brought here, to Rome, a living sense of your communities. I will be happy to benefit again from meeting you when I visit your native lands, where your families live. I won’t come in the winter! So I will close by saying “Until we meet again” in Canada, where I will be able better to express to you my closeness. In the meantime, I assure you of my prayers, and upon you, your families and your communities I invoke the blessing of the Creator.

I don’t want to end without saying a word to you, my brother Bishops: Thank you! Thank you for your courage. The Spirit of the Lord is revealed in humility. Before stories like the one we heard, the humiliation of the Church is fruitfulness. Thank you for your courage.

I thank all of you!



( Dicastero per la Comunicazione - Libreria Editrice Vaticana)

"The Joy of the Gospel in his heart, enabled him to do what he did"

The homily of Msgnr Marcel Damphousse, Archbishop of Ottawa at the Memorial Mass for the centenary of Fr. Giussani's birth.

It’s nice to see that the crowd has quadrupled since the beginning of the Mass. As I mentioned, for those who are not here during my opening greeting, it’s unfortunate we are in a crisis in our city now. It really makes travelling difficult.

Thanks for being here today and making time and effort for joining this Memorial Mass of Fr Luigi. When I was listening to this letter of St. Paul to St. Timothy in our second reading, we need to remember St. Paul is very near his execution and he knows that. As he writes to his friend, Timothy, who has been given responsibility to lead a Christian community, he reminds him of important realities in life. And I think when we are reminded of those things, it may help us in our own faith journey. He says “I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith. From now on, there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge will give me on that day.”

St. Paul is not afraid of dying because he knows exactly why he is living. He is living for that very moment when he will be able to meet his Redeemer face to face and receive his crown of righteousness. That is why he purposefully and intentionally throughout his life did everything possible to remain faithful to the gift given to him in the person of Jesus Christ. His Encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus was a turning point in his life. When he understood everything that Christ was and everything that Christ is in the midst of His Mystical body called the Church, St. Paul had a vey different appreciation of his own life, but also the appreciation for this very beginning of this new reality called Christianity – the Church in Jesus Christ. He gave everything for that Church so that the people of God may come to know Christ – the risen Christ – our Redeemer and Saviour, the one who restores us to fullness of Life. That is what St. Paul worked for throughout his whole missionary life. Making sure that as many people as possible could be part of the joy of the gospel.

I believe, from my reading on Fr Luigi – your founder of Communion and Liberation – that his heart was on fire for the very same reasons. It’s the joy of the gospel he had in his heart that enabled him to do what he did, especially with the youth, so that all the people he met could really transform their own lives and really live out Christianity as Christ meant it to be; in such a way that his conversations would be bringing transformation for all of society. This is the ongoing work that you are accomplishing today as you continue to be part of this Movement, of this Fraternity of Communion and Liberation.
La première lecture aujourd’hui fait allusion à cette prophétie d’Isaïe que Jésus lui-même a repris dans la synagogue de Nazareth qui était au tout début de son ministère public. C’est comme si Jésus voulait annoncer du point de départ ce qui était pour lui l’essentiel de sa Mission. Ce qu’on va retrouver dans le texte d’Isaïe, on le retrouve dans les éléments clés de ce qu’est appelé à vivre la Fraternité de Communion et Libération. Reprenons ce texte du prophète. D’abord, il fait allusion au don de l’Esprit sur lui. « L’Esprit du Seigneur est sur moi par ce qu’il a m’a consacré par l’onction. » Toutes œuvres de Dieu ne peuvent s’accomplir sans l’aide de l’Esprit Saint. Vous êtes une œuvre d’Église en autant que vous vivez de ce même souffle d’Esprit comme votre fondateur. L’Esprit Saint nous inspire, nous guide, nous donne le courage. L’Esprit Saint nous fait comprendre le plan de Dieu. L’Esprit Saint qui est à l’œuvre en nous nous fait accomplir de choses belles et grandes pour la gloire de Dieu.

