When I saw how the Bishop welcomed us during the ceremony and how afterward he chatted easily with everyone, I knew the circle had truly closed and that everything had gone well—better, perhaps, than we could have hoped for.
Watching the simple joy and communion of those friends gathered around the altar, I thought back over the entire path that had led us to this day. The discussions, the prayer meetings, the preparation sessions, the encouragement, the doubts, the laughter, the satisfaction. And as little Stefano proudly and cheerfully gripped the bishop's crosier, and the Bishop greeted Elena, Mario, and Enzo with genuine care, I found myself remembering the first time we had talked together about Confirmation and about preparing for it as a group.
It all began when we realized that several of us still hadn't been confirmed. Some had only recently returned to the Church. Some had never thought about it. Some had "promised" to get confirmed before marriage. Some were planning to marry. Some kept putting it off. And so it seemed natural to ask: why not here at Faith and Light, together, all of us? We soon discovered that many were thinking the same thing: "If I don't do it at Faith and Light, I probably never will." I don't know if this happens in other groups, but for us at Don Orione's community, this prospect of preparing together proved to be the decisive push we needed.
This strikes me as something beautiful and characteristic of Faith and Light: sometimes you come to help, and before long you find yourself being helped and drawn forward in ways you don't quite expect. During our meetings, we often wondered how to involve the young people more deeply in prayer and preparation. But looking back now, we realize that probably it was they who drew us into this whole journey in the first place.
A program that worked
Our first real planning meeting brought together several Rome groups with the same intention—to prepare for Confirmation together. This gathering helped us understand the earlier Confirmation preparation experiences already part of Faith and Light's history. We discovered an existing program, developed over a year by Rome Faith and Light friends and already tested with others in some communities. This program, which worked very well for us, outlines in broad strokes the topics to cover across nine meetings, and offers guidance on Bible passages to read and how to structure the sessions.
What we hadn't found—at least not here in Rome—was experience preparing such a large and diverse group together. This raised a real question: how do you prepare people with very different abilities for Confirmation along the same path? Some who can read and some who cannot? Some who can speak and others who cannot? How do we honor our differences while walking this journey together?
With them you must live more than speak
The answer will likely differ from case to case, depending on who needs preparing. But we felt it was important to hold all our meetings together, even when some couldn't participate in discussion the way others could. We considered whether special preparation days tailored to particular needs might have been necessary. But the presence of two young people with severe disabilities pushed us toward a path that always remained unified. We told ourselves: if Mario and Elena cannot read and understand the Gospel in our way, their family and all of us will do it for them and with them. I know that sounds unclear, but for us, those meetings together held real meaning. And I believe each person's presence mattered deeply. Communication with Mario and Elena is certainly difficult. Even understanding simple things requires patience and attention on one side, and genuine satisfaction on the other. But "discussing" the Gospel with them is, I believe, impossible. Our only choice was to try to "live" the Gospel with them. And it's strange—what initially seemed like a compromise, a makeshift solution, now appears in hindsight as the most important choice we could have made. Elena and Mario, in their sometimes imperious ways, reminded us powerfully that speaking and thinking about the Gospel matters, but living it matters far more.
We decided to meet in the evenings, sometimes at Elena's house and sometimes at Mario's. Among us grew a family atmosphere and friendship that could only come from each person's presence: Elena's excitement, a bit startled by those evening invasions; Mario's welcome, his long-awaited signs of satisfaction creating joy in all of us; Riccardo's stories about his mythical grandmother, at daily Mass to compensate for his family's insufficient faith; Letizia's questions, which often went straight to the heart of things. Each of us played a role. And the mothers, with their memories and their hospitality—even the food they offered—made a crucial contribution. Everyone mattered in deepening what our meetings meant. How could we forget that evening when Elena's agitation on one of her difficult days left our discussion outline completely unused? We left her house that night quiet and reflective, thinking about how inadequate our little written plan had been, about how much everyone's presence mattered, and about the danger that our journey might become only words.
Why Confirmation for them too
The deeper question we faced was this: what does it mean for someone with severe disabilities to receive Confirmation? Is it right to do? We tended to dodge the question, but the clarity of some of the mothers pushed us to speak about it honestly.
