“I think that, after Don Silvano Cola, Don Pepe, was the most charismatic Focolare priest I have ever known,” remarked a priest from Italy upon hearing the news of the death of Don Enrico Pepe on 2nd March, 2025 at the Focolare Priest’s Centre in Grottaferrata (Rome). “He was a person with a pure gaze. He saw people in truth and also in mercy”, said another from the USA. Cardinal João Braz De Aviz, emeritus Prefect of the Dicastery for Consecrated Life, who presided at the funeral, said in the homily: “I thank the Lord for the care he has had for us priests, helping many not to lose the gift of the Christian life and the ministerial priesthood, because we were strengthened by the continuous search for unity among ourselves, with the Church and with the Work of Mary”.
But who was Don Enrico Pepe? He shared a lot about himself in the book, An Adventure in Unity (CNx 2018).
Enrico was born on 15th November 1932 in Cortino (Teramo, Italy), the first of nine brothers and sisters. Despite the shadows of war, he enjoyed a happy childhood. Late in life, he would gladly return to those places, also to reconnect with the warmth of his loved ones: the Pepe “tribe”, now numbering 76 nieces, nephews and great nephews and nieces.
During his secondary school years, Enrico felt called to the priesthood and entered the seminary. He experienced a moment of doubt when a young woman was affectionate towards him, but precisely in that circumstance, he renewed his choice with even greater awareness.
He was ordained a priest in 1956 and in 1958 the Bishop sent him to Cerchiara, a town near the Gran Sasso, divided by two political factions that also affected the parish. Don Enrico, with his evangelical “cunning”, manages to carve out his path and the situation soon calmed down.
In 1963 he met the Focolare Movement. Together with Don Annibale Ferrari, he travelled every fortnight from Teramo to Rome to meet Don Silvano Cola at the first Priests’ focolare. A year later he was offered the opportunity to move to Palmares in the North East of Brazil, where Bishop Dom Acacio Rodrigues had turned to the Focolare Movement, due to the serious shortage of priests. In 1965 Don Pepe became the parish priest in Ribeirão, in an area of sugar cane monoculture with burning social and moral problems. He responded with a pastoral approach enlightened by the Second Vatican Council and by his own common sense. Over the years, a Priests’ focolare was born, a community in which Dom Acacio frequently participated.
With Chiara Lubich, Brazil, 1965.With her sister Iole, July 2024.With Margaret Karram, 2022.
After a few months back in his homeland, in 1969 he left again for Brazil, this time to devote himself entirely to the Movement and to develop the spirit of unity among priests. In 1972 he relocated for this purpose to the Mariapolis Araceli, the little town of the Focolare near Sao Paulo. Years later, Don Pepe wrote to Pope Francis, “At that time, the Church in Brazil was going through a tremendous crisis, especially among the clergy. Together with the focolarini, I began to offer the spirituality of unity to diocesan and religious priests and seminarians. In this way, a new and joyful life was awakened in many dioceses and religious congregations.” This led to an unexpected result: “In the early 1980s, the Holy See began to appoint some priests who lived this spirituality as bishops”.
In 1984, Don Pepe was called to the Priests’ Focolare Centre in Grottaferrata (Rome), to look after, together with Don Silvano Cola, the thousands of priests who were living the spirituality of unity and the life flourishing in parishes around the world. In his spare time, he compiled the lives of Martyrs and Saints. This led to a book by the publisher Città Nuova that was so well received that he was asked to expand it to three volumes.
In 2001, the case of the Zambian Archbishop Milingo broke out. When he repented, the Holy See sought someone to guide him through a process of renewal and turned to the Focolare Movement. Don Pepe was assigned this task. Years later, Cardinal Bertone, then Secretary of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, wrote to Don Pepe: “We met at a special moment in the life of the Church in Rome, without ever having met in person, but we sensed a convergence of ideals, of mission and of transmitting God’s merciful love, which sealed our relationships.”
In his later years, he faced significant health challenges. Don Pepe commented “In BrazilI passed through many airports and now I often see myself on the runway, ready for the final flight, the most beautiful one, because it will bring us to the Beyond”.
It was a beautiful afternoon with perfect weather. Lima’s waterfront was crowded: entire families enjoying the beach, parents and children arriving with their surfboards and equipment, surf schools with their instructors, tourists and vendors of drinks and ice cream to offer to that swarm of potential customers.
