It was probably a singular religious experience. Nine young people with severe intellectual disabilities, sisters, friends, nearly all adults, prepared together for confirmation through an unusual and profound spiritual journey. Together with other young people in the Roman parish of San Gioacchino, they received the sacrament.
When Tommaso asked me to read his article on confirmation, a question came to mind at once: "But why didn't you say anything about Mario's wonderful godparent?" These lines are my answer to that oversight. Lines to tell a story of friendship. Lines to tell of a great joy.
My friendship with Mario—and I hope he won't mind if I take it for granted—has now lasted twelve years. We were both just past our teens. I was starting university, and Mario was attending Voita.
Today: I've graduated, I've been working for six years, and (of all things) I've gotten married too; Mario changed schools, swims regularly, goes on Faith and Light camps, has gained weight (as have I), and is cherished by many friends, as well as by his whole close-knit family, all women.
When we first met, it wasn't simple. Someone told me, "You're one of the few men in the group—you really should spend time with Mario." I thought, "But I'd spend all my time with Elena. And you want me with Mario? Fine, I'll make the sacrifice" (I was joking). Mario, who is no fool, understood immediately and made me pay for it: pinches and bites (usually deserved, sometimes mysteriously painful) came in abundance.
The path to real friendship is long and hard.
Using words from a book on the metaphysics of mountaineering (Mount Analogue, R. Daumal), I can describe how our friendship was born and grew: "To walk together, to talk, to eat, to be silent together—that is what we can do today. Later, I believe we shall have the chance to act together, to suffer together—and we need all of this to truly know one another, as the saying goes".
Mario and I have walked together over these twelve years, talked less than we walked, eaten tremendously, suffered (unfortunately), and rejoiced (fortunately). Much of this we did and shared together, and from these things our friendship was born.
So far I've spoken of friendship. Someone will say, "But couldn't you have done that at a company recreation club?" True enough—and in fact Faith and Light is nothing but a social gathering... Stop, or they'll censor my whole article.
Faith and Light has always been, since I reached the age of reason, a privileged place to meet the other, to encounter the person before me. The next step was (strange as it may seem): to understand myself and what lay within me—but through the other, who is profoundly equal to you, with his own gifts and his own struggles.
The last step (always debated, always open to question) is faith itself. Faith and Light is an experience of the spirit. To discover the other, to recognize that in all difference they are equal to you, to recognize ourselves as weak and dependent on one another—this is nothing other than an encounter with Jesus Christ, a knowing of him.
Mario and I have done essentially this over these twelve years.
A mutual discovery of ourselves, an uncovering of the smallness within each of us, and finally, truly, an experience of God. This is why being godparent to Mario was a great joy.
- Stefano Artero, 1996
===FINE===