Today, roughly 1,500 communities are scattered across some 80 countries, each marked by the same spirit of welcome, friendship, shared life, and joy—expressed in ways shaped by local history, tradition, culture, and geography. Just months ago, Latvia joined the network with a new community in Riga, the capital.
In the developed world, quality of life has improved. Services for disabled people and opportunities for connection have grown substantially. Communities in Europe marking forty years of life—communities that have woven precious friendships around people with disabilities—now sense a need for renewal. Some are reinventing themselves; others join forces to strengthen what remains; still others are invited to honor the conclusion of their journey, while those who stay are called to pray that new communities of sharing will spring up in their regions.
The situation in the developing world is different. There, people with disabilities are often seen as God's punishment, a burden on their families—so many still live hidden away in poverty. Yet wherever priests or young people who have known the experience of L'Arche or Faith and Light bring the proposal of gathering—disabled people, their families, and friends together—these encounters seem to flourish and spread. Kuwait shows this vitality in its two groups, holding promise for rapid growth in Iran, Pakistan, India, and Malaysia.
For those of us constantly connected by email, text, phone, and Skype, it is hard to grasp the frustration of Judex. From his island home in Mauritius, he struggles to know the real situation of the African communities he is meant to accompany. The distances are vast, connections sparse and often impassable. An email sent might be answered at once—or months later, or never. He had come to believe the twelve communities in Lubumbashi, Congo, no longer existed, having heard nothing for two years. At a recent meeting of international vice-coordinators in Rome, he expressed his sorrow. But then, through a contact Ghislain had maintained from earlier visits, Judex discovered that all twelve communities in Congo continue their journey of Faith and Light with real vitality. In the coming months, he will visit them to encourage and equip them. He is counting on the solidarity of other countries to fund the trip—a tangible expression of belonging to the great family of Faith and Light.
Those who have lived in Faith and Light know that our communities become places where people of different cultures and religions can meet. They open new paths and build bridges. Hatred and fear diminish, and together we help build a society of peace. In the Middle East today, Christians fear for their future. The divide between Christian and Muslim deepens, and fear and hatred grow. The question came: "What can we do?" Several members of Faith and Light communities in Syria took up the challenge. They began to weave relationships with those who, having lost everything, were forced to flee their homes and land, seeking refuge in camps where they found themselves poor, sick, needing everything, terrified of a future they cannot see. "Faith and Light helped us overcome the prejudices and barriers between us—barriers of religion, culture, and way of life. It taught us to be present in the midst of suffering and fear. We learned to respect these people, to know their names, their faces, their stories. We do not give money, medicine, or clothes; we give our time to talk, to laugh, to cry, to play, and to learn. The women began to understand that they matter, that they have the right to speak, to ask questions, to learn. After one gathering, a mother said: 'You have eased our suffering, you have lifted us up. We will be happy to see you again.'"
And what of Italy, preparing for the great pilgrimage in June to Rome and Assisi, celebrating forty years of Faith and Light in our country? There is certainly strong commitment to sustain and grow the roughly sixty communities scattered north to south—many boasting forty years themselves. We rejoice at recently planted communities, at scattered contacts here and there. Yet on reflection, we realize that Faith and Light is not widely known. Over these years, this precious treasure has been kept carefully by those who discovered and lived it, never offered boldly to the wider world. Perhaps the future calls us to greater courage: more visibility, more missionary spirit.
It is true that many initiatives have flourished to support families—workshops, studios, employment centers, and more. But in these settings, doesn't the disabled person risk remaining merely a consumer of services? Where do they truly live out the need to love and be loved? Where do they weave lasting bonds of friendship? School is certainly essential for integration and growth. Yet when that chapter closes, many fragile young people lose crucial anchors. They risk falling into depression and regression. This is why we must offer them multiple paths—complementary ones that enrich the whole person.
Today, parents rightly focus on what gives their children more independence, more skills, more leisure. But we must not neglect something else: spaces that honor each person's pace, that listen, that build relationship, that welcome and celebrate. It is in this calm, secure climate that disabled people sense they are recognized and valued, that they have a role among us—to show us the way forward and gradually to transform our hearts.
Recently, friends and I asked ourselves whether Faith and Light communities still have reason to exist today. From our conversation, it emerged that yes, after all these years, they need to rediscover their identity and renew themselves, to open to the needs of today's families and friends. Yet they remain places where we can love one another despite our differences, where we learn to bear one another's burdens, where we become a small "sign" of the Kingdom.
Some months ago, Jean Vanier said: "Where is our world heading, in constant change and depression? What future awaits us? Much has changed in recent years, but rejection of fragile people has not. We must not close ourselves off or hide behind walls. We must break down those walls to celebrate life and unity. We must stand with the poor and celebrate joy. Life is found where people are rejected. For this reason, our communities must become ever more places of love, peace, and joy."
Lucia Casella, International Vice-Coordinator, Fidenza - Kimata
