From Focolare communities in Croatia, Macedonia and Serbia, where they’ve been experiencing the joy of giving freely to help those in difficulty “Our communion of goods began by observing the early Christians. We saw that there they had a communion of goods, and as a result there was no one who was poor among them… “So you could say that the formula is this: if the whole world were to implement the communion of goods, then social problems, the poor, the hungry, those without a legacy, etc., would no longer exist.” This was how Focolare founder Chiara Lubich, when she launched the Economy of Communion project in 1991, explained the origins of the “communion of goods” in the movement, both material and spiritual. In 1943 in Trento, the war had destroyed the city, and many had lost their homes, jobs and families. Faced with such despair—and in light of the words of the Gospel they meditated on in the shelters—Chiara and her early friends decided to take care of those most in need. “Our goal was to implement the communion of goods as much as possible in order to solve the social problems of Trento. I thought, ‘There are two or three places where the poor people are… Let’s go there, let’s bring what we have, let’s share it with them.’ Simple logic, really: we have more, they have less. We will raise their standard of living so that we will all reach a certain equality.” Eighty years later, the communion of goods is still a vibrant reality in the movement. Each person gives freely according to his or her possibilities, often expressing gratitude for what they’ve received. Experiences are multiplying all over the world. “I went to buy 10kg of wheat for my chickens,” says one person from Croatia. “The man who sold it to me did not want money. I donated what I had saved for the communion of goods, which is extraordinary in this pandemic.” Of course, it’s not always possible to donate goods and money. Still, the commitment reinforces the value of the gesture. “I recently sold some wine to a neighbour. He gave me more money than he had to, and he didn’t want any change. I gave it for the communion of goods, but it wasn’t easy; I had to overcome my human way of thinking.” The experience of receiving after giving often happens. It is the evangelical “Give and it will be given to you” (Lk 6:38) that Chiara and her early friends tangibly experienced. “We helped some families who had lost their jobs because of the crisis caused by the pandemic, donating food, medicine and school supplies,” they write from Macedonia. “It was little help, but one of them told us that it was enough to eat for two weeks. Shortly after, another family made a donation that covered their expenses. Everything was circulating.” The joy of giving and the joy of receiving happens frequently. In Serbia, the communion of goods reached a family with children where father and mother are sick and unemployed. They live off the produce from their garden, and to pay the bills, Toni helps out in the parish. “When we went to bring him money, he was borrowing to buy wood. We explained to the family where the help was coming from, and they were moved because they felt that God, through us, ‘had looked their way.’” The communion of goods, after all, is nothing more than an instrument of divine providence.

Claudia Di Lorenzi