«At the parish in Montagnola, a community from Fede e Luce gathers. They have a beautiful way of being together—including people with severe disabilities. Some of them have staked their lives on the experience of the family home Il Carro.» I've known Don Luigi d'Errico for about twelve years, and when he speaks of "staking your life" for someone, I know it's something he has lived through firsthand.
We interviewed him in 2013 when he was pastor of the Santi Martiri dell'Uganda community. "Jesus says that where the poor are, God is there. I cannot help but search for him and commit myself to reaching him. It will be up to each person to decide whether to accept the invitation or not. If the invitation were not for everyone, we would no longer be the truly universal Catholic Church. Parishes should welcome every person, without any filter. If a filter exists, we need to recognize it and be aware that something is wrong."
If the Gospel must be proclaimed to all, where were the people and families living with disability? Why weren't they part of the church community? Don Luigi set out to find them. With patience, he built a community conscious of each person's struggles and able to recognize the good each person carries. This is how meaningful bonds formed—like the one between Sara, who has nonverbal autism, and Paolo, a young man in trouble. She, together with friends from the parish youth center, helped him avoid losing himself to drugs.
Today that commitment has put down roots in a new place, where hope takes concrete form. We are at Casale di Falcognana, along the Via Ardeatina: a striking but abandoned building, once connected to the sanctuary of Divino Amore. After years of private management, the property—which belongs to the Basilica of San Giovanni in Laterano—was entrusted to the cooperative Santa Maria ad Magos. The name recalls the small church within the estate, now a rectory under Don Luigi's care. He emphasizes that it is "practically the only example in Italy of a church dedicated to figures from the East—for us, an important call to openness to the entire world." The cooperative will support a residential community of twelve people with disabilities and provide work tied to land stewardship. The project, already funded, currently covers restoration of what was once the barn beside the historic building, which would require too great an investment otherwise. Here will take shape a broader living and relational space, including Don Luigi himself, where people can live and help one another as a family.
If the Gospel must be proclaimed to all, where were the people and families living with disability? Why weren't they part of the church community?
If the Gospel must be proclaimed to all, where were the people and families living with disability? Why weren't they part of the church community?Another small building already houses four consecrated young women from the community Le Sentinelle dell'Aurora, led by Sister Henriette. Originally from the Democratic Republic of Congo, after time in Lampedusa she chose to live "where no one wants to go." It was her biological sister, an Alcantarine nun working with Sister Veronica Donatello (in the Italian Bishops' Conference's ministry for people with disabilities), who introduced her to this project.
A periphery that might not have been Don Luigi's first choice ("I tried to ask for help from the Trappists at Tre Fontane but couldn't convince them"), yet it turned out to have many distinctive features. "We are at Rome's true gates. The ancient tower built into the casale was one of those in the defensive line against pirate raids. The miraculous image of Divino Amore was initially brought to this small church. The possibility of pilgrim traffic led to speeding up construction of the larger church where the image was then moved, which caused this one to be abandoned. Our goal now is to rediscover that connection to Divino Amore. There are small villages here, not desperately poor, with a strong bond to the sanctuary. But that bond needs to be rediscovered. You find the image of Mary in the most diverse places. The sanctuary cannot be only a destination for quick pilgrimages. This welcome can become a light for Rome and for parishes."
Don Luigi also thinks the formation of priests should include stops at places like this. "In Rome the problem is partly geographic. Seminarians grow up in the center, with free parking, but you become what you live. Here they could discover a different way of relating to people, to the city, to nature." And indeed this place attracts visitors. The sisters have planted a large garden that supplies fresh vegetables to guests. There are animals—a pair of emus, an unexpected gift from Cardinal De Donatis, and rabbits, goats, chickens—cared for also by people with intellectual disabilities. Some volunteers from the Montagnola parish help maintain the grounds. Part of the estate will become a social park, thanks in part to proceeds from Pantheon ticket sales, a gathering place for all who come. The space has already hosted health initiatives, like a free cardiac screening in collaboration with the Red Cross. And someone spontaneously donated forty fruit trees. Concrete signs of a movement that is growing.
"If there is no ecclesial dimension, you can do the most beautiful work in the world, but it dies with you," Don Luigi reflects. "But the ecclesial dimension alone isn't enough either. You need a living community that challenges both people with disabilities and those without. A community that welcomes, that invites, that creates bonds. A place to live or to visit for friendship, for a course, to lend a hand." Other Dopo di noi groups (sadly, only two in Rome, despite available funding) have started near parishes that "don't even know about them." They rely on the presence of a paid worker, but something crucial risks being lost. In a parish there is a constant flow of people—young, old, sick, healthy. There should be an open door, hopefully with no steps.
In 2021, President Mattarella awarded Don Luigi the title of Commendatore of the Order of Merit of the Italian Republic "for his daily commitment to the inclusion of people with disabilities and against social marginalization." At that time, we also spoke about loneliness, which emerged during the pandemic—not only among people with disabilities, but throughout society. Now he adds: "The only way to fight loneliness is to live humanly. People who grow up with other people—all of them—will learn their names, not the categories they belong to—white, Black, rich, poor, or disabled. I hope the Church will begin to orient itself better and find clear direction: we stand with the people God has placed beside us. Not just those whose work requires care—whether out of family necessity or profession—should do this. We need to bring people together, because it shouldn't take only paid workers to make a community like the one we're building."
The great temptation instead is to delegate. "Large institutions, when not connected to an ecclesial reality, die or become isolated worlds. There has to be that movement of coming and going typical of any family, passing through life with different hopes, because the Church is the answer to the hopes of everyone, especially those who are fragile. On the other hand, the logic of closed-off spaces and jealous management produces nothing. We should change our perspective and risk welcoming people—even if only for a time of service, reflection, a course, a thesis. Yes, it's hard to find people ready to dedicate their lives, but these are long journeys born from experience. If we don't create the opportunity, vocations won't be born either." Don Luigi's charism is precisely this: to involve people, to make each person feel essential to God's people. Even with his limitations, he has never stopped opening the way. So the first step he takes, in every place and moment, is also a step that invites everyone to walk together. OL