Tragic Death of Marisa Bau

At the end of January, the shocking and tragic news broke in the Swiss and Italian press that the body of Italian focolarina Marisa Bau, aged 48, who had been missing since before Christmas, had been found in a barn near the Focolare centre at Montet, Swtizerland, where she had been based for the past 15 years.   It was not until the farmer who owns the barn moved a bale of hay that her body was revealed hanging from a metal beam.  By 2 Febraury, an autopsy and the findings of the police pointed to suicide.

Official statements on the Focolare Movement website accept this possibility.  Marisa Bau's family, however reject this explanation on the grounds that suicide would conflict with her Christian beliefs.  Prior to the discovery of the body,  a high profile appeal for information on the missing woman, spear-headed by the Focolare's official website, seemed to suggest that the movement's leadership was convinced that, whether Bau had left voluntarily or not, she would be found alive.  At first the appeals insisted that she had been in good spirits at the time of her disappearance, but gradually there were hints that maybe she had been troubled in some way.   She had just returned from a journey to Brazil and was jet-lagged and complaining of a severe headache.  While hardly an explanation for suicide in themselves, as the Focolare's official website seem to suggest, short-term disorientation could have aggravated an existing state of mind. If indeed this was suicide - and, if so, circumstances would suggest a firm intention, rather than a cry for help - one can only guess at the depth of despair and isolation she felt.  Yet there seems to be no indication that those closest to her were aware of what would have been a profoundly disturbed mental state.

Those unfamilair with the inner workings of the Focolare Movement, might conclude that this would rule out suicide. The final results of the autopsy will not be available for a few weeks and so, for the moment, any explanations must be speculative.  Yet from my own experience of leaving the movement, after a number of years as a celibate focolarino with vows, I would suggest that suicide is certainly a possibility despite the lack of obvious motivation.

Like other similar 'New Movements' in the Catholic Church, Focolare encourages an 'angelistic' approach.  Whatever extremes of personal anguish they may be feeling,  members are encouraged to maintain an impression of smiling serenity, the hallmark of  the focolarini, which strikes some observers as attractive and others as zombie-like.  Thus even their immediate colleagues might remain unaware of personal problems - which might only be revealed to higher authorities such as the 'capizona', the regional leaders.

Although my exit from Focolare was carried out in agreement with the movements' superiors and through the official channels,  right up to the day I left I was still expected to lead meetings.  I remember translating recordings of Chiara Lubich's talks and feeling my mind almost literally split in two.  The only way I could describe this schizoid state was that it was as though there were a sheet of glass dividing my brain - on one side was my Focolare self, on the other was the self waiting with bated breath to escape. The mental strain was immense.

I know how alone it is possible to feel when you reach a point where to stay in the movement would destroy you, yet outside there appears to be no hope or even damnation, a concept that is ceaselessly drummed into members.  To leave the movement would mean betraying and losing all your friends (anyone who has been in the movement for many years has long since forfeited or deliberately cut off any friendships outside its confines) but you also feel that you would be betraying your family by being a bad example and putting the movement in a bad light and you are therefore reluctant to seek their support.   For this reason it is highly unlikely that family members would have the least inkling of any problems.  Hearing of the long and tragic experiences of others who have left the movement, I consider myself lucky; I had only been 'inside' for 9 years and  was only 26 at the time of my exit and therefore still flexible enough to adapt to a new way of life and a new way of looking at the world.  Although I never had suicidal feelings, I can remember moments of personal crisis during my time in the movement when I felt on the brink of madness and my behaviour was bizarre and out of character.  I can understand that for someone like Bau who had been in the movement for 25 years, failure to measure up to expectations could appear to be unutterable desolation.
Extremes of depression and desperate actions could be possible in such unbalanced moments.

