At the Hotel Columbus, near St. Peter's, the International Committee and organizers had set up headquarters. By October 24th, the groups began to arrive. The Argentines came—quiet and attentive, wearing their distinctive capes, eager to savor every moment. The Americans arrived next—boisterous and warm, with a gifted Black singer who performed spirituals several times. The Danes were serious and reserved.
On the 25th, the Canadians landed on a 400-seat plane and had the honor of disembarking at Fiumicino's VIP exit. Then came the Belgians, many of whom already lived in community. The English arrived so organized that they had even brought camping stoves to avoid sacrificing their tea. The Irish came cheerful and close-knit. The Germans arrived orderly and joyful, delighted to have an Italian guide-interpreter at their service.
Finally, on the 26th, the large French contingent arrived—2,000 people on special trains pulling into three different Rome stations. The Swiss came, including the Swiss from Bellinzona, happy to find themselves among Italians. The Spanish arrived in smaller numbers due to recent events [the Spanish transition ed. note], and the Italians came by bus, train, and plane.
The two phones at our disposal rang constantly. People spoke in nearly every language imaginable.
We scrambled to handle last-minute difficulties.
On the 26th, at 4 p.m., the pilgrimage officially opened in St. Peter's Square. Jean Vanier and Cardinal Poletti welcomed everyone.
The Mass, celebrated by the Cardinal alongside several bishops and more than 200 priests, was both solemn and deeply felt.
After the celebration, the Pope came down among us. He was moved by so much simplicity and so much affection. There was no triumphalism, no ceremony—only the Father of us all, received with joyful songs and waving banners while the basilica's lights blazed on.
He took a five-year-old child in his arms. He squeezed the hands stretched toward him. He touched those who could not move.
Monday the 27th: people stood around the Flaminio stadium asking what was happening.
From 6 a.m., workers had been building the platforms where the various groups would perform.
At 11:30 the arrivals began. One hundred ten buses delivered as many groups, who entered singing—some in colorful hats and clothes, others with guitars and tambourines.
Boys and adults took turns climbing onto the platforms, expressing the joy in their hearts through songs and dances.
Around 4 p.m., 1,500 colored balloons rose toward the sky amid the enthusiasm of the crowd. People felt their longing for joy and friendship for everyone—especially for those who could not come—carried upward.
Tuesday evening, St. Peter's Square, 8:30 p.m.: the "Vigil of Light." Eight thousand red carnations (though some reports say five thousand) were set aflame. Each person passed the flame to the next, and a chant rose through the square: "Light in the darkness." All the small flames lifted high. "Light for the world." All the small flames lowered. St. Peter's Square became like a lung breathing—not air, but faith, light, and love.
The Pope blessed the crowd from his window, and the assembly dispersed in order, singing.
Wednesday morning, at St. Paul's Basilica.
The Holy Mass centered on being sent forth:
"And after this gathering, we are now sent out.
God will light us—let us sing for the light.
God sets our hearts aflame—let us sing of tenderness.
God comes to give us love—let us sing with joy."
These words were sung in every language, echoing through the basilica's nave.
It was a Mass in which the Bishop, the concelebrating clergy, and all of us sincerely lifted our thanksgiving to God.
I was stationed at the international secretariat, so I could not have as much direct contact with the pilgrims as I would have liked. But the letters we received, the testimonies, the responses to questionnaires distributed on the final day—they made clear how much joy and friendship had been lived in those four days.
Reading these accounts with the other Rome organizers, we told ourselves we could have done more—especially to know each other better as Italians, to encourage other gatherings, perhaps in smaller groups, to develop new projects together.
Yet the joy evident in the testimonies we received also made us say this was magnificent: we had achieved a deep unity at every level. Old and young. Those in wheelchairs and those walking. Able-bodied adults alongside adults with disabilities. We shared prayer, song, celebration, meals, long hours on buses, and Mass in every language.
More than 150 young people—including 100 scouts—helped us, in addition to those already part of our groups. Some took on the simplest tasks. Some helped with coordination. Some welcomed pilgrims at trains and airports. All of them gave us invaluable help.
With this issue of "INSIEME," dedicated once again to the pilgrimage, we want to bring back to those who came some of the joy you all shared. To those who could not attend, we offer this good news as a Christmas gift.
The Pope and with him the Church welcomed us. They made room for us.
Fraternal love exists. We lived it. We touched it with our own hands.
The small ones of the Gospel know how to radiate light and hope around them when we who are older know how to listen with simplicity.
Italia Valle, 1975