Christianity that has no fear of the heart, of looking straight at our own needs without reducing them, a Christianity that is not afraid to ask us, “What do you desire?”
Look, look into your heart, even at what you are unable to confess to yourself because you think it impossible. Look straight at all of this, and even if we all have the wound that makes us doubt that our heart’s desire can be fulfilled, a wound that at times makes us say, “We expect too much; we have to be satisfied with a bit less,” nihilism does not completely win in us, it is not able to win. The clearest proof of this is that we are here.
Our being here, my friends, is the victory of this expectation, and this is the first defeat of nihilism. This is why the greatest action, the action most adequate to this expectation, that corresponds most to this expectation of the heart, is entreaty, daring, desiring everything our heart desires and which is expressed in entreaty.
What can give us the trust to entreat like this? As for the disciples of Emmaus, it is His presence among us that makes us ask like them, “Stay with us, Lord, this evening.” Let us ask with all the intensity of our heart, “Stay with us, Lord, this evening,” to fulfil our hearts’ expectation, because, like the disciples of Emmaus, what is it we need? That it happen now. This is the theme of this year’s Retreat: “You live for love of something happening now.”
Christianity is easy, we just have to give in to the attraction that has brought us here.
Let everyone examine his thoughts: he will find them all bent on the past or on the future. We never think about the present; and, if we do, we do so only to find light for the future. In this way we never live, but hope to live; and, disposing ourselves to be happy, it is inevitable that we are never happy.”11 So we resign ourselves, and life becomes more of a burden.
We are the owner, always out, except when a stabbing pain, or a terrible, abnormal fear makes us come back in for an instant.
What is revealed in the fact that I am not present in reality, so much so that I can hardly bear myself and have to run away from my room? And this happens to us after the encounter we have had, not before. So what is Christ for us? If I am not there, then what is the presence of Christ? What are we talking about when we speak of Christ? What experience do we have of this Presence? Are they just dreams?