Dans mes lectures, j’ai compris qu’il y a trois éléments essentiels dans votre vie de communauté. On parle de la culture, on parle de la charité et on parle de la mission. Votre fondateur avait bien saisi ce que j’ai mentionné au niveau de la transformation d’une société. La transformation d’une société se fait à l’intérieur d’une culture. Et il l’a vu très clairement. C’est dans la vie de tous les jours que nous avons à porter le goût de l’évangile. Mais pour se faire il faut tout de même être transformé par l’évangile, vivre notre chrétienté et notre foi de façon pertinente dans la vie de tous les jours. Le Père Luigi y croyait sincèrement et c’est pourquoi il a mis en œuvre cette fraternité, pour éduquer les gens à comprendre que votre foi fait toute la différence lorsqu’elle est vécue dans les réalités de la vie. Mais il a rattaché à tout cela la place de la charité, comme il est souligné dans le texte d’Isaïe. Sa mission est une mission de transformation, mais une où elle sera habitée dans la charité envers ceux qui sont dans le besoin : les malades, les pauvres, les captifs, les prisonniers. Jésus a toujours eu ce souci pour le bien des autres. Votre Fraternité est un rappel constant de vivre cette charité auprès des autres qui sont dans le besoin. C’est un fondement essentiel du christianisme. Mais lorsqu’elle est vraiment bien vécue au sein d’une communauté comme la vôtre, c’est là que la communion prend tout son sens et que la libération est mise en œuvre par l’Esprit Saint qui travaille et œuvre dans tout ce que vous faites. Jésus nous montre le chemin. C’est celui qui montre tout ce que nous avons à vivre.

I would like to conclude with the reading we have just heard, from St. John. We have read a text where Jesus proclaims to the people: “I am the living Bread who came down from Heaven. And whoever eats of this bread will live forever.” The Eucharist for us is at the heart of everything we do as Christians. It is at the summit of our payer life. Because we find in the Eucharist the greatest sign of charity. If you want to see what Christ has accomplished by offering his heart, his body as sacrifice for our sake, it is so that we may experience forgiveness of sins and his promise of eternal life. And this is why we come together for Mass at the celebration for the Eucharist. We partake in the Eucharist; we receive the Body of our Risen Lord so that it may transform us and that we may become the Body of Christ. May we receive the body of Christ and may we receive the graces we need to transform the world in which we live.

The foundation of your Fraternity grew gradually up to a point where, in the mid 1960s, it became a relevant reality for the people of the times in Italy, where your community first started. There was a revolution at that time as well. Something that really disturbed the people at their core. It was about freedom. It was about being able to express oneself and to be able to live one’s faith. I don’t know all the details of that particular revolution, but what we are going through in our own country requires the leaven in the bread to really go to work and transform our society into a Communion. And that is exactly what Fr Luigi discovered; that all of his efforts and all the education he provided was to provide people with solid foundations for a true transformation in the midst of different crises in the life of people, in the life of our Church, of the World. Communion – it’s what he thought would be the key element in bringing people together. If there is a time when our country is divided, it is now. And it is now divided in very profound realities. But how do we unite and heal all of this? It is through Communion in Christ. It is the power of Christ through the Holy Spirit, living faithfully the Mission entrusted to us. Let us pray today as we pray for Fr Luigi for his eternal rest, that he may also intercede for us as we live what he saw as something we can do as Church for our World. Amen.

The Outdoor Mass: The Warmth of A Presence

Due to the Omicron wave, in December further restrictions were put in place and Churches had to close. Msgr Lepine decided to start celebrating mass outdoors. Despite the cold weather, the number of faithful attending this mass keeps growing.

It was no surprise for us when Quebec's Premier François Legault announced back in December that due to the coming tsunami of the Omicron wave, all churches and places of worship would shut down, as part of the many restrictions aimed to prevent more infections.

But unlike what happened during the previous lock downs, the surprise came from the Archbishop Msgr Christian Lépine. Not a complaint, but a bold gesture. So not only Masses would be broadcast as before on TV and YouTube (Salt and Light), but this time the Church would also offer Mass to the faithful in person, outdoors! He asked that a small altar would be set in the parking lot behind the Cathedral with a “tempo” type plastic covering. A rudimentary sound system with two mics was found, the cars were displaced and voilà! All priests serving at the archdiocese took rounds at celebrating daily Mass, and the people started coming. And since the beginning of January the number of faithful continues to grow every week, and so does the number of daily Masses.

The strangeness of this event is for sure amplified by the particularly harsh weather conditions this year, as we are facing one of the coldest months of January in recent memory. But such obstacles did not dampen the enthusiasm of the faithful, quite the contrary.

