In our house in the Magliana, Rome, every summer we organize a multi-day retreat for elementary school children. This year we went to Subiaco, with about 30 children aged six to 10, accompanied by 10 adults and four high schoolers. We were hosted by Franciscan nuns in a former monastery. The dining room where we shared meals was actually the old refectory.
The suggested theme for the vacation was the life of St. Benedict; during some of the dinners, Fr. Paolo suggested that we read a short passage while the rest of us were all invited to remain in strict silence. We thus began to empathize with the life of the monks.
The first day we went to an adventure park. The instructors had assured us that anyone could do the climbs, even a disabled child. And they did. Everyone climbed and scaled the equipped walls. The next day, we went to the pond of St. Benedict, where we recounted the two miracles that occurred there. Then, in Subiaco, we told the children about the life and Rule of St. Benedict.
I suddenly began to rethink what makes us happy: not being entertained but serving.
At the end of the vacation, on the last morning, we held a small assembly in which we asked the kids what struck them the most from the last couple of days. I was expecting them to speak about the adventure park. Instead, a kid who was only coming to our vacation for the first time raised his hand. He said that the things that struck him the most were the new friendships and having served the others at table. I was surprised and I suddenly began to rethink what makes us happy: not being entertained but serving. This child was happy to have given of himself to the others and was bringing home this joy.
It was the same joy brought home by the six children who had tidied up the kitchen with Sister Alina, washing everything, even the stove that was bigger than they were, in an atmosphere of amazing communion. While we forget that communal work and commitment to a given task give us joy, the children, when they experience something real, simply recognize it and say it.
It was truly a beautiful vacation. When I returned, I felt full of all these gifts and wanted to communicate them to the parents. But they would simply ask me if the children had behaved well. It often goes like this, but one should ask oneself what remains forever. Gratuity, service, silence and fellowship: this, more than having been good, is what remained in the children’s hearts.