Marisa Bau had been based at the Focolare's village in Montet for the past fifteen years.  The atmosphere at these centres is even more intense than in the small Focolare houses based in towns and cities where you at least have contact with the outside world.   In these self-sufficient villages or 'towns' of the Movement, members are required to be 'up', in the jargon of the movement, at all times.  When I was at Loppiano, the movement's 'town' in Tuscany, I would sometimes wonder if the illusion was not sustained by the suppressed anguish of  all the inhabitants.  Chiara Lubich herself once said that Loppiano could be a paradise or a terrible prison depending on ones state of mind.  Bizarrely, the Focolare authorities sometimes used these centres - whose main purpose was a 'novitiate' for full-time members - as a kind of prison for members with 'problems'.  The fact that generally these centres were in physically isolated locations, made them ideal for this purpose.  I remember one focolarino at Loppiano at the same time as me - although some years older - who, we were told, was suffering from depression and was tormented with suicidal thoughts.  What no one seemed to realise was that Loppiano was probably the last place he should be, with its pressure-cooker atmosphere, likely to aggravate his mental state and any feelings of despair or worthlessness.

When the Vatican were having problems with the African Archbishop Milengo a few years ago, they appointed the focolarini as his 'gaolers' - and very good they were at it too, according to Vaticanologist Sandro Magister of the Italian news weekly L'Espresso.  One of the places they took the Archbishop was O'Higgins, the Argentinian equivalent of Loppiano, probably the remotest of all the Focolare centres, in the midst of the pampas, miles away from anywhere.  It is easy to see how the intensity and isolation of such an atmosphere could trigger serious depression.

It was also my experience that the shock of leaving this rarified atmosphere even for a short period such as a holiday or visiting family - and Bau had just been on a trip to Brazil on Focolare business - could trigger a sudden crisis, or the flaring up of repressed problems.  One was highly susceptible to the 'temptations' of the outside world.  Manifestations of sexuality in posters, on television or in films,  for instance, which the general population are so used to that they hardly notice them, could have an overwhelming impact on such 'innocents abroad'.  Despite the fact that focolarini are exorted to practise 'custody of the eyes', in today's world you would have to walk around blindfolded to do this effectively.  Thoughts and feelings which most people would consider normal, could be deeply disturbing and unbalancing for those used to a very sheltered environment.

At least the Focolare Movement has not tried to hush up the facts of Bau's death - which would have been difficult in view of the publicity.  Even though they are forbidden to watch TV or buy newspapers, the news would inevitably filter down to internal members.  But the response of Maria Voce, the successor to Chiara Lubich as President of Focolare, while sympathetic, is ambiguous and could be understood to deflect blame from the movement.  She says that with Bau's death 'we see the Movement more than ever identified with the dramas of humanity today'.  The implication could be that somehow Bau was contaminated by 'the world', rather than aknowledging that somehow the demands of the movement could have pushed her over the edge.  When I first told the male Focolare leader in the UK that I was gay, his main concern was that I shouldn't blame the movement, an idea that had never entered my mind.  There was a knee-jerk reaction to safeguard the institution first and foremost.

If indeed this was a tragic suicide, those closest to Bau, and the leadership of the movement, must surely feel compelled to examine ways in which they may have failed to meet her needs in this crucial moment of personal crisis.  Many people both inside and outside the movement, including Bau's family, the civil authorities and - one would hope - the Catholic hierarchy will be asking far-reaching questions.  On this occasion, smokescreens of fine spiritual words will not suffice.   The one positive thing that could emerge would be an extensive enquiry into the circumstances leading up to Bau's death, including questioning structures and internal procedures as amongst possible causes, and that the results of this enquiry should be made public. If the Focolare Movement does not do this, then hopefully the civil or religious authorities will.  In facing up to Marisa Bau's demons, perhaps the Focolare Movement might face up to its own.

Jesus Wept...

(This is an article I wrote immediately after watching the live internet broadcast of the funeral of Chiara Lubich, Founder of the Focolare Movement.)