And the view of a crowd standing in prayer under a chilly wind reaching sometimes minus 25 or minus 30 degrees is truly stunning. Imagine limping elderly ladies walking on the icy parking lot with the help of their cane, families with young children following obediently in silence, some “new immigrants wearing light winter clothes… all of them praying as one. I look at them, and I look at the host elevated at the consecration by the freezing hands of the priest, and all kinds of doubt or lament vanish in me: Christ is here, I have nothing to fear. As I take communion before leaving this field of ice and snow, I cannot but admit the obvious: through limited persons for whom Christ is everything and who said “yes” to Him, He is finding a way to be present in the flesh, again, for me and for all.

As we walk to our cars, we look at one another, silently, filled with gratitude and joy for such an event. The troubles are still there, the pandemic is not over, but His presence clearly prevails.

Why We Sing

Together with her friends from the CL choir in Toronto, Catherine took a "percorso" ( a journey) to reflect on Giussani's ideal of Beauty and to understand his educational proposal to us through Music.

“In this normalcy of daily life, in this normalcy in which the consciousness of His presence and the life of the companionship act, in this emotion and in this moved emotion: it is an emotion because it is beauty, the beauty of the true, the assurance of destiny, and becomes moved because it moves, moves everything.” (Is There Hope?, pg 190)

I would like to share something that happened this summer, which for me is an experience of “the beauty of the true” that “moves everything” that Fr. Carron describes. Over these last few months, I have often found myself burdened by my work with families and feeling suffocated by the experience of the pandemic. And it was in this state that I begrudgingly made my way to a summer retreat this past August. With all this pain and sadness prevailing in me, it seemed that even my faith and every sacrifice it entailed was an additional burden to carry. Simultaneously—albeit unconsciously—there was a cry and a question within me: “Why is it reasonable to go to a retreat when everything is a mess?” In this question I was astonished to find something more powerful than the suffocation: a greater desire to verify again the relevance and reasonableness of faith.

During this retreat, a friend of mine, Desa, presented what is called a “percorso” (literally translated “path or “journey”): a series of excerpts and commentaries by Fr. Giussani on the history of music in the Movement. With excerpts taken from La Massima Espressione (“The Ultimate Expression”), Qui e Ora (“Here and Now”), and Is It Truly Possible to Live This Way?, the percorso took me on a journey of songs while also describing the history of the Movement. It also helped me understand what Fr. Giussani had in mind when he asked us to sing. But the most fascinating aspect of the percorso was that, for the first time in a very long time, I recognized something other than my thoughts prevailing in me: the Beauty of the present moment. This was a liberation. In participating in the percorso, I experienced a fulfillment that cannot be expressed with words. I will try.

The percorso began with an explanation from Fr. Giussani about why he borrowed songs from various associations like “Inno delle scolte di Assisi,” or other scout songs. For Giussani, these songs expressed “an ideal of a new humanity,” which coincided and resonated with the Movement’s cultural sense. The percorso then proceeded to introduce figures like Adriana Mascagni and Claudio Chieffo, whose arrival, as Giussani describes, marked the beginning of the Movement’s “own” songs. Pieces like “Il Mio Volto” and “La Ballata del Potere” offered the proposal that “the present life with all its need and the [….] relationship with the infinite, were one thing.” In this sense, these songs captured the very identity of the Movement and its mission in the world.

At this moment, I realized that the songs I have been singing for over 10 years are not mere accessories to life, but part of my identity. They reveal to me that I am not just my thoughts, but that I belong to a rich history with a profound tradition. What’s more, following the percorso also illuminated my past; it reminded me of my beginning with the Movement. Every time we would gather, we would sing. We would start with some light-hearted tunes like “Jamaica Farewell,” “Sloop John B,” or “Twist and Shout” by the Beatles, then reach a crescendo with “Estoy a legre,” and then end with a nostalgic tune like “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” I realize now that this music was not proposed to pass the time (even if I perceived it as such). Indeed, the educational genius of Fr. Giussani to “use singing as an instrument to reawaken the human heart” was working in me.

At a certain point in the percorso, Giussani declares that it is the duty of Christians “to awaken the human heart of our fellow men and women.” Listening to this phrase introduced me to my true desire and need. I immediately found myself expressing this need as a prayer to God, asking for the same “awakening of the human heart” that He made happen in me also happen for the families with whom I am entrusted to work.

