I know it's far more fun to go on an outing than to read about one afterward. So I'll do my best to bring you along on our wonderful day—even if we did get soaked halfway through!
We took the train to Como, then a ferry boat to Argegno. There were eighty of us, six in wheelchairs, so the strong ones had plenty to do. I've lost track of how long we were on the train, but it flew by. We had the whole carriage to ourselves and it was perfect. The ferry ride took an hour, which felt longer. We couldn't go outside because of the wind. Inside it was crowded. And some of us kept eyeing all that water and "that thing" keeping us afloat—complete with life jackets bolted to the outside where nobody could possibly reach them if needed.
In Argegno, a group of local young people met us—I'm not sure if they were from the civic association or the parish. We were amazed by their welcome. They'd prepared mountains of fried fish from their lake, polenta, and drinks to spare. Their priest was wonderfully warm, too. Someone mentioned afterward that he's quite strict about the rubrics. But who knows—maybe he'll loosen up a bit now, seeing as he watched our Eucharist with what I'd call real fascination. There was so much spontaneous participation, so much depth in it.
Don Pierangelo invited us to reflect on Jesus's words: "I no longer call you servants, but friends."
A servant doesn't know what his master does or what he intends toward him. But friends—because he has told us everything he needed to tell us.
"As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Keep yourselves in the love of God. This is my commandment: love one another as I have loved you."
Nothing else matters between God and us. Nothing that can trouble or frighten us. And because he is our friend, he has told us what counts: that the Father is Love.
This way of thinking about the Father—it seems to me this is what Fede e Luce keeps telling us.
No one should be a servant to another, but a friend. No one would choose a servant over a friend.
The path ahead is the path of love. There's no doubt about it.
Sometimes it's short, sometimes longer—much longer.
But then something happens. You're welcomed with such love, so freely, by someone you've never met before. Your heart floods with joy and laughter. The rain stops mattering. The waves on the lake don't scare you anymore. And you realize: there must be something truly great hidden in that word.
It's worth searching for it still. We'll find something more each day—something to help us walk on.
Anna Maria De Rino, 1979