We were accompanying a friend from northern Peru who had come to visit us. Marcelo and I were taking him to the most pleasant and attractive spots. On the horizon you could see surfers skilfully riding the high waves of the Pacific Ocean – an ocean which despite its name is anything but peaceful. It was a real spectacle! The sun was preparing for its final scene of the day casting an exclusive backdrop of fiery orange and red across the sky.
In this beautiful setting, accessible only to a certain social class, everything seemed to be going perfectly. Amidst the crowd, I noticed a tiny, man as thin as a stick carrying four large sacks of waste material that he had collected: cardboard, plastic bottles, glass… This small figure, completely invisible in that environment, was preparing to climb a long flight of stairs, leading to the overpass that crossed the highway from one side to the other, from the beach to the road. He looked like an invisible ant burdened with a load three times his weight.
In that faceless crowd, his presence caught my attention. “Come, sit beside me for a while,” I said, pointing to the empty seat on the bench where I was sitting. He looked at with surprised, then smiled. He set down his heavy sacks and took a seat. “Hi, my name is Gustavo, and you?”. “Arthur,” he replied with a wide, toothless grin. He explained that he had come from far away and that he needed to cross the highway, climbing up the steep staircase, to get the bus that would take him home. There, in his humble neighborhood, he would sell the waste material he had collected. This was his daily job which enabled him and his family to survive.
Marcelo gave him 5 Soles, the price of the bus ticket. We said goodbye shaking his sweaty hand warmly and wishing him good luck. As he climbed the stairs with his bags in his hand, every so often he looked back at us and flashed us his toothless smile.
In the midst of the faceless crowd, Arthur became the most important person, the one who touched our hearts, who stirred something deep within us, who connected us with the Beatitudes, to the way God sees.
Bahía Blanca is a coastal city located at the gateway to Argentine Patagonia begins. With its 370,000 inhabitants, it is the economic, religious and cultural centre of a vast region. Just a few kilometres away, another 80,000 people live in the city of Punta Alta. Together, they have a very important petrochemical hub, a network of 7 different ports (including multipurpose, grain, fruit, fishing, gas, oil and fertilizers) and the main base of the Argentine Navy.
In this region, the average rainfall in a year is 650 mm, but on Friday, 7th March, 2025, 400 mm fell in just 7 hours. As this huge amount of water made its way to the sea, it gathered speed and destroyed everything in its path: bridges, canals, railways, roads, roads, vehicles, houses, shops… and people.
The population suddenly found itself in scene of unimaginable devastation, as if there had been a tsunami. A sudden power outage also cut off telephone communications, leaving everyone in the dark about the well-being of their relatives, friends, and colleagues.
However, something deep within this community awoke and all the universal laws converged into a single verb: to serve.
As soon as the water and mud allowed, thousands of people began to pour into the streets. Everyone assessed the damage in their own home, but then immediately turned their attention to their neighbours, to see if they needed help. Those who managed to get their situation under control devoted themselves entirely to helping others. We were all witnesses and protagonists of a gigantic miracle that has multiplied, with incredible creativity and strength.
Recovering photographs of an elderly womanYoung people preparing meals for distribution in the flooded areas.Distributing donations
The only thing that mattered was what could be done with our hands: help remove water and mud from homes, clean, tidy up, look for rags, buckets of water, disinfectant, take the injured to health centres, take care of pets, accommodate people who had lost everything, offer strength, encourage, hug, share suffering. No one complained but said, “It was very difficult for me, but in comparison to what happened to others…”
While I was helping some friends, a couple approached and distributed pasties, others came with drinks. Those who had an electricity generator offered to recharge mobile phone batteries. Others provided pumps to drain flooded areas. An optician donated glasses to those who had lost theirs. A woman distributed disinfectant, a doctor made house calls, a man offered his services as a bricklayer and another as a mechanic. Everything was shared: candles, food, clothes, nappies, mattresses, drinking water, brushes and hands – countless hands.
