April 25 and May 1 fell on great days this year. One Italian out of three could be found walking the streets or strolling on a bridge. Of about 20 million people, 33 percent were at the beach, 32 percent in the countryside, and 20 percent in the city. What, then, moved eight thousand of us to go to Rimini on this first weekend in May, for the CL adult Spiritual Exercises?

Fr. Eugenio Nembrini left us without a doubt: “Man possesses this intrinsic trait: he moves. He always takes off! But he is always moving for something, for some sort of small thing, be it soccer or hiking. However, all of us are here due to nostalgia: nostalgia for God.”

Behind the venue’s stage was the same picture that served as a backdrop for the previous week’s CL Fraternity Exercises, which hosted 21 thousand people: Almond Blossoms by Vincent Van Gogh. Along with the picture was a quote from Isaiah: “See I am doing something new: do you not perceive it?”

Each one of us came for himself, but inside, we all carried someone else to Rimini: a sick friend on his deathbed, a mislead relative, a friend starting a new life, and our children, tempted and distracted by the world’s thousands of pixels, for whom we only desire happiness.

“Tonight, we mysteriously carry the weight of the world’s heart,” said Nembrini. We all agreed that, yes, that’s what is a stake. But why do we experience nostalgia for God?



“During the Last Supper, Jesus took the bread—His body—and broke it. But this gesture was done by God at the beginning of time: He took His heart, broke it into pieces, and placed it within the man He had created. That’s really something! Each one of us carries within himself a piece of God’s heart [God’s mark within us], not because we feel it, or believe it, or think it, but because the heart of man is made to encounter its origin.”

Every so often, we'll get a knot in our throats, descending like a veil of sadness without us knowing why, like a desperate cry or a prayer turned to blasphemy.

Often it seems like it’s about to burst, but then it retreats. “Like a wakening volcano,” the soloist sang from the stage. “‘Cause if you stay still, you won't get burned, and if you stand still, you won't get hurt.” (Be Still My Heart, Jacqui Treco).

Yes, it’s better for the volcano to be still, and there’s so much in the world to keep it that way. Today is just like two thousand years ago: Zacchaeus tried to silence it with money, the Samaritan woman with five husbands, Nicodemus with law and knowledge. What about Mary Magdalene? She had betrayed her heart so often, and she was crushed by people’s judgments against her. “So, what does Jesus do?” Asked Fr. Eugenio. “He says to her, ‘No one has condemned you. I, too, do not condemn you.’ He doesn’t lecture her, but He looks at her, takes her hand, and lifts her up. If these four people had seen Van Gogh’s painting, they would have said, ‘That’s me! I am that dry branch, good to burn, but reblooming.’ Everything is born again so that God’s work and His presence in history may be familiar to me.” This happens so that Jesus Christ may become familiar in my life.



The big screens played a video. We saw the red earth of Africa, we heard singing, and saw women wearing yellow t-shirts. They were “Rose’s women,” HIV positive in the slum of Kampala, Uganda. “I would gift them medicine,” said nurse Rose Busingye. “But they didn’t care anymore. They would toss it out or sell it.” Then she told one of them that her life had value before God, that she was God’s treasure. “You are precious in my sight,” says Isaiah. The whole of reality was created by God just for you. Rose’s women sing and dance. Their situation has not changed, but the One who created them, wanted them, and loved them, is there with them. “The whole universe was created for you because you are valuable in God’s sight,” Fr. Giussani once told Rose in one of their first meetings. Only God, only Christ, can allow the dry branch to rebloom. As Rose says, “Who I am springs from who I belong to.”

“You come along, and my mind comes back to me. You speak to me, and the world lights up. What was mine, you have already taken. I no longer hesitate, I only ask that you forgive me,” sang Mina. The same song filled the venue today. It’s just like being in love, and we’d never want to leave the one who loves us so. Fr. Eugenio then read some letters. He read one from a man who does not want to leave prison because “that is where [he] saw those eyes.” He read another from a Sicilian woman whose father was murdered by the Mafia, whose son committed suicide, and who could not bear to return to her homeland. “It might take 30 years to face a wound,” said Nembrini. “But we can reach the point of saying, ‘I am no longer afraid. I’m taking off.’ God’s history with us serves to unveil this sort of ‘I’.”

Sure, “like a wakening volcano, the blow's inevitable,” and we are immediately tempted to flee and doubt; Do you really love me so? Are you sure? Do you even know who I am and what I have done? We have thousands of objections, make thousands of reductions, and we take one step forward and two steps back, like toddlers learning to walk.

We must be patient and unafraid. It takes work after giving in and deciding to understand, “why [the volcano] burn[s] at all.” Nembrini said that you have to do physical therapy after you take a cast off, and when your broken bones are straightening up again, it hurts badly. “Ultimately, recognizing Him is simple. Adhering and giving Him credit is difficult.”

“Like a wakening volcano, we are ripped up and beginning to show, no turning back my heart. Love desire that'll be never spoken, love that can fill the ocean.” There is no turning back, we don’t flee from love. However, said Nembrini, “It is necessary for the Event of this love to be contemporary, here and now. Nothing else in the world can win over the objections and reductions that burden us. Otherwise, we’ll blame life for not having given us what our heart was crying for.” We need a presence, a companionship. In short, we need a home, “so that all may be carried, sustained, and nurtured, and so that God’s gaze on [us] may win.”



During Sunday morning’s assembly, Davide Prosperi answered questions along with Fr. Eugenio. “What prevents education from relying on fleeting emotions?” “An adult who does not recognize his need to be continuously educated is already dead,” said Prosperi. “What primarily builds our personality is not what we say, but our absorption of the reasons somebody else is living for. We can’t live without a father. Our children teach this to us, because they beg for a constant pull toward good. This is not an ethical issue, but one of tension, because we know for a fact that coherence is not our strong suit.”

Every day, look for the Saints: This will not prevent us from straying, but it will always allow us to begin again. It’s the challenge that awaits us now: being that almond branch, in a home we have keys to, where we can get comfortable, but most importantly, where someone is always there waiting for us. It’s time to take off. Our sandwiches are waiting. Rimini-Milano has never seemed so beautiful.