I had already had the joy of meeting Jean Vanier during my seminary years. I remember it as a beautiful moment for all of us seminarians—an encounter with a "giant" of charity, great because small. What struck me most was his testimony itself: it shone with a simple truth. "We must become small, become like children," he would say, because only with simplicity can we meet each other in truth and love.
Around that same time, I read his book "Community: The Place of Forgiveness and Celebration". I loved that way of life, those insights that, beginning from l'Arche, applied to every human and Christian community. Even then, I tried to draw out lessons I hoped to find—or offer—in the communities where I would one day serve. When I later learned about "Faith and Light," even before arriving at Santa Silvia, through the stories of a cousin who was part of it, I saw not just a group but a family where no one is a stranger, where no one feels out of place. Everyone contributes their humanity, small and great alike, and this makes the beauty of the Church shine.
So I was delighted when I learned that Jean Vanier would meet with the priests of Rome during the Year of Faith. Certainly many people could have been contacted, but I believe Jean's choice was deliberate: he wanted to present to us a witness who, in the spirit of the Council, continues to tell the Church and the world today that living the Gospel is possible—even and especially in the twenty-first century.
We live in times when the Church itself risks closing in on formalities or well-organized charitable structures that lack a soul. In the daily life of a parish, there is constant need—for help, for listening, for support—but what people really ask for, I think, is to be recognized as persons. Progress, technology, modern communication all tempt us to steal away the beauty of human relationship, of genuine attention. In my encounter with Jean Vanier, there was this strong call to attend to the person. "The first words of the risen Jesus to Mary Magdalene," he told us, "were: Why are you weeping?" Jesus cares about Maria's suffering. As he told us stories—of Pauline, of Nathalie, of Lucien, of the many people living with Alzheimer's—Jean showed us a path of tenderness, simplicity, poverty, and prayer. We are poor before Jesus.
And we are called to be the same before the many people the Lord places beside us, in this fragile world of ours. Jean also confirmed us priests in faith and in the desire to live in welcoming communities where fraternity breathes. He said: "I see the suffering of priests because they have no community. A community is being together, sharing the same mission. We need each other. There are times of celebration, times when we help one another. In our modern world, with its tyranny of normalcy that pushes people toward individual success, I see so many living in loneliness and the suffering that loneliness brings."
In these years, as pastor of a large community like Santa Silvia, I have witnessed the attentiveness and simplicity of "Faith and Light" groups. I have tried, watching this style of welcome, to bring it into everyday life—into the many encounters with people and their physical but especially spiritual struggles. Among the most beautiful things I see is how they do not treat the "different" as different. There is instead a harmony where truly everyone knows they stand on equal ground. There is no one serving and another served, but authentic communion in all things.
Of course, as in many parish communities, "Faith and Light" groups face the challenge of generational renewal. Yet I believe that from the children—or grandchildren—of the many couples who grew up in Jean Vanier's spirituality, there can be a sign of hope for renewed commitment in this new millennium. The struggles young people face today are often those of loneliness: lost behind a computer screen or the buttons of a phone. We must have the courage to proclaim the Gospel to them "without compromise," aiming high. Experience shows that where the invitation is demanding, serious, rich in faith and service, young people do not drift away—they become passionate. Where the offer is uncertain, "light," "painless," young people grow bored and leave, searching for something more engaging. And tragically, there is no shortage of such things in today's world.
Jean closed the meeting with words of hope: "This may be an extraordinary moment to discover the prophetic mission of the Church—the Church of compassion, the Church of goodness, the Church that enters into encounter with people who feel weak." Yes, I believe so too, despite the trials the world brings. This is an extraordinary moment to rediscover ourselves as a Church that lives by faith in God, bringing light to the world.
I thank God because once again he has placed Jean Vanier on my path.
Fr. Paolo Ricciardi, Pastor of Santa Silvia, Rome, 2013