According to an article that appeared in a special edition of the Italian Catholic daily Avvenire (19 March 2008) to mark the death of Chiara Lubich, ‘They [the focolarini] decided, “No tears in Rome [at Chiara’s funeral] because she is not dead. She lives for ever in all of us.” ' Rather than giving a witness to the millions who followed the live broadcast on Italian television or the internet feed - which was presumably what the Focolare old guard intended - this stoical approach lent an eerie atmosphere of uncertainty to the proceedings. A friend of mine who has had no contact with focolare but is familiar with its ethos, had the impression that the members were so used to being told what to feel and how to react that in these unprecedented circumstances they simply didn’t know what the appropriate response should be. In reality, they had been instructed exactly how to behave and it was this very fact that gave to the event its strange, unengaged quality.

As an ex-member who still feels affection for members of the movement and certainly for Chiara, despite my many criticisms of the organisation, I was moved to tears by the funeral and found it odd that those who profess themselves to be her most devoted followers remained dry-eyed. Only Oreste Basso, one of the first focoalrini and the ’Copresident’ of Focolare, broke down when he approached the altar to thank the distinguished guests on behalf of the movement, but then old men are notoriously prone to tears and he struggled successfully to regain his composure. Chiara’s first companions Eli Folonari and Graziella de Luca, on the other hand, had a jolly chat outside the basilica at the end of the funeral as though they had just concluded a successful Day Meeting.

Chiara Lubich’s funeral shone a very public spotlight on one of the Focolare Movement’s most serious shortcomings: the detachment from feelings encouraged in members. In this case, it was so strong that the spontaneous reaction most human beings would experience in such circumstances was absent. Sister Madeleine, founder of the Little Sisters of Jesus, once said that in order to be Christian, it is necessary to be human first; but that is rather difficult in the Focolare Movement in which ‘human’ is a negative term.

Psychologists would say that the detachment from ones emotions that this Movement promotes is pathological and dangerous. Indeed, it could well be the principal reason for the prevalence of depression and mental illness to be found in Focolare from the top down. Now that the Founder is dead, current and former members of the movement would benefit greatly from a probing and truthful investigation into this aspect.

The genuine gospel message is certainly not a recipe for mental illness . If it is truly God’s Word, it should be just the opposite. I remember attending the funeral of a child at Loppiano, the daughter of married focolarini, who had died after suffering terribly from a painful congenital illness. The atmosphere was one of manic rejoicing and not even the parents or siblings let slip any indications of sadness or mourning.

I wondered then, and I have wondered down the years, why no one pointed out that this is the Focolare approach and certainly not that of the gospel. Jesus was very much in touch with his emotions and did not shrink from showing them in public. In particular, he wept over Lazarus’ death, even though he must have known he had the power to raise him up.

This is surely the good, human reaction to the loss of a loved one. And here is the nub of the problem. What exactly is the nature of the love that Focolare preaches if it is so disembodied, so disincarnate, that it feels no reaction to the loss of someone one claims to have loved to the point of being ready to lay down ones life for them? In life, as in death, the reaction to the loss of close friends is remarkably cold - as in the case of members who leave the movement for example. Can real love be compatible with such a lack of feeling?

I have long been troubled that the gospel virtue of compassion was never mentioned in Focolare teachings. Yet we read that Jesus had compassion on the multitude and that he wept over the fate of Jerusalem. He even compared himself to a mother hen gathering her chicks: a more tender and emotion-filled image would be hard to find. Yet how can the focolarini be expected to ‘feel’ or ‘suffer’ with others if they mistrust feelings so much. I remember how, shortly after leaving Focolare, I was moved by a television programme or a film which made me weep for the first time in nearly ten years. My emotions had been released from their prison. How can we obey Jesus’ command to ‘Weep with those who weep’ if we are unable to weep ourselves? Rather than follow the stoical line of the movement, I prefer to follow the path that Jesus indicated: ‘Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.