For all of us, a Faith and Light camp stays with us as a powerful memory—the joy we felt, the beautiful walks, the vigils around the fire. Camps are important milestones in the life of Faith and Light, but they can also be moments that genuinely form us.
On a practical level, we learn new things at camp: songs, games, skills. We practice activities we rarely do at home. We chop wood, shop for food, pitch tents, bake bread. For the young people, a camp can be a real step forward: learning to set the table, wash dishes, or simply learning to flush the toilet afterward.
On another level, camp lets us make new friendships. We meet people from other groups, other cities, even other countries. These larger, open camps demand more work from the regional coordinator and the team that helps organize them—but when done well, they are the best way to keep different communities connected, to share ideas and experiences, to stay open to one another, and to remember that we all belong to the same Faith and Light family. A camp becomes a moment of real growth for the whole community.
On a third level, camp can deepen each person's inner life. What that looks like for each person is hard to predict in advance. But it matters that the camp coordinator, with help from a spiritual guide if possible, creates the conditions for each person to take that step—if they want to. A camp can then become a moment of formation. We need to be clear about this, though: the coordinator's job is not to "educate" or "indoctrinate," but rather to highlight the moments in our shared life that can nurture this growth.
This is why we must ask ourselves every day: Why are we running a camp? Why are we here? We need to keep these questions in front of us, so we don't confuse a Faith and Light vacation with just a vacation.
So even when we first meet in the city to plan the camp, at every meeting, we should set aside time for reflection and prayer. What is Faith and Light? How did it begin? What struggles do the parents face? How can we stand with them? Ask Jesus to guide our steps.
It may seem strange at first—with so much to prepare!—to spend time on these questions. Many coordinators skip this. But I believe it helps us begin the camp in a more balanced way, not tilting everything toward logistics. Our friends are there not to show us that what we do doesn't matter, but so that whatever we do flows from listening and real sharing, yes?
So we are saying that people matter more than programs. This will be crucial at camp. The focus—especially for the coordinator—should not be on whether the schedule works, but on the spirit we're creating, on how people relate to each other. Does everyone have a place? Is a particular partnership struggling because the young person is difficult, or because friends have quarreled?
If we build good, honest relationships from the moment we start planning, then even if the games flop and the activity schedule is thin, it won't much matter.
So before, during, and after camp, we need to talk. Really talk. And listen. During camp, don't brush aside the small conflicts that come up between friends or with the young people. Better to stay up all night—even arguing—to clear things up right away than to pretend nothing happened and watch it poison the camp in secret.
After the young people are asleep, the team can gather. Not just to plan tomorrow or to rest (though that's often desperately needed), but to keep going with the conversations we started in the city. We can explore different topics, read the Charter, an article from Ombre e Luci, discuss them. We can ask a parent, if one is present, to share their story—or we can find the courage to share our own. The intensity of camp life, the excitement, the questions that surface, the exhaustion of those days—all of it makes us more honest, more willing to listen, more gentle in inviting the quiet ones to speak and share their experience again.
It also matters to check, during camp and not just after, whether what we're living matches what we set out to do. Evaluate what went well and what didn't. Suggest ways to do better.
When something unexpected or serious happens, listen to everyone, if you can, before deciding together what to do.
Last year, for instance, we were heartbroken when Marisa had to go home halfway through camp. We asked ourselves: Was there another way? Had we failed in our commitment? Had we put too heavy a burden on her family? Then we realized it was the only choice that made sense. From day one, Marisa grew more nervous, more agitated, more violent. We understood that for her, the camp wasn't a pleasant escape but real suffering. So we faced something hard: Faith and Light is not always the answer, not for every person, not for every problem. Some struggles need something different—more expert help, a different setting. Faith and Light does not have a monopoly on joy for the poor. Marisa stayed in our hearts and our prayers for the rest of camp, and she taught us that Faith and Light has limits too.
At camp, we live Faith and Light day and night. We taste both the beauty and the difficulty of community: playing, laughing, talking, eating together, listening, sitting in silence, singing, praying, washing up, getting dirty, making mistakes, forgiving. We build new bonds and strengthen old ones. We begin to ask ourselves whether we are here because it feels good or because the poor and Jesus have called us. Sometimes real roots begin to grow.
But this doesn't always happen. For it to happen, each person has to feel they need it to happen.
- Nanni, 1992