"... I am the voice of severe disability—intellectual and physical—a condition that desperately needs others to escape isolation and exclusion. There are other families like mine, suffering in silence, withdrawing into their trial, withering because they feel powerless to change their situation. But not me. I believe in change. I believe in growth. I believe in the hearts of the able-bodied and their capacity to help. For twenty years, my family has carried the burden of raising children who are different. Yet a family cannot be a fortress. It needs a community, groups of committed and caring people. Where else can we find them but in our parishes and dioceses?
In a world that wants to deny suffering—that refuses even to look at it—what place can our children find?
For years now, various institutions have begun to address the problems of disability, and the Church too has taken steps. Yet welcoming the child—consistently, deliberately—is still not treated as a primary goal or a defining mark of Christian life. There is no Christian community yet that walks alongside innocent difference, seeks it out, and opens its arms.
A formation program must define welcome properly, so we avoid attitudes of grudging concession, forced acceptance, hollow pity, or self-congratulation. What do we families ask of the faith community, our parishes and dioceses?
Step out of indifference. See the lives of our children as a precious gift—for everyone's growth. Recognize that they too are "temples of God," that they belong to God's plan of creation, that they have a visible place in the Church, a place I would even call privileged. Parish communities should organize themselves through youth groups so that people with handicaps are present at Sunday Mass, at celebrations, at recreational activities, at school outings, in processions, at Easter blessings for families, and in choirs—given their sensitivity to music. Let the community seek them out and embrace them. Let it feel incomplete without them. Let it include them in every activity and initiative, because they are to be loved as God has loved them and brought them into our midst.
If some disturbance should occur, the community will bear it patiently as a new form of prayer and glory to God. Christian charity is not mere goodwill or philanthropy. Those who are different should also participate in Communion and Confirmation preparation—not to be catechized (though how we wish they could be), but because their presence itself becomes witnessed catechesis and teaches the other children the miracle of normalcy. Young children who grow up with this presence will never develop schemas or prejudices about those less fortunate; they will simply see them as one of their own. I would suggest that each city identify parishes that are already open, sensitive, and organized with active youth groups—and assign them the role of pilot parishes. When it becomes clear that welcoming disability brings none of the disturbance and distraction we feared, and instead renews and revitalizes our religious witness, that example will spread to other parishes. What we ask of the faith community is the integration of people with disabilities, their inclusion in youth groups that can expand the often narrow confines of family life, friendships that become genuine bonds—and a shared response to the mystery of suffering and exclusion.
Tina Turrini, 2003
