I’m watching — for the umpteenth time — Jesus of Nazareth, the old masterpiece by Italian director Franco Zeffirelli. It’s a film that, through today’s eyes, feels quite heavy, but still very profound — certainly much more so than all the more recent remakes. Robert Powell carries 70% of the film.
Today is Easter, a day we celebrate in Italy with our loved ones, although, unlike Christmas, it’s acceptable to spend it with friends as well, not just with family. My way of celebrating was to attend Mass this morning at the Franciscan Chapel in Roppongi. A beautiful celebration, with lots of people and a wonderful choir.
There are a few thoughts intertwined in my mind on this day, connected to spirituality.
Clearly, the deep meaning of the Resurrection — which I think is worth reflecting on, whether you’re Catholic or not, believer or not. A message of hope, which is desperately needed in this particular historical moment. A message that tells us we are not slaves to evil, to earthly things, to our past actions — but that there’s always the possibility to change everything, to change ourselves. It’s a powerful message that, in my opinion, is worth knowing and internalizing as human beings, regardless of one’s religious faith.
The other two thoughts are linked to each other. Lately I’ve been reading — with difficulty, I must say — the latest book by Federico Faggin, the Italian physicist/inventor/entrepreneur, father of microprocessors, CMOS technology, and essentially all the technology that surrounds our lives today. It’s an interesting book because it talks about the second intellectual phase Faggin is facing — spirituality. More specifically, the nature of consciousness. It’s interesting because he approaches it from the perspective of a physicist-engineer, which resonates with me in a special way.
But Faggin also talks about the specific moment when he had this “enlightenment,” let’s call it that, during a vacation, at night:
I suddenly felt a powerful rush of energy emerge from my chest like nothing I had ever experienced before and could not even imagine possible.
This alive energy was love, yet a love so intense and so incredibly fulfilling that it surpassed any other notion I had previously had about love.
Even more surprising was the fact that the source of this love was me. […] I knew then without a shadow of a doubt that this was the substance
out of which everything that exists is made. This is what created the universe out of itself. (p. 10)
That reminded me of the strange experience I had a few years ago, when I was still living in France. It was this experience that brought me back to Faith.
Faith in God has always been something forced for me. In Italy, you become Catholic automatically: we are all baptized at birth, immediately encouraged to go to Mass, we all go to Catechism classes as kids, etc. The Church is part of our lives, inseparable from our culture.
Which usually leads to people distancing themselves from it as soon as Catechism ends and they have the freedom to stop going. Some remain stuck in the motions, and others, like me, walk away completely.
Well, fast-forward 20 years. We decide to get married, in France. I don’t know how it works in other countries, but in Italy and France, getting married in Church requires a premarital course. The priest suggested a special course (called the Alpha Course), which involved a series of weekly evening meetings where we discussed spiritual topics with other people, over dinner.
I never spoke. And at a certain point, I remember getting annoyed because I didn’t see the point of those meetings. I wanted to stop. I also remember the heated discussion with my wife, who on the other hand liked them and wanted me to continue.
At a certain point, the course included spending an entire Saturday together. My wife asked me to go, and said I could decide afterwards whether or not to keep going.
Saturday went very well — we had a lovely day. Breakfast together, chats with calm and kind people, walks in nature — all very pleasant.
We went home, but I still thought I wanted to stop going to the evening sessions. And we went to sleep.
I don’t think I’ve ever told too many people what happened when I woke up. And even now as I write this post, I feel a bit embarrassed, and I can imagine the feeling you might have when you read what I’m about to write. But that’s how it went, and I can’t lie.
When I woke up, my wife was still sleeping. The sun was shining outside. I got out of bed and immediately felt a kind of warmth in my chest.
I felt completely overwhelmed by an intense mix of sensations — peace, joy, and, I believe, love.
I remember it so well because it was so strange that in that moment I was also a bit in shock, truly surprised.
I had never felt that sensation in my entire life, and it was incredibly strong.
It was as if a powerful energy was completely filling my body and pouring out of me to flood all the space around me.
I can’t explain what happened. But it happened.
Reading about Faggin’s experience brought me back to that moment. And for me, everything changed then.
It’s as if I had proof that spirituality is something yours and yours alone.
Some call it Faith, Faggin attributes it to quantum physics. I don’t know what it is, but it changed not only my life, but also my relationship with my wife — because after that day, it’s as if we were bonded on an even deeper level than before.
Happy Easter!