When the percorso ended, I immediately wanted to share this beauty with my friends in the choir in Toronto. With Anthony and Amy, we discussed restarting the choir after a year-and-a-half long hiatus and wanted to propose something beautiful for our first get-together; this ‘percorso’ fit the bill perfectly. I asked Andres if he could play the guitar. I asked Marco if he could lead some of the unknown Italian songs. I asked Adam if he could read the translations of the songs. All of them gladly said yes. We gathered on a weeknight in my backyard for a potluck dinner and, after dinner, followed the percorso around a bonfire.

More than simply a presentation of the history of music in the Movement, the percorso helped me to take note of the journey I have walked in my own life and to discover more about myself. As a friend rightly pointed out: “The experience of true fulfillment cannot help but illuminate who we are; and we are history, we have roots, we have memory, we have a profound tradition whose roots extend all the way to God.”

Catherine, Toronto

"Is it Worth it?": Reflections on summer

During a hike, a group of friends are challenged by a stranger who asks them whether the hike is worth it. This seemingly simple question generates a deeper conversation among them.

Six hours into a hike along the cliffs of the Bruce Peninsula, two friends and I bumped into a group of guys beginning the very trail we were about to complete. As we crossed paths, one of them stopped us and asked: “Is it worth it? Is it worth it to continue?” The question baffled us: who would drive all this way and only now ask if it was worth it? Without hesitating we told him “yes,” laughed the question off, and continued on our way.



The question resurfaced days later, when one of those friends pointed out what I had failed to notice: “I realized that I am no different from those guys, because I have the same question. I desire to know if the way I spend my time is worth it. If it has any meaning.” This friend’s observation instantly took hold of me, realizing that I too share this question. In fact, far from always knowing if my time will be well spent, I have frequently taken steps in life before having clear reasons for doing so. More often than not, the first impulse is a simple attraction, a feeling of obligation, or simply a desire not to miss out. But sooner or later these instincts no longer suffice and, at a certain juncture, it becomes urgent to have adequate reasons in order to continue.

The initial question did not go away. Two weeks later a couple friends and I arrived at the summit of “The Crack,” an 8-kilometre trek in Killarney Provincial Park that culminates in a treacherous rock climb. By the time we reached the top, our bodies were battered and our clothing soaked. When we turned to face the beautiful vista we had waited all day to see, we were met with a thick fog. As if on cue, a hiker at the summit turned to us and asked us if the day had been worth it---his face betrayed his disappointment. This time the question caused me to pause a little longer, and my mind instantly went to the day spent with my two friends. It was true that there had been no “reward” for our efforts, but the day lacked nothing. If anything, I could see that there was a unity among us that had not been there when the day started. I could not help but answer in the affirmative.





Three weeks later, some friends and I arrived at the doors of the Basilica of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, having reached the end of a week of travels around Gaspesie Peninsula. During the homily, the priest celebrating the Mass posed a simple question: “What is faith?”, to which he replied: “Faith is first and foremost a gift. If you have received it, the consequences of this gift are creativity and initiative. So if you took the initiative to come to this place, however you got here, it is surely because you have received this gift of faith.” I left the Basilica marked by these words, remembering again those things that happened to me to bring me to that place.

With each encounter, I was continually surprised to find that every person I met (whether it be on a hike or on a pilgrimage) was, in one form or another, asking the same question. Each desires to know if the time and energy spent on a long journey is worth it. And in the absence of a satisfactory answer, when the sacrifice becomes too great or when reality fails to live up to our images, the consequences are disappointment and trepidation.

Prompted by these encounters, I found myself returning to the same questions: What has happened to bring me to a particular place? What is the value of making a sacrifice? Is it worth it to continue? But I also began to notice that the answers to these questions were to be found directly in my experience. Instead of asking these questions into the void, or delegating my response to another, I found that each moment of the summer became a small but concrete occasion to identify the ways in which Christ makes Himself present. In his book, Is There Hope?, Fr. Carron invites us to this very work of comparison:

“In order to reach certainty about the presence of Christ and to live as ours the hope this place communicates to us, we need to carry out a personal verification in which we examine more deeply the evidence of the beginning so it may become conviction. What we have encountered does not become ours through magic or sentimentalism, but through a trajectory of experience that confirms the initial intuition. As we have said, this is the dynamic that the apostles experienced. “And His disciples began to believe in Him.”

