Enrica is 54 years old, but her mind is a child's mind, sometimes a troubled one. Her mother Iolanda is 81. Her father is dead. She has a brother and a sister too, both married, but they live in another neighborhood.
Iolanda wanted to keep "her little girl" with her. She holds her hand to help her fall asleep when they lie down together on the double bed. But over the years, Iolanda's strength gave out. And Enrica's whims grew louder, more tyrannical, more relentless. The television can never be turned off. The blinds must stay down. She wears hundreds of trinkets and rags that she never removes—and there are always new whims. Fail to satisfy them at once: the screams shake the walls. Iolanda feels embarrassed in front of the neighbors...
Enrica is large and heavy, nearly immobilized. Taking her to the bathroom, changing her—it grows harder every day. Iolanda is afraid of falling with her daughter. She washes her only in pieces. Mother and daughter have not left the house in two years. Not once.
Mariangela and Nicole hear about the situation and go to visit Iolanda and Enrica. They see it is an impossible life to carry on—even though Iolanda is alert and full of love for her daughter.
They search for a solution. Home care: they cannot obtain it. Don Guanella refuses—Enrica at 54 is too old to be admitted. They bring the situation to a Caritas meeting at the diocesan office. Sister Anna is there, from the "Congregation of Mary's Houses of Charity." And Sister Anna opens the door of the House of Charity in the Magliana parish.
A House of Charity does not close its door to anyone—but we will see that afterward.
Now Sister Anna must go and meet Enrica, become her friend. The mother would not agree to send her away unless she were completely convinced that in this new house, her daughter would be well cared for.
On the day set for the meeting, Mariangela and Nicole are already at Iolanda's house. When Sister Anna rings the bell, Iolanda is tending to her daughter in the bathroom. Hearing voices at the door, she calls to Mariangela to show the sister into the living room. "Well, to start with, I live in the bathroom," Sister Anna says, walking into the bathroom to lend a hand.
Enrica is drawn to Sister Anna at once. She calls Anna the name of her favorite doll.
When Enrica is brought to the House of Charity, her mother leaves with an aching heart. "How will she fall asleep at night without my hand?" she asks Sister Anna. "I'll hold her hand," Anna answers. "My bed is right next to hers."
The house is sustained by divine providence, in the form of gifts from people. Whatever remains—and often something does—at year's end is given to the bishop for other needs. To set money aside would be a lack of faith in providence, which instead regularly shows us: the more we give, the more we receive.
The house is sustained by divine providence, in the form of gifts from people. Whatever remains—and often something does—at year's end is given to the bishop for other needs. To set money aside would be a lack of faith in providence, which instead regularly shows us: the more we give, the more we receive.
Sister Anna is 30. Sister Maria Teresa is 21. Besides Enrica—the "little girl" of 54 who is now calm and no longer consumed by obsessions—the house is home to two other women with mental disabilities, seven people between 80 and 90, one of 70, and one woman with multiple sclerosis. Everything is done together: they sleep in the same room, eat at the same table, share the same food, pray together each day, participate in the Eucharist together. About twenty other people come more or less regularly to help—and to learn. From seven in the morning until eleven at night, the house opens its door to anyone—man or woman, young or old—who needs help, whether material or spiritual. This is a House of Charity.
And the Other Treasure?
There are about thirty Houses of Charity. Ombre e Luci introduced them in the fourth issue of 1989. We return to them now because they represent a great expression of Christian living and a realistic solution to the crisis facing parishes. I use the words "great" and "solution" in their full and true meaning, not inflating them or using them carelessly as we do in the neurotic blah-blah that drowns out our ears and minds.
Like all great things, it is simple. It begins in the Gospel. If you do not believe that to be true, pass on—but you can always spend a few hours in a House of Charity. You will be received without examination and given the chance to open a new page in your life.
In the Gospel, Jesus speaks much of the poor—those without strength, without security, without dignity. He speaks of them directly and through parables. They are his principal subject after the Father. Jesus says, "You will always have the poor with you"; he says, "I was hungry and you gave me food... I was sick and you cared for me..."; he says, "Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me."
Like many holy men, recognized or not, Don Mario Prandi (who died in 1986) accepted the words of the Gospel as truth. He was a pastor in a small village in the Apennines at the end of the 1930s. Fontanaluccia was a poor town, in hard years, with some people poorer than the rest.
Don Mario reminded his parishioners that Jesus Christ, present in the Eucharist, is kept and honored in the tabernacle at the center of the church and its liturgies. He is the parish's "treasure." But where is the other Jesus Christ? The one in the poor, the one who is hungry, who is sick? This other Jesus is also a treasure for the parish. Yet Christians send him away—to institutions, to orphanages, to care facilities. If we believe in the Gospel, we must keep this Jesus with us, serve him, honor him, learn from his teaching.
