Almost fifty years after Fede e Luce began, the movement has made "missionary outreach" a priority. A missionary is someone who, on behalf of established communities in a region (overseen by a coordinator), responds to people asking to experience Fede e Luce directly but living far from any existing group. This role isn't spelled out in the movement's Charter or Constitution, yet experience has made it clear that we need people willing to reach out and support those who seek contact. That's what happened in a parish in Terni, where a priest became an advocate alongside families with disabled children he encountered there. Or in Albania, in Tirana: a community from France asked Kimata—one of three Italian provinces—to help guide parents and friends, with a nun's support, in starting a Fede e Luce community. And in Puglia, in a parish near one where a community has been meeting for years.
There are still many places where disability is lived in isolation and silence. Even as families' needs have shifted in our society, Fede e Luce's message—that friendship can bridge vast differences, and that sharing joy together matters—remains vital for countless parents, young people, and friends, sometimes priests and sisters too, who are hungry for exactly this. In 2021, as the movement marks fifty years, we celebrate both the new communities born in recent years and the people who have carried this message forward—a joy too precious to hide away, one that multiplies and becomes encouragement both for those just beginning their walk and for those who have slowed their pace.
One of the hardest things for those spreading this message is knowing whether the soil is fertile enough. But certain signs help: the atmosphere in a room, the desire people have to know one another and spend time together, above all their attention to each other and willingness to collaborate. So when people arrive at that first invitation, they come hesitant yet curious, uncertain yet attentive—because the name Fede e Luce doesn't immediately signal a category.
In many places, disability is still lived in isolation and silence. At that first invitation, people arrive hesitant yet curious, uncertain yet attentive.
In many places, disability is still lived in isolation and silence. At that first invitation, people arrive hesitant yet curious, uncertain yet attentive.
They listen to what Fede e Luce is not (that's simpler!), how it began, stories of the friendships formed with young people, parents and friends, and how lives have changed because of that meeting. When the message of friendship strikes home, ignites, and moves beyond "doing for" others, time will tell whether that first gathering becomes the seed of a real community. Each person in that first nucleus is important and irreplaceable—and it's better still if, however small the group, the different elements are already there: friends, young people, parents, a spiritual guide. What's essential is someone among them who is deeply motivated, willing to hold everyone together—a kind of engine pulling the cars of a train setting out on a long journey whose destination remains unknown.
Not every gathering bears fruit, it's true. But we must not lose hope, and remember that the timing may simply not be right, that another moment may come for the community to truly take root. It's not certain that Fede e Luce is right for everyone either. Yet nothing happens by accident, and where there is sensitivity, something can always grow. Mariangela Bertolini used to say that when she first began sharing Fede e Luce, she would hand out little cards. The call to be a missionary isn't reserved for the few—it's for everyone. And don't be afraid if you feel unprepared: there's no manual to study. You need only remember the joy of your first gathering in community and how it changed your life. OL
