«We're still all a bit worried. Things don't seem to be going well. We work amid disinformation and tragedy, and in all of this, people with disabilities are largely forgotten: we have to acknowledge that they've been brave, even as they've paid a steep price.» Father Luigi d'Errico speaks with the concern of someone called to minister to the most vulnerable—a calling we've watched him live out faithfully. He has recognized the hopes of so many, met them where they are, and refused to leave them alone. His parish—a small community with grand vision—stands as a model worth following.
That's why President Mattarella has just honored him as Commendatore of the Order of Merit for Civil Service of the Italian Republic, alongside 35 others distinguished by their daily civic commitment, dedication to the common good, and witness to republican values. The citation recognizes «his daily commitment to a genuine policy of inclusion for people with disabilities, and his work against poverty and social marginalization.»
Father d'Errico, 58, has been pastor of the Church of the Ugandan Martyrs in Rome's Ardeatino neighborhood since 2007. For years, the parish has been home to an exemplary catechesis program for and with people with disabilities. After spending several years in Switzerland, he arrived in Rome and spoke to Ombre e Luci in 2013 about his commitment to seek out everyone: «Jesus says that where the poor are, God is there. I cannot fail to seek them out and commit myself to reaching them. If the invitation were not for all of us, we would no longer be the truly universal Catholic Church. Then each person is free to accept or not.»
In reaching the most vulnerable—and, as the Quirinale noted, others in serious social distress, including abused women with their children and destitute families without shelter—an entire community followed his lead. It took patience, he tells us. The same patience «we find in every family when it raises its children. Sometimes a bit of firmness too. When people complained about the loud voices of some autistic young people participating in Sunday mass, I'd say they were free to attend mass at neighboring parishes if they wanted quiet and recollection, but I certainly couldn't exclude anyone, as they were asking me to do.»
We know the celebrant's example is the first indispensable step toward communal welcome. The fruit speaks for itself: the community «has become even more welcoming than I am.» Today many young people and adults participate consciously in parish life. Among the first steps taken were signs with drawings in augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) to help those most in difficulty feel at home. The church became a truly inclusive space where anyone could choose where to sit, like everyone else. Don Luigi recalls the early days of lockdown in March 2020, when some guidelines suggested reserving special seating for people with disabilities in church: «That smelled of segregated space. Like when civil authorities asked us to mark those with disabilities with a visible sign. Small signs that show how alive prejudice against disability still is—the desire to identify it, keep it separate. There's much more work to be done in our Church too. The real revolution isn't writing brothers and sisters in the new missal, but actually being that.»
The honor has highlighted Father d'Errico's gift for building living networks. His religious and civic commitment brings out the political dimension mentioned in the Quirinale citation—the search for sound, lasting answers to real needs. «People are capable and good. Solidarity projects cannot depend on a single pastor who, as we know, won't be there forever. As a parish named for the Ugandan Martyrs, we're committed to supporting activities in that African country. The groups that travel there each year (we only couldn't go in 2020) have full responsibility for deciding what needs to be done. Same with coordinating the women's shelter here in Rome—Hagar's Refuge—for victims of abuse with their children. A woman with her own child runs it, with the parish's support.» This virtuous circle extends to food distribution for the homeless and families in crisis («like many other parishes, we went from feeding 40 families to 400 with food packages»), care for the elderly through home assistance, after-school programs, and partnerships with other parishes. «You don't go far alone. With eight other parishes, we took over a house to shelter homeless families—Casa Bethlehem—people the city administration ignores. On the civil side, we've achieved real progress on inclusion, though much needs to improve—the chronic shortage of special education teachers certainly wasn't caused by covid. But the pandemic has laid bare many difficulties. The Church must stand with those in need, now more than ever. We could do more. A few years ago Pope Francis called on the Church to make ecclesiastical goods available for the people of God's needs—and that call has been widely ignored. How can we forget that many of these goods come from the faithful's generosity, and should be used for charity? Why do they end up going elsewhere? Protecting property matters, of course, and we're ready to contribute. Certain empty spaces in the city—or spaces used for other things—would be ideal for sheltered work programs or future care for adults with disabilities after their parents can no longer care for them. It's not right that people with disabilities should live far from where they grew up simply because their parents can no longer care for them.»
What does an honor like this mean? For Father d'Errico, it's a chance to call for greater attention—in public and private life—to people with disabilities. It's a moment to confront the many prejudices that box in the experience of disability and burden a condition that can and must find new spaces of normalcy. He emphasizes the significance of the Italian Bishops' Conference's decision to establish an office dedicated to ministry with people with disabilities—equal to other pastoral services—in its fullness. «There used to be a section of the National Catechetical Office dealing only with Christian initiation for people with disabilities. But that covers just one part of a person's life. It was important to recognize that the Church can and does respond to many needs that arise throughout a disabled person's life. A woman, Sister Veronica Donatello, directs it. She coordinates a very active network supporting the many Christian-inspired programs related to disability, of which I'm part. During this period Sister Veronica has worked to keep connections alive that were inevitably loosening. Many people with disabilities became ill and died. But it seems to matter to few.»
Father d'Errico is also the diocesan delegate for disability in Rome. His role used to be within the catechetical office, but it's now been moved to pastoral healthcare. A shift that risks hiding disability behind illness. «We're relying on the bishop overseeing that area, Don Paolo Ricciardi, who we know is very sensitive to fragility. But it's not a decision that sits well with us. The same logic we applied to pastors—that they won't stay in the role forever—applies here. The bishops' conference made a more farsighted choice.»
For now, the suffering caused by covid dominates other reflections: the deaths («We're celebrating at least twice as many funerals»), like that of a 30-year-old woman who couldn't find a hospital bed for three days; the worry over social consequences we've yet to fully see («The death of a 90-year-old parishioner left her 55-year-old son—a cook who lost his job—without any support»).
«Fear exists, but blame helps no one. We must be cautious, not frozen. Government and a careless press must steer the ship through the storm—as the Pope wisely said, and it's both reasonable and Christian—without wasting time on political theater. For our part, with all necessary care, we stay close. The parish has kept its doors open to people with disabilities and children who needed alternatives to home and centers they couldn't access. With different approaches, we can at least try to agree as people of good will.»