"Me? Really me?".
A thousand emotions tumble through your heart. There's a touch of pride in there too. Go on, admit it. Being elected to guide one or more communities in Faith and Light—the scope depending on your level of responsibility—is genuinely gratifying. It's good to know others trust you. But the joy of the moment doesn't erase the deeper questions: "What have I done to deserve all this?"
Nothing. It wasn't you. There's no one better or more capable than anyone else. What matters is a call and the willingness to say yes. We don't choose to be coordinators. It's a path given to us. And it's a particular gift.
There are days when we bless that "yes, I accept!"—days when it's a beautiful thing to witness the wonder of love in young people, parents, and friends, lived out in the simplest gestures and words. We feel genuinely richer because of the many experiences responsibility invites us to live, because of encounters full of meaning. But there are other days when we wonder why there are so many burdens to carry. There are communities growing old, at risk of dying, or actually closing their doors. Others lose their way or can't find the path anymore. When you're accompanying multiple communities, you're entering into communion with many hearts. You laugh with some, weep with others, sharing in their struggles.
Walking alongside one person, one friend, in a spirit of brotherhood—that's one thing. Accompanying several people bound together by a single journey is different. Everything multiplies. The worries are truly endless. But so are the supports. You learn so much from each person you meet. It becomes a school of listening, patience, and trust. Yes, trust—because we cannot carry the yoke promised by the Gospel alone. Without Jesus beside us, we wouldn't make it. We don't always realize this. Sometimes we risk believing our strength is all our own. It never is. Deep down, we know it well. Otherwise we would collapse on our darkest days.
There's something else to remember: no one at any level in this movement is left alone. From the individual community to the international council, there's always a team that supports, that allows for dialogue, that helps keep us on course and to whom we can delegate. No one does everything alone or makes important decisions without first talking to others.
In Faith and Light, the coordinator is like a shepherd. Jean Vanier taught us this by reflecting on John's Gospel. A shepherd knows his sheep well and the path they're called to walk. The sheep trust him because they know he's doing his best for them. He may make mistakes. He may stumble. But they're certain he knows clearly where to lead them to drink and where to find shelter.
It's true. The one who coordinates is called not to be first among all, but to serve all. Responsibility is an exercise in humility. The work required is to be clear about which rock to build on, what the true identity of the movement is, and what mission it must fulfill. The shepherd doesn't drag anyone. He shows the way. Perhaps he carries the limping sheep on his shoulders. Perhaps he walks alongside the one who tends to stray. He tries to sense what gift each person has to offer, so each can put it at the service of all. Sometimes he fails to reach the planned goals. But he knows this can happen, so he keeps looking ahead.
Staying firm isn't always simple. The criticism you might receive, the gossip that thrives in communities, the misunderstandings—they hurt. They wound. It's another weight to bear. But it's all part of the account. It's part of the yoke you carry, and it must be entrusted to the One who watches over all of us.
Your gaze must turn toward new challenges. Today, in a society that often regards fragility with indifference or rejection, there's much work to do to help new communities be born, continuing to sow the message of Faith and Light. Sometimes you must also find the strength to celebrate the end of a community. The shepherd becomes a gardener pruning branches that are withering. It doesn't have to be a tragedy. Where there's no longer strength or desire to continue, energies can be invested differently.
The journey grows rich with commitments. There are so many lights to kindle so we don't curse the darkness. We're called to celebrate a great joy. And the gift of responsibility makes it shine with a thousand colors.
Angela Grassi, Coordinator, A River of Peace Province, 2015