A bar offers free hot chocolateDonations of mattresses arriveVolunteers cleaning a kindergarten
And then came the solidarity of the whole country and of people from all over the world. By truck, by train, by bus, in vans… tons of donations, which needed more volunteers for loading, unloading, sorting and delivery. Volunteers kept multiplying. And also money, donated with great generosity. Parishes, clubs, schools, companies, all the existing organizations gave everything they could. Generous financial donations also arrived. Parishes, clubs, schools, businesses—every organization gave everything they could. And then, another kind of organization emerged: groups of friends. Like makeshift “patrols,” each group took charge of a section of the city where government aid would likely take longer to arrive. Even now, they continue going door to door, recording every need and ensuring that help arrives swiftly.
All the hands of these people, whether they knew it, believed it, or even imagined it, have become “divine hands”. Because they were the most tangible way God could reach those in need. Personally, I experienced deep anxiety not knowing if my siblings or friends were safe. I wanted to reach them, but it was impossible. So I decided to help wherever I could. I called it my “square metre.” Later, I finally managed to reach my loved ones, only to discover that others, strangers, had helped them where I could not.
Days later, some parts of the city are still under. The suffering and difficulties continue. The losses have been immense. Everywhere you meet people with big dark circles under their eyes and aching muscles from working almost without rest. But with their hearts wide open and a fullness in their eyes, for having given everything for others.
In this year dedicated to the Jubilee of Hope, the Gen 4 (the children of the Focolare Movement) in Rome decided to embark on a journey to discover more about the history of Christianity and understand how to live the Jubilee in their city that is welcoming millions of pilgrims from all over the world. The stages of their journey are the Vatican Basilicas in Rome: St. Peter’s, St. John Lateran, St. Paul’s Outside the Walls and St. Mary Major. They asked Father Fabio Ciardi, OMI, professor of spiritual theology and author of numerous books and publications, to be their guide.
First stop: St. Peter’s Basilica
In October 2024, two months before the Jubilee began, the group of 33 children with as many adults, learned about a very special reality before entering St. Peter’s Basilica. It is located next to the residence where Pope Francis lives. It is the Dispensary of St. Martha, a place where the Gospel becomes incarnate every day through the assistance given to hundreds of mothers and children. It’s an opportunity to explain to the Gen 4 how the Jubilee can be lived concretely by helping others.
Father Fabio explained, “It is a real family clinic, which began this work of care for poor children and their families in 1922. Today over 400 children, with their mothers, are assisted free of charge by about sixty volunteer doctors. They are mostly people without a residence permit, without health care”. Services include gynaecological and paediatric examinations as well as dental care for the homeless.
Father Fabio then linked this story with the story of Saint Peter, using some drawings. The children listened attentively to his voice through headphones: “Jesus met Simon the fisherman and invited him to follow him. ‘Come with me,’ he said, ‘I’ll make you a fisher of men.’ And he gave him a new name, he called him Peter, which means “rock”, because he wanted to build his Church on him”. And as the story continued, we moved to the Basilica to pray at the tomb of St. Peter. “Peter came to Rome. When Nero set fire to the city he blamed the Christians. Peter was killed in the circus of the emperor Caligula that Nero had renovated…and finally the tomb of Saint Peter in his Basilica”. There was an atmosphere of deep recollection among Gen 4, despite the influx of tourists on that Roman Saturday afternoon. Going towards the Holy Door you pass some masterpieces of art. In front of the Pietà, Father Fabio said, “This statue of Our Lady was very dear to Chiara Lubich. Every time she came to the Basilica she stopped here to pray to Mary”.
The stop in San Giovanni in Laterano
The second stage was in January 2025. This time the group was larger: 140 people including 60 children, always under the expert guidance of Father Fabio, met to discover the Basilica of St. John Lateran, full of surprises and treasures related to the history of Christianity. Attentive and curious, with headphones in their ears, for just over two hours Gen4 listened to Father Fabio’s fascinating story.
Gen4 at St. John in Lateran Gen4 at St. John in LateranGen4 at St. John in Lateran
In his blog, Father Fabio wrote, “It was wonderful to tell the story of the obelisk, it was nice to explain the meaning of the cloister, it was nice to tell the stories of St. John the Baptist and St. John the Evangelist and to let the children go and find their statues in the Basilica. It was nice to show the ancient Papal throne and the current one, on which the Pope e sits to take possession of his office. It was nice to point out the relics of the table on which Jesus celebrated the last supper and the one on which Peter celebrated here in Rome. It was good to go through the Holy Door together…It’s good to be with the children and tell them beautiful things…”
At this point, the children have built a special bond with Father Fabio. They walked beside him in the Basilica, held his hand, asked him questions to learn more. A Gen 4 asked, “What’s Heaven like?” He replied, “Imagine a busy school day. When it’s over, you go home to a beautiful, welcoming, warm house, where your parents, grandparents and friends shower you with love. You feel happy in that moment, don’t you? It’s like that in Heaven: it’s a place where you feel good, where you feel at home!” This stage also came to an end. We returned home happy and aware that for us, the Jubilee must be a time to give hope and happiness to the most disadvantaged, to our poor, to those who suffer.
