Could it be an answer to the Pope's call to go to the peripheries? In any case, Faith and Light has chosen the inhabited world's farthest reach for its movement's leadership: New Zealand. Elected during the general assembly in Leeds last July to replace Canadian Henry Major as head of the board, AnneMarie Pike lives in Christchurch, the country's second city—known to the world for the devastating 2011 earthquake. Yet if she dwells at the edge of the map, Anne Marie lives at the heart of Faith and Light and the world of disability. She has for years. She is the mother of three children, one of whom—John, who has Down syndrome—was adopted. She founded the Faith and Light communities in her city in the 1980s, took on national responsibilities, and in recent years served as coordinator for the Asia-Pacific region.
"Given how far away I am, I never thought they'd give me international responsibilities! But my philosophy of life tells me that when God calls, there's no good reason to refuse to listen," she tells us with the quiet conviction of someone who dreamed, as a child, of becoming a missionary. A Taizé cross around her neck, a small nose piercing, a determined gaze—Anne-Marie Pike radiates a compelling witness to surrender. Her commitment began in the 1970s. "When my father died, just before I married Roger, my mother started taking in young people without parents, some of whom were handicapped. We lived nearby. That's how I first began to meet people with disabilities," she explains. In 1977, she was profoundly moved when Jean Vanier visited New Zealand.
The Most Beautiful Place on Earth
Drawn to the vision of L'Arche, she and her husband saw their chance in 1989, when her mother died and they inherited a second house. They founded a residential community for people with intellectual disabilities, many discharged from institutions, which they named "Marralomeda"—a word from the Aboriginal language meaning "the most beautiful place on earth." Today it welcomes 19 residents in five buildings, all situated near the Pike family home. "We did what we felt we had to do—not without fear! But there were signs. An social worker, after hearing Jean Vanier speak during his visit, had the same idea we did. When I look back, this Gospel passage comes to mind: 'Seek first the kingdom of God and all these things will be given to you as well.' That's exactly what we've experienced. God has arranged my life far better than I ever could have."
In this way grew a life of accompaniment with people who have disabilities, toward whom she expresses profound gratitude. "The greatest gift they've given me is the depth of relationship. For example: in 2011 I was at Lourdes for Faith and Light when they called to say that one of the first women in our community was dying. So I returned to New Zealand—two days of travel—saw her, and two hours later she was gone." A few months later, the same thing happened with another disabled woman with whom she had had intense, though not always easy, relationships. "What an immense gift! For me, that speaks to the depth of their love."
How does she now envision the future of Faith and Light in the years ahead? Do aging communities in Western countries still meet real needs? Anne-Marie Pike seems to sense new horizons. "In New Zealand today there are many institutions for people with disabilities. The thinking is that they should live as normal a life as possible, in their own homes. The downside is that many of them end up very isolated, watching television. No one has listened to their need for community, for social connection. I think this could be a direction for Faith and Light's growth in all Western countries—beyond parent support groups. And she concludes with this rallying cry: 'In Faith and Light, we're about relationships!'"
Cyril Douillet, from O&L no. 195
From One to Two
Our earliest readers of Ombre e Luci remain our most faithful, but there are fewer of us now. And we seldom gain new ones.
Ombre e Luci is closely tied to Faith and Light and, like it, survives mainly through people's willingness to give—without worrying too much about the money side of things.
One fact, however, is clear: without some minimum funding, you cannot publish a magazine, no matter how small. Our Ombre e Luci seems to matter to people, and we don't want to lose the friendship that binds this community together. We want to grow it. But how?
Here's a thought: could we go from one reader to two?
All it takes is for each of us to find support from one person we know—a friend, a relative, someone—for at least a year or two.
Remember, you can always ask for a free sample copy to share, or send us the name of someone you think might be interested.
Come on. Will you double down?
