Sweet Farewells
On a sunny Sunday morning, Alessandro came to pick me up at the community, and we took the train from Monselice to Venice. The train was packed. When we arrived in Venice, I got off using the lift, and the city itself was crowded with people. We made our way through narrow streets and especially over bridges until we reached the Frari, where Cesarina and friends from Feltre were waiting for us, along with representatives from all the Fede e Luce regions across Italy. I already knew some of them. After greeting everyone, we attended Mass with Father Gianluigi. Lunch was wonderful. Young friends of Fede e Luce from Rome and Sicily came to sit beside me. Sitting with these new friends, I felt happy at their warm attention, though I was a little embarrassed by how hard it was for us to understand each other. The farewells were sweet, with promises to meet again soon. In the afternoon, with friends from Raggi di Sole and Abano, we took a long walk through Venice. We had planned to visit my sister, who is a nun, but it was time to catch our return train before we knew it, so we headed home. It was a beautiful day, and I was happy to have met new friends I hope to hear from soon.
Samuele
Found on a Church Bench
This is an unusual piece that a friend gave me. A friend of ours—widowed just a few months ago—found it last summer on a bench in a small mountain chapel in the Veneto region. I think an angel left it there…
I'm sending it to you because I loved the spirit of true love that Jesus taught us and that should be our aspiration. I hope you'll find it as moving as I did!
But I don't think it's right for Ombre e Luci, because the context is quite personal and won't necessarily speak to everyone.
Keep up the good work! The back cover of the latest issue (3-2011, editor's note) seemed fantastic!
Natalia
"If your children don't want to go to Mass, don't say: 'They've lost their faith!' Just say: 'They don't go to Mass.' Who gave you the job of measuring anyone else's faith? Never forget the Gospel! It's before the pagan Canaanite woman and the pagan Roman centurion that Jesus can't help but cry out with joy: 'Never have I found such faith in all of Israel!'
If your daughter lives with someone without being married, don't say: 'She lives in sin!' Say instead: 'My daughter lives with a partner.' Did God appoint you to organize the Last Judgment?
If your grandchildren aren't baptized or don't go to catechism, don't say: 'They're rejecting the Church and the sacraments.' What do you know of the secret meetings God may have with your grandchildren? Of the astounding surprises that come at an hour no one knows? Do you know that there have never been as many adult baptisms as there are now? Accept that your grandchildren's faith doesn't rest only in your hands and doesn't depend only on you.
But it's because I know you're suffering over all of this, and you risk suffering even more at your next family gathering, that I wish I could light your gaze with a star.
To become able to see others as children of God and not as non-practicing Catholics—to look at them with God's own tenderness—to listen to others as people to love and not as presumed wrongdoers: this is the most concrete sign that it's true that God became human."
Father Jean-Claude Brulhart
Still Messengers of Joy
I still remember with emotion how we celebrated February 2 last year at Lourdes, gathered around a great bonfire that marked the beginning of our fortieth birthday. That fire illuminated all the pilgrimages that took place in 2011. It also shone on many other important events, not directly tied to Fede e Luce's forty years: our participation in the Day of Assisi in October, Pope Benedict XVI's visit to Benin in November, and more besides.
Marie-Hélène Mathieu's book was a wonderful birthday gift, and we must continue to share it widely—it's a vital tool for understanding our history and continuing to live out the energy of our early days. Since last year, we've also had a beautiful new website, the fruit of exceptional secretarial work. May the great fire of Lourdes continue to illuminate the pilgrimages ahead in 2012!
The messengers of joy will keep spreading their enthusiasm around the world this year too. At the end of February, our international coordinating team will look back at the path we've traveled and see how this momentum can continue bearing fruit. So let's all move forward. Let's keep making ourselves known, inviting new families and new friends!
Don't forget in your prayers all the communities in countries the news covers too often—when it comes to conflict, hardship, and war. I will never grow used to such dire reports, and I entrust all our friends who suffer to your prayers.
Ghislain du Chéné - International Coordinator, Fede e Luce
Who Can Say…
After reading with interest Professor Mariani's article in issue 115 of Ombre e Luci, I was struck by Paolo Mazzarotto's sharp reply in issue 116. Professor Mariani raises issues—perhaps with too much force—that I believe deserve open discussion between believers and non-believers alike, free from prejudice. It would be worthwhile to explore the question of life's value in all its implications, without shame or fear, trying to understand clearly what we're talking about. I'll limit myself to posing a few questions that trouble me deeply and to gathering various answers on the subject that I've collected from friends and acquaintances, or heard in television debates, or read in respected newspapers.
When does a human life begin?
For some, at the first moment of conception. For others, when the brain is fully formed, or even when self-consciousness emerges.
That last claim makes me shudder. I look at my daughter Flaminia, thirty-three years old, with cerebral damage caused by medical negligence, classified as severely or very severely disabled in disability assessments. I cannot say with certainty that she has full self-awareness. So as a person, perhaps she doesn't exist?
What standard determines whether a life is worth living?
Surely it's when we're fully independent, able to demonstrate all our abilities, when physically and spiritually we can use all our potential.
I think with dread of my Flaminia and so many others I know in her situation, who certainly don't meet these criteria. Is their life worthless?
Who can decide that a life is not worth living? Parents, a guardian, a support administrator, a judge, a doctor?
When does someone enter the "severely or very severely disabled" category? When born with grave malformation or chromosomal abnormality. When born healthy but suffering severe, irreversible damage from human error at birth or soon after—damage from vaccination, or encephalitis as a complication of a simple childhood illness, and so on.
When born healthy and living a full life in every way, until a traumatic event, an accident, a stroke, or a failed surgery transforms a "normal" person's life into that of someone severely disabled.
Add to this some elderly people who, after lives of complete normalcy, are struck by severe dementia or Alzheimer's.
Generally, all these people can feed and hydrate themselves independently, and don't need to ask for help. I speak only of hydration and food, which are the foundation of survival for all of us; other treatments might constitute futile care and would need case-by-case evaluation. One last question: How can we doubt the precious gift of life in every human being when we think of that young woman with Down syndrome (remember that Down syndrome is easily detected by current prenatal screening and doctors strongly advise abortion) from the last letter in issue 116 of Ombre e Luci—who, before she died, tried with all her strength to reconcile her family members, divided by old grudges? I close with a thought about my father. He was a highly respected surgeon with a brilliant mind. Unfortunately, in his final years he suffered from severe senile dementia, which he himself recognized at the first signs. His wonderful mind had completely abandoned him; he remembered nothing except the prayers he never forgot. I watched him pray until the last moment of his life, bearing witness, even in his critical condition, to the deep faith that had always accompanied him.
Perhaps we should reflect with greater respect and humility on the great mystery of life and death, and consider that Professor Mariani's "condemnations" might instead be cries of alarm. Perhaps the abyss into which our world so often seems to be falling could originate in part from a gradual loss of respect for the sacredness of human life—something that once united believers and non-believers alike. I believe that joy and sorrow are part of our human nature. But I never tire of saying that we must all work harder to improve the society we live in, demanding that no one face hardship and despair alone.
Paola Pulieri Ceccarini