I arrived late to Friday evening's vigil. Work kept me until six o'clock, and the vigil didn't begin until nine-thirty. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't matter much—but I was three hundred kilometers away. I left right after my shift and, as my community has taught me, I didn't lose heart. I knew where I was headed: a place full of people like me, called to be part of the Faith and Light community. The mountain road was steep and empty, but I made it by nine. They were waiting for me, and I was welcomed with the kind of joy that never fades. I felt emotional being reunited with my Faith and Light family. The formation had begun.
Faith and Light represents a moment of life grounded in profound relationship—this insight guided our journey. To speak of community means understanding the deep bonds between friends, parents, and young people; grasping the many possible relationships among them. Understanding these connections can strengthen the life, growth, and renewal of our communities. We wove together the lived experience of established communities—some with years behind them—with younger ones, all of us eager to build a common path forward and help communities that have seen their numbers shrink over time.
Why do friendships decline? What does it mean to be a friend, and what does it mean to be a parent? We returned to the roots of Faith and Light's message, so that our communities—sometimes caught up in the frenzy of activities—would place God's Word at their center, as the driving force of all relationships.
We began with Friday evening's prayer vigil, reading two passages from Luke's Gospel: the mission of the seventy disciples, and earthly worries. We then reflected on words from Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini.
Saturday morning brought the question: "What do you expect?" We listened to John's Gospel—the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman—and returned to Cardinal Martini's words: "We must help everyone understand that Faith and Light is not like providing a service or a presence, but rather it means embracing personal evangelical values, a certain evangelical way of seeing life." Simple and clear—a portrait of what it truly means to belong to a Faith and Light community.
Miguel, coordinator from the Iberatlantic province in Spain, reflected on what it means to belong and to have an identity as a Faith and Light friend. "He who finds a friend finds a treasure," because friendship brings many gifts. We must therefore give real attention to friends, even when we risk disappointment or betrayal. Miguel spoke in Spanish, with Don Marcello translating freely. His words felt so familiar, so understandable despite the language barrier, and I grasped most of what he said. His presence was a gift to us: Miguel and Musky are parents in Faith and Light, yet they possess a sweeping vision. Their human warmth and relational skill offered us a model to follow. Miguel posed a series of questions: Who are the friends in Faith and Light? Who am I? Whose am I? To whom do I belong?
"Belonging and identity must go together," Miguel explained, "because my identity shapes my belonging, and my belonging gives me identity." He guided us from thinking of belonging in the literal sense—as property—to understanding it as becoming part of something greater. Part of God. Part of the Church. Part of Faith and Light. It is hard to understand what it means to belong to Faith and Light if we have not first grasped those other two. Faith and Light was born in the heart of the Church. If we belong only to Faith and Light without belonging to the Church and to God, our relationships grow fragile—and so does our place in Faith and Light.
When identity takes center stage, the question becomes: Who is a friend in Faith and Light? Miguel's answer described someone who stands close to young people; an educator who treats them not merely as children and accepts their limits without stepping in to replace them; someone who knows how to set boundaries and recognizes when a disabled person needs help; someone who gives time to friends and speaks to others about his experience in Faith and Light.
He also made clear what a friend is not: not a professional activity coordinator responsible for organizing recreation, and not a volunteer standing apart from those he helps. Faith and Light is not a club where leisure time is all that matters, and it does not exist simply to give parents a break.
We then broke into small groups—friends, parents, and young people together—and in mine, with Miguel and Musky, I found an endless source of exchange and growth.
Saturday afternoon, Cesarina Bertin, vice coordinator of the One River of Peace province, took up the theme "Relationships in Community," stressing the importance of bonds between parents, between friends, and between parents and friends. Faith and Light becomes a privileged moment for these relationships, a privileged moment for celebrating together. We asked ourselves: How have I grown through relationships in Faith and Light? Where do I still need to grow? How can my community help me?
What emerged from the small groups was the need to make relationships within the community clearer and more constructive. Every relationship, from its birth, carries with it a growth in responsibility. The exchanges were calm, open, direct—and there was no shortage of requests for help and a real desire to grow together.
Saturday evening was circus night. We all dressed up as best we could; and since Dumbo was the event's mascot, Bruno—confident that all of us are a bit like Dumbo, at least in the ears—handed out pairs freely. Dancing, games, and tastings of sweets from across the South painted the evening in color. It ended with a hilarious game of telephone. The weight of the day's weighty themes lifted, and we found ourselves getting to know new wonderful friends, including Father Graziano, the superior of our host facility.
Sunday morning, with Lucia Casella, vice coordinator of the international council, we put faces to the young people, friends, and parents of communities so far away from ours yet so identical in charism and mission. Lucia emphasized the value of community as a treasure entrusted to us: "It is not ours to keep. We have a duty to safeguard it and pass it on to those who come after us, just as it was given to us."
After Don Piero's Mass, which closed the formation, the faces around me looked tired but satisfied. Many insights had emerged from the small group discussions: among them, the ability to distinguish between moments of celebration and moments of spiritual depth.
I realized everything had gone much better than I'd imagined—God willed it so—and I carried away an image of so many new faces. On the drive back to Bari, three hundred kilometers with Lia, Mara, and Laura, we spoke of the movement, of the association at the national level, and above all of relationships in community. That conversation was the most beautiful sign that the work to organize this gathering had already begun to bear fruit. Now comes the task of sharing what we learned with our own communities. The seed is planted; now we must water it. I hope these words of mine are a first drop. My thanks to the entire provincial team for the spirit with which they built this formation in the June heat of Lipari; to Gianni and Rosita for their insights; to all of you for your attention.
And thank you to God, who has always loved me just as I am!
Luigi Spina - San Giovanni Battista Community (BA)