Lay it on the line

CHICAGO — Stephen Schubert's family felt betrayed when he told them he was joining a Catholic lay movement called Focolare. The commitment requires him to live in celibacy with other members of the movement.

"My brother said, 'You're abandoning your family,' " said Schubert, 36.

But for Schubert, who is single, and a growing number of men and women nationwide, Focolare is seen as a way of building bonds, not breaking them.

Born in Italy during World War II, the movement works for unity between Christians and non-Christians, drawing inspiration from Gospel passages such as, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them."

It claims thousands of members in this country, including men and women, married couples and singles. They come together for informal gatherings, such as dinners and camping trips, and reach out to members of other faiths.

Among those who are single, some live in single-sex residences. In the Chicago area, seven men reside in an Oak Park house, which is where Schubert lives. Ten women share two houses in Hyde Park.

These members have completed two years of "formation" at Loppiano, a Focolare town outside of Florence, Italy, and have taken vows of celibacy. They hold day jobs — Schubert works as an elementary-school counselor — but also serve as leaders of the movement.

"It's like being married to God," said Schubert, a lanky Texan with a broad smile who said his family now supports his decision.

Most members live in Europe

Since its founding, Focolare, the Italian word for "hearth," has grown to nearly 90,000 members worldwide. Most live in Europe, where the percentage of people who attend church has declined rapidly in recent decades. The Gallup International Millennium Survey found that just 20 percent of respondents in Western Europe and 14 percent in Eastern Europe attend religious services regularly.

A variety of Catholic lay movements have helped fill the cracks, said Dorian Llywelyn, a professor of theological studies at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles.

"They are attractive to people who don't like church but who want to get involved with their faith," Llywelyn said.

The movements have the blessing of the Vatican, which sees them as a modern extension of the church. When Pope John Paul II held the first World Congress of Ecclesial Movements and New Communities in 1998, it drew nearly 400,000 people from 100 lay Catholic groups.

Focolare has made less headway in the U.S., but the movement is gaining momentum, said Marco DeSalvo, a Midwest director of the movement. A Focolare convention in Chicago earlier this summer drew nearly 500 participants, he said.

Members also are engaging in more interfaith dialogues and events, such as a National Workshop for Christian Unity to be held in April.

Emily Soloff, executive director of the American Jewish Committee, has worked with Focolare for nearly a decade, attending its conventions and dialogues and inviting members to participate in events put on by her organization.

"They have this certain aura, this certain attitude, that is engaging," Soloff said. "It's like being with optimists."

A visit on a recent evening to the Oak Park men's Focolare residence, a two-story brick house with simple furnishings, offered a glimpse into the lives of the men who live there.

It was dinner time. Francis Salinel, a 36-year-old financial adviser, manned the stove, where a pan sizzled with onions, while the others sliced and diced and unloaded groceries. When the food was ready, the men sat down at a table and bowed their heads to pray.

They hold a variety of jobs

The residents, whose ages range from 36 to 72, come from all over the world. Salinel is from the Philippines. Next to him was DeSalvo, who is Italian. Farther down was Young-Min Kim, a Korean who had just arrived from Turkey. They hold a variety of jobs, ranging from math professor to computer scientist.

DeSalvo was introduced to Focolare as a teenager by a local pastor who helped him see the gospel in a different light. Before long, he was working with the poor and visiting orphans.

He began attending Mass daily, and by the time he had reached his early 20s was ready to make a lifetime commitment to the movement.

People wondered why he did not pursue the priesthood, but DeSalvo says he wanted the reach of his work to go beyond the walls of a church. "I wanted to be out in the world," he said.