«The leaders of my community told me that wherever I went, I would do Faith and Light». Sister Camelia El Khoury, 52, speaks with a warm smile as she recalls her first community in Beirut at San Michele, near the port that still bears the scars of the terrible explosion of August 2020. We met in Rome a few weeks ago. She left Beirut when her superior asked her to move to Galilee "because I was needed there. I started teaching catechism to children, but I never lost my calling to Faith and Light. I pestered the parish priest for two years. He was wary, didn't say much, but I kept bringing it up. Then in 2003 I pushed harder: 'I've been here two years and I need to do something.' Finally he said, 'Do what you want.'"
So Sister Camelia, after reassuring him she wouldn't involve him beyond giving her the names of families with disabled members, began visiting them house by house "to become their friend." Her arrival often surprised people, and she sometimes met with suspicion. But then she became family. «I knock on the door, tell them about myself, why I'm there, what Faith and Light is. Usually these families are used to visitors who ignore the member with difficulty entirely, who don't even greet them». But she came precisely to know that person, not the parents.
At that time, in 2003, Sister Camelia was in Eilabun, between Nazareth and Tiberias, a village of about 5,000 people, of whom 500 were Christian. "I explained what Faith and Light was and its spirituality. But I wanted young people to have the chance to learn about it too. I knew Jean Vanier was coming to give some lectures. We knew nothing at that time about the difficulties he would later face; now what matters to me is knowing that in those years he did something prophetic. I told Father Soel we should meet him. I said the same thing to a mother and father, so they could hear about the movement not just from my words."
So the community's journey began, while also seeking to learn about nearby realities: one early opportunity was a summer camp organized in Jordan. An international gathering in Egypt remained just a dream because the Christian Arab population living in Israel couldn't travel there. For this reason, some years later, the Galilee communities were welcomed into the A River of Peace Province. "First Lucia Casella came to meet us, she was the international vice-coordinator at the time; in 2010 she returned with Don Marco Bove, the international spiritual assistant, and Angela Grassi, the new vice-coordinator, to meet the community and guide us through electing a leader." The journey toward official recognition was complete.
«In 2011 I had to move again. I met many young women, and one in particular had a sister with a disability.» Sister Camelia starts where she knows how: she searches out families with fragile members in Shfar'am and Iblin and visits them with these young women, organizing a gathering each month. "Since then the group has been in contact with the A River of Peace Province. They came to encourage us, we have the courage of the first disciples, and now there are two communities." Nearly all of that progress stalled with covid, though we're recovering now. «Israeli society offers many possibilities for people with disabilities—the laws are good, there are associations, mobility aids, pensions, healthcare. What's missing is human relationship, friendship, community, sharing»—in other words, Faith and Light.
That sense of family warmth extends to the sisters whom Sister Camelia has often invited to the gatherings with her superior's support. "We need simplicity and humility to be welcoming. In our world we make so many calculations, we want to control everything. Life is a gift—we have to receive it whether we like it or not. Each of us is fragile, each has limits. I wanted to think about starting a community in Nazareth, but then war broke out and there was no way. For 75 years we live like this—every two years there's a war. Now it's really difficult. They can't find a solution that respects justice for everyone. There just isn't one."
We Christians simply cannot make war. Christians feel few in number, yet we can bear witness to peace and reconciliation through schools and hospitals
We Christians simply cannot make war.
Christians feel few in number, yet we can bear witness to peace and reconciliation through schools and hospitals
Sister Camelia had foreseen months earlier what would unfold in recent weeks in her native land. "I'm from southern Lebanon, near Israel. During wars between the two countries I was right in the middle when they fought. I'm not for either side—not for Palestine or Israel. I can't say. They're always at war, and Lebanon always gets dragged in. But we Christians simply cannot make war. Christians feel few in number, yet I believe we can bear witness to peace and reconciliation, to education through schools and hospitals. There are many Christian institutions that welcome so many people, including Muslims."
The Faith and Light community cannot be as openly frequented by people of the Islamic faith. The gatherings draw about thirty people, mostly Arab Christians, growing to fifty during celebrations. The young people involved aren't yet strong enough, which is why Sister Camelia had hoped they could attend provincial training. Unfortunately, flight costs and the current situation haven't made that possible for everyone. A reinforcement that would be essential, given how much Sister Camelia's relocations affect the community. "There are two coordinators, and I've stayed on as spiritual assistant. If the group needs support or if I sense they're struggling, I step in. Almost like a vitamin."
She's not the type to sit still and watch. «Sometimes people ask me where I do my work as a nun—in school or hospitals. I tell them: in the street, living with people. In the villages near Nazareth there are no Christian schools, so I teach catechism to children preparing for communion, I meet with women, we organize pilgrimages, we do Faith and Light. I visit three communities each week. Mornings I'm with the women praying, afternoons teaching catechism to children aged 10 to 12. The parish is small—150 to 170 people—and the children live within a Muslim majority. More than doing something, I'm with the people, I encourage their belonging to the church. For this reason, I'm sorry there aren't more sisters."
Sister Camelia belongs to the Nazareth Sisters, a congregation spread across France, Lebanon, Italy, and Palestine that focuses on education and instruction. "Unfortunately we're few—ours is a small community. But I've learned that when I give my small yes to Jesus, he gives himself to us completely. We need people in love with Jesus; without him we cannot live. Bearing witness to joy, to life, to love, living close to people, to their pain, to their fragility—this helps us. Many sisters keep their distance, never sharing people's lives."