Nearly three hundred Faith and Light communities now exist around the world, each one born from the determination of just two or three people—armed with goodwill, a bit of courage, and staying power. Here are some examples from among many.
We were glad to help
We were a small group of young people: six with disabilities, five friends. At first, we used the parish hall. The priest wanted to help us if we needed it, but he wondered, frankly, what we could possibly accomplish with "them." So we began as a quiet presence. After nine or ten months, we started attending Mass with everyone else. One Sunday the regular team didn't show up, and we offered to take their place. We led the singing, did the readings, carried the gifts at the offertory. The disabled members and we alongside them—we were happy to help the parish, happy to take part in something real, happy to see the priest accept what we had to offer. The parishioners discovered that disabled people exist, that they can pray and do many other things.
From there, we reached out to other families, other friends. The key is opening parish communities to the spirit of Faith and Light.
A group of young people from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
It took two years
After attending a Faith and Light pilgrimage in Rome in 1975—invited by a sister—I came face to face with a reality I'd hardly known existed. I began looking for someone here in Milan who felt what I felt: the desire to "do something," to answer that call for justice stirring inside us. Two years passed. Then, through my husband, I met Toni C. She'd known Nico for some time and was deeply moved by what he was going through. We asked our pastor for his support, and with a notice posted in church, we found four people willing to commit seriously to this Faith and Light project. Through the parish and ANFFAS, we reached out to disabled children and young people in our neighborhood, and we invited them and their families to our first gathering—a kind of celebration. We asked our own children and Don Bruno to help, maybe to bring some teenagers from the parish youth group. There were about fifteen of us that first time, most of us nervous. The few parents there were skeptical. But Nico's smile and Antonella's smile—those were what kept us going. We stayed in touch with the Faith and Light coordinators and always followed their advice. About a year later, the Faith and Light pilgrimage to Assisi rewarded our modest beginnings far beyond what we could have hoped.
Anna Maria de Rino, Milan
Closed door, open heart
One day, at a cousins' birthday party, my daughter wasn't invited—as had happened before—out of respect, out of delicacy, they said. That afternoon I cried as if my heart would break. I'd rarely felt so rejected, so "different" from everyone else. And I felt it not just for myself but for my whole family: my disabled child, and the rest of us, disabled by association. After that long cry, I felt emptied out, lost, alone. But that evening I made a decision. Francesca's birthday was coming soon. We would throw her a real party—invite everyone, cousins and friends. From that beautiful party, everything changed. Or almost everything. My heart, which had been tight and hard and closed, opened to the "others" I'd been so afraid of. And they became my great friends, my wonderful supporters. People who invited us to their homes, who taught their children to love and respect Francesca as a normal child, who invited us to spend summers with them. One thing led to another. My husband and I found our courage. But what matters most is this: we discovered how much love, how much friendship Francesca had awakened in all of us and around us.
I wanted to tell these things because, while they are my own experience, they might help other mothers and fathers who are still afraid of what others think.
A mother
It hurt to separate, but…
I'd been part of Faith and Light for four years with my family. I had a chance to talk with our pastor, and he was surprised to learn how involved I was in F&L—a movement he'd never heard of.
"If Faith and Light is so wonderful, why don't we start a group in our parish?" he asked me.
I found two other families from our neighborhood who already went to F&L and were happy about the idea of a group in our parish. Three friends said they'd help me start it. The coordinator in Rome thought it could work and gave me his blessing. Could I handle the responsibility of leading a new group?
It hurt—for me and for the old group—to separate and begin a new path. But I felt it was necessary. I was lucky to meet the parish "Caritas" group, which already cared about disabled young people. Five of them, plus a seminarian and a priest, said they'd help me. So far we've had three meetings.
Our new group has six young people, seven parents, and about a dozen friends. We go to parish Mass on the last Sunday of the month. There are other young people in the area, and I think the hardest part now will be reaching them and their parents.
Olga Gammarelli, a mother
How Faith and Light came to Haiti
In Haiti, it all started with a retreat led by Jean Vanier. Among the 150 people there, some heard his call to found a Faith and Light community and felt something stir in them.
We held our first gathering at the Ark in Port-au-Prince to try it out: a work session, some sharing and prayer, then dinner together. An organizing team formed and committed to at least a year of work. We decided to hold a party once a month, on Saturday. One person took on coordination, and six others each took a responsibility: activities, record-keeping, outreach, finances, and so on. Gradually, our rhythm became clearer: the first Saturday of the month was the party; the second, we'd evaluate what happened; the third, we'd plan the next gathering; the fourth, we'd visit families.
The parties rotate through three different neighborhoods in the city. This summer we ran three ten-day camps with members of the Faith and Light community and new friends. The camps deepened everyone's personal commitment. We have a plan for the future: a permanent space where we can work on weekends—gardening and other projects—and camp in the summer. What we harvest will feed the campers.
Robert Larouche, Haiti