"My task is to proclaim the Gospel to everyone."
Don Luigi D'Errico, pastor of Saints Martyrs of Uganda parish, opened our conversation this way after we noted the difference between being willing to welcome everyone and actually going out to search for them—especially the most vulnerable—as he has done. He continued: "Jesus tells us that where the poor are, God is there. I cannot fail to seek them out and commit myself to reaching them. It will be up to each person to decide whether to accept the invitation. If the invitation is not for everyone, we are no longer a truly Catholic Church—truly universal. Parishes ought to welcome every person without any conditions. If there are barriers, we need to recognize them and be aware that something is wrong."
When we asked how people with disabilities entered into his priestly vocation, Don Luigi said his calling emerged precisely from his work with people in difficulty. A priest who discovered his vocation by encountering Jesus speaking to him of the marginalized could not help but notice the absence of disabled people and disabled children in parishes.
Perhaps the pastor's experience serving the Sant'Egidio community, or the presence of a disabled younger brother in the case of associate pastor Don Davide Lees, gave this parish an additional impetus for its work welcoming disabled people.
The parish undertook an intensive effort to reach as many families as possible, making sure the message spread: someone in this parish was waiting for everyone, including families with disabled children.
They sought out young people of every age to involve them in existing groups. Nearly 500 children and adolescents now attend catechism at the parish; about 15 of them have disabilities of various kinds. The classes where they are enrolled have been "enhanced" with more adult supervisors.
Don Luigi says further: "Families respond in many different ways. Some parents came looking for an activity for their child, with no particular intention of bringing them to church. One parent, still too angry and reluctant to be involved, came anyway—dragged along by his own severely disabled son, who had fallen in love with the singing he heard during Mass. Others are ashamed and only send their child if someone picks them up at home.
But the entire community must learn to welcome. It is the community, after all, that is rooted in the neighborhood, not the pastor, whose mandate is limited in time. At first, during celebrations, awkward moments can happen: children burst out laughing, priests make blunders large and small, other parents feel uncomfortable. Gradually, through habit and familiarity, these incidents fade and disappear—especially if we manage to have the young people attend the same Mass regularly. How the priest responds and what discomfort he shows in the face of certain behaviors matters enormously to the whole assembly. It took us roughly two years for everyone to adjust, but we got there. Now even the cries of an autistic girl are welcomed and understood as expressions of joy and recognition. And the smile of the boy who loves singing is the most beautiful thing—the other children themselves take him and bring him to the front row.
"They probably won't remember much of the catechism we teach them," Don Davide says. "But for the rest of their lives, I'm certain, they won't forget the encounter and the experience of being together with a classmate with a disability."
"In this sense," Don Luigi continues, "Church leadership also has a specific responsibility to give clear messages and guidance about the path to take. We need to notice, for example, that many are truly absent from Christian initiation.
It would be enough to compare the numbers of sacraments administered with the numbers of disabled people attending school—which still reaches practically everyone. The figures, even accounting for those who aren't Christian, show that many are missing, perhaps too many. The Church should address this issue even in seminary formation."
edited by Cristina Tersigni and Rita Massi, 2013