I have often been struck by the sadness of so many ordinary people. One day, Mr. Normal came to see me to talk about his problems. While we were speaking, Cristiano knocked on the door. Some people call Cristiano mongoloid; others say he has Down syndrome. We simply say he is Cristiano. Without waiting for me to invite him in, Cristiano was in my office. Laughing, he gave me an affectionate pat. Then, with a smiling greeting, he shook Mr. Normal's hand and walked out, still laughing.
Cristiano is now 36 years old and naturally serene and at ease. He works in a subcontracting workshop and enjoys living in the community where he feels he has a place.
Mr. Normal turned to me and said: "What a shame for young people like that."
Mr. Normal is blinded by prejudice, by theories, by tears—because it is so obvious that Cristiano is far less sad and depressed than he is.
Many people regard young people with Down syndrome as eternal children. Some parents treat them like dolls. I have seen adults arrive at L'Arche coddled, with slicked-back hair, bow ties, even gloves! Treating them this way, it is no wonder they cannot grow up. Should we be surprised, then, that they remain so infantile?
Some of them feel very deeply the rejection of which they are the object: their frustration can then express itself through inertia, apathy, or refusal of contact. Others react by adopting unstable and aggressive behavior.
Yet in our L'Arche communities and in other centers, I have often met men and women with Down syndrome who had achieved genuine maturity and even a certain wisdom.
If a child with mongolism is well received in the family, if he receives a true education in a warm environment, if this education continues in suitable classes or centers, he can often develop harmoniously and reach a degree of independence. He can come to take on responsibilities in many areas: personal hygiene, keeping his room in order, making simple trips on his own.
Physical education is very important because it gives him new confidence in himself and a sense of ease. You only have to watch how young people with mongolism behave in the Special Olympics. Often more than the joy of winning, they learn to love the sport for its own sake—especially running and swimming.
Many of them can become good workers. And we should not believe that they excel only in tasks requiring little initiative and of a repetitive nature; in fact, repetitive work sometimes risks setting them back. There is more than the work of Meb (45 years old, with trisomy 21, an established painter in France). Many of them manage to express themselves artistically and achieve an original creativity.
If we help them grow, their gifts of tenderness and loyalty can flourish, as can their capacity to communicate.
If they are not believed capable of progress, people with mongolism can withdraw into their own world, sometimes approaching mental illness.Yet if we help them grow, their gifts of tenderness and loyalty can flourish, as can their capacity to communicate. Cristiano is a man with a very true heart; he knows who his real friends are.
He also has a keen sense of others' suffering. He can be compassionate—to suffer with—toward the most vulnerable, and he is very good at protecting a fragile person.
I have heard that in England, some of them, as adults, have married. I do not personally know any, but those with whom I live seem less troubled than others by not being married. What they do have, deeply, is a need to love and be loved, to be valued, to live in an atmosphere of friendship and security like that of a community.
Cristiano loves to dance. He often expresses himself through his body and does not content himself with being a spectator; he naturally joins movement to music. Yet certain rhythms—rock, for instance—can excite him and lead him to lose all measure.
Perhaps one of the richest aspects of their emotional life is their love of play. For them, play and celebration are very close. But even here they can reach a point where they struggle to tell the difference between the real and the imaginary.
For this reason a film can upset them deeply. They tend to pretend, to take things very seriously. I know one who, after his father's death, took on the role of head of the family. This capacity for identification shows the richness of their hearts. But when Cristiano enters into a game, sometimes he loses himself in it, and it is not easy to bring him back to reality. He can also dig in his heels about something, and those around him often struggle to budge him. Often it is humor that saves the day!
One last thing strikes me deeply in them: their openness to the spiritual and the religious. One day at Lourdes, at a gathering with the bishop and many pilgrims from the diocese, Jean Pierre stood up and spoke of Bernadette in a way that moved everyone. There is sometimes something prophetic in them. Many are deeply sensitive to prayer and achieve a real communion with Jesus. For this reason it is very important not to encourage these young people or adults to show off, to seek success through buffoonery; instead we must always try to reveal to them that they are people loved by Jesus, capable of responding to that love, capable of inner growth.
Like any of us, they need to be helped and supported. They need a father, an educator who knows how to be firm and who knows how to ask more of them always. In this way they can discover their gift, their mission, and their place in a community.
(From Ombres et lumière no. 50)