A Breaking Point
You reach a point in your life when you feel you haven't done enough for your son. His name is Giuseppe, Peppe to his friends, and he has autism. The condition has left your family's social life severely limited. Years of therapy, years when my family and I fought for integration, with almost nothing to show for it. Then one day you discover that the real therapy was right beside you all along—a world filled with love, shared purpose, and brotherhood. The world of Fede e Luce, one big family.
The real therapy came four days at the Fede e Luce summer camp in Ostuni, with the communities from Monopoli and Fasano. I watched my son finally happy. I saw with my own eyes how the camp changed his behavior. He calmly handled the schedule, the circumstances, even the stifling heat of those days. He reached out to interact with everyone, giving hugs and kisses in his own natural, unguarded way.
He sought physical touch—holding Graziano's hand, wiping Stella's tears, chasing Angela for a kiss while his eyes lit up with joy. Thank you, Fede e Luce, for this second summer at camp, so rich for Peppe. Because of you, I've seen real progress in my nineteen-year-old boy. You've made him happy. You've made our whole family happy.
Linda, his mother
What an Honor
On Sunday, June 18, 2017, Fede e Luce Lombardia gathered at the seminary in Venegono Inferiore for our year-end celebration.
We had the honor of welcoming Don Alfredo, the pastor of Gratosoglio, along with a friend of his. They fit in immediately, and at the end of the day Don Alfredo told me, "I've had such a good time. I felt at home with all of you."
We came from Gratosoglio by train, car, or the parish minibus. We greeted each other with hugs and warmth—thanks to the friends from the communities of Rho and Fatima. Then into the chapel for Mass, celebrated by Don Alfredo with Riccardo beside him, who performed the Gospel through mime as Jesus. He was thoughtful and careful throughout.
The mime performed by our new community from Cesano told the story of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes.
In his homily, Don Alfredo made us understand how beautiful and important a smile can be—the greeting of a true friend. We often retreat into our own worries and preoccupations. They're real. But we must learn to rise above them. A small smile gives others the strength to overcome obstacles. That's what makes the difference.
The Mass continued with the offertory and a dance by friends from Pantigliate. During all the songs, we played simple instruments to animate the celebration: tambourines, maracas, and more.
Simone, one of our vice coordinators, said something that stayed with me: each of us has a gift. For me, that's what love means. At the end of this day, let's carry that gift to the people who weren't here with us—especially to our families. Let's bring them the joy of this wonderful day.
Our day filled with joy and fraternal love. Lunch was always cheerful. People shared food they'd brought, traded dishes, played games together.
I nearly forgot—the aperitif prepared by the group from Carugate, served in the seminary's dining room where we could enjoy some shade. In the afternoon, outdoor games. After lunch we celebrated the birthdays of Arianna, Matteo, Alessandra, and Marilena—all surprised with cake, candles, and a banner. Everyone was thrilled.
Long live Fede e Luce! Long live us! Thank you, great family!
On the way home, we'll tell our families about our day, full of joy and emotion.
Nora Buccheri
The Camp at Cesenatico
This year the Cesenatico Lombardia camp took place the first week of July 2017. It was a wonderful, beautiful week. Everything went well: the weather, the sea, the company.
On the way back, the bus stopped in the Gratosoglio area, a neighborhood in Milan. I got out to say goodbye and help, but I left my bag and phone on the seat. In the confusion, a stranger got on, grabbed them, and ran off. No one stopped him—they thought he was someone I'd asked to help. But when they saw him take off at a run, they realized it was a theft.
After a long odyssey, everything turned out fine. I promise to be more careful from now on. Such a beautiful vacation shouldn't have ended that way.
Gratosoglio, though it's a rough neighborhood, is home to a Fede e Luce community that runs beautifully—full of young friends, parents, and guided by our spiritual director, Don Mauro Santoro. The area also has youth centers. I hope that person, looking at photos from the camera he stole from me, saw how much we enjoyed ourselves, how good we felt, the wonderful days we spent together.
Camps are life experiences. They're a form of growth, enrichment, and social connection. They matter for the young people, for families, for friends. Being together is what counts. The goal is to know each other better. You come back recharged. I invite and encourage all of you to go.
