Letter from Marcos published in the September 2014 issue of Traces
Dear Julián,
Over these months you have insisted that we ask ourselves «how one can live» any given circumstance. And now, following the Pope, you have also challenged us with the question of what is essential in order to live, inviting us to discover it not by reflecting but by catching ourselves in action. I shall try to answer by telling you about a recent experience.
In June, José Miguel García invited me to visit the community in Mexico to accompany the young people of the CLU. His proposal made a great impression on me because I felt unworthy, but I trusted him and accepted, recalling what Fr Giussani says in the Exercises: «The movement moves forward solely through affection for Christ». So I embraced his proposal, asking Our Lady for the grace to be loyal and truthful with whatever the Lord might show me. When I arrived, the reality of the country overwhelmed me; I found myself inadequate, caught off guard. The extreme poverty and the destitution of certain areas called my certainty into question. On seeing certain people, I often asked myself: «And this man, this particular man, do you want to save him too, Christ? Are you going to come looking for him too?».
After two days, while having lunch with those in charge, I began to ask them questions about the social situation. As I listened to them recount certain incidents, I was appalled by the extreme violence; my heart felt somewhat shrunken and afraid. And when one of them told me that he had even been kidnapped on one occasion, the question immediately arose in me: «But how can anyone live here?». That is to say, I realised how human and how timely the question you put to us really is.
As the days went by, this perplexity grew. So much so that I caught myself checking far too often whether my passport was in my suitcase, to make sure I could get back. I realised then that, faced with something I did not understand, I was placing my security in the possibility of running away. But at the same time, this increased the suspicion that in certain circumstances one truly could not live. Yet if these questions are not resolved, one ends up losing the faith; that is, the suspicion prevails that the Lord does not triumph in every circumstance and at every moment. Seeing my uncertainty and seeing where I was placing my security, I began to ask the Lord to make me understand what it is that makes it possible to live there too, to discover where certainty is born. And I wanted to go right to the bottom of what I had before me.
I began to look at the people of the movement rather than at my own perplexity, because they do not run away from there; they live without escaping. One day I had the chance to spend the day with Lupita, one of the Memores Domini, an art teacher who lives in Mexico City. We visited some significant places in the city with a group of her students. A very mixed group: Catholics, Protestants, atheists… all sorts. And in every one of them you could sense, in one way or another, the drama of the violence this country suffers. They all had a relative who had gone missing or died trying to cross into the USA. But on seeing how Lupita treated them, her way of living became so attractive to me that I forgot my fear and my doubt. In her I discovered an affection, an embrace, a passion for the destiny of each one of them. I saw a kind of humanity that I can only identify with that of Jesus. And a silence and a great peace came over me. And I found myself clinging to her, more and more at peace. It was paradoxical: she was not a police officer who could solve the lack of security, nor did she resolve the young people’s dramas, but she introduced a humanity that made it possible to speak with them about certain dramas with a gaze full of hope.
At the end of the day we went together to the shrine, to see Our Lady of Guadalupe. I knelt for a good while to pray. I was overcome with wonder at what I had seen that day, and with the desire to give my life to Our Lady. But before her a question arose in me, as if she herself were asking it: would you be willing to give me your life in the place I choose? Would you be willing to stay with my children if I asked you to? And, recognising how throughout that day Christ had made himself a close companion to me, an answer came to me at once, with certainty: «yes». A certainty far greater than my doubts, my discomforts or my longing for all that I have in Spain came over me. At that moment I understood what I need in order to live, what I am truly looking for: the concrete companionship of Christ, his Presence present. If He is faithful to the promise he made us («I am with you always, until the end of the world»), I can live wherever the Lord asks me to and in whatever way he asks me to. My consistency is his presence; my certainty lies in his faithfulness.
Marcos, Barcelona (Spain)
Machine translation. If you spot a mistake, do write to us.