The journey with other generations
Waiting to continue this journey with the Gen 4, the Gen3 (40 teenagers), the Gen2 (30 young people) and a group of adults, fascinated by the positive experience that the children were living with Father Fabio, also wanted to follow the same journey, always guided by him.
Father Fabio wrote in his blog, “First the children, then the teens, then the young people and adults. St. John Lateran, St. Peter, St. Paul and St. Mary Major. So I keep living the Jubilee, over and over. The story of history, art and spirituality, because it is all intertwined, human and divine, past and present. These monuments live on, still speaking after hundreds of years and continue to narrate beautiful things”.
Gen 2 at St. Paul outside the WallsGen 2 at St. Paul outside the WallsGen 2 at St. Paul outside the Walls
And the young people thanked Father Fabio “for preparing our hearts for such a beautiful experience, you helped us to go through this stage of the holy year together, with meaning and joy. We really liked the atmosphere you managed to create, arousing in us the desire to visit together other places in Rome which were important for the first Christians and you gave us the desire to deepen the meaning of being pilgrims on the way to the goal of Paradise”.
Marta, Lina, Efi and Moria are four women, four focolarine, who have followed different paths in life and who have now found common ground between dreams and reality. They chose to move to Chimaltenango from their previous communities, embarking on an experience of living in a multicultural city where poverty and ethnic fractures are part of everyday life.
Chimaltenango is a city in Guatemala, 50 km from the capital, at an altitude of 1800 meters above sea level. Nearly 120,000 inhabitants of 23 different indigenous peoples have settled there in order to survive economically.
Efi, from Panama told us, “I lived in Argentina for many years. Then I spent a few years in Mexico and, just before the pandemic, I arrived in Guatemala where I remained only 3 months as I had to return to Panama to be close to my mother who became ill and then passed away. That was a year that also helped me to rethink many things, to take stock of what I had lived up to that point and to renew my choice of donation to God made years ago”. She returned to Guatemala for this project in Chimaltenango.
She continued, “I grew up in a rural environment among very simple people and my dream has always been to do something for the humblest in society. There is immense poverty here. And there are also indigenous communities, people who have encountered the spirituality of the Movement and who, due to the pandemic and their social circumstances, have been left on the margins (of society)”.
Lina is Guatemalan, Kaqchikel, of Mayan origin. She explained that one of the most obvious fractures is between indigenous people and mestizos (also called “ladinos” in Guatemala, referring to all those who are not indigenous). Relationships are not fraternal, there is no dialogue. She said, “It has always been a goal for me to endeavour to overcome that fracture. From the moment I had my first contact with the Focolare, I thought that this was the solution for my culture, for my people, for my community. ” She recalled the moment in December 2007 when, at the end of her course of formation to become a focolarina, she greeted Chiara Lubich and said to her: “I am indigenous and I am committed to bringing this light to my Kaqchikel people”. She remembered that she “felt that it was a commitment expressed to Chiara but made to Jesus”. Upon her return to Guatemala, she dedicated herself to working with young people, always with the aim of generating bonds of unity both in indigenous communities and in the city.
Moria, Lidia, Marta, Lina, EfiLina visiting a familyWith a group in the focolare
Marta is also from Guatemala, of mixed race. In her early years in the focolare, she was able to devote herself to spreading the charism of unity in indigenous communities. Later, she managed the Mariapolis Centre, the Focolare’s residential centre in Guatemala City. It was a demanding task that lasted 23 years and saw the process of national reconciliation and the reclaiming of indigenous peoples’ rights, because various indigenous communities chose the Mariapolis Centre as a meeting place. Then she was in Mexico for a while. At that time discussions about identity arose and the question arose spontaneously in her: “What is my identity? What are my roots?” She found the answer in the “Virgin of Guadalupe” who, when she appeared in Mexico in 1531, was depicted on Juan Diego’s poncho with physical characteristics typical of native peoples. “For me it was to understand that I was a mestiza like her, that she has both roots and can dialogue with both groups”.