Flora Atlante
On the "After Us" Law
I read with disappointment and surprise in the magazine Ombre e Luci no. 138 that Law 112/2016 is "a good law in its principles and aims, but given the implementing decree of November 23, 2016, it falls short in providing sufficient tools to carry them out."
As a member of the CSA—the Coordination for Health and Social Services among grassroots movements and the Social Promotion Foundation—two organizations that have been involved from the start in advancing this law with observations and proposals to protect existing disability rights, I firmly disagree.
Law 112/2016 is a law that omits enforceable rights in the Essential Levels of Care (and thus misleads families). It provides only minimal interventions: basically some tax breaks for families to set aside resources for people with severe disabilities (while ignoring serious problems about whether these resources can actually be used over time by people unable to manage themselves).
The National Council of Notaries confirmed in the protocol signed with Anffas on April 28 that the law's actual scope is minimal compared to services already provided by existing law (and often not applied, true—but not because something is missing). The new law's provisions "are in addition to the Essential Levels of Care and other healthcare and support measures in existing legislation for people with disabilities. They are therefore additional options available to individuals through mainly fiscal incentives." Even the funding allocated to the law is not enough.
It's a good thing the implementing decree clarified these are additional, not alternative, to funding for healthcare and health-related social services. Otherwise it would have been a complete shift from those sectors—where rights are enforceable and services guaranteed—to social assistance, plagued by discretionary intervention (and as is well known, people with disabilities face endless pretexts about lack of resources).
It would help tens of thousands of families in Italy if, returning to this topic, you would address—with attention to rights and their actual delivery—the issues families raise every day, yet face constant dismissal from institutions in the vast majority of cases.
Take one example, drawing on arguments the law's supporters and parliamentarians used to push its approval: does anyone honestly believe that simply providing a home or property (without the health authority's involvement, without accrediting the facility to the national health service, without guaranteeing essential services, without assessing the building's suitability or therapeutic pathways—without doing any of that, because the law provides for none of it)—does that really secure the present and future for people with disabilities who cannot manage themselves? No. Any reasonable, good-faith observer would admit that this "after us" has no path forward.
Andrea Ciattaglia
Mr. Bzeek
Mohamed Bzeek is a sixty-two-year-old American who moved to California after emigrating from Libya in 1978. He's probably never heard of Jean Vanier, and you wouldn't think these two "saints" have much in common. Mohamed is a divorced Muslim with a biological son and a full beard. Yet despite the nearly nine thousand kilometers between their homes, there is one thing that binds them deeply: both have devoted their lives to serving the most weak and defenseless among all humanity.
Over the last twenty years, Mr. Bzeek and his wife have adopted ten terminally ill children, giving each a dignified life. Even after their own son Adam was born—a boy with dwarfism complicated by osteogenesis imperfecta—they continued. Their home became a beacon of hope for the city of Azusa and nearby Los Angeles, where some six hundred terminally ill children live.
Reading this story, although Mohamed is openly Muslim, I thought of words spoken by Jesus (recognized as a prophet in Islam), quoted by all four evangelists. He said, "Whoever welcomes one of these children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me." (Mark 9:37; Luke 9:48; Matthew 18:2-5; John 13:20)
Reading about the Bzeeks, I thought of the life of Our Lord: born a child in social indifference, destined to carry an unbearable cross. These two now seem to have taken on the form of modern Simons of Cyrene. They help us understand what we mean by community. I would propose them as "honorary members" of the great Fede e Luce family.
Emanuele Mendola
Dear Editors
Dear Editors,
On July 28, we lost Sergio de Rino, a longtime friend of Fede e Luce.
I knew him for many years and saw him at all our gatherings.
I want to remember him here for something I noticed and treasured: at our Fede e Luce meetings, Sergio would stand in a place where everyone had to pass. As people came by, he'd greet each one. I thought of him as a father waiting for even his slowest child. Then, last of all, he would come in himself, closing the line.
Discreet, patient, smiling with his always-watchful blue eyes, he embraced us all with his gaze.
I like to think he still does.
Elisa Sturlese