First we asked ourselves: who among us truly "understands" the mystery of faith? We realized quickly that intelligence alone cannot determine deeper understanding of God. If Saint Paul says "the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God," perhaps we must accept that our rationality can become an obstacle on our path to faith. What sense does it make to try to become like children to approach God, and then doubt whether someone without "sufficient intelligence" can receive the sacrament of Confirmation? And—we half-joked about this—isn't it true throughout the Gospels that the Apostles do nothing but misunderstand, get things wrong, and stumble after all the incomprehensible truths revealed to them? And when they grasped something, didn't Jesus remind them: "You did not understand this yourself; my Father revealed it to you"? If they struggled, and they had Jesus beside them speaking to them daily, why should we worry about not "understanding" something? Certainly no one in our discussions imagined we had anything final or certain to say on the matter. But we felt relieved when we realized that none of us had anything final or certain to say about any of the sacraments we ourselves had received up to that point. We came to see this as simply one of the many mysteries of faith that make up each of our experiences with God.
There remained, of course, the question of personal freedom and choice. A person can be aware they do not understand and still choose to proceed. But what of someone who cannot express their will? We didn't hide from these doubts. We thought about infant baptism, sacraments for the dying, and all the ways we influence decisions even of people supposedly free to choose. These are real considerations. Yet we believe there will never be a final answer to such questions. The fact remains that parents and families of people with severe disabilities necessarily take on the task and responsibility of helping them make choices across all areas of life. And choosing not to do something also becomes a choice made on their behalf.
A bit guinea pigs, a bit pioneers
We prepared through roughly ten evening meetings among ourselves. We were guided spiritually by two important friends of our group: Father Paul Gilbert, professor at the Gregoriana University and spiritual advisor to Rome's Faith and Light, who has followed our community's spiritual growth for some years; and Davide Gasparini, a seminarian at Don Orione Institute. Nicoletta and Luisa, the mothers of Mario and Elena, also attended the meetings. From the start, Paul proposed to guide us, perhaps—I suspect—wanting to use us a bit as "guinea pigs" for an experience to repeat in other groups. This role as "pioneers" gave all of us an extra sense of responsibility and motivation.
We were joined by Enzo, a young man from the Saint Joachim group, who prepared following the same program at home with his parents, two group friends, a seminarian, and in Sunday meetings with the whole community.
With our group or with the parish
After our preparation evenings, we began thinking about the ceremony itself: we needed to decide where and with whom to celebrate it. We had two main options: a Mass with all Faith and Light groups that had people to be confirmed, or a Mass with another parish Confirmation group. A Faith and Light–only Mass had many positive aspects, and we liked the idea that we could be more at ease, more ourselves. Some worried that on Confirmation day we'd have to worry mostly about fitting our usual "chaos" into the rhythm of a normal parish service. The other option—joining with other Confirmation candidates—appealed because it seemed a chance to open our experience to more people.
Father Danilo, the pastor of San Gioacchino, came to our rescue. His warm welcome reassured us and cleared our doubts. He made clear at once that there was no problem with noise or disorder, and that our presence was actually a resource for his parish community. The parish Confirmation group showed immediate interest in joining us. This encouraged us about the possibility of bringing Faith and Light's experience to parish communities.
We decided to do not just the Confirmation ceremony but also a day of retreat beforehand—all of us together with the parish young people.
We went from eight to twenty!
Being with "the others" was very good
I think all of us will keep a good memory of that retreat day. The eight of us from our group, the parish young people, the catechists, and Father Danilo spent the day together. Warm, bright sunshine—unexpected after weeks of rain—seemed to "bless" the meeting of these two groups. The day was the perfect conclusion to our evening preparation, and after we got over the first shyness, we could share this important moment with the help of all these new people. This kind of encounter with parish communities, which we hadn't planned at first, struck me as something worth trying again in the future. I'd recommend to other Faith and Light groups preparing for Confirmation that they plan these exchanges, perhaps including intermediate meetings together. Young people preparing for Confirmation, I think, are very interested in an experience like ours. And we in Faith and Light often need deeper exchange with parishes.
Then came the ceremony itself! October 13, 1996. 10:30 a.m. All of us, more nervous than we'd admit, stood outside the church, which was full of people—friends and family waiting for us. The Bishop greeted us and encouraged us. The singing and the faces of people in the pews as we processed in made us feel the solemnity and weight of the moment.
Tommaso Bertolini, 1996
