John, a man with Down syndrome, waited outside a cemetery. He had been told his mother was leaving, and he was waiting for her to return. The truth was that his mother had died, but no one had found the courage to tell him. He had lost not only his mother but also the chance to understand why she never came back. His solitude had no way to surface, no way to be held—only an endless, hollow waiting.
The past twenty-five years have brought profound shifts in how the Church understands the place of people with disabilities in its life and mission. Their stories and voices have moved Christian thought and practice from exclusion and marginality toward recognition of their worth and identity. New questions have surfaced: "Why are people with disabilities perceived so negatively? Why do they remain absent from our parishes? What would Jesus say about their invisibility?"
The Church has begun to listen to people with disabilities. Yet within parish life, catechists, parents, and priests struggle when they must address emotionally and cognitively difficult subjects—trauma, war, pandemic, death. The struggle deepens when these topics must be made accessible to someone who processes information or communicates differently. It is time for parishes to break through this barrier. Everyone born will die. Every person deserves to face the death of a loved one—or their own death—with dignity and love. John's story shows us that a person with a disability may suffer far more acutely if the community around them refuses to acknowledge their capacity to grieve. We must be seen, welcomed, and accompanied through the experiences all of us will inevitably face. It is precisely in moments of extreme suffering that, through empathetic presence, we learn to be together.
"All or none," Pope Francis reminded us in 2016 at a gathering on the belonging of people with disabilities in the Christian community. For this to be truly possible for everyone, we propose concrete changes in pastoral practice: do not label the person only as disabled; recognize and use their creative way of communicating; and develop methods that truly allow all people to live fully and to approach death with care and support.
The person must not be left alone. Instead, parishes should meet them and walk with them on a path designed together with them, their family, and those closest to them. Begin by learning how they communicate and what brings them joy. In our work, we have used methods beyond words alone—creative, catechetical approaches using music, drawings, and images in augmentative and alternative communication (examples are available in English at kairosfrum.org). Use clear, direct words, not vague ones. Say the word death explicitly. Together you can explore memories, revisit meaningful places or objects, reread Gospel passages and Scripture, pray with the community, and thus give weight and meaning to the story of the beloved person. This journey becomes an important part of parish life itself (see Atti del Convegno Catechesi e persone con disabilità, Scintilla Nova, 2018).
Christian theology teaches us that "every person possesses inherent dignity and equal worth. This does not change based on individual characteristics, abilities, or quality of life." As people of faith, we know deeply that each person reflects the image of God.
For John Paul II, every person "was created to make visible in the world the mystery hidden by God from eternity, and so to be its sign." Every person born, carrying God's breath into the world, will die—in this we are all equal. When we are present to this breath, in life and in death, we stand before an encounter with God, regardless of our abilities or ways of understanding. Spirituality is better understood as a "sense of being" rather than "an action of the mind"—a "being present and attentive to one another, a real and authentic encounter." When we exclude a person with a disability, we deny their dignity before God. Yet there is no need to determine how they think, how they speak, or whether they can understand. It is like standing before a sunset, with all its particular and universal colors: there is no need to name each one. It is enough simply to be present to its beauty. This is the opportunity we have when we choose to draw near and accompany: to be present to the beauty in one another, in life, even as life reaches its end.
Cristina Cangemi and Matteo Tobanelli are researchers in spirituality and religiosity among people with intellectual disabilities.
