Italy: The Focolare and the Diciotti vessel
“We are following closely the events surrounding the Coast Guard Ship ‘Ubaldi Diciotti‘, which arrived in Catania and is in two-days stand-off with 177 people on board who are not being allowed to disembark. The umpteenth case, unfortunately, that over the past few months has put a strain on the culture of hospitality that has always been the mark of the Italian people, “says the press release of 22 August signed by Rosalba Poli and Andrea Goller who are leaders of the Focolare Movement in Italy. They support “the need for shared paths at a European level in the search for non-improvised solutions”. But they highlight “the great concern for human events such as people fleeing from hunger, war and death”. And they ask “that the human dignity of those who are in the same condition recognized either in their countries of origin, and in the countries through which they are travelling, including ours where they have now landed.” The communiqué concludes with an appeal to politicians “from all backgrounds; that they put aside disputes between sides and particular interests, and collaborate in the name of our common humanity, which comes before any other distinction or separateness”. See also: “A-mare (o amare) il prossimo” (in Italian)
Fifty years ago we ourselves did not know the origins of our love. We were content to know that we had undertaken a journey which had no end in sight, amazed that our differences could be so balanced, so enjoyable and complementary, so much so that although we were different we felt we were wonderfully equal. We felt we were ready for everything, convinced that no one loved in the way we loved, because we had invented love. Less than a year after that wonderful ‘yes,’ some clouds already began to darken our horizon. Work, tiredness, routine… Yes, we all know that being in love ends at some point. It was then that someone revealed to us that God is the source of every love. God who is love. We should have known all this, because when we pronounced our wedding vows He was there with us and from then on he had even dwelt amongst us. But we did not realise what a gift we had, we did not know what a gift we had, we did not know his presence was part of the package! We realized afterwards, he gives the whole of himself to us asking in return just a small, agreeable, daily contribution: that we love one another with his very own love. Does being in love come to an end? [Yes but] love needs to take its place. Because if faith is, so to speak, an interior virtue, love is its outward, visible fulfilment. Love is greater than anything else: greater than faith, greater than hope. In the Next Life, there is no more need for these two virtues. On the other hand, love remains in Paradise. Love makes of the two one body. Which means one reality that is untouchable and indissoluble. It is a ‘we’’ that is open to the Absolute. Love must reach the paradox of knowing how to become nothing in order to put yourself in the other person’s shoes. Only in this way will our love mirror its original plan which comes forth from nothing less than the Trinity. 
The ‘we’ formed by the couple is the first and living fruit of our love. The complimentarity of male and female expresses itself in a thousand daily gestures of mutual service and tenderness, up to the fullness of bodily intimacy. It is also expressed in sharing space, time and tasks. [The ‘we’ formed by the couple] knows how to go out first of all to their children and then towards others. The ‘we’ is the couple’s characteristic way of evangelizing, placing themselves before others as one example among many, and never as a model of the ideal family, which does not exist. Love is our unique opportunity, even if we feel that we are not perfect, even if we feel we have failed in everything. What matters is to believe that in the present moment we are the right person for the other; and that is what we are in the moment we decide to love them as they are, without any expectation that they will change, putting into action the three ‘magic’ words which Pope Francis teaches: please, thank you, sorry. It is said that today the family is going through the most tragic of all crises. Let us not regret the good old days, if ever such days existed. It is in the family that life is kindled. It is there that we learn to share, to rejoice, to suffer, to know sickness and to face death. Love makes it the most concrete of utopias. Families that welcome children even if disabled, others who adopt them precisely because they are disabled, those who welcome elderly parents, those who open their homes to migrants, those who help their children recover from addiction. In the fifty or more years that we have been together, life has taught us many things. We have cried and we partied. So many times we were wrong, but with his grace and forgiveness, we have started again. Putting our love again and again into the hands of God, who is our love, he has never hesitated, like at Cana to change our poor water into wonderful wine, making it wonderfully available also to those who are around us. And now, despite the fact that over the years our passion has diminished and the limitation of our characters are more evident, we continue trustfully to draw water from God’s unending source, happy to feel we are companions and accomplices right to the end.
“I thought you were asking for help and stumbled into this embrace. Your large, chilly arms awaited my warmth, an exchange of a kind gesture. Like earth awaits rain, a temple breathes prayer, a smile longs for lips, baggage hopes for a trip.” “This can’t end here, it can’t be. If you have completed this journey and reached my door, I hope you live on, always. If my path ended up with you, I want you to come along for the next stretch. I want to see you grow old, hear you speak my language better and better. I want to hear you confiding with my wife as if she was your mother and laugh with my children as if they were your siblings. I want to be there when you hug your mother, she who gave birth to you, your sisters, your brother. “I beg you. Listen to me. Open your eyes. Smile. I will teach you another magic trick. Put your curdled cells in my hands: I will make them disappear like coins, like paper. In their place I will put them back, healthy. And your body will once again start to work like a delicate, unbelievable mechanism. “I don’t have important things to tell you, thoughts to remember, memorable acts. I have rejected words, concepts that were forgotten even before they were born, meaningless signs. We’re never ready for detachment, it’s never the right time, and we can’t even conceive of absence. Even though you told me how your radiant God awaits, that death is but a natural threshold to cross in order to reach the next phase of existence, and that since you never treated anyone badly you will be rewarded in the afterlife. Even if I strongly believe that dying is going back to one’s origins, as Mary taught me: a marvelous, unending losing oneself in God. “Despite all of this, I don’t want you to go. I need to talk more with you, listen to you, solve problems together. With you I need to dare, to challenge the headwind, to demand, dialogue, and aspire to heaven while living through hell, promising each other, supporting each other. “There’s no point turning back: I am not ready to see you die, to watch you as you turn the dark corner of things we see and enter into that tunnel of light that we do not know. I am not ready and am only able to take you by the hand and guide your lips and mine in prayer to our one Father. Because what is natural to the divine is murky to people. We assign different names, we build up rules. Yet in the end, what counts is love toward others. “We met by chance, through those minimal circumstances that change the direction of our lives, to breathe a bit longer, through a revolving door that opened in a moment like any other. Yet now I feel you are like a brother and, as I hope with all my strength to see you awaken, I start to say with you: ‘Our Father…’” 
