I am writing from the farthest periphery, more precisely from ‘down under,’ Oceania, a land where people sail on the sea which gives them a boundless panorama. Indeed, there are no borders to cross, only oceans. It is the continent that first greets the sun, and so, for the rest of the world, we already live in the future.

The Ideal of unity has a fairy tale history here. Chiara Lubich’s charism has traveled through Australia from east to west across the endless red desert, changing the lives of countless people. It also reached the land of the Māori, New Zealand. God has also landed in the South Pacific, on islands so small that they don’t appear on the maps.

We are few, scattered over an immense territory, perhaps the smallest portion of the Focolare Movement. But here, numbers are not important, not even structures. Rather, what counts is ‘being.’

These are somewhat unknown lands, exotic for some, and probably for part of the Movement, too. The recent visit of Focolare President Margaret Karram and Co-President Jesus Moran has put us on the map, canceling distances. This has given recognition to this region, by acknowledging what it has to offer to other continents.

Challenges are not lacking. Australia is so secular that God is unknown to so many. Young people are often discriminated against for their faith, but they are there, and they believe in the charism of unity. Here, living for unity teaches us that ̶ like in ‘bodysurfing’ ̶ we have to go ‘under’ the wave of secularism and touch the bottom in the faces of the lonely, the discriminated, those without a purpose for tomorrow. Australia is also a multicultural country. The risk is to stop at tolerance and coexistence of different ethnic groups, while the real need is for common roots. This explains why so many in the Movement are dedicated to welcoming refugees and migrants, making them feel at home, and giving voice to their stories. This is why we also try to meet with the Australian aboriginal peoples, humbly, to learn from them what the roots of these lands are.

The ‘Kiwis’ of New Zealand teach us that, in any case, the secular man needs spiritual roots: it is the presence of the Māori that impregnates the whole society here. Each year, at the appearance of the Pleiades cluster of stars, the Māori celebrate Matariki, which invites us to stop and reflect, for a new beginning. It reminds me of our star, Jesus Forsaken, whom we try to love and transform into signs of light, of new life, as in the work of reconciliation and justice for the recovery of Māori lands.

Through the Focolare communities in the Pacific, I realize that something is changing. We listen more to the ‘we,’ to the community. They ̶ especially the young people ̶ teach us the values that we want to recover: the family, a strong sense of community, a pure and firm faith, the vitality of tradition, and their being one with Creation. Here, the cry of the vulnerable is loud, with countries that are disappearing due to ocean warming, or cultures that are in danger of dying due to the exploitation of land and sea by strong and aggressive economies. There, by living the Gospel, by being Church, our small communities, together with others, contribute to giving a voice to the least, to acting in favor of the Earth, and putting the focus on the different peoples.

All this spurs us from this part of the world to ask ourselves: What would Chiara do today to live her (our) Ideal in these lands? We do not know. We have more questions than answers, but this makes us feel alive.

We are experiencing that the Movement is a family. Deserts or oceans can either make you feel alone… or they can unite because there is a hidden underground bond that crosses distances and binds us.

We no longer feel like we are in the peripheries. It was not for nothing that for her first trip outside Europe, Margaret Karram chose to visit, among others, the Pacific. The choice speaks of peripheries becoming centers and of listening to diversity.

We want to be ourselves in the way we live a charism that does not erase our cultural roots, but offers something more. It is no longer the time to receive, as during the days of foundation, but to give, to have the courage not to repeat stereotypes, to ask ourselves each time what the meaning of the charism is here and now, without repeating past mistakes and without making claims. It makes me think of the Aboriginal First Nations in Australia and their songlines: each nation has its own story, a part of history, which is a journey, a trip, passed on from generation to generation. Therefore, to build fraternity, we need everyone, with each sharing his or her own treasure.

We are obliged to rethink proclamation in a new and creative way, forgetting models that are no longer useful. It is tiring, it needs patience, time, the courage to make mistakes, but together, all are protagonists.

Australians love to sing: “We are one but many, and we come from all parts of the world, we share a dream, and we sing with one voice…” Yes, we are rediscovering our mission: unity.

Then, I dare say that maybe Chiara would have on her lips the same word that I have: hope.

Cecilia Capuzzi