31/12/2018
You Haven’t Missed Anything
One arrives in Rome. There is a campsite to set up. With a thousand people to
welcome. Warmth. Joy.
I arrived overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with excitement. For months the letters H, A, and M had
resounded a lot. Eucharistic Family, together, all of us, in Rome. And then, the fact that the Pope was going
to receive us… Overwhelmed. With my heart almost jumping with emotion. And it all started on Wednesday.
Some privileged ones were already there on Wednesday. Celebrating the First Mass and Holy Hour
of the journey of our lives.
And what a Mass. And what a Holy Hour. If I tell you that if you haven’t come to the HAM you haven’t missed
anything…
There, on the little terrace of bungalow 102, was God made Bread, and it seemed almost heavier to me than
having Him in front of me in St. Peter’s. Heavier, because in a lost campsite in Rome, with a few
hangouts, God also became Bread no more and no less than in a Bungalow to be
among us. There. So small. So Him. SO huge. SO HEAVY.
And Thursday came. And the thousand arrived. The thousand, as one. Behind One. In One. The thousand, family.
To celebrate that family. Hugs, smiles, excitement. Playful faces seeing the tents…
A little walk from reception, a beer… And Friday. And what a Friday. A Friday in
heaven, on earth. And what a Pope, and what voices, and what God. Because there, in the cradle of the Church,
in the grandeur of the columns, the dome, and the stained glass, God was still the same as the
one who waits for us every Monday in the Monstrance… In that wooden monstrance. The same little piece of
Bread, setting on fire a thousand who looked at Him.
What a show… If you talk to Jesus, tell Him from me what a mess has been made. Or better, what is being made.
Because after the Vatican, we went to receive Him at Santa María del Trastevere. To stop
at His Mother, in that first church dedicated to Her in Rome. To learn to be every day a
little closer to the Mother of Hakuna. Of the mother of all.
And another day. And everything was flying by. And people working from top to bottom, finalizing details so
that everything would be perfect. In them, Jesus was just like in the Monstrance of St. Peter. In those
who were receiving at the door of the Italia theater, in those who gave up seeing Rome to
shop for a thousand (the ones from the Makro in Rome are still amazed), those who barely moved
from the paella pans, those who decorated the different Churches in our style before everyone arrived,
those who prayed out loud to help us with their voices offstage, those who fought every day with poor PierGiorgio,
the one from the campsite, who was desperate with our noise. From the musical team, who
made us all cry with laughter. From the choir, who when they weren’t singing, were rehearsing… So many, them, who got dirty, without anyone seeing it.
In them, was the same Host we adore in St. Peter’s. The same Christ. And in them,
at the same time, a friend, an acquaintance or simply one more with whom, without necessarily
knowing each other, to share that night shouts of Revolution in a concert where the poor
crazy man shone on everyone’s faces. Joy. Joy. Joy.
Because, to top it off, that concert was better than any other. And there too was the same
Jesus, making, from our Life, a party, from a thousand, a family, from songs, prayers, from the
party, Life.
If I tell you that if you haven’t come to the HAM you haven’t missed anything… Maybe, I tell you, because it wasn’t anything special. Nothing different. Simply a big celebration of what
Hakuna is, the Church.
But, simply, Hakuna, the Church. If I tell you, that you haven’t missed anything, maybe, I tell you,
because that White Bread from the Vatican, is waiting for you this Monday, again. And that party, every
day.
And those people, are you. You and me. The murmur of a revolution.