This summer I discovered that it is only by continuing on the path that one discovers the reasons for walking first hidden from us, but which were present from the very beginning. I also saw that the path towards certainty is paved by these small pieces of “evidence”---the question of a stranger on a hike, the words of a homily, or a day spent with friends.

The summer ended, fittingly, on a mountain. As my friend and I approached one of the final summits, we encountered a group of locals who told us about a hike we should do the next day. They said emphatically: “It’s worth it!” Is there a better reason for walking?

Memores Domini. The Pope nominates Archbishop Santoro as special delegate

We publish the statement of the Holy See on the change of leadership of the Association with the appointment of the Archbishop of Taranto.

The Holy Father Francis, taking to heart the experience of Memores Domini and recognizing in its charism a manifestation of God’s grace, has ordered a change in the management of the Association, appointing as his special delegate His Excellency Bishop Filippo Santoro, archbishop of Taranto.

The special delegate, as of 25 September 2021, will temporarily assume, ad nutum of the Apostolic See, with full powers, the governance of the Association, in order to safeguard its charism and preserve the unity of its members. At the same time, the current general government of the Association will lapse.

The Dicastery for the Laity, the Family and Life has appointed Fr. Gianfranco Ghirlanda, S.J., as pontifical assistant for canonical matters relating to the Association.

Something Exceptional

With the easing of Covid protocols in Quebec a group of friends decide to spend a vacation together, days are characterized by beautiful moments that remind them of their true need.

When the pandemic started last March, like many others, our School of Community group was forced to move our meetings to online. All of us were surprised that, despite the different format, our friendship was not only maintained throughout the lockdown, but actually deepened. Within the dramatic circumstances of Covid, we recognized that this companionship was essential for us, a place where we could look at our life with all of its challenges in a more true and helpful way.

The recognition of this surprising friendship coincided with the relaxing of Covid protocols in the province of Quebec. It was the intuition of Sarah that maybe our small group of School of Community could take a vacation together. She desired to live out this exceptional friendship we had experienced throughout the year in a concrete way, by living day-to-day life togher. When she shared her desire with us, many of us were interested right away and we went about planning our trip to the region of Charlevoix, east of Quebec City.

From the outset, we were filled with expectation: to finally “get out” after the lockdowns, to spend time in a beautiful place, to take a break from work, and to share life with friends. However, as the trip got closer, my husband and I started to feel doubts. Is it worth going on vacation if I have to work remotely while I’m there? If I have a young baby? If I’m not particularly “close” with anyone who is going?

We went into the last School of Community before the scheduled vacation with these questions in mind, still wondering if we’d actually end up going. While the meeting didn’t eradicate these doubts completely, it reminded us of the reason we had wanted to go on the vacation in the first place: we sensed a promise that within this companionship life could be lived more beautifully. As Sarah put it on a phone call that night, “If we forget the reason we are friends, then the vacation is doomed from the start. We need to remember why we’re together.”

Nine of us spent a week together doing the things you would typically do on vacation - hiking, swimming, eating great food, and watching the hockey games of course. One night, we had a beautiful night of singing where many people played different instruments and contributed different types of music. Another night, our friend Isabel shared two short comedic pieces she had been working on in her theater class. There was no rigid program for each day, we weren’t always doing planned activities, and yet, an attention to beauty was present in each simple gesture, whether it be the table settings or even the cocktails that were made after dinner. It was clear that this time together was something that each of us held precious.

For me, the vacation was a reminder that I genuinely need the company of these friends in order to be pointed back to reality. This was made particularly clear after a night of my infant daughter waking up each hour, which left me feeling exhausted, embarrassed and defeated. In fact, as my husband and I got ready to join the group downstairs for breakfast, I told him we should probably just drive back that day, cutting our trip short. Despite my husband’s very logical rebuttals (everyone here agreed to go on vacation with a baby!) I was still convinced that I was a failure, and our time on vacation was wasted. Instead, it was Ellen’s thoughtful gesture of preparing me a much needed cappuccino and her invitation to drive around the beautiful island we were staying on that finally shook me out of my head. While we were taking in the incredible green and rocky coastal views that day, it struck me that without Ellen’s friendship that morning, I would have missed this.

