Last April, on a stage set before the main altar of the Basilica of Saint Anthony in Padua, some thirty young people with intellectual disabilities, along with several assistants from the Franciscan Charitas Works in Vicenza, performed "Clare and Francis."
Watching the performance unfold scene by scene—and with me, a thousand others who filled the church, sitting in absolute silence and then erupting in applause at the end of each scene—I found myself struck by the wonderful illogic of it all. These young people on stage, with few or no words, were telling their story through movement and gesture. They were preaching, and they were convincing all those people around them who possessed every faculty of speech. And they were doing this in the temple of the saint known to history as a great sage and orator, someone entire cities would gather to hear—a gift symbolized by his preserved tongue, still uncorrupted, kept just meters away from where these wordless young people were speaking.
How intently the crowd followed the "discourse" of the young man with Down syndrome, dancing out the call of Saint Francis! How mesmerized everyone was by Federica's dance—she has an intellectual disability—as she told through her body the story of Saint Clare's calling, her shadow dancing in counterpoint against the bright sun behind her! How anguished was Francis's dance, trapped in a web of ribbons, expressing his inner torment.
The richness of expression, the complexity of movement—intricate and rapid yet without stumbling or hesitation—that all the young people brought to the dance of the Poor and the Rich, the Lepers, Violence in Gubbio, and the magical sequence of "dancing hands," astonished anyone who knows the physical awkwardness, the uncertainty, the difficulty of being "at ease in one's own body" that people with intellectual disabilities often carry. These dances revealed how long and careful has been the work done at the Franciscan Charitas Works in Vicenza in developing nonverbal communication (we covered this in one of Ombre e Luci's early issues).
«I am capable too. I want your kindness. I have love to give. I want to be looked at without annoyance»
«I am capable too. I want your kindness. I have love to give. I want to be looked at without annoyance»«I am capable too. I want your kindness. I have love to give. I want to be looked at without annoyance.» These basic human needs—a person with intellectual disabilities can express them through gesture, through the body, through dance, through music. These are doorways out of the prison of communication difficulties and misunderstanding by those considered "normal."
This way of communicating and expressing oneself holds true in the spiritual realm as well, in prayer, in catechesis. People with intellectual disabilities are our theologians, if we know how to listen to them, says Jean Vanier, founder of the Arche and Faith and Light. And his inspiration, Father Thomas Philippe, who has lived alongside these people for many years, says: «People are spiritual before they are born, and these young people preserve that experience intact. At a time when the Church seeks to free catechesis from excessive conceptualism and mere discourse, returning it to the quality of lived experience, the Church is discovering that these young people hold the key to a new catechesis.»
And so the "strangeness" of this dance by people with intellectual disabilities in the Basilica of Saint Anthony becomes a meaningful step in the religious and cultural journey of both Church and society.
It was no mere whim that led the Paduan province of the Conventual Franciscans to allow a performance in their most sacred church. For four years now, in the large school in Noventa Padovana, they have been running vocational training courses in graphic design for young people with disabilities, working toward their integration into productive companies. They are also creating several group homes inspired by the Arche model, with the support of the regional government.
In the brief introduction to «Clare and Francis»—noting that putting Clare first was a way of remembering how important those who work quietly in the background can be, those who speak little—the prior said that the performance was a celebration: a celebration recognizing God's presence in every person, a celebration of what can be achieved through work done with intelligence and love, a celebration as religious experience.
- Sergio Sciascia, 1989