From August 6 to 12, representatives of Faith and Light communities across the Alps-Danube region—Austria, Italy, Romania, Slovenia, Switzerland, and Hungary—gathered in the countryside near Budapest at Zsambèk.
The Hungarian communities had long hoped to host such a meeting. They did it beautifully. The venue itself was ideal: spacious, surrounded by green fields, which allowed for both shared activities and personal prayer and rest.
- The logistics were executed flawlessly.
- Decorations showed remarkable care and creativity.
- Everyone appreciated the opportunity to tour Budapest by car.
Every detail was arranged to create a family atmosphere.
The theme—"Listen to the whisper of the Spirit and go"—shaped a well-balanced program. From the opening evening through lectures and workshops, everything pointed toward a single infinite reality: the Spirit's presence at the heart of all life. That first night, eighty people, mostly young, gathered outdoors. Each country presented itself in traditional dress, speaking its own language. It was a discovery—and a reckoning—with our differences and our complementarity as one body in the Spirit. A Hungarian group closed the vigil with a mime of the prophet Elijah's encounter with God. The moment moved everyone deeply.
Their Words
Four speakers shaped the gathering:
Mariana Mihelcic (
It is the Spirit who unites our communities across the world);
Father
Giulio Battistella (
Through the Spirit, a person seemingly marked by disgrace saves the world);
Marie-Noelle Ball (
The history and structure of Faith and Light);
Mariangela Bertolini (
It is the Spirit who unites us in the Church).
Their words enriched everyone and helped us rediscover what Faith and Light exists for: the poor, the small—those "deeply loved by God, who are prophets of His tenderness and mercy." Our communities must live in that reality. It is our first law.
After each talk, small groups formed. Ideas and testimonies were shared. We came to know one another. Bonds formed—despite the barrier of different languages. The heart speaks where words fail.
Carefully prepared Eucharists grounded the whole gathering. The priests' humble, fraternal service helped us hear more clearly the "whisper of the Spirit." On the final evening, Father Jozsef Hagyl presided over Mass. We sat around a great white table shaped like a cross, lit by candles made by handicapped people. The silence held depth. The readings were simple and beautiful. Everyone felt the presence of the Spirit—gentle and strong, loving us, calling us to love the poorest and smallest among us.
The celebration continued late into the night: meals of each nation's specialties, exchanges of gifts, games, singing.
For the Alps-Danube region, this week was historic. I hope it will lead to a shared identity rooted in renewed fidelity to the Holy Spirit, source of all life.
-
Yvette, 1992
* * *
Remembering Zsambèk
From last August's Alps-Danube gathering, I carry a sweet memory. I lived communion with people of different nations and cultures—Swiss, Slovenian, Hungarian, Romanian, Austrian.
I see their dear, gentle faces: Yvette, Éva from Hungary, the many young people with whom I spoke not always in words but always in glance and smile. What stays with me most is the quiet strength of the priests. Without fanfare, they wove a spiritual bond among us all, simply by sharing everything we shared.
Father Jozsef from Hungary, Father Marijan from Slovenia, Father Klaus—always ready with a cheerful word in every language—and the others, and our Don Enrico, so humble and present. How tender their gesture that evening of the great Eucharistic feast, when they came and took our hands one by one and led us to sit at the great Cross-shaped Table where we celebrated the Eucharist.
And the times we worked and played together! I remember the joy, the concentration with which we learned to make felt—taking wool of many colors, water, and soap, mixing it quickly. We sang and kneaded! Such laughter, the foam reaching our elbows. And Zsuzsanna, our beautiful Hungarian coordinator who knew no languages, guiding us with gestures and wide smiles!
And those evenings in that shadowed, unforgettable convent courtyard. Evenings of prayer around sacred images and lit candles. Then the evening of true, moving testimony.
And the games and dances on the last night? Languages mixed. We repeated songs in different tongues. We danced steps of traditional dances—with such joy in doing something that matters, something that nourishes body and spirit, but most of all something that builds and leaves an indelible mark.
Those who worked so hard, with such love, to organize this gathering—let them know this.
-
Delia Mitolo, 1992