At dinner on the final night, as we shared our experiences and thoughts, it was clear that for many of us, the week together was a deepening of the original intuition that led to the vacation in the first place: the exceptionality of this companionship. Sarah shared that after the week together, she identified with Fr. Carron’s quote describing the fraternity, that “with these friends, I would go to the end of the earth.” From this conversation stemmed a discussion on returning back to meeting in person, a discussion we are still having and working out, but always starting from the awareness of the essentiality of this companionship.

In Chapter 4 of the Spiritual Exercises, Fr. Carron speaks of the disciples growing in conviction , saying, “From sharing His life would emerge a confirmation of that exceptional, different quality that had struck them from the first moment. In sharing His life that confirmation grows.” I know what Fr. Carron is talking about, because I saw that confirmation of something exceptional through spending that week with my friends. I only hope that this confirmation can continue to grow.

What is asked of us?

CL Canada statement regarding the discoveries of unnamed graves at the residential schools in Kamloops (B.C.) and Marieval (Sk).

Canada and the world have been shocked by the revelations of many unmarked children’s graves at the sites of former residential schools, 215 in Kamloops, 751 in Marieval, Saskatchewan, and now others. Our initial dismay and bewilderment leave us groping for answers to questions. How was it possible that schools introduced and planned by the Canadian state and run by Catholic congregations should be the site of so many graves? How could so many children have died? Why were their bodies not returned to their families? There are many accusations and insinuations but at this time we do not know all the facts. Nor do we have answers to many questions surrounding the facts that we do know. It will be a long road to their discovery.

While Canadians might be upset at the recent media reports, our sisters and brothers from the First Nations are traumatized by them. They did not suspect that there were many children buried near the schools. They knew that this was the case and it was only a matter of time before the facts would surface. Like any violation that has not found reconciliation, the discovery has caused the trauma tied to the residential schools experience to well up once again in thousands of people who had already lived through it.

In issues so complex and painful as the residential schools and the children’s graves, it is easy for us to lose faith, become entangled in blame games, become defensive and engage in acrimonious arguments that leave us no farther ahead. But an earnest desire to know the truth demands that at the very least we have the integrity and patience to await the discovery of the facts. Our ultimate goal is justice, but the many children and families that have been traumatized can never attain complete justice just as those who were directly responsible can never make full reparation for the harm they have done. Our need for justice is infinite.

The need for justice can inspire us to seek to understand where the “other” is coming from, reach out to our First Nations sisters and brothers, to have an awareness of their plight, their hurts, needs, and desires, and thus discover more deeply our own deep desires. Julián Carrón, commenting on Pope Benedict XVI’s 2010 apology to the child victims of sexual abuse at the hands of priests and brothers, stated that the “recognition of the true nature of our need, of our struggle, is the only way to save our full demand for justice; it is the only way to take it seriously, to take it fully into consideration."

Many politicians, government representatives and the media have placed great pressure on “the Church” and Pope Francis to issue a formal apology. Pope Benedict apologized to the Chief of First Nations, Phil Fontaine with a private delegation to the Vatican in 2009. Canadian bishops have apologized for wrongs regarding the residential schools on a number of occasions. And if new facts point to individuals who represented Catholic institutions and committed abuse, then those crimes and errors must be acknowledged, as they are not in keeping with the gospels.

What does this ask of us? Are we going to point our fingers at others or are we going to share in the woundedness and suffering of Canada’s Indigenous peoples? Our dear friend, Dave Frank, an elder in Ahousaht First Nation, reminds us that a true apology is only possible within a relationship. Only if we are willing to walk with the one whom we have harmed, to enter their world, suffer with them, can we begin to apologize. A sincere apology requires an encounter, not a blanket statement to a group of people, but a message face to face. True sorrow and regret is only possible in the face of a presence. Another dear friend, Christine Jones, who works with some of the Stó:lō First Nations, has reminded us that real change can only begin at the local level, “face to face, in a very human encounter.” Dave Frank has said that our main impediment to reconciliation is a lack of faith. We think that we have something to defend and somehow the risk of apologizing might expose us to all sorts of risks. But what is there to fear? What is there to defend? Why should we fear the truth? “If you have faith, “says Dave Frank, “you will be looked after.” Indeed, precisely because they are aware of their neediness and cling to Christ, Christians do not fear acknowledging their sin and wrongdoing before everyone, do not hesitate to ask for forgiveness.

