I suspect that many active members of the wonderfully diverse Faith and Light movement know little about its written sources. I am among them. Only years after joining my community did I feel the need—when I became a coordinator—and later the desire—when I began to sense myself as a thread in a larger tapestry—to understand more deeply. To enter with greater awareness into the heart of that small spark officially kindled at Lourdes at Easter 1971, a spark that has been shining for nearly fifty years now in the stories and days of countless people around the world.
If I asked each young person, parent, and friend in Faith and Light why they are here, I imagine the most common answer would have to do with freedom, friendship, and inclusion: in our community you are free to be yourself, to spend time with your friends, and to love one another. And truly, that is exactly how it is. The story of Faith and Light speaks of freedom and friendship, of respect for the person and for their infinite fragility, of human relationships, of Jesus.
But this story would never have traveled so far if that initial spark—born from the shared sense of people in the "same boat"—had not been nourished by a vision and supported by an organization that could translate that inspiration into concrete reality. I am convinced this is true for individuals and for society alike: good intentions and good feelings are not enough. You cannot go far if you think you can always do things your own way. This is why our movement too felt the need to establish principles and give itself rules, to protect the people within it and to safeguard the freedom of its calling.
Like Mary and Martha before Jesus—spirit and flesh—the Charter and Constitution translate in writing the vision and organization of Faith and Light respectively. They are the rails on which our movement travels, a movement with one fundamental peculiarity: it is communal. Though the person stands at the center of everything—specifically, the person with intellectual disability, with their right to "be loved, recognized, and respected in their being and their choices"—the basic unit of our reality is not the individual but the community, "whose essential purpose is to create bonds of trust and friendship among its members, bonds that are founded and fulfilled in Jesus," because "every person, no matter how deeply wounded, needs to meet true friends and together form a brotherly environment where each can grow in faith and love." Alone, in short, we get nowhere. The Charter explains this well when it speaks of encounter, celebration, prayer, friendship and fidelity, rootedness and integration.
The Charter is so prophetic and inspired that if read more often, it would prevent many small derailments in our communities. The Constitution, by contrast, is rational and humble. It aims "to present the organization of the movement, to clarify the coordinating bodies at different levels of responsibility, and to define how a Faith and Light community is formed and composed." It declares itself "the younger sister" of the Charter, which "is its foundation and defines its spirit."
Beyond all the intricate communal, provincial, and international organization that the Constitution outlines—and it is very important to understand this because communities are called to live in communion with one another, with a breath that transcends state borders, language barriers, and differences among Christian denominations—what has struck me most is the intellectual and human honesty of those who conceived and wrote it. This honesty shines through from the very beginning, where the document defines its own limits before anything else. "The Constitution cannot define in detail every aspect of the life of Faith and Light. Therefore, should difficulties arise in interpreting the role of those in charge, the functions of various entities, or the application of authority, collective responsibility shall be favored over individual responsibility, the democratic approach over the authoritarian, equality in relationships over hierarchy, and the fulfillment of tasks in community rather than individually." Once again: community and not the individual, we and not I. This is what makes me happy and proud to be part of a communal movement that certainly is not perfect but is deeply committed to walking between Mary and Martha. Between spirit and flesh.