Every parish, Don Mario said, must have at its center a second tabernacle—a House of Charity where the poorest live.
In 1941, in the center of Fontanaluccia, the first House of Charity opened. Perhaps no one realized it at the time, but it was a revolution in Christian history—in how Christians exercise charity.
Even today, faced with the poor, the frail elderly, the chronically ill, we good Christians organize to send them "somewhere else." We give donations, build facilities, support sisters and brothers who care for those poor people, and at most we stay in touch with newsletters and bank transfer forms. Sometimes we admire and praise them for dedicating themselves to such people who are—let's be honest—unpleasant. A few of us go and lend a hand "there." The House of Charity changes that "there" to "here"—to the center of that Christian community called a parish.
The "second tabernacle" in Fontanaluccia was restored, is maintained, is carried forward by the parish community. But it needed someone to live there and commit to it for life. First came a young woman named Maria. Then came two more, Carolina and Almina. In 1942 they became the first sisters of the new congregation, following the Carmelite rule. The congregation includes brothers and lay members too.
Don Mario did not think of the House of Charity as a charitable institution, but as a religious one. In the house there is Jesus in the tabernacle and his closest friends. For us Christians, it is a privilege and an honor to be with them, to welcome them, to honor them.
The House of Charity, Don Mario believed, could "restore a truly Christian face to the parish community."
Providence Provides
What is a House of Charity today?
Essentially, it is a large family. The parish priest is the father; two or more sisters are the mother. Brothers, helpers, and collaborators work there more or less regularly, along with families. The house seeks no government funding or contracts—partly because it does not consider itself a charitable institution, partly because it refuses to submit to the rules of public agencies that would change its character as a family. The house does not charge fees. A guest who has income, a pension, contributes it to the common fund for those who have nothing. The house is sustained by divine providence, in the form of gifts from people. Whatever remains—and often something does—at year's end is given to the bishop for other needs. To set money aside would be a lack of faith in providence, which instead regularly shows us: the more we give, the more we receive.
The house becomes a gift to the parish community. It visibly creates unity and communion around the Lord. It is a school of life in the spirit of the works of mercy. It shows forth the presence of divine providence and that we can trust in God. Through its daily practice of communal living, prayer, service, liturgy, and adoration, it is the natural ground where each person discovers their own calling—in the sense of discovering their baptism and what the Lord asks "of me." It is a "great sheet" that covers sins, because God forgives much to those who love much.
Helping Everyone Grow
The Congregation of Houses of Charity is a public association of Christians composed of:
- Sisters (about a hundred);
- Brothers (about twenty);
- Lay members;
- Cooperators (about a thousand), who have publicly committed themselves to the spirit and way of life of the Houses of Charity. As a sign, they have received a crucifix that they always carry with them;
- Auxiliaries—people of any age who are having short or longer experiences of life, prayer, and spirituality in a House of Charity, following a path that may lead to becoming a cooperator;
- and finally Families (about ten) who have publicly committed to living by the principles of the Houses of Charity, thus enriching the gift they received through baptism and marriage.
In all, two to three thousand people are involved.
The Houses of Charity also work with conscientious objectors doing civil service. At the general chapter in 1990, the congregation asked itself whether it was right, in keeping with the spirit of the houses, to have people serve without being drawn into the Christian dimension that is the heart of the work. The answer was that the house must help everyone grow, to answer their universal call to holiness. The poor are at the center, but all are called. And the call in these houses, with the love and spiritual depth that pervades them, is particularly strong. Indeed, several conscientious objectors who came simply to do their service have begun to ask deeper questions and have started a path of Christian growth and faith.
Open to All
How does a House of Charity come to be?
First, the parish priest must want it. Houses of Charity exist only in parishes. The priest, a lay person or two, make contact with the congregation and spend some time in one of the existing houses. Then the congregation sends sisters and brothers to do some outreach in the parish so people understand the spirit, the value, the meaning of the house and where it comes from. Above all, that the house is first a gift to the parish community. The parish provides the space; the priest is the father; some sisters are the mother; the Lord is the master of the house; food and resources come from providence.
The symbol of the house is a basket with three loaves of bread. They represent the "Three Tables" that nourish the house—everyone who participates in it in any way: the Eucharistic table, the table of God's word, and the table of the poor.
Every house is open to all who wish to come and help, or pray, or celebrate Mass. You only need to call to find out the hours.
- Sergio Sciascia, 1992
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