A real apology can never be staged because it places its hope in the unexpected, in the possibility of forgiveness, in the prospect of a newness that we cannot give ourselves.

There is a long road to healing in our First Nations brothers and sisters, but there is just as long a road for Canadians of any background. Our smugness and haste to accuse others in the past and present and to look for scapegoats, our forgetfulness and indifference towards our Indigenous peoples who suffer and are neglected by society, our disregard for the humanity of others also need healing.

No matter our connection to this complex history we can at least attest to the fact that we are all wounded in one way or another. At the very least we can acknowledge our common humanity, desire a new unity, and extend a hand to our First Nations friends. Is it not possible for us to begin, as Dave Frank suggests, with “a heartfelt apology?” This means admitting past errors and even our present ones, experiencing regret, desiring to accompany and to be accompanied by the other, entrusting ourselves, and not fearing the consequences. Every true apology is a risk because we abandon ourselves to a new, unknown path with the one we have offended or who has offended us. But as Dave adds, “a heartfelt apology is always a beginning, and Christ will show the way.”

Holy Week 2021- Toronto

Communion and Liberation Toronto proposes moments of meditation and prayer throughout Holy Week.

Mon March 29 – Wed March 31 at 9pm
Guided listening to Giovanni Battista Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater, followed by a moment of prayer
Booklet of meditations click here

Thurs April 1 at 5:30pm
Holy Thursday meditation with prayer and music

Fri April 2 at 10:15am
Way of the Cross with meditation, prayer, and music

Times may be subject to change in order to allow for participation in televised services of the Archdiocese of Toronto.

REGISTER HERE

“Why are we together? Why are we friends? Our companionship was born from the amazement that God became man. God has chosen to identify with the precariousness of a flesh. We are part of this precariousness in which the Mystery of the Word was incarnated. Therefore, our life is infinitely larger than we can think or imagine. He makes Himself present in every moment of history in the precariousness of a flesh — ours. [...] Christ, who is embodied in our companionship, who is embodied in the Church, is God who identifies Himself with the precariousness of the flesh; yet man, at all times, has tried and tries to reduce Him to words, to an ethical value...he tries to withhold Him, imprison Him within his own cultural conception, pretends to explain Him. Instead, He is irreducible: it is a Fact. Let us look within, look at the forgetfulness with which we have eclipsed His presence. [...]

We, members of His body, part of His presence, close to Him, embraced by Him since that day when He gave us His blood, the power of His resurrection in baptism, reject Him. The whole world rejects Him. He is reduced to what man can understand, what is convenient, or what he can feel and considers useful: values. Not Him present, just values. Our companionship is born from the recognition of this Presence and disintegrates, fails, in the instant in which He is not recognized. This is why the world is so disintegrated, because Christ is rejected. [...] We reject Him because of our pretense to resolve reality by ourselves; hence the violence in us. [...] When we pretend to resolve reality and things do not turn out the way we want, we become violent toward ourselves and others. It becomes clear then how the great question arises, the great question which leads us from the mysterious fascination of the Eucharist on Holy Thursday, into the sorrowful pain of Good Friday. [...] Let us identify ourselves with the gaze that Mary has placed upon this humiliation, this passion, this pain, because this is how we are called to look at Him and relive Good Friday. [...]

The supreme word that has been given to us is the word “Glory”: the glory of the Father is the word of this Man and therefore, if we accept to be part of it, it reverberates in us, in the glory of our life, the glory of the living man. How different is the being of our person, how different is living, when it intersects with the certainty that everything is transformed in love, that everything is guided by a love, ends in the evidence of a love. This is the meaning of the world: we are called to participate in the glory of Christ because in the glory of Christ is the glory of the Father, the splendor of being. [...] This is life: to know YOU.”

Fr. Luigi Giussani

This is the provocation we would like to live together during Holy Week. To help us on this journey, we will meet online for moments of reflection throughout Holy Week.

Links to connect to the calls will be sent to you. Please join us for these gestures. We would be truly happy to share this Holy Week with you.