Can a child with intellectual disability understand forgiveness?
Some priests and parents hesitate to bring a child with intellectual disability to the sacrament of reconciliation because they assume the child won't understand. I want to reassure them: that child is a person. Just as disability does not diminish human dignity, spiritual life is not measured by the level of intellectual comprehension.
That said, I would venture to say that people with intellectual disabilities understand how to ask for and receive forgiveness better than most of us do. The residents at L'Arche come running to confession. Some embrace me after receiving absolution—they understand that as a priest, I represent God's mercy to them.
Is this sense of forgiveness something people are born with?
It's learned, day by day. Parents teach a child with disability to ask forgiveness from a sibling he has bothered, or to accept an apology from a brother who made him fall. Parents must also ask their own child for forgiveness when they have done wrong. Before confession, parents can spend time with their child, working through things together with words and drawings.
At L'Arche we prepare our residents through mime or film.
But do these young people sin? Some of them don't seem to have a will of their own.
On the contrary, these young people show remarkable will. They could give up on life, yet they choose to accept the life they have been given. Perhaps some don't commit sin in the ordinary sense. The sacrament of forgiveness exists so we can lay our sins before God, but the deeper meaning of the word "confession" is recognition of God's mercy toward us—not merely the confession of sins. The question shouldn't be "Does my child sin?" or "Can my child name his sins?" Through the sacrament of reconciliation, the child is invited to welcome again the grace of baptism, to rediscover that he is the beloved son of the Father. Someone fighting to live, someone struggling against the depression that may overwhelm him—how could such a person not need this grace?
How does a young person with intellectual disability approach confession?
I tell him how glad I am that he is there, and then we make the sign of the cross together. If he can speak, I help him examine his conscience by asking him about his friends, his family. It matters little whether he has a clear sense of past or future. God lives in eternity! If the young person cannot speak, I ask forgiveness with him, holding his hands so he is in communion with me. Then I pray the Our Father, because he won't be able to do the penance on his own. Finally, I pronounce the full formula of absolution in its entirety—to simplify it would be to take him less seriously.
Might the child come to see his disability as a kind of guilt?
He may feel guilty for existing, especially if he senses his family's suffering. But confession cannot give him this feeling. On the contrary, it helps him release guilt and shame, so he can see that the Lord loves him as he is and welcomes his request for forgiveness.
Should families seek out any priest, or a particular one?
It's better to approach a priest you trust will understand and respect what the young person is doing. That said, more and more priests are becoming comfortable with disability. At L'Arche I regularly invite new priests to offer the sacrament of forgiveness, and when they see how our residents live this sacrament, their reservations vanish.
Confession with people with disabilities has changed you.
I've learned that I can confess easily, without torturing myself. I speak about this sacrament more freely with the young people I care for. I try to help them desire it as one disabled boy showed us on a retreat. He came to confession but didn't speak. I wasn't sure if he understood what I was saying to him, so I gave him absolution and he left making the V-sign for victory. The people without disabilities began rushing to confess. They had seen the joy that forgiveness brings!
Fr. Mahéas, 2012
From Ombres et Lumière no. 183
