The place of my daughter in the Church by Monica Vaioli Religious education of our children with intellectual disability by Henri Bissonier How to provide religious education O. et L. n. 44 QUESTIONNAIRE The integration of people with handicap in parishes BOOK — Religious education of boys with mental handicap Experience of preparing boys with mental handicap for Eucharist and Confirmation by Anna Maria Conte F.M.M. With open arms by Cécile d'Ermitanis FAITH AND LIGHT LIFE What can the parish community do for people with handicap
For anyone who reads the Gospel, God appears as a Father who wants all to be saved — not only does he go in search of the lost sheep, but he leaves the door of his fold open to anyone who wishes to find rest there. We priests, together with our parish communities, carry this solemn responsibility not to betray God's hopes and the expectations of those who cross that threshold seeking to experience and taste the sweetness of his dwelling.
Our parish community has lived this mystery of welcoming a young man for three years now. He stays in a residence run by A.C.L.I., a Catholic charitable organization. Pasquale walked into church quietly and waited for us to notice him.
He carried the weight of deep suffering — from violence he had endured as a child and later in a psychiatric hospital. He was not outwardly attractive. He had lost teeth; his facial features were sharp and angular; his speech was often hard to understand, limited and halting.
But once we looked past the surface — those deceptive first impressions — Pasquale revealed himself as a person radiating an enormous hunger for tenderness and love. A few moments made this clear.
After morning Mass, the sacristan and I usually had breakfast at a café. One day we decided to invite him. The joy that flooded him was extraordinary. He practically skipped there, deliberately bumping his head against a lamppost, and when he reached us he burst into indescribable expressions of delight.
From that day on, Pasquale slowly found acceptance in the neighborhood. The boy who had once been mocked and caricatured became known as someone who awakened in others the need for generosity and playfulness in human relationships.
In the parish, he found his calling almost immediately: he felt called to be an altar boy. He learned the movements and gestures of serving Mass so quickly that he soon thought of himself as an expert. His faithfulness meant he never missed a single Eucharist, sometimes even insisting on monopolizing his role among the other servers.
The choir boys, the catechism children, the elderly women who at first had their doubts — gradually the whole community took notice of him. And without falling into mere pity, they welcomed him as he was, with all his limitations but also with that gesture of his, reaching out his hands to form friendships, the only kind that can truly satisfy the heart's deepest needs.
Pasquale won everyone's heart during the prayer of the faithful, when he would stand to pray for his relatives or offer simple, heartfelt expressions like: "Let us pray. Listen to us, Lord. Amen."
His integration into parish life can be compared to a plant that flowered again in the warmth of acceptance and love, which he repaid through his meaningful presence.
One evening from the balcony of his house, directly across from the church, he dared to scold some tourists who, heedless of public property, had lain down on some ornamental plants. Unforgettable was the scene with a Moroccan man who came to me asking for help finding work. At a moment when homesickness overwhelmed him, when he thought of his homeland and his family, he began to cry. With remarkable insight, Pasquale stepped in to console him with words like, "Children cry." It was an encouraging invitation to hope, despite the apparent hopelessness of his situation.
Many times, without my asking, Pasquale came to keep me company in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. His simple faith was nourished by the community's witness to prayer. The experience he has of God turns on this network of bonds he has woven. For Pasquale, God is "the Friend" — because he has experienced him as the good Samaritan bending over him to heal the wounds that others, throughout his life, had inflicted.
And now, looking back on Pasquale's "lived story," I see how much good a parish community can do for these small ones when it dares not to label them, but welcomes them with their limitations, shares their struggles and their wounds, and dares to challenge an indifferent and complacent world to awaken in hearts that goodness and dignity that make us truly human.
On the other hand, these small ones are themselves a gift from God to the community. Pasquale claimed a place in God's house and won everyone's affection — not because he was handsome, but because he showed his need to find roots through genuine and authentic friendships.
He bears witness, and continues to bear witness, to God's faithfulness through the small things of each day. Thanks to his presence, a Faith and Light community was born in our parish.
As a pastor, I give thanks to the Lord for bringing Pasquale across my path in my priestly journey. He is a sign of God's love, rebuilding the Church through the humility of human means and the greatness of his grace.
- Fr. Vito Palmisano and the parish community of S. Maria Amalfitana in Monopoli (Bari)