Moria, who is from Chimaltenango, lives with her natural family and is part of the focolare as is Lidia, a married focolarina who lives in Guatemala City.
Stories that intertwine until they settled in this city that unites so many backgrounds and cultures into one. Efi said, “Our desire is to be with people, to get closer. In simple, everyday things: that greeting, that smile, that pausing, simply being with that lady who doesn’t speak Spanish because she speaks her own language and we don’t understand each other”. And she recounted: “One day I needed to buy bread. I went to the market and the women who were selling were sitting on a wicker mat. If I wanted to begin a conversation with one of them, I would bend down to be on the same level and since it was a place for trading, I would try to be fair with her”.
Lina added, “Since we arrived, we have tried to reconnect with people who met the spirituality of unity over past years, by going to visit them in their homes, bringing something, for example some fruit, as is the custom”. In this way, a circle of reciprocity has grown and people began to keep in touch with the focolare which is now often filled with the voices of mothers with their children, young people and, sometimes, some fathers who pluck up the courage to come too. And so, almost effortlessly, a community has formed around this new focolare in the heart of Guatemala’s indigenous culture.
It seems obvious that we are made to relate to other people: in fact, we could even say that our lives are intertwined by the relationships we make. However, we sometimes we risk spoiling the latter with our harsh or superficial judgements.
Throughout history, various images have become part of everyday language. Thus, in ancient tradition we find a well-known expression that says: ‘Why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye and not notice the plank in your own?’[1] Equally proverbial is the image of the two saddlebags: one in front of our eyes, filled with the faults of other people which we easily see, and the other on our backs, holding our own faults which we then struggle to recognise.[2] There is also a Chinese proverb that says, ‘Man is blind to his own faults but has eagle eyes for those of others.’
This does not mean that we should indiscriminately accept what other people do and just let events run their course. Faced with injustice, violence or oppression, we cannot close our eyes. We must commit ourselves to change and start by looking at ourselves and listening sincerely to our own consciences to discover what we need to improve. Only then can we ask ourselves how we can concretely help others by sometimes offering advice and correction.
Each one of us needs ‘another point of view’ that offers a perspective different from our own, enriching our ‘truth’ and helping us to avoid self-referentiality and those errors of judgement that are part of our human nature.
The word “mercy” may seem old fashioned but it is rich with meaning relevant to today: we can be merciful first towards ourselves and then towards others too. In fact, only if we are able to accept and forgive our own limitations will we be able to welcome the weaknesses and mistakes of others. Indeed, when we realise that unconsciously we may be feeling superior and in a position to judge other people, it is vital that we are willing to take ‘the first step’ towards the other person to avoid damaging the relationship.
Chiara Lubich told a group of Muslims about her experience when she and her companions lived in a small house in Trent as they began their adventures at the start of the Movement. Not everything was simple and there were misunderstandings. “It was not always easy to love in aradical way […] “Dust” could settle on our relationships and unity could diminish. This happened, for example, when we became aware of the faults and imperfections of others and judged them, so our mutual love grew cold. One day, we decided we should try to counter this situation and we decided to make a pact among ourselves and called it a ‘pact of mercy’. We decided that every morning we would see the people we met – at home, at school, at work, etc. – as new without calling to mind their faults but covering everything with love.” [3] his is a ‘method’ worth putting into practice in groups at work, in the family and in communities of all kinds.
THE IDEA OF THE MONTH is currently produced by the Focolare Movement’s “Centre for Dialogue with People of Non-religious Beliefs”. It is an initiative that began in 2014 in Uruguay to share with non-believing friends the values of the Word of Life, i.e. the phrase from Scripture that members of the Movement strive to put into practice in their daily lives. Currently, THE IDEA OF THE MONTH is translated into 12 languages and distributed in more than 25 countries, with adaptations of the text according to different cultural sensitivities.dialogue4unity.focolare.org
[3] C. Lubich, L’amore al prossimo, Conversazione con gli amici musulmani, Castel Gandolfo, 1° novembre 2002. Cf. C. Lubich, L’Amore reciproco, Città Nuova, Roma 2013, pp. 89-90.
