In 1965, together with people from the L'Arche and Val Fleuri homes entrusted to my care, we made our first pilgrimage to Lourdes. There were about forty of us, if I remember correctly.
I was entirely new to this life of sharing with handicapped people. Some of those traveling with us were deeply troubled souls. Yet I was struck by the joy, the dynamism, the hope that marked this pilgrimage. The traveling itself—the long stretches of road together, living differently from our usual way, under difficult conditions—bound us tightly together. I was also moved by the sensitivity our L'Arche companions showed toward the atmosphere of Lourdes, so profoundly mystical and evangelical. At Lourdes there are countless signs and symbols that awaken our hearts: the water flowing from the spring, healing and purifying; the flame of candles illuminating the darkness and rising toward heaven like a prayer; the processions where we walked together toward the "promised land"; the Grotto where we shelter to pray; the tangible hope of the sick; and finally this immense crowd, come from every country in the world, singing and praying. The universal, apostolic Church becomes real here.
When we returned, I noticed a transformation in the atmosphere at L'Arche. There was something warmer, lighter in the air.
The next year we went to La Salette, then to Fatima, to Bannoux, to Beauring.
Each pilgrimage bore its own fruit, and everywhere we found the same symbols.
One day, traveling to Paris with Marie Hélène Mathieu and two parents, we talked about the grace flowing from these pilgrimages. Suddenly an idea struck us: why not organize a national pilgrimage for handicapped people and their parents? Why not? A light touched our hearts. By the time we reached Paris, the dream was becoming something real. We were determined to move forward. Time would tell whether our project was madness or inspiration.
We shared the idea with friends. Each one pushed the initiative forward. It is important that the Church recognize that the handicapped person is a child of God, but it is equally important that she discover all the spiritual richness hidden in his heart. We also spoke of the idea with Belgian friends, who immediately proposed making it an international pilgrimage.
Our first gathering took place in Paris: there were about sixty of us. We had also invited Monsignor Desmazières, Bishop of the diocese of Beauvais, where L'Arche is located.
Monsignor Desmazières encouraged us greatly: "Do it. You must go." So we began to prepare this great gathering.
It had to be a pilgrimage not "for" the handicapped but "with" them. We were not seeking the miracle of physical healing. The only miracle we asked of Lourdes was this: that the hearts of those called "normal" might be healed by discovering that the poor are the Church's treasure.
This pilgrimage had to be different from all others. A great celebration. With simple liturgy, accessible to people from different countries. Pilgrims were not to register individually but to prepare in small communities of about thirty people—made up of handicapped people, their families, and friends. In this way, bonds of friendship would form even before we arrived at Lourdes.
This pilgrimage could have been a flash in the pan. Each of us was invited to reflect deeply and honestly on Christian life. Each of us—handicapped people and companions alike—would need to rediscover the hope that lies at the heart of our baptized life.
Parents needed the chance to meet during the pilgrimage; those who spoke English, those who spoke French, Italians, Danes... Parents need to share their joys and their struggles.
So, between 1968 and 1971, as international organizers met to prepare, the foundational ideas of Faith and Light became gradually clearer. Each meeting brought our identity into sharper focus.
Easter 1971 finally arrived.
There were twelve thousand of us: an explosion of joy and prayer. A hope was born. The Madonna of Lourdes watched over this crowd of the poor. About 700 people had come from institutions or psychiatric hospitals (one man, an Anglican, had been hospitalized for seventy-one years). Despite the crowds, there was not a single incident.
The city had initially worried about the arrival of four thousand people with intellectual disabilities, including those with epilepsy! Yet, the merchants said afterward, reassured: "Never have we seen such joy!"
In the months between February and April 1971 we feared we would not have enough money. Then money was left over. To show the Lord our gratitude, we sent half of this sum to Monsignor Desouza, Bishop of Benares (the most famous pilgrimage site in the world), to help him create a center for handicapped people, and the other half to Mother Teresa of Calcutta.
After living together through the entire preparation period, after sharing those three unforgettable days of grace at Lourdes, the communities could not accept that everything was finished. Deep friendships had formed. We could not betray them. We had to continue.
So in France, Belgium, England, Canada—the small communities continued to meet, to go on pilgrimage, to celebrate. In 1975 the second pilgrimage—this time to Rome—was for us the fraternal blessing of Pope Paul VI, who wanted to confirm the privileged place of the poorest in the Church's heart.
Faith and Light grew larger... The celebration goes on; it continues in friendships deepening through prayer, sharing, and the Eucharist.
Yes, the celebration must continue until every handicapped person has found a church community where—not as specialists, but simply as Christians—we learn to discover and live together the extraordinary Good News that Jesus brought us.
I am struck by the joy, the dynamism, the hope that marked this pilgrimage.