Faith and Light came to me as a completely unexpected encounter and a surprise that touched my soul and never let me go. Four years.
When I try to trace them backward, I seem to see every moment spent with the young people here, beside me. Our moments together. So clear, I could touch each one.
Ordered, true, deeply true and alive.
A calling that opens your heart—and even when you want to run away, there is Elisabetta's smile waiting for you. It stops you, disarms you, and makes you understand that your strength lies right there, in being present.
The young people believe in you deeply, without too many questions, because faith doesn't demand answers.
They taught me that despite appearances, doubts are far more fascinating than a pile of certainties.
And so you can't help but pour your soul into it, because that is the real secret of things—or at least of those that know how to warm the heart.
A gift, one of the rare kind, the kind that changes your life forever. You can't keep it hidden. You have to tell it, shout it to the world.
I have always wanted to share this wonderful reality with as many people as possible. Such beauty deserves to be seen and lived, even for just a second.
It's not easy to warm people's hearts, especially in a small, skeptical town. But my stubbornness kept me from losing heart, and above all from losing sight of the goal: to make Faith and Light known to the people of Velletri.
Love, in whatever form it takes, is the most extraordinary source of strength. The most invincible power. And the young people are the most authentic proof I have ever witnessed.
So we got to work and organized a play.
A month of hard labor, much exhaustion, but so many smiles and adrenaline that grew day by day.
Writing the script, revising it, assigning parts, the young people in a state of euphoria, hearts racing, life making itself felt in its total beauty.
I wanted to stop time in those smiles, in that spontaneity, in that emotion mixed with fear that exists only in the purest hearts.
They didn't believe in themselves. They were afraid. We guided them step by step onto that stage—their stage—where every barrier fell away to make room for a hilarious performance interrupted by moving testimonies.
Theater became the metaphor for a small house, the kind we live in within our communities—a place where it's possible to develop well-being by caring for ourselves and each other. The young people were the most real actors I have ever seen.
So many spectators came, and though nervous they approached our world. Some caught only a small taste; others deepened their knowledge. But many went home with the photographs from the exhibition we set up—countless pictures of the young people's life in Faith and Light.
I've never been good with accounts. And honestly, I don't care about them.
But I know they were happy. I know their hearts were racing with joy, that their tears came from being recognized and from the shy discomfort of feeling appreciated. That is enough for me.
I will put on a million plays so that new faces can share with us the uniqueness of a gift so rare.
I wish every human being could experience the love of these young people at least once in their life. It makes everything possible.
Maria Sole Angeletti, Saint John the Baptist Community, Velletri, 2016