Here I am in Kenya. You may wonder how I came to be in this African nation, so tested in recent years. It is a long story. In 2006 I was in Bangalore for a retreat. There was a young Italian priest there—Father Gabriel.
Let me tell you his story. He is a pastor in the diocese of Nyahururu, also in Kenya. Ten years earlier, while visiting a family to bless their home, he heard a strange sound. He opened a cupboard door and found Thomas—a child with profound disability—hidden inside. The family was uncomfortable and ashamed to have such a son.
From that encounter, the community of San Martino was born. That strange and unexpected meeting awakened Father Gabriel's curiosity. "Are there other people with disabilities in the parish?" he asked other priests and pastors. Five or six disabled people were discovered nearby. He then gathered a group of local volunteers to see what could be done to meet the most urgent needs. This team went door to door. In just over a year, in an area of forty square kilometers, they discovered two thousand people with disabilities—many of them hidden away in back rooms. They also found orphaned children, many of whom had cared for dying parents or relatives lost to AIDS, and many of whom were themselves HIV-positive. Gradually they uncovered other suffering: abandoned widows, young people drifting toward crime, girls and women who had been raped.
As these needs and sorrows came to light, local people began to offer themselves as helpers. Naturally, these volunteers—filled with goodwill and a desire to serve—had no professional experience. Soon it became clear that motivation without support weakens and fades. The question arose: how do we sustain their commitment? What was needed were sessions in both professional skills and spiritual formation. Churches throughout the region were contacted. Gradually more than a thousand volunteers came forward to be trained and to take up the work. A great ecumenical movement was born—one that brought life to people in need and transformed those who felt called to serve them.
You can imagine why I wanted to see and touch this African reality with my own hands: a movement of compassion and competence serving the needs of an entire region, working hand in hand with churches and the local government (not always present). Picture it: volunteers going into villages, meeting mothers of profoundly disabled children, helping them, inviting them and their neighbors to gather, to share, to pray together, supporting them and helping them find professional care when needed.
I was accompanied on this journey by Marta Bala, who had met Father Gabriel in Bangalore and who in the 1970s had led our community in Calcutta. Together we were able to see and touch with our own hands this extraordinary work—born of the Holy Spirit, inspired and guided by Him. We came to witness this reality and to meet the people. (...)
I had the joy of leading a week-long retreat for the San Martino volunteers, and among them were many people from the region—mothers and fathers and young people, three hundred in all. In my free moments, I was able to visit several places where San Martino does its work. We heard testimony from some of the leaders. We were amazed, and we gave thanks to the Lord for all that the Spirit works through these men and women from different Christian churches, so deeply united in love. That unity shines through in everything that has been accomplished here. We attended a special Mass in one of the community's halls, to which mothers with disabled children from the surrounding area had been invited for the day—many had traveled far to be there. Also present were HIV-positive orphaned children, wearing shirts made for the occasion. They performed a beautiful dance for us, candles raised high, singing.
The following week we visited these same children at their residence, Thalita Kum. Again they sang and danced for us, and we were able to forge stronger bonds with them. We were deeply moved by their beauty and their joy. This is a home where HIV-positive children are brought when they are discovered sick and abandoned. They are welcomed, nourished, and cared for as needed. Once they have regained their strength and health, San Martino works to place them with families.
In Luke's Gospel, there comes a moment when John the Baptist, imprisoned, enters a time of anguish and doubt. Is his cousin Jesus truly the one who is to come, the Messiah? He sends messengers to ask: "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?" Jesus answers: "Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind see, the lame walk, and the good news is preached to the poor." That is the sign of the Messiah's presence—the sign of God's work. Here, through San Martino, God's work manifests itself, revealing that when the poverty and deep needs of people are uncovered, many step forward as volunteers to bring support to those in need and to enter into friendship with them. The different churches unite in "compassion" to serve the broken body of Christ, revealing what the Church truly is. (...)
Translated from a circular letter by Jean Vanier, 2008